#ateez yeosang oneshot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eightmakesonebraincell · 5 months ago

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our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 37.6k

c/w: sweaty and athletic ateez (warning well deserved), explicit profanity, themes of corruption and rocky family relationships, trauma, hurt/comfort, injuries, kissing, boys are in an established relationship, m x m interactions

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: it has made me incredibly touched to see so many of my readers from the essence of youth come back to support this new oneshot. thank you from the bottom of my heart ♡ and as always, this fic would not have been possible without @sorryimananti-romantic and her undying support

if someone were to ask yunho–or anybody on the team–when he feels the most alive, his answer would be the same every single time: when he is on the ice, just like he is right now.

the air of the rink is already chilly, but with the added cold of emerging autumn, each rugged lungful he takes fills his chest with vigour. only his own heavy breathing can be heard as the rest of the players’ shouts become muffled into the background outside of his helmet. he tightens his grip on his stick, muscles locked and engaged with adrenaline. his vision narrows, an opening suddenly clearing itself through the tangle of sticks and jungle of skates–a golden opportunity for him to take.

“san!” he yells.

their usual goaltender glances upwards as he handles the puck rebounding off the boards. his jaw tightens and with a practised flick of his wrist, san chips the puck over an incoming stick’s attempt to block the pass. there’s a burst of explosive power as yunho speeds up along the opposite boards to receive the landing puck, hoping to break away from the opposing team’s offensive players before he passes it off.

the flash of a blue jersey appears in yunho’s vision with alarming momentum. they lower and widen their stance, shoulder positioned in front ready to knock him directly into the boards in an attempt to steal the puck, leaving yunho with no choice but to mirror their actions. he braces himself as the opponent rams into him with more force than a usual play, and in combination with their own towering height, yunho finds himself being pushed into the plexiglass panels as he loses possession of the puck.

involuntarily, he lets out a threatening growl of vexation. there is a teasing chuckle from the other player that still has him pinned against the wall despite the continuing game, which clearly tells him that the excessive body check was deliberate. yunho has half a mind to flip their positions, knowing he could easily overpower the other. but before he can adjust his stick out of the way to make good use of his hands, the opponent playfully knocks their helmets together.

“you’re hot when you get all competitive and riled up.”

all of the tension escapes yunho’s body, because he will never not find mingi’s attempts to flirt mid-game–with his mouthguard and resultant bumbling pronunciation–to be amusing. he endearingly rolls his eyes and sighs, “have you not heard of, ‘don’t poke the bear’?”

“you’re not a bear, though,” mingi squirms cheekily on the spot, still up in yunho’s personal space because he knows the older will never be truly annoyed by his antics. “you’re just a cute, harmless puppy.”

before mingi can blink, yunho grabs him by the shoulders and pins him against the wall. yunho smirks, “and they also say, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.”

wooyoung tongues his cheek with mischief at the sight of the two, nice and cosy against the walls of the rink. he hands his stick off to seonghwa, who is starting to remove his helmet, and skates in their direction, ignoring the dull throb in his left ankle. wooyoung only bothers to slow himself down slightly, instead letting his trajectory be cushioned by something else.

mingi lets out a pathetic noise as the air is squeezed out of his chest from the impact of wooyoung and yunho’s added weight. the latter grunts out, a little breathless, “woo, please, you’re going to knock somebody out like this one day.”

it goes in one ear and out the other as wooyoung grins up at him to state, “seonghwa scored so we lost ‘cause you were too busy making out with mister mingles here.”

yunho pushes off the wall to free himself from the sandwich of bodies and pivots on his skates to jab wooyoung’s padded chest. “you and san were doing the exact same thing just five minutes ago.”

“we’re on the same team,” wooyoung shrugs, “whereas mingi is not, so you’re fraternising with the enemy. now come on losers, captain’s wrapping up practice.”

the three of them glide along the ice to rejoin the rest of the team, where they are stepping out of the rink to sit on the benches. they remove their helmets and start unlacing their skates as hongjoong gathers the attention of the team.

“great work from everybody today, especially you, jongho. your backhand wrist shots are improving–keep it up. now just a reminder to everyone that our regular games start next week so i want you all to make sure you are stretching and cooling down properly,” he emphasises. he pointedly looks at yeosang, who has already begun to wander his way off to the changerooms, at the same time that seonghwa scruffs him by the back of his jersey and gently tugs him back to the team.

jongho peels off his blue practice jersey as he scans the arena and absentmindedly asks, “is coach still not here? it’s already the end of practice.”

“he said he had something to sort out today, but would come round if everything went well,” seonghwa answers, also craning his neck to look for signs of their coach.

from where you and coach cho are watching from the designated scouting area in the arena, the team is unable to spot you two. you had come from the final negotiations of your contract with coach cho and had watched their team, the red devils, play the last period of their game. despite it only being a friendly match amongst the team’s players, you have already grasped a sense of their playing style–it is heavy on the offensive at the expense of defence, just like how you used to play. it is fast-paced, aggressive and…prone to injury.

“let’s go meet the team,” coach cho voices, making his way out of the viewing area as you follow beside him. all the players look up from their skates that they are still unlacing or from their stretches on the floor when you two near the arrangement of benches surrounding the rink. they greet coach cho enthusiastically and you can see why from the way the older man smiles at them like they are his own sons.

“y/n, this is the team, the red devils–my pride and joy. boys, this is y/n,” he introduces. “i had to miss practice to meet up with y/n and make sure she was happy to sign on as part of the red devils.”

said team gives you disinterested glances, a complete change from the receptivity with which they respond to coach cho. one of the red-jerseyed boys, who you recognise as wooyoung, utters sarcastically, “cute, but we don’t need a mascot or cheerleader.”

coach cho chuckles lightly, “she’s your new coach.”

“hold on, you were serious about–” “–are you coaching a different team–” “–you don’t want us anymore?”

some of the boys erupt into a barrage of questions, trying to make sense of the sudden announcement, whereas the others stay quiet, flickers of flashbacks stirring up from within the depths of their memories. their coach raises his hands to settle them as he apologises, “i didn’t want to say anything before i was one hundred percent sure that things would go ahead, and i wasn’t sure whether y/n would accept the offer.”

“is it because your wife is due soon?” san interrupts.

coach cho nods, “with twins, and i want to be present to help–as a husband and a father. but that just isn’t feasible as your coach, as much as i love you boys.”

training as professional athletes takes incredible perseverance, discipline and commitment. there are early mornings, late nights, weekends and public holidays. it takes sacrifices in the form of time and relationships, especially when they must travel away from home for up to weeks on end to compete in matches. and with the start of the regular season, the intensity is only going to ramp up. as hard as the athletes train, the coach works twice as hard to make it all possible.

the team needs somebody to be there for them to ensure they make it into the playoffs, and it just won’t be fair for anybody–the players and his own family–if coach cho were to keep his position. and the team gets it, they really do, but–

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete, and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

autumn, 2018: pre-season

hongjoong believes all coaches are to be respected. it does not matter what kind of team they coach, how many years of experience they have, or whether they have built up a reputation for themselves. to hongjoong, respect for coaches is not something earned nor negotiable–it is something well-deserved and expected, as is for anybody in a position that is higher in the chain of command.

he may be the captain of their unofficial team, but hongjoong knows that the way a team can place their blind trust in the coach is irreplaceable, regardless of how much the other players rely on him too.

hongjoong watches as his boys carry out the practice drill he has set up for them. yeosang handles the puck around the cones before passing it to wooyoung, primed offensively near the goal to make a quick shot, who groans when his shot rebounds off the post. as he retrieves the disc, yeosang takes over wooyoung’s position near the goal ready to receive yunho’s pass as he starts to work his way through the cones next.

they are limited in the type of drills they can practise because hongjoong was only able to rent half of the community rink for a measly two hours. the boys are not even in proper uniform, wearing only their shin guards under their sweatpants and gloves on their hands to prevent any injuries when the centre had stated very firmly they would not be allowed in with their bulky equipment.

and yet, none of this has dampened the boys’ spirits. san teasingly brags that it is his chance to show off his skills other than goaltending, and jongho thanks hongjoong quietly for renting the rink in the first place. their understanding nods and comforting hugs make hongjoong’s heart clench, even more so as the team eagerly and diligently practise the drills in mediocre conditions but with fiery determination to prove their worth as newly-signed athletes under the kq blue birds.

this is exactly why hongjoong is driven to find them a coach–any coach: to give his boys a solid pillar they can rely on, because he himself lacks the resources and strings to pull in order to fulfil their shared dreams. he needs to keep his boys as one team, instead of scattered into other teams as extra players like a gracious opportunity for the leftovers, since kq does not yet have a coach available for the eight of them.

“captain!”

the excitement in seonghwa’s voice startles hongjoong more than the speed at which the alternate captain skates towards him. seonghwa digs his skates into the ice at the last second, stopping himself just shy of knocking the other over as he exclaims, “he emailed back!”

“the coach you reached out to?” hongjoong clarifies, eyes growing wide.

having caught wind of his signed contract as a professional athlete, an acquaintance of seonghwa’s had reached out offering to pass on the contact of their acquaintance, who apparently knew somebody with coaching experience. it was rare for a coach to take on a rookie team unless there were incredible benefits, so he and hongjoong had drafted and sent an email with little to no expectations for a reply. but seonghwa’s furious nodding is telling otherwise, and his eyes sparkle as he shoves his phone in hongjoong’s face to show him the email.

dear mr park, thank you for your interest and for reaching out with your proposal. i have looked at your athlete profiles and it appears that you all have big dreams and extremely promising futures. it would be my utmost pleasure to help you all reach your true potential by coaching your team. if you would like to arrange a meeting in person to discuss expectations and conditions regarding training, competitions and future championships prior to finalising the contracts with your company, please let me know what times and dates best suit yourself and your team captain, mr kim. i look forward to working with you all. kind regards, coach yeon

“holy shit,” hongjoong steadies seonghwa’s giddy hand to read the email again. when he reaches the last line, he starts once more from the beginning to make sure his eyes are not lying to him. then he breathes out with finality, “holy shit. am i reading this right?”

“yeah, joong. you’re reading it right.”

hongjoong is not often one to be affectionate with the others, but yanking seonghwa into a bone-crushing hug as he repeats holy shit like a mantra is the only response he is able to muster. the older laughs wetly, throat constricting with overwhelming joy and he holds onto his captain until the other pulls back.

“you tell them, okay?” seonghwa does not wait for a response before he is raising his voice to gather the others, “boys! hongjoong has good news for us!”

like puppies responding to the call of food, their heads immediately perk up and they abandon the puck and the drill to speed towards their two captains. there is a clamour of questions as they enthusiastically predict what is going to be said.

“are they letting us use the rink for longer?”

wooyoung squeezes himself in between yunho and mingi to ask, “are we getting the whole rink?!”

“no way,” san gasps, “or did our practice jerseys arrive?”

hongjoong’s eyes soften at their guesses. his boys demand so little from him when he wants to give them everything they could never even think of asking for. he glances at seonghwa, who looks just about ready to burst from his own excitement, then reveals, “we’ve found a coach willing to take on our team.”

dead silence. yeosang blinks and wooyoung’s jaw drops. jongho, who had been lazily circling around the group, comically slows to a stop, joining the rest of the boys in frozen stupor. it is only broken when yunho dares to confirm, “does this mean we won’t be rostered as extras for other teams?”

everyone’s hopeful eyes look at hongjoong. he nods, “we’re staying together and playing as our own team.”

it is obvious the moment the information registers in their minds and the implications of what it means for the team’s future starts to sink in. they explode into a flurry of movement and hongjoong and seonghwa find themselves swept up into the middle of a clumsy group huddle as shouts are exchanged, uncaring of who is listening or talking.

“are we finally playing in championships with the big dogs?”

“we’re going to play interstate?”

“oh my god, what if we get into nationals?”

“nah, fuck that boys, let’s go international! we’re going to represent korea one day and become the best team in the world.”

the amount of voices overlapping one another are overwhelming, but it is overwhelming in the way that it makes hongjoong soar up into the clouds, wings stretched to their full span and carried by the hollers and cheers surrounding him in every direction. his cheeks hurt from smiling because these are the boys that he knows and loves.

they may only be a small team of eight, but they have dreams that are big enough to fill the entire universe.

“what’s the coaches name–” “–know if they’re a good coach–” “–teams have they coached before–”

seonghwa chuckles as the boys hound them with question after question and hongjoong appeases their curiosity dotingly, “we’ll find out when we meet him–coach yeon.”

but it does not matter what qualifications coach yeon has or does not have, and it does not matter what teams he has coached or has not coached before. what matters is that he is a coach and he is willing to be their coach, because it means that hongjoong and his boys are finally taking the next step towards their big dreams.

and most importantly, they will be in this together…as the red devils.

autumn, present: regular season

“again.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, taking up his position as centre again in the marked circle for the practice drill. even during defensive faceoff plays, he and the team are accustomed to taking on an aggressive approach. when he wins possession of the puck, the wingers–usually yeosang and wooyoung, or jongho when substituted on–quickly breakaway and move forward with him into the offensive zone.

obviously, they have other strategic plays too to switch up the predictability of their tactics, such as moving the puck towards the board whilst yeosang covers him, or by passing the puck back to the mingi in defence. but overall, their team is capable of rapidly flipping from defensive to offensive play using the aggressive setup.

the practice drill you are currently running emphasises heavily on the defence–the reverse setup play. hongjoong is to pass backwards but in the direction of the boards whilst yeosang supports and wooyoung covers the area directly between the circle and san. mingi moves towards the boards to receive the puck, and their other defenceman, yunho, assists with covering the goal.

hongjoong does admit that this play is much safer and stabler, but it is also much slower and…cowardly. his team is called the red devils for a reason and their reputation as demons on ice is not something that he is going to throw away–not following years of blood, sweat and tears to stand back up after falling during their rookie year.

when he assumes his stance once again inside the faceoff circle opposite seonghwa, who is playing the centre position as the mock opponent, you drop the puck onto the centre dot. the moment it hits the ice, hongjoong clears it with his stick towards the right boards. it doesn’t go back far enough for mingi to receive though, so yeosang makes the split decision to burst sideways to retrieve the puck, all three forwards moving aggressively in synchronisation to advance offensively once he gains possession.

you stop them, shaking your head. “again.”

it has been a week since your first meeting with the team, and with the start of the regular season, training has focused on refining their strategies. the red devils are playing in the korean ice hockey league for the second time, an annual national championship with a singular men’s division.

teams from all over korea gather in seoul to compete in regular-season games at the gangneung ice arena against the other teams in rotation. depending on the number of participants, the red devils will need to play an average of three games a week for the next five to six months. then based on the outcome of the games, if your team scores within the top thirty two, they will be able to enter the playoffs.

last year, the red devils were only able to make it to the quarterfinals before they were knocked out. but considering it was their first time competing in a proper championship–as opposed to the rookie leagues and interstate competitions they competed in during the first four years of their career–making it into the top eight teams out of over a hundred or so teams was already impressive enough.

your team’s first regular-season game starts tomorrow, so it does not matter that this is the sixth time in a row that you have stopped them during this drill. you will make them restart until they perfect the play. with that in mind, you release the puck onto the centre dot of the circle once more, but this time seonghwa wins the faceoff, clearing it to the side where jongho is waiting as his left wing. seonghwa looks at you guiltily and anticipates the word that will come out of your mouth.

you bite your tongue, having sensed the rising tension amongst the team an hour ago, but now they are almost at their boiling point. closing your eyes briefly, you try reminding yourself to think about the situation from your players’ perspectives.

their career progression rides on this championship, and with their grit and determination, they will not settle for simply beating their own record in ranking. no, they vie for first place. only the top team secures a position in the international ice hockey league, the most coveted opportunity to represent korea in the championship between the world’s best teams.

and it is during this vital time–when the stress levels and stakes are as high as they can get–that the boys have suddenly had to change coaches. not only have they lost their most trusted support and guide, they have only had one week to adjust to their new one–you. in the grand scheme of things, one week is nowhere near enough time to develop any sort of meaningful relationship where they are able to listen to and rely on you.

taking a breath, you explain, “being so focused on offence leaves your team vulnerable if the opposing team also has aggressive forwards that you can’t break through. the faceoff play needs to be adjusted for those situations, otherwise it’ll be too difficult to control the puck and it will more than likely end up in chaos. it won’t be a game of professional skill anymore, but a circus of dirty play.”

your defence-focused coaching style has worked well for all the past teams you have taught, both men’s and women’s teams. you know that the boys play an offence-focused style; you are reminded too closely of your past self every time they rush head-on into every situation. and it is exactly because of that–because you know the dangers that come with their aggressive style–that you are making them adjust their play. their career comes first and if they suffer an injury, there may not be a career left.

so you will play the bad cop if you have to. they will come to understand you one day.

san bites down on his mouthguard as he listens from his position in the goal. he is able to see each and every play unfold, better than any other of his teammates, so he knows where you are coming from. whilst he has become used to the pressures that come with goaltending, no amount of training or competitions will ever fully eliminate the sudden spike in fear and anticipation the moment the opposing team’s forwards break past yunho and mingi.

san is the team’s last line of defence and the best outcome is that a game never comes down to just him, the opponent’s stick, and his goal. it is true that his team needs to work on their defensive plays, so when the others huff in defiance and reluctantly reset their positions, san simply lowers his centre of gravity in wait for your cue to restart the drill.

“again.”

outside the arena, the echo of sticks and scraping of skates sound faintly as the first leaf of autumn begins to fall to the ground. as time passes, the rest of the leaves will also succumb to a similar fate, only differing in how. some will fall in a slow and graceful descent, whilst others…

…a rapid and spiralling whirlwind downwards.

counting the heads and finding all eight of your players seated in the bus, you nod to the driver to close the door and start driving. most of the boys have chosen to sit on a two-seater by themselves, only yunho and mingi choosing to sit together. they share a set of wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in concentration at one of their phones, likely monitoring one of their own matches or one of another team’s.

the rest of the boys sit alone, faces grim and tight as they stare out the window. they look exactly like you used to and it hits you with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia.

the ride to the competition venue–much less for the very first game of the season–is always the quietest, air strung tight with nerves as everyone prepares themselves psychologically for the inevitable pressures that the game will bring. being able to compose and centre one’s mindset is already half the battle won, and whilst nobody says it out loud, you all know that today’s results, despite it only being day one, will set the tone for the next four to five months as they fight to qualify for the playoffs.

as you make one final sweep from the back of the bus to the front whilst it pulls away from the curb, you accidentally make eye contact with yeosang. you give him a polite smile and he opens his mouth, closes it on second thought, then decides to ask anyway, “do you want to sit here?”

it is a lie to say that you are not surprised by the question, so you stumble over your response as you stammer, “oh, okay. thanks.”

yeosang reciprocates your noise of disorientation and when he fumbles to move his bag aside that had been occupying the space beside him, you belatedly realise he was only asking out of courtesy. but backtracking now and rejecting his offer would be a million times worse and you can only try to hide the flaming heat behind your cheeks as best as you can as you sit down in the seat.

he fiddles with the straps of his bag and you can feel his discomfort reeking off his hands. in an attempt to break the ice, you glance at him, “are you nervous for the game?”

he nods, “don’t think it gets any less nerve-wracking no matter how many games you play.”

“well this is a pretty big championship. you have every reason to feel nervous,” you hum.

yeosang levels you with a look. “are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

you do not know him well enough to be able to discern whether he is joking with you or not. opting to clear your throat instead, you point out, “you have your teammates who you can trust.”

“yeah…teammates.”

and you have me, too, as your coach, you want to say.

the hopeful glimpse in the dark of your eyes is enough for yeosang to pick up on your thoughts. he swallows uncomfortably and looks away.

we don’t know that yet.

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying once more to extend the conversation after a pregnant pause. “did you guys have a coach before cho?” either you have a shitty sense of appropriate conversation starters or yeosang wants absolutely nothing to do with you (it is likely both, but one can be optimistic), because his shoulders tense almost immediately.

“we did…just one,” he starts off carefully. you think that that is going to be the end of it, but then he adds on, “we don’t really talk about him though.”

and there it is–the end of the conversation. it is his nice way of telling you that there is no more to be said, so you sit the rest of the ride in silence next to yeosang, pretending not to let the sheer awkwardness suffocate you.

when the bus arrives at the gangneung ice arena, you hurry to alight and only then do you feel like you are able to breathe again. you plaster on a smile and notify the boys, “your first game is in two hours against the panthers. you’ve been allocated locker room 3B.”

they make their way into the centre and you trail behind in wait as they find their designated space. warm-ups will be first so they will not be needing their full gear just yet, which means it should not take long for them to change.

inside the locker room, the red devils shrug off their bulky duffle bags and change into their game jerseys, lacing and relacing their skates to ensure the snuggest fits. hongjoong alerts, “boys, time to go out and start warming up,” receiving a chorus of acknowledgement as everyone grabs the rest of the gear that they need.

before jongho places his phone into his assigned locker, he habitually taps on the screen one last time to check for any notifications and finds a single text from his younger brother, jonghyuk. he knows he should not read it, much less right before his first game, but the smaller part inside him that yearns for his family’s recognition dares to hope for something. dragging the preview down to avoid opening it, jongho reads the text.

are you just going to keep pretending you haven’t read our messages?

jongho clenches his jaw and swipes the notification away as if that will also erase it from his mind. tossing his phone into the locker, he shuts it with a harsh swing, resting his forehead against the cool metal as he closes his eyes and breathes out shakily. this game–this championship–jongho has to win; he cannot afford to lose.

“captain.”

hongjoong turns around to see jongho striding up towards him, brows furrowed and voice troubled as he questions, “are we really not going to tell coach what our game plan is? shouldn’t we work together with her?”

“jongho,” the captain sighs, “we got lucky with coach cho, but we know better than anyone else that not all coaches are like him.”

from where he has been listening in on the conversation at the doors leading out of the locker room, seonghwa’s shoulders stiffen. there is a moment of silence; the rest of the team have already made their way to the ice rink.

“what if we lose?”

it is the way that his voice grows small and timid that hongjoong realises it is not his captain that jongho needs right now. hongjoong’s gaze softens as he searches the younger’s eyes, “did your family say something again?”

he receives no answer but it tells him more than enough. “you trust me?”

jongho’s almost imperceptible nod does not escape hongjoong’s observations, so he continues to reassure, “we’ll win. my boys are the best players, you included, and we already have experience playing in this competition.” he ducks down slightly to meet jongho’s gaze, “and even if we do lose? we lose because of our own skills–not because of anybody else.”

his words tug a small smile out of the corner of the youngest’s lips, and hongjoong returns it with a relieved smile. with a nudge, he sends jongho in the direction of the door, where seonghwa pretends to ruffle his hair affectionately knowing that it will be dodged. seonghwa chuckles lightly and watches him walk off, unbeknownst to his captain watching him.

“hey,” hongjoong calls out gently, “i know what you’re thinking, but that wasn’t what i meant.”

seonghwa looks back and winces, “i can’t help it.”

“and that’s why i will keep telling you no matter how many times you need to hear it. it is not your fault–never was, and never will be,” hongjoong cocks his head playfully as he raises an eyebrow.

“same goes to you then, captain,” seonghwa returns the banter, shoulders relaxing and head shaking, “not your fault either.”

“you’re right, so let’s get the fuck out there and smash our game, yeah?” hongjoong slings his arm around the other and leads them both out of the locker room to join the rest of the boys.

what he does not say, though, is that seonghwa is wrong. seonghwa may have been the one to reach out to coach yeon, but hongjoong was the one who made the executive decision to accept and trust coach yeon.

he is not going to make the same mistake twice this time, because it is not just about protecting his dreams, his career, or those of his teammates–it is about protecting the people he loves.

hongjoong will not let them fall…not again.

winter, 2018: regular season

jongho twirls his phone in his hand, intermittently turning the screen on and off. he sits in the corner of the locker room, away from the rest of the boys as they wait for coach yeon to return from checking in and filling out their required paperwork. only several competitions later will they realise that their locker room is small, cramped and dim, but to their fresh, bright-eyed excitement at competing in a professional league for the first time, they hardly have time to critique the assigned space.

the phone comes to a stop. making up his mind, jongho taps on the screen and navigates to the keypad. dialling his mother’s number, he brings the phone up to his ear and waits with bated breath as it is left to ring.

“what do you want,” comes her curt response when she finally picks up.

jongho’s words falter, “oh, nothing…i just wanted to tell you that we’re playing our first game today.”

“game? your little team doesn’t even have a coach,” his mother patronises.

shoulders curling in on themselves, jongho hesitantly voices, “i told you last month that we got a coach.”

“i forgot,” she brushes him off, “and it must not be a very important competition then, seeing as it isn’t worth remembering.”

“there’s prize money,” he reveals. maybe if he can bring some of it home for his parents, they will recognise his efforts.

she sceptically probes, “is it national? international?”

“no…regionals.”

“is it ranked at least?”

“it’s just an entry-level competition for rookie teams,” jongho trails off, discouraged and confidence in shambles.

his mother scoffs at his answers, none of which are the ones she wants to hear. “you have no excuse not to win this competition, then. this is child’s play. just look at jonghyuk. he’s two years younger than you, yet already has his eyes on the olympics. if you lose, i don’t want to hear about it–don’t bring shame to our family.”

“okay,” jongho mumbles, but his answer is only heard by the beeping dial of the ended call…and the rest of the boys it seems, if not apparent by the sombre hush that has settled over the room and the worried lips that he sees when he looks up.

yeosang’s mouth parts, the younger’s name on the tip of his tongue, but then coach yeon enters the locker room and calls for their attention. jongho gives them a reassuring smile before setting his phone beside him on the bench and directing his gaze to their coach, grateful for the distraction. it leaves yeosang and the others with no choice but to drop it for now.

coach yeon erases the old scribbles on the room’s whiteboard and replaces it with rough markings of the hockey rink. he drags the magnets into the different zones, each one representative of a player, as he goes over the final lineup and their respective positions based on the opposing team they have been pooled against.

“stay strong on the offensive and maintain a 2-1-2 formation where possible–yeosang, i want you up there with hongjoong and put pressure on the other team. if they gain puck possession, both of you fall back to where wooyoung is and maintain 3-2.”

the three forwards nod and coach yeon touches one of the magnets positioned on the player’s bench. “jongho, you’ll come on for your shift during the second period. whoever you replace will come back in later to sub the other wing. yeosang and wooyoung, you should both be playing again during the third period.”

“yes, coach,” jongho acknowledges.

coach yeon continues on to review their game plan and hongjoong steps up to assist with detailing their different strategic plays. to jongho though, their words sound like he is listening from underwater as his mind involuntary drifts off. it is a small saving grace that his parents do not care for his match, because it means that they will not see that he is not part of the starting lineup.

for seven of the people in the locker room, winning the competition is an aspiration, but for one of them it is an expectation. and for the remaining individual, the competition in itself is an opportunity, but for an entirely different reason.

winter, present: regular season

inevitably, you find out. when discrepancies start to occur between training, pre-game meetings and the actual games, it is only a matter of time before you start to notice them.

it starts off with the uncommon plays that are simply a response to the game situation–ones that are dire and not often brought up prior to them actually occurring. during their fourth regular game of the season, the red devils are behind by two goals. the last period is almost over when they miraculously gain the power advantage after two of the opposing players are sent to the penalty box in quick succession.

before you realise what is happening, hongjoong gives his team a signal and both yunho and mingi on defence and san in the goal all rush forward to attack with the wings. you can only watch with wide eyes as they risk an empty net in the hopes of scoring two much-needed goals to even the playing field.

wooyoung manages to score one with a quick shot, but with the release of the opponents from the penalty box, their advantage is put to an end and they ultimately finish the match with a loss. you do not dwell too much on their sudden change in tactics despite the lack of communication with you, because you understand that every single game requires a different approach. sometimes, there is no time to strategise, only time to act.

but one occurrence turns into two, and two turns into several. and when, during one of their matches the week prior, jongho and wooyoung swap positions on the left and right sides of the rink as soon as the youngest replaces yeosang’s shift, it becomes quite conclusive that they are deliberately withholding information from you.

the boys are not brainless. it is not a coincidence for you and the team to discuss one game plan in the locker room only for it to completely change the moment they step onto the hockey rink.

you silently watch as the boys prepare for a faceoff in their defensive zone. they are currently playing against the incheon bears and the timing of the penalty puts you all on edge; the score is currently tied four to four and only twelve seconds are left on the clock. you had requested a time-out right as the referee made the call in hopes of stopping the momentum of the opposing team and to tell the boys to play defensively for this faceoff.

“play it safe. stall for the last twelve seconds and drag the game into overtime,” you had ordered.

the incheon bears have made a shift change with their player number four coming on for the faceoff, their right wing who has low stamina but terrifyingly accurate shots. he is responsible for most of his team’s goals and several other scoring attempts that san had only just managed to block. you are also almost certain that they will be aggressively body checking your players to make this faceoff count for them. your forwards have to play safely–not just for the sake of the game’s score.

at your defensive suggestion, san had nodded in agreement with you, “forwards need to make passes with sure lanes–nothing that can risk getting intercepted. go for the reverse setup play if you guys can.”

“we don’t need to take this into overtime,” hongjoong had started to argue, “other than number four, the rest of their offence is weak. as long as we break past him, we have an opportunity to score.”

“captain–”

the whistle blows before mingi can give his two cents, the mere thirty seconds for the time-out far too short, and the boys hurry to enter the rink again. hongjoong leans in quickly to say something to them before they disperse into their positions and mingi glances at you, almost guiltily.

you do not have the confidence that your team will listen. san may have seen the advantages in favouring a defensive play, but he is not the one who will decide which direction the puck will go when the referee drops it onto the ice. hongjoong is.

the hand of the referee raises to signal the start of the faceoff and both team’s centre forwards lower their stance. then the puck hits the ice. hongjoong’s nimble reflexes help him to snap his wrist and twist the puck away from the incheon bear’s player, wooyoung already surging ahead with explosive strides towards the other end of the rink. but just as you fear, the opponent’s left wing thunders at hongjoong with horrifying speed, intention solely to bowl him over onto the ice–not to steal the puck.

“fuck, captain!” you yell, heart leaping up into your throat as it cuts off your breath.

hongjoong’s eyes snap upwards and darken, jaws aching from the force with which he grinds his teeth together despite his mouthguard. he suddenly pivots on the edges of his skates and shifts his weight to only just narrowly miss the body check, then flicks the puck away before another player can knock him down.

he does not need to look before passing to where he knows wooyoung will be, years of synergy allowing their plays to connect seamlessly. except incheon bear’s number four has predicted their exact play, having been watching from the benches and noting your forwards’ preference for aggressive attacks.

“shit,” yunho curses under his breath, ice shaving under his skates from the accelerating force of his strides towards the puck. he is not going to make it in time. “mingi!”

seonghwa jolts up to his feet from the player’s bench, chest mid-inhale with apprehension at the captain’s pass. the puck is intercepted within the blink of an eye and with a well-timed punch turn around yunho’s attempt to regain possession, the rival team’s number four makes a shot for the goal.

it is too fast for mingi’s stick to block–arm still stretching out with desperation–and although san drops down to his knees in hopes of barricading the goal with his leg pads, the trajectory of the puck arcs higher than he had predicted.

as the puck soars past san and hits the netting of the goal, the buzzer sounds in tandem with the eruption of cheers around the rink. all around, the incheon bears swarm towards their number four in joyous celebration. mingi leans over to rest his hands on his knees from both exhaustion and defeat, and the other boys stand in similar stances as the outcome of the game registers in their tired minds.

in an attempt to cheer them up despite his own disappointment, seonghwa half-heartedly smiles at his boys as they slowly start to trudge their way off the rink. “we played well, boys. it was unlucky that our pass got intercepted, but we can do better next time.”

“good thing it isn’t the playoffs yet,” yunho tries to joke, “so we’re still in the competition.”

nobody cracks a smile and wooyoung’s face is dark, hand grabbing the walls in support to favour his left foot whilst lifting his skates over the slight ledge of the bench door. noting his slight limp, san quietly murmurs in worry, “did you tape your ankle?”

wooyoung shakes his head. “i ran out. forgot to buy some yesterday.”

“make sure you ice it tonight then, okay?” san gently supports him by the elbow to the benches so they can loosen the laces of their skates and grab their things before heading to the locker room.

you look away to flip through the notebook in your hand instead, trying to calm the shaking of your hands. ice hockey is a contact sport and you cannot protect the players from every single collision, but that last body check that hongjoong had been unprepared for still has acid pooling into your mouth. you scratch the score ‘4-5’ onto a page filled with their scores from this season thus far. a quick calculation tells you that the red devils have just as many losses as they have wins, which in all honesty, is not looking good.

this…conflict needs to be cleared with the team–with hongjoong. you cannot let this concealment of tactics and blatant changing of strategies right in your face continue any longer, because at the rate they are going, they may not even make it into the playoffs. and as you make eye contact with san, who has been staring despondently at the puck that still lies in his goal, you know that you must clear the air for the team, too. the last thing you need is for their own teamwork to fall apart because their differing opinions on your coaching starts to drive a wedge between them.

san stills when you break your gaze and glance away to pivot on your heels in the direction of the changerooms. from the way your mouth thins and neck becomes rigid, he is quite certain you are not happy—and rightfully so, san must admit. he stalls time by slipping off his bulky gloves and freeing his hands up to remove his helmet and mouthguard too.

noting that the other boys have grabbed most of their belongings, san heads off first to meet you, knowing that they will follow him soon after. he walks down the corridor easily balancing on his skates and rounds the corner to their locker room. except the sight that greets him has his feet halting and taking a step back behind the doorway.

your hand is deep in one of their bags. san is unsure whose bag it is, but the brief glimpse of the black canvas bag he caught is enough to tell him that it is one of theirs. although he is not making any accusations, he also cannot think of a reason as to why you would be rummaging through their bags.

“why are you just standing there?”

jongho’s voice startles him and he mumbles, “nothing,” before stepping through the door with the rest of his team. you are sitting on a bench in front of an empty locker now and if he did not know better, san would think that he had imagined the last minute. he glances discreetly at the bag you had been poking through and recognises it as wooyoung’s.

gingerly seating himself in front of his own locker, san waits on edge as mingi also grasps the atmosphere and sits too. gradually, the boys read the room with tactful glances and linger on their feet or on the benches. all except for one.

“what was that?” you cut through the silence with a directed question at hongjoong.

the captain continues to toss his gloves into his unzipped bag at the bottom of his locker before proceeding to unlace his skates, not once turning to look at you.

“what was what?”

you know fully well that he is aware of what you are talking about but you decide to humour him as you elaborate, “that last faceoff. i clearly told you to play defensively, but you went against it to try for a goal. and let me guess, you told the others to ignore what i said.”

“and so what if i did?” hongjoong challenges. yeosang’s wide eyes dart from side to side and yunho watches on uneasily as his captain finally turns to glare at you. “in that moment–as a player on the rink–i saw the opportunity and took it. if there is a chance to attack, then my team takes it. we don’t run away like cowards.”

the successive jabs at your athletic retirement cause a lick of phantom heat to wrap around your shoulder. your jaw grinds as you hold yourself back from biting the bait. “then i’m curious as to what opportunity you saw every time you decided to withhold game tactics from me, or every time you changed the strategy the moment you and your team stepped foot onto the rink.”

“maybe we would respect and listen to your coaching if it actually suited the playing style of our team. heavy defence may have worked for the grey eagles, but i think you need to reevaluate your abilities as a coach because it seems like you are forgetting that we are not them. forcing us to play defensively like your past team is not going to work for shit, coach,” hongjoong mocks.

you scoff to the side, questioning your own ears. it borders on a laugh, because that is his reason? you have been adjusting their playing style not only based on the situation that arises each game, but in general for their own good. earning his respect be damned, you will not stand for this.

you return the same scornful tone, “well then, captain, considering you just lost the fucking match because you were too arrogant to defend for twelve fucking seconds, i think you should also reevaluate yourself. are you acting in the best interest of your team, or are you acting in the way that best strokes your own ego? and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you.

“if you do not have the decency to at least tell me what you have discussed with the boys so that i can adjust the plays accordingly, then i think the shit results of your games so far speak for themselves. teams have a coach for a reason whether you like it or not…or maybe i should say, whether you trust them or not,” you snap.

running your stressed fingers through your hair, you tear your eyes away from hongjoong’s defiant eyes. the two youngest avoid your gaze, whereas yunho and yeosang simply stare at you with their jaws slack at a loss for words. the fire within you almost quenches when your eyes skim over san, mingi and even seonghwa, who are fiddling with their jerseys with guilt.

the room suddenly feels too small and too stuffy. “change. the bus will be waiting outside,” you mumble, then you leave without a further word.

nobody in the room moves in the wake of the argument, not even hongjoong, who continues to bore holes in the doorway that you have just disappeared through. yunho’s eyes awkwardly dart back and forth between hongjoong and the other boys before they land on the bench you had been sitting on.

the notebook you are always holding is still there, left behind in your haste to leave. he stands up to grab it, turning on his heels to chase after you when the open pages catch his eye. “woah,” yunho breathes out, double-taking and bringing the notebook closer towards him to read the contents. “this is insane.”

you have marked down not only their score for every single game they have played this season, but you have also tracked the statistics of who has scored, assisted, or successfully defended a shot. yunho flips back through the pages as the other boys come to crowd around him. there are logs of their major games from the past five years, diagrams of their faceoff plays and formations, analyses of their strengths in games won and similarly, analyses of their weaknesses in games they have lost.

“oh, fuck,” mingi curses when yunho flips to the more recent pages and they see that you have compiled the same details and information, only more concisely, for every single opponent team the red devils have played against this season. there is no way of seeing this–hours upon hours of hard work–and still questioning your intentions as their coach. “i think we owe coach a huge fuckin’ apology.”

hongjoong immediately furrows his eyebrows with displeasure. “are you taking her side, mingi?”

“captain,” mingi deliberately calls. it is at times like this where being the only logical thinker in the team has its merits. it may be harsh, but mingi must draw the line between their professional and personal life. this dispute must stay strictly within the bounds of their career without blurring the lines over into their romantic involvement with one another, otherwise things could get messy real fast.

mingi stares at the captain as he reasons, “this isn’t about taking sides. from a solely rational point of view, i think it may have been better for us to play safe and defend like coach had suggested.”

from beside him, san nods in agreement. mingi continues, “and i’m not just talking about today–there were a lot of times when coach’s plays might have worked out better than bulldozing ahead with offence. yeah, we’ve won a few games but we’ve also lost just as many. how many of those could we have won if we had trusted coach?”

yunho backs him up whilst gesturing vaguely between the both of them and san, “it’s easier for the three of us to see from defence, but their forwards were already close to intercepting our faceoffs quite a few times that game.”

hongjoong’s immediate thought is to defend himself, because he is their captain and their centre forward; the one who leads them into opportunities to score and win. he knows that every single time he chooses an aggressive play, it is at the risk of weaker defence. the odds have never deterred him, though, because he has always been confident in his abilities–in his team’s abilities.

but if, even now with the palpable experience of losing because of his own decision, it still does not deter him from taking risks in a situation where offence may be his downfall, then is he confident…or overconfident?

it is quiet for a moment. hongjoong swallows the urge to justify against their opinions–against your opinions–instead looking around at his team. he meets jongho’s round eyes and he remembers one of the very reasons why he is so committed to leading the red devils to the gold trophy. why, if he is becoming a hurdle instead to their victory, then he needs to change. “what does everybody else think? seonghwa?”

“we’ve been wary of y/n all this time, but the more games we play and especially after…” the alternate captain vaguely gestures in the air, “...today, we should really work with her instead of relying on ourselves. we’ve seen her notebook, too, and i think that’s more than enough for us to see that the effort and resolve she places in our team is genuine. we need to acknowledge that and apologise.”

“not even coach cho went to these lengths, and most definitely not coach yeon,” yeosang shrugs as he offhandedly comments.

spurred on by everybody else, san carefully voices the thought that has been lingering on his mind, “i think it’s time to tell her the truth. we owe her that much.”

the truth. the wounds that not even coach cho knows of.

hongjoong’s distrust in you may have initially been true to his desire to protect his boys from something like that from happening again. but he is now realising that you may have seen right through him. perhaps at some point in time, it became unwillingness to trust you, blinded by his prideful title as the demon king of the ice rink but at the expense of his team under the guise of wanting to safeguard them.

exhaling shakily, voice thick with regret, hongjoong accepts, “i’ve let you all down, haven’t i?”

“no,” yunho gently rebukes. “letting us down would be refusing to listen to us. we trust you for a reason, hongjoong.”

not just as a captain, but as everything else too.

seonghwa wraps an arm comfortingly around him. with hongjoong’s demonic presence on the ice once he is in the zone, it is easy to forget that he actually has a shorter stature than all of them. “that’s right, we trust you,” seonghwa affirms. “the next step is for us to trust our coach as well. we’re a team, but it isn’t complete without our coach.”

“and this apology isn’t yours alone to bear,” yunho reminds. “like seonghwa said, we’re a team and we all have fault in our behaviour towards y/n. if i’m honest, i had a shitty attitude and gave her a hard time at the start too,” he admits, wincing at the memory.

yunho is not the only one who grimaces as they reflect on their own actions–whether they happened when you were first introduced to the team, during your first training together, or even up until today’s game. but wooyoung, who has been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, still has a niggling doubt: one that is most personal to him in comparison to the rest of the team.

wooyoung reveals his thoughts, “but what about her choice to stop playing? i still can’t think of a good reason that i can respect her for having retired.”

“then we ask her,” mingi proposes.

jongho nods, also curious to know whether there is more to your decision than you have let on. “today, though? we don’t really want to come off as accusatory or anything. it might be good to give her some space today.”

“what’s our schedule looking like tomorrow? training?”

everyone looks at seonghwa, the most likely person to know their schedule off by heart. he does, and he scratches his head as he recalls, “no, recovery day. low-intensity cardio in the morning and…a team meeting with coach in the afternoon.”

“tomorrow it is, then,” hongjoong concludes. there are hums of agreement and the decision appears to appease wooyoung enough for the boys to start dispersing, heading to their lockers to finally start changing out of their gear.

wooyoung tosses his helmet and gloves onto the bench in front of his locker before sitting with a sharp but discreet inhale. he carefully loosens the laces on his skates, easing the left one off his foot slowly. the relief is immediate and his fingertips gingerly touch the throbbing area around his ankle. it is not too swollen, but he will need to ice it when they get back to their apartment and he will definitely need to buy more tape.

he sheds off the rest of his gear and uniform, leaving them on the bench too to air out while he takes a quick shower. as he roughly towels his wet hair afterwards, he drags his kit bag further out to make it easier to toss everything in.

“huh?” wooyoung makes a noise of confusion when he unzips the bag, hand immediately reaching in to grab the item that has caught his eye. it is partially covered by his hoodie but he would be able to recognise the packaging anywhere.

“what’s wrong?” san asks, glancing over.

the younger brandishes the brand new roll of strapping tape he has found in his bag, the frown etched across his face slowly relaxing into amused exasperation as he reasons, “i must not have seen this in my bag all along.”

san is about to snort and make fun of his inattentiveness, but a sudden thought stuns the smile off his face. it was not that wooyoung had managed to miss the spare roll in his bag. it was–

“y/n,” he quietly exhales with realisation.

at wooyoung’s questioning what?, san looks at him with upturned eyebrows. “the tape–coach was the one who put it in your bag, right before we all walked in here.”

“this…she gave it to me?” wooyoung’s face drops, remorse evident in the thickness of his voice. “but why?”

san gently squeezes his shoulder with a smile, simply answering, “because she’s our coach.” he turns to zip up his own kit bag and leaves wooyoung to digest the revelation. the boy is quiet for the rest of the time, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stares ahead and absentmindedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room.

when they exit the ice arena, they do not expect to see you. and yet, there you stand beside their bus waiting stonily with your jacket zipped up and hands in your pockets. you mentally count them off without acknowledging them as they start to store their kit bags under the bus and board. yeosang gets on first, taking a seat near the front of the bus as usual. he watches from the window as you wait for the rest of the boys.

you follow jongho up the stairs, the last to load his kit bag, and tell the driver that you are all good to leave. yeosang sits a little straighter as he tucks his small backpack further under the seat in front of him with his feet, having left the seat beside him empty. but before he can open his mouth with an offer of a seat, you have already sat right behind the driver. yeosang leans back into the cushions of his seat, unfamiliar with the sense of disappointment he feels.

the ride back from the competition venue–much less after a lost game–is always quiet, players both physically and mentally exhausted from the strain. this time, though, it is strikingly silent, but you appreciate it–need it.

you stare out of the window as the trees flicker past like a repetitive motion film. most of their leaves have already fallen off, littering the ground in a blur of tragic glory. and with the beginning of winter, the trees will soon become completely bare, bringing about the period of time when there is nothing but bleak emptiness.

winter, 2019: regular season

‘2019 ice hockey rookie stars tournament: team standings’

hongjoong stares at the printed piece of paper with seonghwa at his side, where the results of all the team’s round-robin games have been taped up onto the walls of the stadium. hongjoong does not even bother reading from the top, eyes going straight down to the bottom of the page instead.

the red devils are dead last, having lost every single one of their matches. even the korean penguins, who had nil wins either, had managed to beat them earlier today, ranking them at the lowest of all teams. it is fucking humiliating and hongjoong hates that the sport that had brought him and his boys all together, that they had immeasurable love for, is now one that fills them with shame and indignity.

nobody else but the two captains of the team have decided to look at the rankings. they had all already known towards the end of the regular season that they would not stand a chance at making it into the playoffs. and yet, hongjoong and seonghwa need to see the results for themselves. it is almost masochistic, forcing themselves to look at the fruitless results of their hard work in their first competition that has so devastatingly crushed their morality.

seonghwa picks at his cuticles fretfully and wonders whether he made the wrong decision to give up his education in pursuit of becoming an athlete. he thinks of his parents, who had encouraged him with supportive smiles and offers of financial support the moment he brought up the idea–was it all in vain?

“are you two done looking?”

both of the boys turn at the question to find a captain with his team waiting to look at the standings.

“yeah, sorry,” hongjoong mumbles before stepping aside to yield his spot. the players swarm forwards and he is pushed further back away from the list like a physical representation of his distance from the playoffs.

somebody from the other team yells, “we made it! we’re in the playoffs!” and they simultaneously break out into cries and cheers as they celebrate together.

hongjoong watches on bitterly, wishing with every cell in his body that that was him and his boys. how is he going to walk back into the locker room as their captain when all of his boys have eyes that are rimmed red and cheeks that are blotchy from despair–when there are captains like that who have successfully led their team to at least a chance at winning the competition.

the feeling of a pinky slowly hooking around his own draws hongjoong out of his pain. “let’s go back,” seonghwa murmurs, tugging him away from the still-celebrating team. together, both of them start to walk back through the hallways to their locker room.

“aren’t we down here?” seonghwa questions, standing at the t-intersection that hongjoong has absentmindedly walked straight past.

“oh, yeah. sorry,” hongjoong apologises and begins to backtrack. his ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a voice. “wait, doesn’t that sound like coach?”

before seonghwa can respond, hongjoong has turned around yet again towards the voice in search of their coach. seonghwa hurries to catch up and that is when he hears it too.

“have you transferred the money?”

“yes, i wired you the remaining amount the moment we won,” a deeper, unrecognisable voice reassures.

hongjoong’s footsteps falter, brows knitting together and head cocking to one side. he gestures for seonghwa to slow down, pressing a finger on his other hand to his lips. both of them creep forward silently.

the unfamiliar voice probes, “your team–you’re sure they don’t suspect anything?”

hongjoong and seonghwa do not need to see him to confirm their suspicions when they hear the unmistakable laughter of coach yeon. through the gravelly sound, he mocks, “they have no fucking clue even though they’ve lost every single one of their games. they’re dumber than fucking sheep. their captain tells me everything about their plays and strategies and they never question it when i change things around.”

seonghwa clutches the back of hongjoong’s jersey with a death grip, knowing that without it, his captain will punch coach yeon’s face into a bloody mess. but as much as their coach deserves it, it is not worth the disciplinary action that will inevitably follow, likely suspension, because–

“plus, even if they do somehow find out, what can they do about it? bullshit, that’s what. they have no evidence and they’re not going to risk blowing this up and ruining their own careers instead,” coach yeon boasts smugly. “losing like that as a rookie group in their first year out is completely normal. no one will believe them, and no coach is going to want their team after that because of their ‘shitty sportsmanship’ or out of fear of being accused in the same way if they lose again.”

at coach yeon’s words, seonghwa scrambles to put them into context with his dread-riddled mind. the echoing pounding in his ears tells him that he has just heard something that was never meant to be known. he does not even notice that the voices start to grow distant as the two men begin to walk off, but hongjoong does.

the trembling grip that is still on the back of his jersey grounds hongjoong enough not to throw everything away and sprint up to coach yeon with vile words and heated fists, but he also cannot do nothing. hongjoong peers around the corner before seonghwa can counteract his movement, desperate to identify who exactly coach yeon is talking to. except the revelation has him reeling, hands white from how hard his fingers dig into his palm–a stark contrast to the deep scarlet of flames that leap forth from his murderous eyes.

because the person who is walking beside coach yeon is the coach of the korean penguins. hongjoong and his boys have not been losing because of their skills they believed to be fucking shit–coach yeon has been fucking ensuring they lose.

for money.

winter, present: regular season

you stand on the balcony of your apartment. the sliding glass doors are shut behind you to keep the heat trapped inside, but for now you welcome the refreshing cold of the winter chill as you simply observe.

below on the streets, the miniature specks of people and cars mill around as if you are watching a game simulation. it is strangely humbling to think that each and every one of the people you see are living their own lives, completely distinct to yours with different yet very real problems of their own, but in the grand scheme of the cosmos, you are all insignificant.

you wonder what concern the people holding their coffee are plagued with right now; what problem the people crossing the street are facing. you wonder, if you were to tell them of your worries and they were to tell you of theirs, would you curse or thank the heavens?

the phone in your hand buzzes. you look to see if it is from coach cho and manage a small smile of relief when the notification is indeed from him.

apologies y/n, i was busy earlier. i can call now if you still need me?

you send an affirmative reply, then slide to answer the call that comes through. “hi coach, sorry to bother you.”

“no, you’re alright. is everything okay?”

you hesitate before revealing, “...i messed things up with the boys.”

“the team?” his voice goes gentle, fatherly nature extending to you too. “what happened?”

“hongjoong and i had an argument today after the game because he keeps changing the team’s plays without letting me know, or even after we’ve agreed on something else. it was only meant to be a talk, but then things escalated and we ended up fighting. i just–i don’t know what you saw in me, coach, because i don’t think i’m fit for the boys,” you ramble. “they’re not listening to me, they probably don’t even like me, and we’re going terribly with the season.”

you take a breath as you timidly admit, “i don’t think we’re going to make it into the playoffs and it’s going to be my fault.”

“hey,” coach cho grounds you, “making the playoffs would be great, yes, but the reality is that most teams don’t. and you’re still very young yourself–this is your, what…fifth year of coaching?”

throat too sticky to formulate a response, you simply hum.

“when i first started coaching, i was older than you and it was still a steep learning curve during my first ten years. i believed that coaches deserved the utmost respect and that my opinion was final. they’re my players, so of course i should be the one laying down the laws,” he chuckles. “but growing up was realising that whilst the respect is still there, it needs to be mutual. coaching a team is not a hierarchy of ‘i command, you listen’, but a show of leadership with the captain at the front of the team–not on top of them.”

his words strike a chord within you. coaching the boys was frustrating because they were not listening to you. but it should never have been a case of who listens to who–it should always have been a reciprocated relationship of everyone listening to one other.

as if he can physically feel the guilt that is starting to settle in the pit of your stomach, coach cho draws your attention to something else. “remember what i told you when we met the team for the first time? why i chose you specifically?”

“because of our similar playing styles?” you recall.

“exactly,” he confirms, “you know best the strategies and plays that work, and what their strengths and weaknesses are, because they were also your own. you need to be a coach to their playing style, not the other way around–they shouldn’t be a player to your coaching style.”

you cannot help but worry, “what if they get injured?”

“y/n, this is where your similarities can either be your biggest flaw or your greatest asset as a coach. no matter how safely they play, there will always be a risk of injury. that is just how the sport works and you know that the best. you can teach them to assess the risk and pull back if they really need to, but ultimately, there is no way of eliminating the risk completely.” coach cho pauses, then asks, “if you could meet your younger self, would you make yourself change your playing style?”

would you? as you imagine what you would tell your past self if you had the chance to, you find that you do not have an answer. perhaps for the sake of a prolonged career, you would. but then would it be your passion and skills that are playing the game, or your fears and worries?

if you cannot come to a decision even for yourself, then it is completely unfair for you to restrain the boys within the cages of what you view as safety for their own good. harnessing the defensive skills may have been functional for the grey eagles, but like hongjoong said, you are coaching the red devils now and it is not working for them. you must come to terms that you cannot protect the boys at every opportunity–consciously or unconsciously–you need to be a coach to them.

coach cho, aware that you have come to a conclusion, asks you one final question, “have you told the boys why you retired?”

“no, not yet,” you shake your head. you already have an idea of what he is going to say to you next.

“i think it’s time for you to tell them,” he advises. “remember, y/n, sometimes you need to be vulnerable with them first before you can make things right.”

after coach cho ends the call, you do not make a move to go back inside the apartment. you stay standing on your balcony, arms folded as you lean against the handrail listening to the faint rumble of traffic and hustle of busy activity. life goes on, and so will yours; you just have to make it count.

the trees on the streets may be stripped bare and lonely throughout winter, but eventually you learn to appreciate its nothingness. it is a necessity in order to start afresh.

mingi stares at the blinking cursor that sits in the open search bar. it has been empty for the last twenty minutes since he started up his laptop, wondering whether it would be an invasion of privacy for him to look you up on the internet.

he makes up his mind. he knows that he was the one to tell wooyoung only mere hours ago that they would ask you about your decision to retire tomorrow at the meeting, but mingi supposes it would not hurt to simply see what sort of athlete you were like before.

typing your full name into the search engine, mingi hits ‘enter’ and waits for the results to appear. he combs through the first several links quickly. they all have the same information; ice hockey databases and websites that detail your age, nationality, physical stats and position, but the sections that usually list your team and agency are now blank.

mingi is surprised to learn you were also a centre forward. he scrolls down to your game logs and match statistics that span from 2014 to 2019. you have won an impressive number of championships, most notably the under-18 and under-21 women’s ice hockey league. they are both international competitions and mingi is not sure how your reputation has flown under all of their radars.

frowning, he goes back to the search engine and clicks on the next page in an attempt to find more information. it is not until he clicks yet again to the next page that he finds a low-reputed news article from almost eight years ago where you are the main subject.

‘y/n l/n, youngest player of ‘black cats’, wins ice hockey championship at the age of sixteen’ the headline reads. there is not much to the article, but it outlines your admirable achievement at your young age as a rising prodigy in the ice hockey scene. mingi agrees, since he knows that you also go on to win another international competition a few years after that. just as he is about to close the tab, there is a recommended link that catches his eye.

he hovers his cursor over it. the hyperlinked headline does not explicitly say your name, but the phrasing really only alludes to one athlete considering it is a recommended link on your article. mingi does not know whether he wants to click on it, though, because he is afraid of confirming it is you.

and if it is…then the others will also need to see this too.

“hongjoong, guys, come look at this,” mingi calls out, balancing his laptop on his forearm as he walks out into the open living room. the others look up from where they are sitting or emerge from out of their rooms at his summon.

“what’s this?” hongjoong reaches out to receive the laptop and places it on the table. his eyes skim the screen, trying to make sense of what mingi is showing them.

mingi points to the hyperlink he had been mulling over. “i think we need to look at this.”

solemnity washes over the boys as their curious gazes dull and darken, realisation of what exactly they are reading dawning upon them. all at once, their hearts clench in solidarity. hongjoong clicks on the link. the only sound that permeates the silence is the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. nobody talks. nobody moves.

ice hockey star announces retirement following shoulder injury june 18, 2019 star player y/n l/n, centre forward of the ‘black cats’, has announced her retirement from professional ice hockey today. her decision follows lingering issues after suffering from a rotator cuff tear during the grand finals of this year’s under-21 women’s ice hockey league. l/n has been under the ice hockey spotlight ever since her win in the under-18’s league as the youngest player on her team. she is well-known for her offensive threat to the opponents, bold playing style and unparalleled skill breaking through the lines of defence. during the grand finals in april, l/n was body checked from the side by ‘polar bears’’ kim hyejin. although full-body checking is illegal in women’s hockey, it is not uncommon during the heat of competitions. l/n suffered a severe right rotator cuff tear and is reported to have received open surgery last month. l/n did not provide further details about her recovery, however stated that she plans to focus on her physical rehabilitation in the meantime.

the glare of the screen stares back at the boys as they finally understand exactly why you had retired and why you had come back as a coach–you were unable to fully step away from the sport you so loved with your entire life.

“coach wasn’t telling us to play defensively at all the crucial times just for the sake of the game strategy…” seonghwa grasps.

“...but because she didn’t want the same thing to happen to us,” hongjoong finishes. one of your heated remarks during your argument with him suddenly resounds in his mind: and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you. you had been reliving your own demons every single time hongjoong and his boys were playing aggressively on the ice. “fuck,” he mutters.

mingi leans down a little. “wait, see if there are any other articles about this.”

fingers dancing across the keyboard, hongjoong opens up a new tab. another quick search of your name with the keywords ‘injury’ and ‘retirement’ yields no further articles. mingi is certain you would have had more media coverage considering you had suffered an injury at the rising peak of your prodigious career, so he finds it strange that there is close to no information about this.

“it almost looks as if somebody had the articles purged from the internet,” mingi observes.

jongho nods with furrowed brows, “maybe y/n? but why would she go to the length to remove them?”

“i mean, wooyoung didn’t exactly go around flaunting off his injury to the media. maybe she didn’t want the attention anymore,” yeosang guesses.

yunho nudges wooyoung playfully as he comments, “no offence to you, but none of us are exactly famous enough for the media to take interest in our injuries.”

“i think the real question is why coach didn’t tell us that her injury was the reason why she stopped playing,” seonghwa wonders, “it was never really a choice like she made it out to be.”

none of them know the answer. hongjoong slowly closes the laptop, exhaling deeply, “we’ve got a lot of things to clear up tomorrow…and a lot of apologising. i’m going to sleep early. you all should too.”

with that, he gets out of his seat and disappears into his bedroom. hongjoong’s mind is heavy and crowded and he knows he is going to be awake for a while.

nobody sleeps well that night. especially wooyoung.

spring, 2023: playoffs

“what do you mean i can’t compete in the playoffs?”

“you have a fractured ankle, wooyoung. the playoffs are honestly the least of your concerns and if you keep straining yourself like this, it won’t just be the playoffs that you can’t compete in–it’ll be the rest of your life,” coach cho admonishes.

“but this is our first proper championship, coach,” wooyoung begs, “you have to let me play.”

coach cho hates that he has to say no and if he could swap ankles with his player, he would do so in a heartbeat. “this isn’t a choice. you physically cannot play. what are you going to do out there on the ice? crawl?”

“fuck, coach, you don’t understand. it was so hard for us to get to this point. this means everything to me, fuck, please,” wooyoung pleads between heaving breaths.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung,” coach cho apologises, leaving no further room for argument as the other boys divert their gazes to the floor.

hongjoong gently squeezes wooyoung’s shoulder. “the doctor said that your cast can come off in about eight weeks and if it’s looking good, you can gradually join in on any light training when it’s off-season.”

wooyoung does not care because in eight week’s time the playoffs will already be over. he knows he is being unreasonable and that there is no chance he will be able to set foot in an ice rink within the next two months. but his heart and mind are operating separately and the only thing his heart can see is the opportunity of playing in the championships slipping right out of his grasp.

he is already angry at himself for getting injured in the first place but it is not enough to quell wooyoung’s raging inferno. so he does the only thing he can think of in the moment–he spits out his anger with a venomous, “i hate you all.”

it hurts the boys more to see wooyoung hurting and coach cho speaks up on their behalf, “i would rather you hate us now than for you to hate yourself in the future because you traded decades of your career for this one playoff.”

wooyoung jerks his head away defiantly, but they know he is only trying to hide his tears. unable to watch any longer, san moves in closer and pulls the younger into his arms.

“fuck off, san. i don’t need you.”

san swallows the hurt in his chest because he knows there is no truth behind wooyoung’s words. “i know you don’t,” he offers, “but i need you. so just let me stay.”

wooyoung’s body sags as all of the fight slips out of him in the form of shuddering sobs. san embraces him tightly, as if he has picked up all the pieces of the other and only a hug can make him whole again.

“i’m sorry,” wooyoung chokes out.

san shakes his head with reassuring hushes, “don’t be. you focus on recovering and we’ll take it from here.”

like that, wooyoung’s anger is quenched and the team goes on to compete in the playoffs without him. but in the absence of anger comes other emotions, jealousy and insecurity the ugliest of them all. wooyoung despises the bitter taste in his mouth as he sits on the player’s bench outside of the rink each game, only able to helplessly watch his team advance further in the playoffs without him.

and as much as wooyoung wants them to win, he also does not want them to win, because if they can win the championships without him playing as their left wing, then do they really need him at all? he never gets to find out the answer though. they lose in the quarter finals.

wooyoung does not tell anybody about the ill relief he feels…and he vows to take that secret with him to the grave.

winter, present: regular season

the moment you walk into kq’s meeting room, a rehearsed apology for the team on the tip of your tongue, you realise that something is off. not necessarily wrong, per se; just off.

all the boys are sitting around the table as usual, though the overhead projector that is routinely already set up with video footage of their recent games has been put on standby mode. but the thing that unconsciously makes your hackles rise is the expression they all nurse on their faces, strangely familiar yet foreign at the same time. it is familiar in the sense that people have looked at you this way in the past, but it is foreign in the sense that it has never come from the boys before.

“hi, coach,” hongjoong clears his throat awkwardly, opting to look at the wall behind you instead of your eyes as if even he knows this is the first time he has ever addressed you as such. “we had a…talk last night and thought we should probably clear up a few things before we discuss the actual games.”

although you share the same sentiment as they do, hongjoong’s words put you on guard. gingerly, you lower yourself into an empty seat across from him. “i also have a couple of things to say, but you guys start,” you cue.

hongjoong glances at seonghwa beside him, who in turn gives him a miniscule shrug. neither of them know how to bring it up with you as they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. thankfully, mingi steps in, not one to beat around the bush.

“why didn’t you tell us about your injury?” he asks directly.

with mingi’s question, you are suddenly able to place their expression. the boys look at you warily as if you are a wounded animal they are afraid will run away. you loathed the expression years ago when it was from your coach, your teammates and your family–the constant treading on eggshells around you with pitying eyes–and you still loathe it just as much as you do now.

your prickles emerge and your instinctive reaction is to deny it. you have kept your injury a secret up until now for a reason and the unexpected confrontation has all of your sirens blaring to keep it a secret. but then you remember coach cho’s advice–you remember the apology you had mulled over all night–and you force your prickles to retract.

you take a breath. coach cho would not have told them about your injury, so there is only one way the boys could have found out about it. “you read the articles, didn’t you?”

mingi at least has the decency to look sheepish as he admits, “one…but there weren’t any others.”

“i thought as much,” you mumble to yourself, smiling tightly. you choose not to think about how they came across the article. “i wanted them all removed and my agency managed to pull enough connections to sweep the articles under the rug, but i should have known that in this day and age it would be impossible to get rid of any media completely.”

the question remains as to why you have chosen to keep this hidden and also–

“why did you want them removed, though?” hongjoong furrows his brows.

you have faced countless demons in the last six years. the injury itself, the abrupt end to your golden days, and the forced reconciliation with the fact that you will never be able to play again. and yet, the demon that continues to haunt you to this day is the media spotlight that chases after you as if you are a circus animal.

you are unable to look at any of them in the eye as you finally bare yourself open to the boys. “the articles felt belittling and shameful–they still do. they made me feel less as an athlete then and they make me feel less as a coach now. i worked my heart and soul to get to where i was with the skills that i had, but you don’t understand just how crippling it is for all of that to be overshadowed by an injury. it was no longer a celebration of my achievements, simply because nobody cared anymore. it just became a fucking broken record of, ‘how does it feel to have fallen at the peak of your career?’

“then when i became a coach, it didn’t matter how well my team performed or how hard they worked to win the championships. the question became, ‘how does it feel to coach after being forced to retire because of your injury?’ no matter how hard i tried, i just could not escape the hellhole of my injury.”

guilt settles in the pit of mingi’s stomach as it also does for the others. they may not have written the article, but by consuming it and searching for more, they had unknowingly joined the faceless masses of those who had hurt you.

you dig your thumbs into the flesh of your thighs to stop your voice from shaking as you continue, “the media will not care for the achievements that myself or my players accomplish when there is something even better–a sob story. but i do not need that kind of pity. not from athletes, not from other coaches, and most definitely not from strangers silently pitying my life from behind their newspaper or screen when i did not ask for any of it. i made people forget and i kept this all hidden because my career, be it as a coach or a former athlete, does not deserve to be reduced to that kind of shit.”

the raw honesty behind your words strikes the boys silent. what they thought they had started to understand about you, they are now realising was barely the tip of the iceberg. seonghwa wonders for just how long you have left this wound bleeding and untreated. he calls out for you sadly, “coach, you should’ve told us.”

when you look up, you are surprised to find wetness brimming his eyes. you feel the hot rush of emotions build up behind your own eyes but from anger, because why is he upset? what reason does he have to cry when you are the one who has suffered all this time?

your voice is biting when you respond, “and have you look down on me like everybody else? i just said, i do not need your pity–”

“it’s not pity,” a voice interrupts firmly. of all people, you least expected it to come from wooyoung. his tone stays unyielding as he holds your gaze. “we’re athletes too, y/n.”

the way he includes you in the collective–as an athlete–has your glare softening immediately, replaced by the dangerous quivering of your bottom lip while he elaborates, albeit voice gentler now, “we are hurting for you–with you. it is not pity; it is standing by your side in hopes that we can help you up if you ever fall again.”

because it is okay to fall, and you will fall; wooyoung knows that the best.

you tilt your head upwards as you desperately blink back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill. the swell of emotions that had churned in your chest had not been anger but fatigue, you realise. wooyoung’s words give you sudden clarity that you are tired–of suffering alone and in silence. you want help.

“i’m tired of hurting,” you confess quietly.

“then let us share the hurt with you.”

the dam breaks and your tears fall freely down your cheeks. it starts off with a nod so miniscule that the boys think they have imagined it, but then slowly and surely, your head moves up and down with more conviction. “okay,” you whisper.

you had always thought that you had come to terms with your injury and the end of your career, but perhaps you are still mourning your loss…and perhaps that is okay. like looking into a time-warped mirror, wooyoung sees the fight slip out of your body with a sob as you apologise, “i’m sorry.”

san wants to cross the room and wrap his arms around you if it can take away even just a fraction of your hurt. but he knows that he cannot cross the boundaries of professionalism despite the intimate nature of the conversation right now, especially when you and the team are only just starting to patch things up. so instead, he opts to rub his thumb over the knuckles of wooyoung’s hand from under the table, which has slipped into his, hoping that one day he will be able to do the same for you.

“we understand,” hongjoong answers on their behalf, “you were doing what you needed to do in order to protect yourself.”

and if you do not realise that he says those words for himself and his team to hear too, then you will by the end of the conversation as you walk away with a newfound understanding of them.

“no, not just for that,” you shake your head, roughly swiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “it ended up negatively influencing the way i coached you guys, even if it was subconscious. i let my own trauma dictate how i wanted you to play: defensively all the time whether it was needed or not. hongjoong, you were right about me not coaching your team as your team.”

you try your damned hardest to keep your voice steady so that you can look at them properly to apologise, “i’m sorry i made it so hard to trust me as your coach.”

“okay, let me stop you right there,” yunho smiles gently, sliding a tissue box in your direction. “we were pricks too, so half the apology is ours.”

“don’t call her a prick,” seonghwa whispers. his horrified expression relaxes when you break out into a wet chuckle.

hongjoong is glad that you are able to find something to laugh about even with your cheeks still damp and blotchy, and he finds his mouth curling into a bittersweet smile. you have been honest and vulnerable with them and now it is their turn.

“we have something to tell you about our past coach,” he starts, drawing your gaze to him. “not coach cho–our very first coach. we’re not trying to justify that what we did as a result was okay, but…”

“but hopefully i can understand,” you finish when hongjoong hesitates. he nods and you mirror his action with a reassuring smile to encourage him to talk.

but irregardless of what they tell you, you already know that you want to understand them, because understanding is the first step to forgiving, and you want that too.

so with intermittent comments from the other boys, hongjoong reveals to you the hidden wounds they have been nursing. and as they tell you about coach yeon, how their trust in him had been misplaced, how he had betrayed it for money at the expense of their championship, and how they had then let that become mistrust in you and your reason for retiring, wooyoung finds himself quiet so that he can steal glances at you.

he can see it now. the untameable beast within you of passion for ice hockey that has been forcibly chained down to the ground with the weight of the earth. the devastating torment that must incessantly surge through you in the most debilitating waves, tenfold any anguish he felt when he was unable to compete in the playoffs. the blemished canvas of dark and ghastly emotions that you do not let see the light of day, yet continue to coexist in hidden silence.

it is there and then that wooyoung realises you and him may be more similar than he thought–that you may actually understand him better than any of his seven boys.

you stop the drill.

yeosang gracefully turns in an arc whilst keeping the puck close to his stick as hongjoong and seonghwa dig their skates into the ice to brake before their momentum takes out the younger.

“let’s have jongho try using the perimeter of the rink instead of passing to yeosang this time. start the faceoff again,” you instruct.

the chorus of responses that you receive are zealous, even slightly teasing as the boys lower their voices with a, “yes, coach!” and give you small salutes with their gloved hands. you cannot help but snort and shake your head, waving at them to retake their positions.

practice is short today, since your team has a game tomorrow. the first half an hour consisted of running through offensive formations for power plays and you are now focusing on defensive penalty kills. your two captains and wooyoung are playing as the mock opponents, preparing your remaining wings and defenseman for a situation where they are down a player.

hongjoong seems to mull over a thought as he looks at the formation of his boys. “you mentioned the team we’re playing against has a tendency to position their forwards higher up, didn’t you?” he asks and when you nod, he suggests, “what do you think about trying the diamond formation instead? might help close some of their shooting lanes.”

with the captain’s input, you reposition yeosang further up to form the tip of the diamond, and yunho too to cover the right point whilst jongho covers the left. mingi moves in a little closer to the goal to cover the bottom of the diamond and you make sure to point out the importance of his position.

“if the opportunity arises, we can transition into a counterattack instead with 3-1. but we’ll need to make sure we still cover the goal in case they turn it back over again–mingi, this will probably be you. support whoever has the puck from behind, but make sure you don’t go too far forward.”

mingi answers with an affirmative and yeosang passes the puck to hongjoong for him to commence the penalty kill. at your whistle, the rink explodes into action. wooyoung and seonghwa immediately split down the perimeters to open up shooting lanes for their captain, who passes the puck off to wooyoung the moment he has cleared half the rink. with a brief adjustment of the puck’s angle, he attempts a cross-ice pass to where seonghwa is free on the other side.

with astonishing speed, jongho intercepts the puck and yells, “3-1!” he continues to barrel forward with the momentum of his explosive acceleration towards the goal as yeosang anticipates a pass and yunho joins the counterattack rush to his right. the three of your players charge forwards with adrenaline as mingi covers them from behind. jongho chips the puck over hongjoong’s stick, which is immediately taken up by yeosang. without a goaltender, he finishes it off with an easy shot into the net.

the tempo and execution of the rush surprises not just you, but the boys themselves too, who are tapping their sticks together with elated excitement at the success of the play. it may only be a simulated practice drill, but you still share in the same pride and contentment that hongjoong’s face glows at you with.

he cocks his head to the side with a paired smile and you return the same nonverbal acknowledgement. corners of your lips still lifted up, you gather the boys, “let’s have a drink break.”

as the boys make their way over to the benches, removing their gloves and helmets, you eye the water bottles and make sure you have enough–five in the cooler and three on the bench beside it. san bounds up to you after grabbing one from the cooler, bragging, “coach! did you see the way jongho intercepted that puck?”

from beside him, wooyoung reenacts the moment with wild flails of his limbs and airy whooshes from his mouth, jongho watching with bashful giggles. you indulge in their animated recount and listen intently. “he was amazingly fast,” you agree.

yeosang passes an opened bottle to wooyoung before untwisting the lid to his own, commenting, “the ankle weights on top of all the training must be working.”

the boys are not currently wearing any, but you had slowly implemented the use of vests, ankle or wrist weights during specific drills. now that they have taken them off and are playing without the burden of the additional mass, you are all starting to see the gains of their hard work.

you smirk with satisfaction, “of course. if my players are going to bulldoze across the ice, may as well make them fast enough to avoid all the opponents.”

“don’t encourage her,” wooyoung elbows yeosang scandalously. “she’s going to make us wear heavier weights next practice.”

“you don’t get to complain if you don’t even wear the weights,” you quip.

he knows his injury means that he cannot wear the weights in case it places stress on his ankle, so he curses at you with no real heat just for the sake of cursing, “fuck you.”

you wink, “love you too.”

wooyoung shuts his mouth and scrunches the bridge of his nose with faux displeasure, and jongho laughs at his inability to faze you. you glance down and open your notebook to mention, “on that note, though, how do we feel about going up a few hundred grams next week?”

“i’m fine with that,” yeosang says at the same time jongho confirms, “sounds good.” most of the other boys also nod that they are fine with increasing their weights, save for seonghwa who notifies you that he is still adjusting so he will keep his as it is for now.

you jot down ticks and crosses next to their names corresponding to their answers whilst suggesting, “yunho and mingi, you can both probably try half a kilogram since your body masses are higher.”

said boys peer over your shoulder to see what their new weights would be, then yunho makes a noise of intriguement. “coach, did you write these?”

you look to where his finger is pointing to–sticky notes upon sticky notes of unorganised observations and reminders to yourself. starting to feel self-conscious, you deny, “...no,” only for yunho to swipe the notebook from out of your grasp. “hey!”

he holds it up and open above him, voice gleeful as he reads one out, “‘jongho, wooyoung and yeosang prefer water at room temperature when training–take bottles out of cooler!’”

“aw, coach,” wooyoung coos, “did you deliberately leave three bottles in room temperature for us on the bench?”

feeling your ears heat up from being exposed, you swipe at the notebook. your skates give you added height, but so do yunho’s skates, so your attempts to jump for it are futile.

“‘boys want to eat abura soba after their win’,” he continues to read, pausing to let out a dramatic gasp, “are you going to treat us, coach?” his question is met with enthusiasm.

when another wild swipe sends a sharp sting down your shoulder from the movement, reminding you of the pain that had flared up a few days ago, you decide to change tactics. you grab the back and front of his jersey with your hands, completely ready to commit to scaling him like a literal tree. but then a different set of hands easily takes the notebook out of yunho’s and of course it would be mingi. you insult, “give it back, you tall buffoon!”

mingi is hardly fazed as you switch targets to him, your fingertips nowhere near reaching the notebook as he snickers and reads, “‘trial jongho as starting forward–wait.” he lowers his hands with sobriety and you are finally able to snatch the notebook back, shutting it before they can read any more of your sticky notes. it is not like there is anything they cannot know, but it is sort of embarrassing for them to see how much attention you pay to them.

“you want jongho on the starting lineup?” mingi confirms that he has not read it wrong, eyes as wide as all the other boys as they look at you.

jongho is almost certain that you must have meant somebody else, or something else, because there is no way that he would be given the opportunity to start for the team–not when they have yeosang and wooyoung as their wings, and the choice of hongjoong or seonghwa as their centres. he is used to being the player who momentarily relieves others of their shift on the ice, or as his parents so like to remind him, option b.

“why do you all look so surprised?” you frown. beckoning at jongho with your chin, you ask, “you’ve been practising hard to make your right hand just as good as your left hand, haven’t you? so let’s take advantage of your versatility and unpredictability on ice and throw the opponents off. what do you think?”

jongho’s mouth opens and shuts, struggling to formulate an answer through his wide beam other than, “i–of course, if you’d let me–if everyone else is happy.”

the pleased smile on hongjoong’s face is enough to make his cheeks sore and he wraps his arm around the youngest’s shoulders. he praises, “look at you, our wild card and our hidden ace,” as seonghwa declares, “i know he’ll do us so proud.”

both yeosang and wooyoung simultaneously offer their positions in the starting lineup and the rest of the boys watch on with fond expressions. they are grateful that you have recognised the talents and hard work of their youngest. although you are not aware, this opportunity holds significance not just in regards to his career.

you conclude, “we’ve been on a good streak with our games. let’s ride the momentum and show the other teams what jongho is capable of–what we’re all capable of.”

“yes, coach!” they shout, the loud echo of their voices reverberating and filling the rink with buzzing energy for the remainder of the training session.

spirits still high by the time you call it a wrap, you let them change as you grab your own belongings. there is a team meeting in the afternoon so you and the boys will be going back to kq to eat at the cafeteria and use the booked room. you pause when you see wooyoung loitering by your bag. he still has not changed out of his practice clothes.

“i’m not letting you on the bus if you’re planning on staying in those clothes,” you joke.

“i’m going to change!” he scowls indignantly, then avoids eye contact as he thrusts something out in your direction. he mumbles, “had some spares. didn’t want them. just dumping them with you so you can stash them or use them or whatever, i don’t care.”

you grab the small bag, brows creased with confusion, but wooyoung dashes away to change before you can ask what it is. you peer inside and to your pleasant surprise, there are two packs of pain relief patches. your shoulder protests at the lack of attention you have given it in the last few days. the pain is chronic and never really goes away, but it has been bothering you more than usual recently, so it is all in good timing that you now have some patches.

you make a mental note to stick one on when you get to the company and grab your bag after ensuring your notebook is stored inside. as you head towards the change rooms to wait for the boys, you spot a piece of paper on the floor. it looks like rubbish that you must have missed on your way in earlier so you pick it up to throw away. but when your fingertips touch the familiar sheen of the wax-like paper, you realise wooyoung must have dropped it.

it is confirmed when you unfold it to read the text and see that it is from yesterday evening, at the pharmacy that is just across the street from the company; in your hands you hold wooyoung’s receipt for two packs of pain relief patches.

spring marks the start of the playoffs. in synchronisation with the burst of life that blooms with the season, your boys, too, flourish in the league.

the unpredictability of your team’s strategies that entail a mix of both yours and hongjoong’s prowess helps to secure wins over the remainder of the regular season. despite the unsteady start to the season, it allows your team to scrape into the round of sixteen near the bottom of the standings.

the red devils are seeded against the team that is third in the rankings, and then against the sixth-standing team in the quarterfinals. in upsets that knock out two of the most anticipated teams in the league, your boys advance into the semifinals, their reputation as the demons of the ice rink that had laid low now rapidly spreading.

where none of the other competitors had paid you and your players any mind before, barely even noticing your presence, the opponents now glance and watch your team walk past with an air of confidence through the arena. their tense jaws and hard gazes size up your athletes–formidable rivals who have suddenly barrelled up the ranks from out of nowhere and now pose perhaps the biggest threat as a team that has somehow slipped under their radars.

you know; your team may be small in numbers. but with yunho and mingi flanking the sides of the boys, and even with hongjoong’s charismatic aura alone leading the front, which extends around him like a dark cloud of terror and envelops the rest of the group too, your team is a pack of predators at the tip of the apex.

other players part to make a path for your boys, whose heads are held high and eyes are set only on their captain and you, their coach, as you all walk to your assigned changeroom. the nerves have long dissipated because the ice rink is your territory and the other teams are your prey.

the moment you shut the door behind the last of them into the room though, the icy stare in wooyoung’s eyes melt and he exclaims, “holy shit, did you see the way everybody was looking at us? we must have looked so fucking hot, i wish i could ask for my own signature.”

from their glowing faces alone, you can tell that they are all basking in the feeling of finally being recognised and reckoned with. yunho bats his eyelids and pinches his voice higher into a falsetto, “oh wooyoung! you’re so handsome and cool, could i please have your signature?”

mingi imitates him and pounces on wooyoung, begging for a photo together as he clings onto his elbow. it sets off the rest of the boys to crowd around like mock fans with faux exhilaration. you snort at their antics, leaving wooyoung to sign imaginary sheets of paper with his imaginary pen in favour of ensuring all of their backup equipment and gear is correctly located outside or in the storage area.

you allow the boys adequate time to change into their full gear for their warm-up prior to the actual semifinal game before you walk back into the locker room. your ears perk up when you catch the end of san’s question, “that’s good for us, isn’t it?”

“what is?” you ask out of curiosity, flipping open the provided cooler and adding several sports drinks into the ice.

“i overheard someone on the white tigers team say that their head coach happened to fall sick, so they have their assistant coach today,” jongho mentions.

the surge of brazen smiles and reassured glints in their eyes at the reveal of information makes you falter to a degree. you lightly chastise, “don’t let that get to your heads and start being cocky–play as you usually do and do not underestimate them just because their head coach is off.”

you pull your notebook out of your bag, the familiar cover and weight of the book providing you with a sense of security as you remind the boys, “the white tigers have a very similar playing style as us. we may have worked hard on our defensive strategies, but with similar strengths and weaknesses overall, it won’t hurt for us to still be cautious.”

“yes, coach,” they chorus.

hongjoong nods, “let’s go warm up, then finalise our starting lineup for the game.”

your team’s allocated time on the rink passes by quickly and it is followed by the last adjustments to the discussed strategies and game plan, thorough checks of their gear, and the remaining boys who are still wearing their practice jerseys change out of the blue into their red game uniform. in full gear, there your boys stand, presence intimidating and demoniac. the boys do not live up to their team name; their team name lives up to them.

they stride through the hallway for their semifinal game against the white tigers. right at the end before it leads to the ice rink, yunho yells, “pep talk, captain!”

hongjoong groans, rolling his eyes, but places the blade of his stick onto the rubber flooring nonetheless. the rest of the boys huddle around, their sticks meeting in the centre of the circle and standing close together so that their helmets and shoulders knock against one another. you are also swept into the circle with yeosang and san by your sides.

“boys…and girl,” hongjoong snickers to himself before recollecting his very inspirational train of thought, “we’ve fought hard to make it this far–this is the first time we’ve made it into the semis, so let’s keep running until the very end, yeah?”

to the team’s increasingly loud cheers, hongjoong yells, “let’s fuck it up out there!”

their sticks hit the ground in unison and despite the muted sound of the cushioned flooring, their shouts of fighting resolve and unwavering determination drown out everything else. together, you emerge from the hallway and your starting players take their positions on the ice, ready to fuck it up.

only, it happens literally.

the moment the puck hits the ice and the white tigers’ centre forward, byun, wrestles it away with his blade, hongjoong immediately knows it is going to be one of those games. the ones where his competitive grit is fueling his mind ablaze but his body is leaden-footed as if he is wading through quicksand; where his body is just unable to keep up and move the way he wants it to. it is one of those days where his condition is just inexplicably off and there is nothing he can do about it except hope that his years of training and sheer aptitude for the sport will be enough.

“fuck,” you curse under your breath at hongjoong’s slip as jongho and yeosang rush to fall back and support those in defence. “he wasn’t like that during the warm-ups.”

byun is not only agile and swift, but is almost an identical reflection of hongjoong’s own bold and assertive offence. the centre forward powers through with evasive turns around yunho’s attempt to body check him, unafraid and confident. passing the blue line into your team’s defensive zone, byun flicks the puck at the goal.

the point shot is an unexceptional attempt to score, nothing that san’s reflexive goaltending cannot take care of. he extends his left foot and blocks the low shot with his leg pad, where the puck then slides in yunho’s direction. you did not doubt for a moment that san would not be able to save the shot, but it is still a close call that is far too early in the game to be a good sign.

your team’s greatest strength is their unspoken synergy and seamless unity, but it is also their greatest weakness. when one player stumbles, particularly when it is their captain–the very roots of the team–their bond runs so deeply that it throws their teamwork out of harmony and ultimately impacts the entire team.

with san’s save, yunho regains possession and handles the puck around the back of their net to shake off the pressure that the white tigers’ forwards are placing on him, as well as to buy his own team some time to reassemble in their formation.

you know that this is not going to work for long; you have to change the momentum of the game, and fast. “seonghwa, get ready,” you alert. “you’re going on for hongjoong.”

the alternate captain stands, alarmed at the unexpected line change so early into the game. he grips his stick with white knuckles and watches his team as he waits for your cue. yunho hits the puck against the boards where yeosang successfully receives the rebound.

“breakout!” yeosang yells and rushes forward with the chasing skates of the opponents nipping at his heels. jongho clears the centre line into the offensive zone at the same time hongjoong screens and blocks the view of the white tigers’ goaltender, setting up for an opportunity to score.

when the opponent’s left defence and wing advance on yeosang rapidly, he fakes a deceptive pass towards the boards before twisting the blade of his stick and flicking the puck between their skates instead in hongjoong’s direction. but like an eagle honing in on a small rodent, byun swoops in to snatch the puck, flipping the possession again.

the tides turn and all the athletes on the rink race towards your team’s net, a cutthroat competition between triumph and desperation to chase the puck. byun passes to the player on his left as they both dash closer, the left forward immediately returning the puck the moment he receives it to break past mingi’s defence.

you are able to see the white tigers’ right wing following closely behind ready for a drop pass, but in your team’s frenzied minds, they are unable to read the play. yunho approaches byun, who is expecting the defence and leaves the puck behind whilst skating on, knowing that it will be received by his trailing teammate. with the momentary confusion that is enough to disrupt both yunho and san’s gaze on the puck, the opponent’s right wing winds his stick back just enough to build power without sacrificing speed, then slaps the puck into the corner of the goal–

–and scores. within the first three minutes of the game.

“seonghwa,” you call out again with urgency as the whistle blows. you turn to look at him, “you’re up. you have to break the flow of the team. not just the white tigers, but ours too–the boys are panicking and you need to help anchor them.”

he nods, steadying his hand on the board in preparation to hop over it, and you yell out for the captain, “change!”

hongjoong sees the gesture of your hand pointing at the bench, and although his chest tightens with frustration at himself, he speeds towards the edge of the rink to change. once the captain is close enough, seonghwa pushes his skate off the benches to launch himself over the top of the boards onto the ice then propels himself forward to take the centre faceoff.

the captain sits down heavily on the bench, defeat already broiling off of his slumped body in smothering swells. you really cannot afford to take your eyes off the game; it waits for nobody and the whistle has already blown, the rink erupting into commotion. but whilst you need to watch the game unfold, you need hongjoong just as much, and his team needs him.

you turn him slightly to face you so that he can see your face of resolution. “you are the captain, so be the captain–for the team…and for yourself,” you invigorate, voice raised so that he can hear you over the noise of the stadium.

you give his shoulder a hard squeeze, certain he will not be able to even feel it from under the pads of his uniform. regardless, he understands your intentions and nods grimly, the fog in his eyes clearing. wooyoung taps the back of his helmet in a show of encouragement and hongjoong returns the gesture with appreciation.

a particularly loud thump draws the attention of all three of you back to the game. from the grimace on yeosang’s face and his hand steadying himself on the boards, it is obvious he has just been body checked into the wall. seonghwa pursues the puck with graceful yet powerful speed before he digs both skates perpendicular into the ice to suddenly change direction. pushing off, he accelerates back towards the white tigers’ defensive zone when mingi manages to disrupt the opponent’s stickhandling enough for yunho to sweep the puck and skate it up the perimeter of the rink away from their net.

wooyoung also goes on for yeosang but as the left wing, so jongho switches position to play as the right forward. he skates past the benches when an opportunity arises and he hands off his stick whilst grabbing his right-handed stick from you with practised ease.

with the line change of forwards and with seonghwa on as your centre, your team stabilises to an extent. the red devils are no longer being pushed back but they are also unable to push forward. the game is at a stalemate, although the tides remain in favour of the white tigers with both their positional and psychological advantage of the first goal.

you can see the pressure weighing down on your boys; passes that yunho and mingi would be capable of executing blindfolded are miscalculated; predictable manoeuvres still mislead wooyoung in the wrong direction; seonghwa and jongho fail to notice the opportunities for clear passing and shooting lanes; and the openings appear far too wide and innumerable for san to cover the goal from. the relentless offensive pressure that the white tigers places on your team, strikingly similar to how the boys played when you first started coaching them, does not give any breathing room either.

so that is how the first period comes to an end–losing zero to one with none of your players performing at their best condition. their steps are heavy and burdened as they walk back to the locker room for the intermission, helmets removed the moment they come off the ice to reveal hardened expressions. in the privacy of your assigned room, most of the boys adjust the pads in their gear and yunho peels off his shin guards to let them air out.

you pass around their iced bottles and as exhausted as they are, they make sure to voice their gratitude. san grabs wooyoung’s bottle for him, since the younger is bent over loosening the laces of his left skate. “here,” san murmurs, twisting open the cap and passing it to wooyoung once he straightens his back.

similarly, seonghwa hands over an opened bottle to yeosang before taking a swig of his own. “you’re okay?” he checks, the particularly rough body check that yeosang had copped earlier in the game still at the forefront of his mind.

yeosang gives the alternate captain a reassuring smile, “i’m okay.”

appeased by the answer, seonghwa turns to look at hongjoong, who is re-taping the blade of his stick. “what about you?” seonghwa softly asks, “you’re feeling okay?”

hongjoong glances up briefly at the back of your figure. you are busy shifting the red magnets around on the whiteboard and erasing the markings you had made prior to the start of the semifinals. when you turn around to gather their attention, you accidentally make eye contact with him and break out into a small smile.

“yeah,” hongjoong replies, “i’m feeling okay.”

“alright, listen up boys, that was just the first period. we’re not even halfway into this game and we’ve started to even up the playing field now that we’ve found our footing,” you encourage. “we just have to make sure we keep our heads cool and read their plays instead of simply reacting to their movements.”

you look at each of them as you direct, “their centre forward, byun, has been on for almost all of first period, so there’s probably going to be a shift change, if not a complete line change of forwards. they have the leniency to swap out their top players since they’re in the lead, which means if we want to break their momentum, we need to break it then.”

shifting yourself slightly out of the way, the boys are able to see the new arrangement of positions you have marked out on the whiteboard. “we’re starting the second period by sharpening our offence in the 2-2-1 formation,” you explain. you beckon your head at the captain, “hongjoong, you’re back on. you and wooyoung are to position yourselves up high between the neutral and offensive zones–try to screen their goaltender when our boys have possession. yunho, i want you to move up to our blue line with jongho and open up as many passing lanes as you two can. mingi will stay in defence and help cover the goal with san in case the white tigers makes a counterattack.

“use this opportunity to make as many scoring chances as you can. if there isn’t a clear shot but there’s a chance it can be continued on by another one of us, then go for it anyway–any sort of pressure we can put on their team is better than none.”

your forwards nod with understanding, so you continue to the most important point, “but the moment byun and the wings–kim and song, i think they are–come back on, we’re reversing the formation.” you reposition half of the magnets into a 1-2-2 formation. “only hongjoong will stay up high; wooyoung will fall back and join jongho in the neutral zone; put pressure on their forwards from there. yunho and mingi, you’ll play left and right defence as usual.”

san listens intently when you start moving the black magnets that represent the opposing players and call out to him directly. you warn, “san, be careful of their drop passes. kim and song have been skating forward but leaving the puck behind for byun to score multiple times throughout the first period. they have you primed to predict it now, so they’re probably going to change their tactic and pass directly in front of the goal instead.”

“yes, coach,” san acknowledges.

a glance at the screen on the wall of the locker room tells you that there are only a few minutes left of the intermission. “gear up and get ready to go back on,” you instruct the boys.

they make final adjustments to their pads and yunho tapes his shin guards back into place under his socks. you make sure they all have their helmets and sticks when they start to file out of the locker room once they are ready and you grab wooyoung’s gloves for him while he ties the laces of his skates again.

“thanks,” he reaches out for them as he stands up. except he stumbles slightly when he puts weight on his left ankle and your hand instinctively grabs his to steady him.

your eyes grow wide with concern. you know that wooyoung is the type to keep quiet about his pain, even if you ask, “does your ankle hurt?”

“no, my legs just fell asleep on me from sitting,” he reassures, conscious of your hand that still holds his. he smiles through his lie and hopes that you are unable to pick up on it. the buzzer sounds before you can, though, warning you both that there is only one minute remaining until the game resumes.

hurriedly you tell him, “let me know if you need to come off.”

somebody yells out your names, forcing you both to rush off to join the rest of the team in the hallway. wooyoung knows that he should admit to you right there and then that his ankle does hurt, but he will not–he cannot…because he owes it to his team.

they do not know and they will never know, but there is not a day that goes past where wooyoung does not feel guilty for having desired for their loss last year. he has to play and win this championship for his team because only then can he start to forgive himself. but until he wins, he deserves to suffer.

those in the lineup rapidly glide across the ice to take their positions, wooyoung included. a short buzzer sounds, the puck is dropped, and the second period starts. immediately you can see that your boys have the advantage. the white tigers had not expected you to take such an aggressive approach of offence considering that you are losing.

and sure enough, just as you had predicted, their coach has changed their entire line of forwards. the players are still undeniably skilled, but they visibly struggle to match the pace at which hongjoong and wooyoung are now leading your team to attack.

the rink is under the boys’ control; the neutral zone has become a stronghold with the resistance of both jongho and yunho’s combined strength and mingi’s reinforcement from behind. wooyoung weaves through the players with polished agility as he creates passing opportunities around the offensive zone, whilst hongjoong makes his own path with imposing might, his devilish wings spread. and even if the white tigers somehow manage to gain possession of the puck and break past your defence, san looks impossibly larger than the goal itself, leaving no openings for their forwards to score.

it is well into the second period when the perfect play sets itself up. with mingi blocking any possible rebounds off the boards, yunho’s attempt to body check the white tigers’ right wing forces the player to pass the puck across the ice. before their centre forward is able to receive it, jongho has already intercepted and is thundering ahead with his stick controlling the puck.

“high!” he shouts, ploughing through the neutral zone as wooyoung and hongjoong immediately respond to his call and skate up towards the goal.

jongho deliberately looks at his captain but flicks the puck with a forehand pass in the other direction, too fast for the defenders to react to. wooyoung easily receives the anticipated pass, thighs burning and his left ankle stinging as he rushes towards the goal from the left with powerful acceleration. the white tigers’ goaltender immediately lowers his stance and raises his arms in preparation to block his shot.

in the corner of his eye, wooyoung sees hongjoong matching his lightning pace on his right, the captain’s eyes narrowed with concentration and body weight tilted forward as he hurtles past the defenders. wooyoung pretends to wind up his stick for a slap shot into the net, only to twist the angle of his arms at the last second to send the puck skittering across the ice directly parallel to the goal. the goaltender drops down to his knees, having anticipated a scoring attempt, except the puck is now nearing hongjoong.

hongjoong sees it clearly–the trajectory that the puck is taking and the perfect point where it needs to meet his stick. without breaking its momentum, his arms contract to swing his stick and the blade collides with the puck with forceful precision, sending it hurtling through the air. the goaltender desperately scrabbles back onto his skates to defend the other side of the goal, but it is too late.

the puck flies past the posts and hits the netting.

the horn blares and echoing cheers erupt throughout the stadium as the lights flick on to shine across the net and your forward players. hongjoong yells with fierce triumph, stick raised into the air as wooyoung excitedly collides into him. the duo disappear amongst the bodies of your boys as they swarm around them feverish exuberance.

“that’s our fucking captain–” “–woo’s assist was insane!”

hongjoong cannot even tell who is who as he is jostled around in overjoyed laughter and beaming smiles, numerous hands reaching out to tap his and wooyoung’s helmets and shoulders. from outside the rink, you, seonghwa and yeosang have long stopped sitting on the benches, bodies too strung tight with hopeful tension to stay seated, so you are immediately swept up into a hug as the three of you celebrate the goal with identical exhilaration.

the game is still far from over but the morale has just skyrocketed through the roof as if the red devils have scored the winning goal. combined with the team’s fans electrifying the atmosphere of the stadium, it definitely feels like it, and you are starting to see hope that the ones advancing to the finals after today will be your boys.

“line change!” you faintly hear, so you still to watch all three of the white tigers’ forwards skate towards the boards. byun, kim and song jump onto the rink, back on offence in the wake of your goal.

hongjoong makes eye contact with you when you search for him amongst the team huddle and in unison, you both nod, pride and determination unspoken in your gazes–the real game is about to start now. the boys start to disperse and take up their positions around the marked circle for the centre faceoff, and hongjoong and byun meet head-to-head once again in the middle of the rink.

the white tigers’ centre forward smirks condescendingly, “cute goal.”

hongjoong’s face thunders over but he will not let himself resort to dirty sportsmanship. he bites his tongue and lowers his stance, focusing his attention on the game instead.

“ready,” the referee signals, then the puck is released.

byun manages to steal it and sends it backwards to his defensemen to open up more passing lanes, but as discussed, your boys mutually move into the 1-2-2 formation to fortify against their offensive plays. despite the pressure of the white tigers’ top forwards back in play, your team is riding on the momentum of your goal; although you had been treading to keep your heads above the water during the first period, there is now an air of confidence that permeates the ambience of the rink in favour of your boys.

an angled pass from their defence rebounds off the boards and kim receives it high in the neutral zone. he attempts an immediate pass across the ice to song, except the safety net of your player’s defensive formation allows mingi to thrust out with his stick to intercept the pass. he signals, “breakout!” before deflecting it to wooyoung.

the turnover of possession immediately triggers a switch in defence to offence as wooyoung handles the puck back the other way. his wrists twist the stick with measured coordination, controlling the blade and puck as an extension of his own hands while approaching the offensive zone. wooyoung sees the white tigers’ defensemen racing towards him so he abruptly pivots towards the left to drag the black disc around their extended sticks.

suddenly, a sharp pain engulfs his ankle that has his legs crumbling as he staggers off balance. wooyoung manages to stay upright, using his stick to steady himself, but the momentary stumble is more than enough of an opening for byun to steal possession from behind him.

the rival centre forward swerves around jongho then stays close to the perimeter to avoid mingi’s resistant defence. behind mingi, san splays his legs out as he prepares to block the left side of the goal, but byun continues blazing on and wraps around the back of the net. san follows his movement and swiftly shifts over to the right instead while byun cradles the puck with his blade to lift it into the air the moment he approaches.

yunho cannot risk a penalty by raising his own stick to block its trajectory, so he shifts his body in hopes of deflecting the shot before it reaches san. but byun’s wrists snap and tuck the airborne puck at a sharp angle right past the red goalpost…and the horn blows to mark the scoring of a goal.

your jaw plummets at the same time that your heart does. not even your lungs work, your body frozen stock-still. once more, the white tigers are back in the lead only mere minutes after the score had been painstakingly tied by your team.

“fuck!” wooyoung curses and slams his gloved fist against the ice, having dropped to his knees in enraged denial.

seonghwa looks on with despondence from beside you as hongjoong drags wooyoung back up to his feet. the captain’s jaws are clenched in frustration but only because of the score itself–never because of his boys. when mingi and yunho try to comfort san with firm squeezes and uttered reassurances, he can only return a tight smile, all three of their breaths heavy and irregular from exertion and dismay.

for the boys to have climbed so arduously and persistently to even the scores, only to be knocked off and their momentum obliterated so mercilessly soon, it is even more demoralising than the white tigers’ first goal. after all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

through the deep ache in your heart, you mutedly say to yeosang, “go on for wooyoung, and tell jongho to change sticks and play as left wing.”

“yes, coach,” he replies, voice delicate. yeosang waits as you gesture for wooyoung to come off before he hops over the boards and skates in jongho’s direction.

“woo,” you murmur as your left wing makes his way back to the benches, but he avoids your gaze and keeps his head down. you bite your lips and decide not to push it for now. instead, you press an opened bottle into his gloved hand.

wooyoung is thankful that the bottle is half empty, because his hand unconsciously clenches around it with quivering shame and he would have spilled the water were it full. he makes no move to bring the bottle up to his lips; he doubts the water would go down his constricted throat anyway. the penetrative guilt of his tears hurts immeasurably more than the piercing throb of his ankle because he may have just cost his team the win…again.

even when the buzzer signals the end of the second period, wooyoung dares not to look up. the score is one to two and it is his fault. the intermission passes by in a haze of dissociation, his body robotically moving on autopilot into the locker room and back to the ice rink. wooyoung does not even know whether there are line changes to the positions or whether the game strategy has been altered.

but it does not matter because it does not concern him–as if any coach would put him on after his grave mistake. what wooyoung fails to notice though is the glances of worry in his direction, and they do not come solely from his boys.

the stakes run at their highest in the third and final period. tension suffocates the entire stadium, invisible hands that snake around your throats with a hangman’s loose and make you break out into cold sweats. all the players on the ice rink put everything that they have on the line because by the end of the next twenty minutes, only one team will be advancing to the finals.

from the moment the puck is dropped into play and the timer resumes, the rink is a torrential battlefield of contesting skates and grappling sticks. dramatic passes and unforeseen interceptions lead to rapid turnovers that force both teams to hastily switch back and forth between offence and defence.

but everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. for every scoring attempt that the red devils make, the white tigers make three, steadily and gradually pushing your boys back in the final stretch of the game. and while most of your forwards’ goals are blocked in the nick of time, most of theirs are not.

as a last resort in the face of the crisis, you calculate the risks then add seonghwa onto the field. “yunho, change!” you yell, pulling him off defence.

“behind you,” byun alerts song as seonghwa powers across the ice right into the cutthroat action, before cursing when the white tigers nearly lose possession of the puck.

your two captains unrelentingly pursue the black disc at the forefront of your team, their complementary synergy and unity a whirlwind of prowess to be reckoned with as they try not to let the burden of scoring weigh them down. despite the overwhelming pressure as the team’s last line of defence, even more so now that you have sacrificed stability to capitalise on having two centre forwards, san’s cat-like eyes do not cloud over, only intensely scanning the field and the opponent’s plays.

you glance at the clock. there are only two minutes left and even the combined efforts of your forwards is not working. you never thought that you would ever have to do this as a coach, but now you are afraid there is no choice. “yunho,” you urge.

his head turns to you and you see the ashen pallor of your own face reflected on his as the very probable outcome of the game dawns across your minds. you make your decision. “you’re going back on. for san.”

yunho’s eyes widen. “for san? i can’t play as goaltender–”

“no,” you shake your head, “we’re playing without a goaltender.”

sixty seconds.

save for wooyoung, all of your defenders, wings and centre forwards make a last-minute spurt to attack, not letting their bodies recover for even a split second as they strain their burning legs and gasping lungs.

thirty seconds.

they desperately break past the physical boundaries of their own stamina into their last reserves of pure grit and will, draining every last drop that their mental resilience has to offer.

ten seconds.

they do not give up. they try again and again to score. but against all of your prayers, all of your tears and sweat and against all of your hopes, the gap does not close. the final buzzer blares throughout the entire stadium, marking the red devil’s loss.

two to six.

your players stand motionless, ghosts of denial and despair amongst the crazed jumps and bounds of celebration as the white tigers flock across the rink towards one another. hongjoong tilts his head upwards to stop the rush of tears from falling down his face, both yunho and seonghwa mirrors of his pain as sweat and tears drip down in salty trails. san grasps the edge of the board in front of him, his head hung low and shoulders quaking from how hard he tries to stifle his sobs so that wooyoung does not hear him.

not one of your boys are able to accept the results of the match. not even you can bring yourself to utter a single word of consolation, be it for yourself or for them. and as you watch the wretched image of your heartbroken boys, choking back tears of your own that you are unaware still manage to escape the corners of your eyes, the only sounds in your ears their stricken cries, you are reminded that the path of an athlete and coach is nothing like its portrayal in movies and stories; where hard work triumphs and leads to sure success.

the harsh reality is that there is no dramatic comeback. there is no underdog victory. there is no miracle and there is no final to advance to. you and your boys lose by triple the amount of your own goals and just like that, the journey has come to an end at the semifinals.

it is an anticlimactic defeat, the gap so far that your team could not even see the light at the end of the tunnel. and somehow…that feels far worse than losing by just a marginal difference.

the locker room is mostly quiet, the silence punctuated only by the closing of zippers and rustling of canvas as the boys who have finished showering and changing pack the rest of their gear for the final time. there are no more intermittent sniffles, leaving behind a miserable hush of emptiness instead. even the dying flicker of the light in the far corner of the ceiling thrums with more energy than the boys combined.

you sit on one of the benches and absentmindedly thumb through your notebook. seonghwa sits to your right, his kit bag already long organised and tidied to preoccupy his mind. the warmth from the close proximity of your thighs and elbows is a gracious comfort to the both of you. it no longer makes your backs straighten with uptightness, conscious of the boundaries between coach and athlete–not after your hearts and bodies melded together in hugs of solace after the final buzzer of the semifinals and melted away those lines.

seonghwa places his hand soothingly on your knee and murmurs, “stop looking at that. we’ll think about it later all together.”

none of the words or diagrams had been registering in your head, but you nod and close your notebook anyway. he probably does not want to see it either. you rest your head back against the wall behind you with a small exhale, blankly watching your team instead until your eyes travel around the room.

you count, then count again, before calling out, “captain, is wooyoung still showering?”

hongjoong cranes his neck around at the same time that everybody else does as well. “don’t think so,” he frowns, “i’m pretty sure he was one of the first ones out.”

wooyoung’s kit bag is still unpacked in his locker, so he is definitely not already waiting for the bus outside. before his absence can raise any alarms–the last thing the boys need on their plate right now–you stand and announce, “i’ll go find him. he probably just lost track of time.”

“do you need me to come with you?” yeosang rises to his feet.

you shake your head and reassure, “keep packing your bag.” then you turn to make your way out of the locker room when somebody calls out for you.

“coach, wait.”

it’s san, who skitters in front of you to press something into your hands. “give this to him when you see him?”

the item crinkles and a glance downwards reveals that it is an instant ice pack. you smile softly, stuffing it into the pocket of your jacket and hoping that nobody notices the ice pack that is already in there. “of course,” you gently touch his forearm. “i’ll be back.”

this time you make it out to the corridor but you do not get further than four steps before another voice stops you.

“coach!”

when you turn around, hongjoong emerges from the doorway. he slows down as he catches up to stand in front of you. “i…” his voice falters. “i’m sorry.”

i’m sorry i didn’t realise wooyoung was gone. i’m sorry i didn’t do my job as captain…and i’m sorry for losing.

“no,” you shake your head. “don’t be.” because you tried your best…and you did not give up. beckoning in the direction of the locker room, you tell him, “take care of the boys, okay? i’ll be back with wooyoung.”

the rigidity in hongjoong’s shoulders dissipates. “thank you…y/n.”

you smile, “anytime, hongjoong.” you wait for him to walk back inside before you finally turn to find wooyoung.

the arena is massive but apart from the locker room–which you already know wooyoung is not in–there are limited places that offer privacy from the multitude of people who mill around, be it other athletes, staff or spectators. you know from personal experience, so you head to the one place that is usually guaranteed to be somewhat out of the public eye.

“oh, fuck me,” wooyoung startles when you sit yourself down heavily on the same step as him, his curse echoing around the both of you. “how the fuck did you know i would be here?”

you snort, bumping his shoulder with yours. “i hate to burst your bubble, but this isn’t exactly an original experience. i’m pretty sure every athlete has hidden here to cry at one point in their career.”

the slight spark of light that had ignited within wooyoung at your appearance suddenly flickers out, reminded of why exactly he is hiding in the emergency stairwell in the first place. shame tears his eyes away from you, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“i want to be left alone,” he murmurs.

although you respect his request, that is the opposite of what he needs. left to his own thoughts and devices, you know that wooyoung will spiral dangerously in guilt and self-reproach, even if the red devil’s loss is not his fault–is not anybody’s fault.

the two of you sit in silence, wooyoung intermittently swiping at a lone tear that threatens to drip off his chin, and you mulling over the words that you hold close to your heart. eventually, you break the quietude with a soft chuckle.

“the first game i ever played i was actually on left defence. our team was losing by two goals and i suddenly had the puck. i still remember seeing an opening in the goal and feeling the surge of confidence that i did when i hit the puck…but you know what?”

wooyoung does not answer, does not look up from where he is picking at his cuticles, but you can feel his curiosity so you continue, “it was an own goal. i scored into my own team’s net and it wasn’t until i scored another goal before i finally realised which way i was meant to go. obviously, my team wasn’t very happy with me, but then i ended up winning the game for them anyway and that’s how i started playing as centre forward.

“there was also a time during internationals where i argued against the ref’s call and got myself put into the penalty box. it cost our team a goal–the tiebreaker, too. i learnt my lesson and never did that again. and then there was the first couple of years i started to coached. i thought i had enough experience as a player to be a perfect coach. it wasn’t until one of my teams told me to pull my head out of my ass that i realised i was anything but.”

that gets a small snicker from out of him. you deliberate, “i’d like to think that we make the best team now, though.”

he scowls disgruntledly, “we’re your only team.”

“and my favourite team, too,” you laugh softly, gauging his expression. “my point is, wooyoung, we all make mistakes. but the reason why we make them in the first place is because we love playing. we do what our heart wants to in the moment and we play for ourselves because otherwise, there would be nothing left of us without ice hockey. what matters is that we stand up again and learn from the experience.”

wooyoung feels the weight of your words settling heavily in his chest because they are only half true to him. his passion and love for the sport indeed burns eternally as a blazing inferno inside of him, but his persistence to play today was due to ulterior motives. to acknowledge that aloud is a different story, though.

your voice takes on a lighter tone, “although i guess in this case, you should be sitting down with that ankle of yours. you know you should not be gambling with your injuries.”

he finally looks at you; a former athlete who did not even have the luxury to gamble your injury. it suddenly scares him to imagine just an ounce of the conflicting anguish that must course through you at his continuous decisions to endanger his own career–the anguish that you have made sure to never show, lest it affect them.

“do you ever feel angry?” wooyoung abruptly asks, voice laced with hesitation.

it is your turn to look away. you know that the question is not directed at himself but your entire career. with a bittersweet chuckle, you allow yourself to admit, “every day. i still get angry and i still get upset. i wake up in the morning wondering why it had to be me and i go to bed at night wondering why i didn’t deserve a second chance.

“but i’m okay; it gets easier to be okay. coaching means that i still get to go on the ice, i still get to experience the adrenaline of games and i still get to play through you guys. and most of all…i still have a team. i don’t know if i will ever stop feeling angry, but it’s better than it used to be.”

at your admission, wooyoung is reminded of how you are possibly the only one who would be able to truly understand him. he musters his courage and confesses, “i wanted us to lose last year…and we did end up losing.”

it catches you off guard, the direction of the conversation not what you had expected, but you neutralise your expression and tone so as to not make him feel defensive. “how come?”

he swallows. “my ankle–i fractured it last year just before we made it into the playoffs, so i wasn’t able to compete. i had been so angry at first; angry at myself for getting injured, angry at my coach for not letting me play, angry at my team because they could play. then when it became clear that i wasn’t going to be able to compete regardless of how angry i was, i became jealous, insecure and…afraid. jongho and i share the same position, and i mean, look at him now–he’s able to play both left and right wing. if they had won the playoffs without me, then would the team really need me?

“they did end up losing, just like i had wanted them to, but that made me feel so much worse–made me realise just how terrible i am of a person. the guilt eats me alive every single day and i tell myself that i will make it up to them this time, that i will risk everything to win for them…” wooyoung scoffs pathetically at himself, “only for me to fuck things up because of my fucking ankle again.”

you get it. the slow gnawing of yourself from the endless feelings that you ‘should not have’ until you become no more than an empty husk. ever since your own injury, you have spent nights on end trying to reconcile with your emotions in your own confusing and formidable journey, but for the first time ever, you are grateful that you did–because you can keep wooyoung company on his.

you carefully voice, “i think it was okay for you to have felt the way that you did. they’re your feelings and nobody can invalidate them nor your experience. what i came to realise was that all of those ‘ugly’ feelings do not make us ugly for having them–they simply make us human. it is only a problem when those feelings end up hurting other people, but i think the person you hurt the most…was yourself, wooyoung.”

at your words, he looks at you with wide eyes, a fresh swell of wetness gathering in them. wooyoung is kind and loving to everybody, yet has never once thought about deserving that kindness and love for himself. you smile gently, trying to hide the slight quiver in your own lips as your heart clenches with a desire to be loved in his stead.

“you know, woo, i’ve watched basically all of your past games including the quarterfinals from last year. but if i were to compare it to today’s game, it was as if two completely different teams were playing. your team was alive today–a truly united team where every member is the driving force behind each other’s passion for the game. i am pretty confident when i say that a huge part of it was because you were playing with them–because the team was finally whole again.

“yes, the trophy and the championship title is coveted but it is not what truly matters to them and neither to you. it wasn’t the actual win itself that you wanted today, but being able to win for them. and if your boys were to pick between winning without you and losing with you, i’m pretty sure you know better than i do what their immediate choice would be.”

should the other boys be here right now, they would instantly berate your ears off for even suggesting the first option. the thought flickers through wooyoung’s mind too and the corners of his lips tug upwards slightly.

still, he apprehensively confirms, “...no one is angry at me?”

“no,” you reply, voice soft, “not at all. but we are worried.”

you are reminded of the weight in the pocket of your jacket. pulling it out, you present the ice pack to wooyoung. “look, san told me to give this to you.”

his fingertips brush against your palm when he reaches out, hand hovering over the ice pack as if he does not dare to touch it. “san did?” he whispers.

when you nod, the final confirmation that he needs that nobody–you included–harbours ill feelings for him and his actions, he allows himself to take the ice pack. allows himself to love himself.

“you need to take care of your body,” you fondly chastise, lightening the atmosphere. “did coach cho not drill into you that as an athlete, your body is your most valuable asset? if you thought he was bad, he’s going to seem like an angel when i’m through with you. you won’t just be banned from playing, i’ll tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t walk on that ankle.”

wooyoung laughs through the few tears that are left, mood lifted enough to suggestively lift his eyebrows and quip, “kinky.” his laughter grows when you punch his arm in response.

no longer does he have to carry this burden alone because you are there for him now. but you know that you are not the only one who can be there for wooyoung. the dynamic between the boys runs past mere teammates and from what you have noticed, quite possibly even friends.

tentatively, you suggest, “maybe this is something you should tell the others about. that way you can truly let things go.”

his gaze wavers at the idea as he looks at you. yet, the miniscule smile and encouraging nod you give him fills him with tranquillity. perhaps it is time to let go, but the only way he can truly do that is if he is honest to the boys about his feelings–if he is honest to himself.

“okay,” he breathes out softly.

you grace him with another beat of silence before you stand up, extending your hand out to him. “let’s go.”

wooyoung takes your offered hand and lets you pull him up to his feet. he does not know if it is intentional, but the slight squeeze you give him right before your hand lets go of his fills him with warmth. the feeling stays with him even when he activates the ice pack as you two walk back to the locker room.

right at the doorway where the rest of the team is behind, you stop. you place your hand on wooyoung’s back, whose brows are starting to furrow in confusion. “i’ll be waiting out here. take your time,” you tell him.

“thank you, coach,” wooyoung returns your soft smile.

before you can think better of it, you reply, “i wasn’t talking to you as your coach…but as your friend.” then you nudge him towards the doorway with tender encouragement, waiting for him to walk through the threshold before you close the door behind him.

the first few months you had coached the red devils, mistrust had been in the shape of private conversations that deliberately excluded you. but now, trust is in the conversations that you know you do not need to be a part of. so you simply lean against the wall and wait.

and when they emerge from the locker room half an hour later, you know you have made the right decision upon seeing their eased expressions and relaxed shoulders. the air is still sombre, their defeat in the semifinals still fresh at the forefront of everybody’s minds, but what matters now is that they will face the loss together–the eight of them and you.

“here you go.”

hongjoong hands you your bag so that you do not have to go back in to grab it. you take it graciously from him, then with him by your side, you two lead the group through the arena–past the gazes and whispers that follow your group–and out to the team’s bus.

first to load his kit bag, yeosang takes his usual seat towards the front and waits. he has long developed the habit of placing his backpack under the seat in front of him instead of beside him. as the bus starts to pull away once all the bags are properly stored, you wordlessly take the seat next to him. your knees intermittently brush up against each other with the slight sway of the bus, but neither one of you make a move to shift your legs away.

you and yeosang watch the outside world whirl by the window, just like you always do. except the flowers that have bloomed among the trees–that had been bursts of positivity and vibrancy only just this morning–are now bittersweet reminders of the fall that you and the boys have just experienced.

a brief movement below your line of vision causes you to glance down. it is yeosang’s hand, palm upturned with a silent invitation of solace. you slide your fingers into his, an extension of the comfort you wish to give to them, and them to you.

what you and the boys do not realise, though, is that your flowers have simply bloomed elsewhere.

your jaw drops in sync with the last of the heavy suitcases that seonghwa rests on the floor outside their apartment complex. the amount of his luggage is easily equivalent to at least half the team’s.

“these are all yours?” you confirm.

seonghwa looks at you strangely, “of course. why?”

you look at him strangely. “are you planning on moving? why did you pack enough for a trip around the world?”

“well somebody didn’t want to tell us where we were going, so i had to make sure i was prepared for wherever our destination would be.”

“it’s called a surprise for a reason,” you shake your head, “and i did tell you to pack for cold weather, didn’t i?”

seonghwa fakes offence, scoffing, “can i remind you that it is still spring here, so my apologies for assuming that it might potentially mean we are travelling overseas.”

“you’re such a worrywart, you old fart,” wooyoung teases, circling around the older on his rideable suitcase.

seonghwa yelps when the wheels nearly run over his toes and he threatens, “next time you wet through your entire pack of underwear, don’t come crawling and begging for my spares.”

the suitcase halts indignantly to a stop with its rider. “that was one time,” wooyoung complains, “and it wasn’t even my fault!”

“it wasn’t even my fault,” seonghwa mocks. “i told you not to put your shampoo in a ziplock bag but no, you said that it would be fine.”

wooyoung sticks his index finger up. “correction, hongjoong said that it would be fine.”

“what the fuck, wooyoung,” hongjoong blanches at the sudden disclosure.

“and that’s exactly where you are at fault,” seonghwa cocks his eyebrow at wooyoung. “why would you listen to him?”

“what the fuck, seonghwa. i’m your captain,” hongjoong scowls.

“only during games.”

when you make eye contact with san, the two of you can only sigh with amused resignation. the rest of the boys shake their heads and proceed to load their luggage onto the bus, leaving the trio to feud it out in the background.

as mingi stacks his luggage beside yunho’s, he turns to ask, “are you sure we don’t need our kits?”

“you all brought your skates and sticks with you?” you question in return. when mingi and yunho nod, you reassure them, “then that’s all you need.”

jongho pipes up from beside you, “but what about training?”

“mental training,” you simply grin before hopping up the stairs to sit beside yeosang.

the boys gradually take their seats, even wooyoung and the two oldest despite their continued bickering. somebody yells out over the commotion, “coach! are you going to tell us where we’re going now?”

you peer backwards over the top of your seat to find everyone’s eager eyes on you. “nope,” you snicker, “you’ll find out when we get there. we are going on a holiday though, i’ll tell you that much.”

there is a surge of excitement at your confirmation and a similar fluttering eagerness flits through you, except yours is because you cannot wait to see their reactions. you really hope that the next two weeks will help to reset the team’s morale and give them a much-needed break.

“kq let us go on holiday?” yeosang asks with an impressed look as you settle back in your seat.

you give him a proud smirk. “i’m pretty convincing when i want to be. plus, we just had playoffs and we would all benefit from the rest. what better time to do that than at the start of the off-season?”

“there is no better time.”

“exactly.”

and so the bus starts the four-hour drive towards what the boys will soon come to realise is a team retreat. mingi connects his phone to the bluetooth, in charge of shuffling the music that blasts through the speakers, turning the atmosphere of the bus into a lively concert once it becomes obvious that it is going to be a long trip.

you have to yell over their deafening singing–which you have to admit actually sounds quite impressive–numerous times for them to sit their asses down, their enthusiasm uncontainable by the seat belts and law regulations. but they look their age, free and untroubled; just a group of boys up to their silly antics with one another, so you cannot bring yourself to truly regulate them.

the bus drives on, making a rest stop at one of the service areas along the highway so that you can stretch your legs in fresh air, use the restrooms and most importantly–

“food!”

their hollers resound before the doors of the bus even open. the second that the gap is large enough to fit one of them through, most of the boys go sprinting off like a stampede of toddlers in the direction of the food court.

wooyoung stays back and slips his arm through the crook of your elbow when you step off the bus too. he grins mischievously, “i’m sticking with you so you can pay for my food.”

“oh, stop it,” yunho tugs him away, pulling even harder when it only serves to make wooyoung’s grasp tighten around your arm. “i’ll pay for your food. leave her wallet alone.”

you laugh brightly as you are jostled around and you pull a card out of your back pocket, holding it up like a golden ticket. you waggle your brows playfully, “it’s on the company card.”

both wooyoung and yunho freeze. their eyes instantaneously start to glimmer, faces radiating when they slowly look at each other. then before you can react, they pounce on you, linking their arm through yours on either side of you and dragging you along to catch up with the rest of the team.

“buy whatever you want!” wooyoung brags and waves the card that he has seized off of you, “it’s on me!”

the service area itself is a field trip as the eight boys cause carnage throughout, except the destruction is in the number of times they swipe the company card. their hands quickly fill with rice cakes and fish skewers, corn dogs and grilled squid, more bags of walnut pastries and roasted potatoes tucked safely under their elbows. they demolish the snacks at the same rate it takes for the next ones to be prepared and the card is tossed around to keep up with their purchases.

they do not forget about the drinks either, getting iced americanos and barley tea to go along with their snacks, and banana milk and soda for the next leg of the trip. whatever catches their eyes–basically everything they lay their eyes upon–they buy. you do have to draw the line at daytime drinking though, narrowing your eyes at the cases of beer jongho and yunho try to pick up until they sheepishly put them back.

(you also end up having to purchase motion sickness tablets because seonghwa and mingi gorge themselves so full on snacks that they are queasy before they even make it back on the bus. kq’s president sends you a text too, asking just what exactly you and the boys have bought to rack up almost forty consecutive purchases at a service area. but the subsequent message asking if they are enjoying themselves tells you that his question is all in good fun.)

their energy mellows out during the last hour of the trip, both from tiring themselves out and from the gradual change in the scenery outside the windows. no longer can you see an endless mirage of highway road and open fields.

as the miles build up the further you travel, it leads deeper into a mountainous woodland with the trees growing denser and thicker around you. the narrower road winds around the base of hills and the bus driver carefully navigates the undisturbed peace of the forest. it starts to get colder and when the branches of the trees gradually dress themselves in dappled layers of snow, more of you shoulder on the thick coats and puffer jackets you had told them to bring.

the bus eventually arrives at a clearing amongst the pine trees, revealing a large but welcoming cottage pension. its wooden exterior and sloped roof gives it a distinctly cosy and rustic look, with large glass doors spanning the entire height of the walls that will let you admire the surrounding mountainous beauty from inside. off to the side of the cottage, there is a sizeable lake that has frozen over and immediately, you know that this was the perfect place to choose.

the boys press their faces against the window to get a better look as the bus pulls up beside the accommodation. “woah,” they breathe out, their exhales fogging up the glass.

they follow you off the bus in a trance, mouths open and unable to peel their eyes away lest they waste even a second to drink up the sight before them. here, in the heart of the taebaek mountains, it is still a winter wonderland despite the spring blossoms that cover the rest of seoul.

you turn to face them, walking backwards slowly and spreading your arms out with fond tenderness. “welcome to your home for the next two weeks, boys.”

even though it is simply an illusion created by taebaek’s geographical location and mountainous terrain, this time you find yourself appreciating the coldness and bareness of the winter-like ambience that cocoons you and your boys. it is as if time has stopped and there are no worries…only time to heal and start afresh.

living together, even if just for a holiday, is different.

you are used to only seeing the team in their training clothes, practice jerseys or bulked up in their padded gear and uniform. but here, the boys wear lounging sweatpants and worn hoodies, hair soft and poking into their eyes, bodies and expressions unguarded as they laze around. and where you are used to only seeing them at training, meetings and games, all rigorously scheduled and planned, there are no expectations to follow and no limits as to when you see them here.

the boys have their own organised chaoticness to their daily routines, having been living together for almost seven years now, and it seamlessly integrates into the space of the cottage too. but what truly surprises you and them is how you naturally blend into it.

when you rented the pension, you had ensured there were at least three bathrooms to accommodate all nine of you. however, you quickly discover that numbers mean nothing because the boys are incapable of staggering their morning and nightly bathroom routines one by one like you had assumed they would. you also realise that it is not that they are incapable, but that they like and want to do everything together.

space within a room holds no meaning to them and they are perfectly content to stand pressed up against each other’s sides, expertly dodging elbows and leaning over one another to reach for their toothbrushes or skincare. after that first night, you wake up in the morning and patter off in search for the least cramped bathroom to wriggle yourself into, up to three of you sharing the large sink and mirror that now looks comparatively tiny as you brush your teeth together.

more often than not, you find yourself sandwiched between yunho and mingi. it is moreso a matter of neither boy letting you escape from their clutches if you happen to peer into whichever bathroom they have crammed themselves into.

“we make the perfect ratio as the two tallest plus you as the shortest,” mingi likes to rationalise, “so it averages out perfectly with three boys in each of the other bathrooms.”

“but san’s shoulders are basically the equivalent of two grown men, so your point is invalid no matter how we divide ourselves up,” you like to argue back.

except they refuse to see reason. instead, yunho raises the volume of the speaker he has set on the sink’s counter that blasts out music to playfully drown you out. you relent every time and it turns into goofy dancing from the three of you as you pull silly expressions at one another in the mirror. when you rinse your mouth, mingi will start a gargling competition without fail, but none of you have lasted for more than three seconds before you begin to choke with laughter.

(when you are with people you like, everything is funny.)

seonghwa shakes his head whenever he passes the bathroom, insisting, “the only thing you guys are missing is a disco ball.” he is definitely not jealous of the fun you three are having. not at all.

the eldest has his own routine though, visible in the way he prepares everybody’s cups of coffee in the morning. they are all made differently according to individual preferences; no sugar, double shots, a dash of milk, brown sugar, matcha powder or decaf. and despite the fact that yeosang is usually up the earliest, seonghwa does not allow him to make his own coffee.

seonghwa claims it is because nobody knows how to properly use the drip brewer, but yeosang sits next to you and murmurs into your ear, “he just won’t admit that he likes to make them for us.” it must be the chill of the morning, but yeosang’s warm, whispery voice always sends goosebumps over your arms.

by the second morning, seonghwa finds himself naturally grabbing an extra cup and the hot surprise greets you with one and a half teaspoons of sugar in it, just how you like it. hongjoong emerges from the bathroom moments later to grab his cup and as he takes a careful sip, his eyes flit over the remaining cups on the table. seonghwa can practically hear the numbers ticking up in his head.

“y/n already took hers,” he verbalises, beckoning with his chin.

hongjoong turns around in the same direction to see you curled up on the sofa next to jongho and yeosang, your feet tucked comfortably underneath you as you lean forward out of curiosity to take a sip of jongho’s americano. when your expression scrunches up from the shock of bitterness, jongho giggles brightly and steadies your hand that is holding your own cup of sweetened coffee. his eyes melt at your reaction.

“oh, i know that expression,” hongjoong chortles. “he’s a goner.”

seonghwa sees the honey in hongjoong’s own eyes and he smiles knowingly, “i don’t think he’s the only one.”

hongjoong does not peel his gaze away from the three of you all cosied up on the couch. “you’re right, they’re both goners,” he hums absentmindedly, not at all registering who exactly it is who is being referred to.

(the true answer is that there are more than three of them.)

you discover that wooyoung is usually in charge of cooking, but in return, everybody else gets up to clear and wash the dishes the moment the last pair of chopsticks is placed down on the table. that is the only time they are allowed into the kitchen because they are apparently all walking hazards.

but when wooyoung realises you can actually handle a knife without giving him grey hairs from watching, the two of you easily divide the roles and tasks between yourselves. like a waltzing dance, you move together in the kitchen to prepare the meals. he passes you the spices in the overhead cabinets before you ask and you close the fridge when he takes out a pack of meat or vegetables.

cooking with wooyoung is never without bickering. he does not let you hear the end of the time you bump your head on the edge of the counter when you try to grab a saucepan from underneath, or the time you squeal after the oil starts to splatter from the onions. but if that is the reason why he starts to subtly move his hand to cushion the edges of the counters when you bend down to find something, or why he chooses to do the stirring and frying while you slice, then he pretends it is merely coincidence.

san never strays far away from the kitchen whenever you and wooyoung are cooking. you have noticed that they do not really ever stray apart–none of the boys do, though. wooyoung talks as you and san listen and the latter does not stop smiling as he watches wooyoung multitask. what you do not realise is the countless times you have forgotten to keep cooking because you are watching him too with the same expression that san wears.

(the rest of the boys realise and they also see the way san and wooyoung will pause to gaze at you.)

when you two have mostly finished cooking and it is simply a matter of waiting for the sauce to simmer or the soup to boil, you find that wooyoung will take his seat next to san on the barstools at the island, knees and thighs touching as he continues the conversation. you gravitate towards them the first time before catching yourself, cautious that you may be intruding, but then san gives you a dimpled smile and beckons for you to come and sit by his other side.

san likes to keep a gentle hand resting on wooyoung’s knee as he talks. when he does the same thing to you without even looking, your lungs stop working for a minute. the only thought that consumes your mind is the warm sensation of san’s thumb soothingly running back and forth across your skin. you do not want him to stop, so you stay still in hopes that he continues. you are pretty sure san does not even consciously realise he is doing it.

(san does, and he is glad you do not move away.)

in the hours after dinner and before you all head off to sleep, you pile the thick blankets into the open living room and squish yourselves on the least number of couches as possible. again, space holds no meaning when you are with the boys and you find the press of yeosang and hongjoong’s skin against your own more natural there than not.

sometimes you watch movies together, other times talking with low voices as the hours tick by, and other times where you are all doing your own things but in the presence of one another. regardless, the nine of you stay cuddled in front of the fireplace with the warm glow of the fire and the light dreamy flutter of snow outside the windows.

yeosang tenderly tucks the blankets up around mingi’s shoulders when he falls asleep before turning to you on his other side. “are you warm enough?” he softly asks. and even though you say you are, he still tucks the edges of your blanket under your chin, nestling you safely within the blanket, hongjoong’s side and his own body.

the boys are naturally affectionate with one another and seeing the close dynamic of their…friendship so intimately in the environment of the retreat reminds you once more of the possibility that their relationship may run deeper than they let on.

(but when that affection extends to you, you wonder what exactly that may mean for your own relationship with the boys.)

and so living together, even if just for a holiday, is different. it is different when they are the first sight to greet you when you wake up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and voice still husky from fatigue as they murmur good mornings to you, and your cheeks start to glow with rosiness.

it is different when the decisions you make together are not about a change in formation or a defensive power play, but what to make for dinner and what movie you want to watch afterwards, and it makes you begin to wonder what other mundane decisions you want to make with them. it is different when they wrap you in their embrace–eight consecutive hugs–to bid you goodnight, and it takes you longer to fall asleep because you toss restlessly in your bed as their smiles replay in your head.

being on the retreat together is strangely domestic and homelike. but it has been almost nine months since you have started coaching the boys and thus seeing them every day for countless hours on end. so really, this trip should not change anything.

and yet, it feels like everything is changing.

jongho pays no mind to the conversation that is happening around him. last he heard, half of you are wanting to go out to skate on the lake before the sun sets and the other half are wanting to finish the halli galli championship you had started the night prior.

he is happy to do either but his mind is distracted by something else. as the screen of his phone lights up, jongho’s eyes flicker down and he puts his hand over the glowing display before anybody can see the caller id. you glance at him when you catch the movement in the corner of your peripheral vision, only to look away when yunho calls out your name to see which of the two options you would prefer.

the screen goes black as the call goes unanswered. seconds later, it lights up briefly with a notification.

pick up.

then the caller id shows up again. jongho grabs his phone and mumbles to nobody in particular, “going to grab something from my room.”

closing the door to the room that he is sharing with hongjoong in the pension, jongho sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. whilst he has no qualms ignoring their messages now, he still finds it difficult to do the same to their phone calls. he finds his resolve weakening as he watches his phone ring for the third time within minutes.

so jongho picks up. “mother,” he greets stiffly.

she scoffs scathingly, “you finally decided to pick up.”

“i’ve been busy with the playoffs.” a half lie.

“busy? busy losing, you mean,” his mother ridicules. jongho is taken aback by the fact that she is aware, since he did not tell his family. it makes sense when she berates, “do you know how embarrassing it was for me to find out from your aunt? she told me to congratulate you for making it into the semifinals–the semifinals, jongho.”

he feels a heat of shame at what she is insinuating. jongho defends, “that’s still the top four out of seventy six teams.”

“nobody cares,” she turns her nose up. “it does not matter if you came fourth, second or last–unless you win first place, the result is not worth anything. our entire family has a legacy of achievements and your younger brother even has an olympic gold medal now. but what have you done? this is a mere national competition and yet you are incapable of making it into the finals.”

“jong–” his name dies on the tip of your tongue and your hand stops before you can knock on the door when you hear jongho’s muffled voice.

the boys had finally decided to grab their skates so you had come to get jongho to join everybody outside. realising he is talking to somebody, you are about to turn away and give him some privacy, but the words you hear make you freeze.

it is not the conversation itself that you overhear; it is the wounded tone of jongho’s voice that makes it impossible for you to walk away. your feet stay rooted to the spot, in fact, wanting to enter the room. you have not heard jongho in such great affliction before, not even when he was consoling the boys with tears in his own eyes after their crushing defeat in the playoffs.

“when are you going to celebrate my achievements for what they are, instead of telling me to do better?” jongho appeals.

he has lived his entire life being told that he is not good enough–constantly compared to the accomplishments of his family, particularly those of his younger brother. what he does not understand is why he cannot just be recognised for the athlete that he is, void of any other person.

his mother is silent and for a brief moment, jongho thinks that she may finally see some sense in his words…only for her to unfeelingly state, “when they are worth celebrating.” with a simple, “do better,” she hangs up on him.

jongho’s hand falls limply into his lap, phone slipping out of his lax fingers with a dull thud to the ground. he wants to swear. he wants to cry. he wants to throw his phone against the wall until the screen shatters. but jongho simply leans forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, the crushing weight of dejection forcing his lungs to exhale shakily.

there is a faint, timid knock on the door. he knows who it is immediately–only one person would knock so softly. “come in,” he answers listlessly, because he could never bring himself to ignore you no matter his own feelings.

the door cracks open to reveal your tentative figure and you slip through the opening. from the way your lips are pulled down, eyes rounded with concern, jongho knows that you have connected enough dots to understand the context of the phone call.

you approach the bed and try to ignore how small the boy in front of you looks with his shoulders hunched inwards on themselves. jongho has always appeared as the most collected and composed, even more so than the captain, and it makes your chest tight to realise he has simply been hiding this whole time.

jongho is not a man of many words so you do the next best thing that feels right in the moment. you simply open your arms. when his hands slowly come up in silent acceptance, you step forward to engulf him in your embrace.

he presses his face into the soft warmth of your stomach. the darkness welcomes him with safety and comfort and he lets out a stuttering breath that racks his entire body. you wrap one arm around his shoulders and cradle the back of his head with your other, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair in soothing motions.

although silence is what he needs, you allow yourself to say one thing to him. you murmur, “i’m proud of you, jongho…so, so proud of you.”

and they are the words he has been wanting to hear his entire life. unable to keep it together any longer, jongho breaks down in your arms with tearful sobs and allows himself to grieve for the acknowledgement he has yearned his entire life and never received. however, it will only be for tonight because he has realised that it is futile to chase after recognition from a person who refuses to see his worth, even if that person is his own family.

there will always be other people who can see his actual worth; the same people who will still love him even if he does not have a gold trophy to call his. for him, those people are his seven boys and you.

so he stays in your arms with you wrapped around him, time lost to the two of you. he cries until he has no tears left and you tilt your head upwards to stop the flow of your own tears before they can drip down onto the crown of his head. and outside the bedroom, hongjoong quietly eases the door shut to give you both some privacy.

you do not know how much time has passed when you finally step out. jongho has fallen asleep after you tucked him under his covers, exhausted. heading towards your room to change out of your shirt, you are startled by the sight of hongjoong lingering near the door.

“you didn’t go out with the boys?

he shakes his head, then conscious of where you two are standing, he gestures inside your room and follows you in. “is jongho okay?” hongjoong asks.

“i think so…he’s sleeping now but probably just needs a bit more time,” you sigh, “i just wish i could do more for him.”

hongjoong reassures, “you are already doing so much more than you realise.”

for jongho. for wooyoung. for all of them. comfort has never been about the words or actions, but the person who is by their side, and for the boys, having you there is already enough.

“really?” you worry.

“yes, really.”

before he realises what he is doing, hongjoong reaches out to gingerly cup the side of your face to thumb away the worry in your brows. “y/n, you take care of us all the time…but who takes care of you?” he whispers.

“i’m your coach, of course i–”

“no,” he interrupts. “you aren’t just our coach and from what i have seen, you aren’t just our friend either. unless…” hongjoong hesitates, “unless i’ve been reading everything wrong, then in which case, tell me and i’ll move away.”

you do not reply. your eyes flicker back and forth between his, your heart racing and mind blank. it is true–they are not just your players and they are not just your friends either, but you are unsure about taking such a huge leap of faith and acting upon the feelings you have only just started to understand.

hongjoong takes your silence as encouragement to step even closer until he is right in front of you. he keeps his hand on your cheek, his other coming up to delicately cradle your waist. you are standing intimately enough for his warm breath to span across your cheeks as he tenderly pleads, “let us take care of you as more than what we are right now.

“if you do not want to put a label on it then that’s fine, we won’t. we’ll still be your team and you’ll still be our coach. but please, let us take care of you when you are hurt, when you’re upset or angry, and when you are happy, too. let us love you as one of ours.”

as one of theirs.

you swallow and confirm, “are you all together?”

“yes, we’re dating each other,” hongjoong nods.

“but then why…” your voice trials off. why me, too?

hongjoong taps the tip of your nose and jokes lightly, “is there a capped limit as to how many people we are allowed to love?”

it pulls a giggle out of you and he smiles fondly as he reiterates, “we don’t need to put a label on this and we can go entirely at your pace. just let us into your heart, please?”

for a moment you wonder what will happen to your professional relationship with the boys–what will happen if things do not work out or worse, if other people find out and report you all for it. but when you really think about it, you realise that the professionalism between you and the boys has long since blurred.

you do not know if you can go back to seoul after this retreat and act like you do not want to continue living with them. most importantly, you do not want to know if you can. so you take the leap of faith and nod–you want to be theirs.

when you first met the red devils in autumn last year, you were resolved to win over them. never would you have expected that you would win them over in more ways than one…and be won over yourself.

“hi, girlfriend.”

seonghwa smacks the back of wooyoung’s head. “stop pressuring her,” he hisses as the younger cackles delightfully and strides away through the snow impressively fast considering he is wearing his skates.

“ignore him,” seonghwa turns to you, where you are sitting on the porch steps to the cottage. he squats down and takes the laces out of your hands to start doing up your own skates.

“i can do it myself,” you start.

“i know you can,” seonghwa hums, gazing up lovingly, “but i want to do it for you.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to hide the shy smile that blooms across your face and when that fails, you duck your head down instead. ever since your talk with hongjoong the other day, the boys have been significantly more obvious and proactive with their displays of affection for you. however, you are pretty sure they had their own conversation when you were asleep or in the shower, because not one of them pressures you into something you are not ready for, even if that includes making your relationship official.

“there you go. is it too tight? too loose?” seonghwa taps your skates and you tell him they are perfect. taking his offered hand with an appreciative smile, he pulls you up to your feet and you go to join the rest of the boys on the frozen lake.

you are sure it feels the same for every single one of your boys–nothing can compare to that moment when you first step onto the ice. it is where you become a completely different person; a fish back in water, in control and at home.

it had been a gamble renting the cottage pension as you were unable to know whether the lake would be frozen over enough to allow for skating. but it is as if the heavens know not to separate you and your boys from the love and passion that your entire lives revolve around, because you are blessed to see them scrambling out to play on the frozen lake almost every single day, just like they are right now.

san spots you and seonghwa and beckons for you two to join. “hongjoong’s the tagger,” he calls out.

the captain stands at the other end of the lake, back facing everybody as he drawls, “green light…”

before hongjoong even starts to enunciate the first word, yunho, wooyoung and jongho have already pushed off their skates to advance. it sets off an immediate chorus of indignant shouts and desperate acceleration amongst everybody else to catch up. you laugh and seonghwa drags you along with him urgently, unable to stand your apparent nonchalance and uncompetitiveness.

but oh, how wrong he is. very quickly, you join the majority of the boys in a game of who can be the most sneaky with dirty play. wooyoung and mingi tussle with one another right as hongjoong turns around with his yell of ‘red light!’, trying to topple the other over so they get caught. jongho yanks on the back of seonghwa’s jacket whilst yeosang giggles and joins in to yank on jongho’s, effectively preventing all three of them from advancing forward.

“let go of me, you brats!” seonghwa flails forward against the combined weight of the two boys but to no avail.

you use yunho’s height to your advantage and hide behind him, steadily creeping forward even when hongjoong has turned around to face you all. yunho quickly catches on and extends his hands backwards for you to latch onto. you are more than happy to let him do all the hard work skating you both towards the captain and you grin cheekily at the trio–still caught up in their self-induced tug-of-war–as you overtake them easily.

“y/n’s cheating!” san hollers, the only one who is actually playing by the rules.

“life’s not fair!” you holler back gleefully at the same time that hongjoong sniggers, “san, you moved your mouth! go back.”

san gives an indignant cry, “favouritism, i say!” but, bless his heart, moves back to the starting line regardless.

when yunho is almost towering over hongjoong, he cues you to get ready to escape by letting go of your hands. you pivot around and without waiting for anything else, you start to run away.

“gree–”

yunho tags hongjoong’s right shoulder before pushing off to the left so that he escapes the other’s immediate line of vision. except it means that the first person that hongjoong sees when he turns around is you.

an involuntary squeal escapes you when you hear the terrifying crispness of skates on ice right behind you followed by the captain’s arms snaking around your waist. “caught you, babe” he beams. hongjoong lifts you up with shit-eating smugness at your reaction–both at his close proximity and the pet name–spins you around for good measure, then sets you back down to chase after the others.

wooyoung skates in a wide arc to dodge the captain’s frenzied rampage, only to suddenly appear right beside you with the most telling glint in his sparkling eyes that he is up to mischief. he grins.

“wooyoung, no,” you warn.

he grabs you by the waist. “wooyoung, yes.”

wooyoung pushes off his skates with you in front of him at breakneck speed across the ice, bellowing at the top of his voice, “make way for the cripples!”

you scream the entire way to the end of the lake, hands clutching onto his like a lifeline as a colourful string of words flies out of your mouth. you think you black out for a second because when you open your eyes again, you are in a heaving tangle of arms and legs on the cushiony surface of powdery snow.

“oh, shit,” hongjoong winces.

the boys speed towards you and wooyoung, and yunho peers down at you on the ground with panicked concern in his eyes. “are you two okay?” he asks but when he sees that you are laughing, unrestrained and radiating joy, yunho relaxes and joins in with relief.

they–mainly seonghwa–fuss over you both enough to reassure themselves that there is not so much as a scratch or bruise, before mingi suggests playing a casual hockey game of five versus four. there are to be no goaltenders and san fashions makeshift goalposts by poking sticks into the snow on either ends of the lake.

the team splits into their usual arrangement when they are required to be in two groups; hongjoong, yunho, san and wooyoung; seonghwa, yeosang, mingi and jongho. normally, you would offer to be the honorary referee…but the boys have never been rough with you and you have confidence that you will not get hurt. so for the first time in years, you play.

it is far from a proper league game and it will never be enough to quench your thirst as a former athlete, but for now, gripping your stick on the ice in tandem with the others, you are content–you are alive.

like red light, green light, the game starts off fair and proper for a grand total of two minutes. then it becomes a circus of foul plays and increasingly creative methods of cheating as all sense of order is tossed out the window. yunho and san stand in front of you, leaving just enough space for you to handle the puck, whilst hongjoong and wooyoung flank your sides and use their sticks to block any attempts to steal the puck. as a shielded group of five, you all move up towards the goalposts like a formidable army tank.

in retaliation, jongho physically manhandles hongjoong out of the way, hugging him from behind with a vice grip that he swears not to let go. seonghwa, mingi and yeosang imitate him with similar displays of strength, turning the entire match into a childish scuffle of chaos and hysterics.

there are no proper rules, no proper gear and no proper stadium–only the bare minimum, yourselves and uncontainable laughter. it feels like you are kids again, little souls harbouring colossal dreams, running around on the fields with long branches and a pine cone you had found when you could not afford to go to a real rink.

it is like you have gone back in time to when all you knew about ice hockey from watching it on your television screen was that you had to get the puck into the goal. you and the boys are fresh, blank slates without a care in the world for the countless strategies and tactical plays that you have learned over the length of your careers.

without the pressures and routines of strict training regimes, you all reignite the very roots of your ardour and fervour for ice hockey. no longer is it about the scores and making it into the playoffs. no longer is it about winning the championships to gain the acknowledgement of other people. no longer is it about the trauma of betrayal, injury and defeat you have experienced.

playing is simply the thrill of skating liberally with no burdens across the ice. it is the feeling of thriving when your blade connects with the puck and sends vibrations up your arms. it is the rush of adrenaline as everyone moves in tandem with the same singular thought in your hearts–that you love ice hockey with your entire lives. and that in itself is already more than enough, even without a gold trophy and championship title to prove it to yourselves.

for the last five years, the boys have had the leaves of their trees forcibly plucked and removed–by family, by coaches, and by injuries…but now?

it is time for their flowers to bloom.

spring, 2025: playoffs

standing off to the side, you watch your boys listening attentively to the reporter who is conducting an interview with them. you have continued to stay out of the media spotlight where possible, not yet entirely comfortable standing in front of the cameras again, but your boys have quickly grown accustomed to media coverage ever since their popularity gained traction thanks to their undefeated streak in the regular season.

the interviewer glances down at her prompt card before asking, “so tell me, what has been a major contribution to your success this season? your team has made a name for yourselves as the undefeated champions so far–quite a contrast to how you started off last season.”

seonghwa laughs cordially with her. “we were getting used to a lot of changes last year so our teamwork and mentality wasn’t the best,” he admits. “our agency gave us some time off to recalibrate, which really helped us to focus on building ourselves–as individuals and as a team. i think we learnt to place our unconditional trust in one another and our coach. we still play with a dominantly offensive approach, but we’ve been adopting different playing styles and experimenting with them, so this relies heavily on believing in each other.”

yunho nods, gesturing for the microphone to add, “as cliche as it may sound, a huge part of our growth was also learning how to accept loss. this wasn’t just in the context of being defeated in the semifinals but in the wider lens of our past mistakes, relationships, and even situations that we could not change.

“it has been a tough journey for a lot of us over the last year, but we were lucky enough to have each other’s support,” yunho’s nostalgic smile reflects your own as you realise just how far both you and all of your boys have come. “once we were able to let go, it meant that we could enjoy our career for what it truly is–playing the sport of our dreams together, every day.”

the reporter’s ears perk up in interest at the segway to probe and she jumps on the opportunity to ask, “i am sure many of your fans have been curious for a long time. is there a special somebody who has supported you–or any of you–throughout your journey?”

yunho passes the microphone to the hand that has extended out to reach for it. it’s san this time, who has a charmingly confident persona that he takes on whenever he answers questions during interviews. good thing too, because their fans are going to need something to distract them from understanding the confession he is about to make.

“there is. we all do, actually,” his deep voice rolls off his tongue like butter. the way he smoothly talks with a flirtatious smirk never fails to make you swoon. “funnily enough, we all met our girlfriend at about the same time.”

off to the side, wooyoung sends a wink in your direction and you have to muffle a snort with your hand and divert your glance away. the structural framework of the stadium ceiling suddenly looks very interesting. san stands there incredibly smug at his joke that he knows nobody but you and the boys will pick up on.

by the time you tune back into the conversation, the reporter has moved onto the next question. “last year, you lost to the white tigers in the semifinals. how do you feel about facing them again later today?”

due to a spike in popularity, the korean ice hockey league had to divide its teams into two separate groups for the regular season matches this year. both the red devils and the white tigers had been placed in different groups and by some twist of fate, had ranked at the top and then seeded accordingly on either ends of the tournament brackets. now, your team faces theirs in the very last game of the season.

the finals.

“we’re quite excited, actually,” jongho responds. “we have been wanting to play against the white tigers again some day and i don’t think it gets any more fitting than meeting them in the finals. they have some incredible players but like seonghwa mentioned before, we’ve been working hard to adjust our playing style to suit the situation. our coach has put in a lot of effort to hone in on our strengths and weaknesses, so no matter what today’s outcome is, we’re confident that it won’t be an easy win for either team.”

“i am sure the finals is going to be a thrilling match. now, speaking of coaches,” the interviewer starts and you can see hongjoong’s hand twitching subtly at his side, ready to step in and deflect the question need be should it pertain to you.

she continues, “how does it feel to play against your former coach?”

yeosang and mingi frown, unable to neutralise the confusion on their faces. hongjoong smiles calmly, ultimately taking over the microphone as he apologises, “sorry, could you please elaborate your question?”

it is the interviewer’s turn to fluster slightly but she nods quickly, “you must not be aware, then.”

your eyes dart back and forth as you try to recall whether there is a crucial piece of information you have somehow missed or forgotten to tell the boys. the tone of her voice foreshadows something that makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“last year, the white tigers had a stand-in coach, so you probably did not know.” she says her next words carefully and despite the bustling movement that fills the entire stadium, you can hear the exact moment all of your hearts drop.

“the coach of the white tigers is coach yeon, your team’s former coach in 2018…and he’s here today.”

you are the first to rush back into their locker room. frantically, you grab the official guide that had been given to you by the ice hockey league prior to the start of the regular season from out of your bag. you flip through it, team profiles upon team profiles blending into a hazy blur of faces as you find the one you are trying to look for.

“y/n,” somebody gently murmurs from behind you but you do not register their call. you continue to flick through the pages and when you find the profile for the white tigers, you scan the top of the page for a certain name with a shaky finger.

head coach: yeon ha joon

“oh my god,” you breathe out, hands lowering to your sides and gaze wavering. how the fuck had you managed to miss it this entire time?

you are not the only one affected by the revelation. the change room is pervaded by unease and restlessness, and wooyoung paces back and forth despite hongjoong’s attempts to get him to sit down. hongjoong himself cannot even remember how he answered the question about coach yeon, only that he had somehow excused themselves not long after to cut the interview short.

“how is he still a coach?” seonghwa furrows his brows.

wooyoung stops pacing and your eyes are drawn to him when he suddenly blanches, “what if coach yeon is doing the opposite now and paying other teams to let his own team win?”

“no way–” “–i wouldn’t put it past him–” “–surely not?” the boys’ voices overlap at the speculation.

it is a valid speculation based on what they have told you in the past about coach yeon. however, you stay quiet, suddenly aware of the fact that it is not something that would favour you should it be true. you gnaw the inside of your cheek because as much as you know that your boys would not suspect you, you still worry that doubt may cross their minds at one point, even if only briefly.

“unless the money he offered every single time was equivalent to the prize money, it’s highly unlikely the teams would have all accepted, right?” jongho points out.

yunho shrugs nonchalantly, “but even if they did, we all know that coach yeon would never be able to bribe our girl.”

the way everybody immediately agrees expels some of the anxiety within you, filling you with reassurance and security that starts to relax your chest instead. wooyoung chooses that moment to finally sit down on the bench beside you. he adds, “we’re too whipped for you, so even if you were bribed, we would probably ask whether the money was enough and if you wanted more.”

san chucks a water bottle at him. despite yourself, you laugh and admit, “that is…strangely comforting.”

“see,” wooyoung triumphantly boots the bottle back at the older. “she gets it.”

seonghwa intercepts the pitiful bottle before it becomes weaponised and sets it down next to him. “she wouldn’t accept the money in the first place.”

“exactly, so why does any of this matter?” mingi suddenly questions.

yeosang knits his brows together as he states the obvious, “it’s coach yeon.”

“and?” mingi mirrors his expression with genuine confusion.

it is quiet in the locker room. the coach of the white tigers is indeed coach yeon…and so what? what exactly about the revelation has pushed you all to the edge of the cliff?

mingi cocks his head. “what i’m trying to say is, does it make any difference whether he is their coach or not? think about it–regardless of how he got his team to the finals, he has no unfair advantage over us. there’s no way that he has bribed a fixed win in the finals, and he has no access to any insider knowledge that could jeopardise our tactics and plays.

“the only leverage that he ‘has’ is a psychological advantage–if we can even call it that. but we’re not the same boys who were too naive and powerless to do anything about it six years ago. if anything, we can easily turn this to work in our favour because i don’t know about you guys, but i’m ready to drag his ass through the mud. what we said earlier about not caring for today’s outcome? nah, fuck that. we’re going to fuck him up and show him that he messed with the wrong people.”

he takes everybody’s silence as misunderstanding of his last statement and he hurriedly clarifies there is no violent intent, “by winning. fairly.”

“damn,” jongho whistles. “you’re onto something for once.”

mingi clambers over seonghwa’s legs to grab the forgotten bottle and it goes flying across the room with violent intent. “dude, what the fuck,” mingi grouses.

the dull thud that resounds when jongho holds san’s leg pad up to block the projectile is enough to shift the mood in the room entirely. you finally relax into hongjoong’s side and he moulds you closer to him with the arm that he snakes around your waist as you both watch the locker room erupt into familiar pre-game mayhem.

yunho immediately scoops up the bottle and pitches it again. san stands to the side worrying over his poor leg pads as jongho uses them to bat the makeshift ball. his impressive accuracy makes you wonder whether they would have made it just as big as they are now had they formed a baseball team instead, but then yeosang narrowly dodges the bottle before it gives him a black eye, wooyoung cackles in the background, and you think better of it.

seonghwa joins you both on the bench and amongst all of the mischievous chaos and raucous laughter, you feel at peace, your hands clasped tenderly in the hands of your two captains–in unity, trust and love. you affectionately squeeze their hands with unspoken conviction.

you know your boys are going to play well; you just have a good feeling.

the energy in the room spikes exponentially as you huddle together one final time before you walk out of the locker room, through the hallways and to the arena–one final time before you step out to the ice rink as the red devils, playing in the final match.

you and your boys stand in a circle as close as it is physically possible with their bulky pads and game jerseys that they wear so proudly. it is indiscernible where one of you starts and where another ends from how intimately you all press together. your huddle is a woven nexus of arms and your hearts pound as one entity.

everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. not a single one of your boys has made it this far without falling at least once, and the conscious thought makes your heart swell and your throat constrict with overwhelming emotion.

somehow, you manage to choke out, “i am so, so proud of all of you.”

yunho and seonghwa’s own eyes start to heat up with wetness. from your side, san kisses your temple with feather-like tenderness, “and we’re so proud of you. y/n, you have grown just as much as we have.”

“thank you for being our coach,” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from your other side, the tip of his nose softly nuzzling you.

wooyoung reaches out to thumb the round of your cheek, “and thank you for loving us when we found it difficult to love ourselves.”

you had always viewed your injury and career with anger, bitterness and anguish…but you have finally come to terms with it. in the process of healing, you have learnt to love yourself, love eight other people, and to be loved. you have had your golden days as an athlete and you are now living your golden days as a coach–

–the very coach of the red devils, your team of boys who are living through their golden days as athletes, and you are going to lead them to victory in the finals.

swiping at a tear that slips down your cheeks, you grin. “boys, let’s win this match and then,” you pause as you meet their determined gazes, their smiles wide with uncontainable excitement, the tension in the room electrifying and palpable.

“let’s go international.”

you may have all fallen before–as athletes, as coaches, as a team–but you will always stand back up together, because at the end of the day your dream is theirs and their dream is yours. and like autumn, the leaves fall for a reason; they must fall before the spring flowers can bloom to their full beauty.

and bloom your flowers have.

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xosannie · 6 months ago

Note

ateez’s reaction when you accidentally mark/scratch them bcs it feels so good and you just cant help it

☆a/n: sorry if this took so long I wanted it to be good🤞🏻also look at me posting fics back to back🤭

☆Genre: smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: ot8xfem!reader

————————————————————

Hongjoong

He might not comment on it, but the feeling of pain definitely encourages him to keep going. Dare I say it turns him on.

It’s no surprise that Hongjoong likes to tease you. Giving you light touches and avoiding the area you need him the most, and if he does touch you where you crave him it’s at an agonizingly slow pace. So when finally, he has you pressed against the bed holding your legs open as he thrusted into you, you can’t help but gab onto whatever body part of his you can reach. In this case you hold onto his bicep, laying limp on the mattress as you let out whiny moans. It all just felt so good, finally having his cock slamming into you that you couldn’t help but drag your nails down his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You can feel his dick twitch in you and his hips drill into you at a faster pace (you didn’t know that was possible). In return he would lean down to dig his teeth in your neck, if you mark him he gets to mark you. You yelp at the feeling, clenching around his dick as you feel your orgasm creep up.

”You’re mine, remember that.”

If you had a dick you’d be so bricked up right now cause wtf he’s so hot for that.

Seonghwa

He doesn’t give it much thought when you scratch him, but once you start biting him… it’s game over

Seonghwa likes to hold you close while he fucked you, he loved the feeling of your skin rubbing against his as you moaned in his ear. In this particular situation you were trying to quiet down your moans while Seonghwa fucked you deep and slow. It was the middle of the night in your hotel room, you definitely didn’t want the other members sleeping next door to hear how good you were being fucked by their hyung. You held on to Seonghwa as your thighs trembled around him. You weren’t thinking when you suddenly dug your teeth in the crook of his neck to silent your moans. Seonghwa let out a choked moan and hips stilled as he pulled away slightly.

“Wait wait… don’t do that,” he whispered.

You looked up at him worryingly, afraid that you crossed a boundary you weren’t aware of.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I almost came,” he breathed out.

Holy fuck- YOU almost came after hearing that.

Yunho

He’s sort of in the middle ground, it doesn’t affect his deeply but he doesn’t hate it either. He does encourage it though, especially when he sees you resort to biting yourself.

You were always too scared to accidentally hurt Yunho during sex, you would just feel to bad. But you had this habit to want to bite on something when you felt too good. So when Yunho kneeled behind you while he fucked into you, you couldn’t help it when you raised your own hand up to bite down on it. Yunho noticed and he tsked at you, leaning forward so his chest pressed against your back. The new angle made you moan louder, this way Yunho was fucking even deeper in you. He reached forward to gently remove your hand from your mouth.

“No baby don’t bite yourself, here.”

He covered your mouth with his large palm, you were so fucked out that your brain didn’t fully process it when you bit down onto Yunho’s flesh. He grunted, kissing the side of your head.

“There you go, if you need to bite I’m right here okay?”

Afterwards, when you both finished and Yunho cleaned you up, you noticed the bite mark on his palm. You gasp, holding his hand gently to inspect the bite.

“I’m sorry baby, does it hurt?”

“No, it’s okay sweetheart,” Yunho chuckles.

You already felt a pang of guilt and Yunho noticed, cupping your face to reassure you.

“Heys it’s really okay baby, it honestly doesn’t hurt.”

“Are you sure?” “Yes I’m sure,” he kissed you softly. “Besides, it’s kinda cute when you feel so good you resort to biting.”

“If you call me cute I’ll get horny again.”

Yeosang

He doesn’t necessarily like the sting of the pain, but he wouldn’t want you to stop. He knows that if you’re marking him it means he’s doing a good job, and that turns him on.

Yeosang loved to pleasure you, one of his favorite ways was to have you sitting in his lap, back pressed against his chest as his fingers moved in and out of your hole. He loved to hold you, pressing soft kisses on your neck and cheek while you moaned at the feeling of his fingers fucking you. You threw your head back, resting it against his shoulder. You never purposefully hurt Yeosang, you weren’t thinking when you dug your nails in the skin of his forearm. He tries to hold back a whimper, pressing his lips together to keep the noise in.

“That feel good baby?” He asks in his deep yet soothing voice.

You nod eagerly, unable to form words from how good Yeosang fingers felt inside you.

“Yeah? I can tell. Mmm I love pleasing you.”

Of course after everything you apologize repeatedly while kissing the marks you left. He would just laugh and assure you that it’s okay.

“Don’t worry about it baby, you did it cause you felt so good. It means… I did good,” he says the last part shyly.

You pause at his words, heart exploding at how cute he looked.

“Im sucking your dick.”

San

He definitely doesn’t mind if you scratch or bite him, but his favorite if when you mark his body with pretty hickies. He loves the feeling of your tongue on him, lips sucking at his skin. It’s just so arousing and intimate.

You were just so horny, you haven’t seen San in days due to how busy he was. So when you both were finally alone, your grew too desperate when your soft kisses turned into a heated make out session. You both already tore each others clothes off before he pulled you closer to straddle his lap. You subconsciously rocked your hips against him, causing him to groan when he felt the way your wet pussy dragged against his bare thigh. He gripped your hips, guiding them back and forth making you to moan against his lips. You didn’t know if it’s because of how needy you were or if you’re just a sensitive slut, but the way your clit rubbed against the taut muscle made your head reel.

“I missed you so much baby, come on mark me up, let everyone know that I belong to you.”

You let out a small whimper, hiding your face in his neck to suck at his warm skin. You heard him groan at he feeling of your tongue, hands gripping tighter when he felt you nibble him just a bit.

“Yes there you go, good girl.”

”Call me a good girl again and I’m cumming on your thigh.” San laughs, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

Mingi

Honestly he doesn’t pay any mind to it since he’s too lost in the feeling of your warmth around his cock. Although, when he’s eating you out, that’s a different story.

You legs trembled around Mingi’s head as you entangled your fingers in his hair. The way he licked at your gushing hole while his long nose rubbed against your clit made your back arch. Your legs closed around his head but Mingi didn’t mind, he loved with when you trapped him against your pussy. You felt yourself getting closer to release, eyes rolling in the back of you head as you dug your nails in his scalp. Mingi whimpered against your core at the feeling, closing his eyes shut as you came all over his tongue. After your high was over, you realized how much you were hurting him so you massaged his scalp worryingly.

“Sorry Mingi, did that hurt? It just felt so good I couldn’t help it.”

“No don’t apologize,” he breathed out, pulling himself up to smash his lips on yours. You felt his throbbing cock press against your thigh.

“That was so hot, I want to fuck you but If I do I won’t last very long.”

Aaaand, you’re horny again :/

Wooyoung

Oh this man would looove it. He’s a pain slut just as much as you are. He loves the sting it feels good to him and he especially loves seeing the marks you left the next day. ~

You grasped tightly onto Wooyoung’s shoulder while you bounced on his length. He gripped your hips tightly, stilling your movement to drill up into your hole. You fell forward, hiding your face in Wooyoung’s neck as he grunted loudly. The feeling was so overwhelming you needed to ground yourself. You couldn’t help it when your nails scratched across his upper back leaving red trails on his tan skin. He moaned in your ear, hips stuttering for a moment.

“Do that again,” he commanded. You couldn’t comprehend what he said, getting lost at the feeling of Wooyoung fucking you just right. He slapped your ass making you yelp.

“I said scratch me again!” This time you did as you were told, scratching him without hesitation. The noises that came out of Wooyoung made you cum on his cock.

Like literally, you came so hard.

Jongho

He wouldn’t say much about it in the moment… but boy does it do something to him. He just doesn’t like to show it.

Jongho held your legs up while he thrusted inside you. You couldn’t stop squirming from how Jongho’s thick cock was hitting the perfect spot. You reached down, gripping his thighs and digging your nails in his skin just to drag it down scratching him. He would wince quietly but the sound would be drowned out but your loud moans. It wasn’t until hours later, when your both snuggled up on the couch after a shower that he speaks up.

“I really liked when you scratched me earlier.”

You turn your head to him, a little shocked by his confession. His gaze didn’t even meet yours, still fixated on the TV screen

“Really? I felt a little bad when I saw the mark I gave you when we were showering.”

“No don’t feel bad, keep doing it from now on.”

He pulled you in closer and you smiled at his attempt to sound nonchalant.

“Whatever you say bear,” you kissed his cheek and he fought back a smile.

Why was he so cute? :(

#ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #smut #seonghwa smut #san smut #wooyoung smut #mingi smut #hongjoong smut #jongho smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #ateez fic #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #ateez headcanons

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domm1etae · 3 days ago

Text

yeosang wasn’t the type to respond instantly, but leaving you on read for a whole ten minutes after you sent him that picture? that was just cruel. you were starting to get impatient, heat simmering in your stomach at the thought of his reaction—was he too stunned to reply? was he working himself up over it? just as you were about to send a teasing follow-up, your phone buzzed.

a five-second video.

you opened it without hesitation, only for your breath to hitch the moment it started playing.

yeosang, sprawled out on his bed, head thrown back against his pillow, his toned stomach glistening with thick ropes of his release. his chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, fingers still wrapped around his cock, giving it a few lazy strokes to ride out the pleasure. his lips were parted, his pretty face slack with pleasure, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the shaky, wrecked moan he let out—your name spilling from his lips in that breathless, needy way that made your thighs clench.

the video ended too quickly, leaving you staring at your screen, heart pounding. before you could even think of a response, another text popped up.

"look what you did to me, baby. hope you're happy."

yeah. you were.

#ateez #kpop #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #atz #ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez oneshot #smut #yeosang x reader smut #yeosang #ateez yeosang #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang scenarios #yeosang smut

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bvidzsoo · 3 months ago

Text

The trace of you

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: psychiatrist!Jeong Yunho x patient!female reader

ꕤ Warning: bullying, mistreatment, ptsd, mentions of insanity & abuse, mental health talks, psychiatric diagnose, unethical thoughts and actions ꕤ Word count: 25.1k ꕤ Rating: mature ꕤ Genre: dated around the late 1800's, psychiatrist x patient, lots of yearning, mutual pinning, forbidden love, inspired by Alias Grace, angst ꕤ Summary: Being caged inside your home for a wrongdoing you can't even remember seems to not have the effect people have been expecting. With the arrival of a foreign doctor with studies unheard of before, your life takes a new turn. Will Doctor Jeong prove your innocence, or will he fall into your web like everyone else? Are you sane, or is he just as insane as his patients?

A/N: Helloo, my lovelies! ^^ Wrapping up this story took way too long due to me having some unplanned health issues that are still (?) kicking my ass...anyways, keep in mind while you're reading this that there are probably historical inaccuracies to this story, especially to South Korean history that I briefly read through when constructing Yunho character's background. The dresses MC wears also aren't the most accurate, but I hope you can look past that and imagine instead whatever you'd like. I watched the mini-series Alias Grace and was rather inspired by it, so you will find similarities to it within this story. I am no medical professional, so the diagnosis MC is given might be inaccurate even though I have taken my time to research these things. Let me know if I should tag anything else as a warning, and I really hope you enjoy this story as I have tried making it a bit different. Let me know your thoughts about it, I am always excited to read your feedback! <3 Oh, and, I hope Santa brings you something sweet tonight, this is my not so small present for you all! ^^ divider

The old clock’s ticking seemed to only get louder by the second. The sheer curtains were pulled to the side to allow more sunlight inside the tea room, the grand doors opened to let in the late fresh summer breeze. The white hydrangeas lining the paths leading towards the back garden were gorgeous and carried a strong scent with them, I could smell it from my spot on the soft faded pink cushion of the sofa brought all the way from France. The tea room had been remodelled not long ago. There was something about it that gave old cottage vibes, but it has now been upgraded to a more fashionable Parisian feel. It was pretty, with hues of light peach and a darker coral, however, I used to like more the cosy feeling of the sage green and baby blue colours that had decorated the room once. Karina liked it more this way, she had said something about the lighter colours giving the impression of a bigger room. I did not understand why the tea room was required to look grander than it already was, but I didn’t question her judgment. It was best if I didn’t, not out loud, at least.

The servants were quietly waiting outside the room as my mother paced in front of us, Karina perched on a fancy chair with an abandoned book in her hands. I knew the ticking of the old clock and the silence was driving her mad, but I remained silent as I gazed forward, eyes on the gravel path. I longed to walk in the meadow close to our house, but I wasn’t allowed to roam around on my own. Even inside my own home, I was under constant surveillance. The doctors have said it was for my own sake, but it felt like I was in a continuous cage. It was suffocative, I couldn’t sleep some nights due to it, not even after drinking Mrs. Humphrey’s delicious camomile tea. My last hope resided in summer, in the warm breeze that kissed my cold skin, everything a lush green where I looked, to keep me sane. As sane as it could, since I was deemed a madwoman long ago.

Unlike the others who hired chauffeurs and dated carriages with old horses, this doctor arrived by a fancy patent motorcar. It wasn’t him driving it, at least the servants had whispered that to each other, but his long wool coat looked expensive too. My mother finally stopped pacing and Karina sighed in irritation when there was a knock at the front door. One maid stepped forward and opened the door for the doctor, gently greeting him. I couldn’t hear his voice, I was trying to catch the song of the birds outside, but I could feel the shift in the air. It was warmer inside as if the sun had stepped through our threshold. It warmed my skin like none other. Finally, the doctor was led towards the tea room, my back to him as my lips moved in a whispered song that comforted me. If I ignored the coil of my stomach and the sheen layer of sweat over my brows, I could convince myself that I was fine. That whoever came to check on me wasn’t another vicious man eager to torture a damned soul like mine.

“My apologies, ma’am, I am unfamiliar with these roads.” The man’s voice was deep yet soft, like honey, thick but inoffensive. At least if I told myself that, it calmed my rapid heartbeat. As I continued sitting rigidly, my fingers wrung together, the tremors never disappeared. It was something natural, the other doctors have concluded, something they couldn’t fix about me. Another thing they couldn’t fix about me. It was fine, I knew I had been damned a long time ago.

“Oh, it is no issue, we are glad you made it, Doctor.” My mother’s voice was filled with deep relief as the crease between her brows finally disappeared, hands locked behind her back as she rushed towards the entrance. Karina was surprisingly silent, but her expression spoke volumes. Her eyes had widened and her mouth had parted, fingers barely clutching the book in her hands anymore. I gulped, trying to steady my irregular breathing. I knew what was coming, the same questions and objects this doctor, too, would use to check my stability. I dreaded it all, I wanted to scream and throw a vase and make it shatter against the ground, but I would only be deemed even crazier. My eyes shook when I heard footsteps approach, heavier than those of my mother or Karina, it was the man. The Doctor. He was coming further inside, I could feel his eyes trained on my nape, no doubt curious and with a glint madder in his eyes than in mine, here to dissect me, pick me apart just to never fix me. I saw polished black shoes stop before me, and the lump in my throat almost made it impossible to speak up.

“Miss Harold, my name is Doctor Jeong Yunho.” Then, unlike any other doctor had done, this one’s knees bent until he was crouching in front of me, looking at me. His eyes were round and kind, a dark brown unlike my icy ones, and they were filled with warmth and softness I hadn’t seen in any other man. His nose had a perfect slope and his fair skin was sun-kissed, the apple of his cheeks a rosy red. His lips weren’t too big but pouty and full, asking to be traced gently by soft fingertips. I shuddered, completely taken aback by his youth and beauty. The man was from faraway lands, yet judging by his speech, you couldn’t tell until you saw him. He was gorgeous, he was breathtaking, “Would you feel safe if it was just the two of us in this room?”

No, I wanted to scream. My fingers tightened against each other, I gulped and hesitantly nodded, our eyes spilling into each other’s as if a spell had them locked together. His features were serene and sincere, not a frown on his beautiful face to create creases, just a soft smile pulling at his lips. It was disarming and frightening at the same time. Then, the doctor smiled even wider as he stood back up, his height intimidating. My heart raced as I watched him, unable to take my eyes off him. And he was still looking at me as he spoke up, “If you could excuse us, I’d like to speak to Miss Harold in privacy. It won’t take long, I promise. I’m only here today to familiarise myself with her.”

“Good, yes, Doctor, whatever you need.” My mother sounded reassured as she gripped Karina’s arm, yanking her out of the tea room as she seemingly didn’t want to go. Her eyes were fixed on Doctor Jeong, and her cheeks were blushed, “Would you like a cup of tea before we leave?”

“No, but thank you, Mrs. Harold.” The doctor hummed, his voice warm, as he sat across from me. He had no leather tool bag, nothing. He only carried a ragged satchel bag, a dark green with patches made to it, and it seemed mostly empty. My heart couldn’t settle down, not yet. Maybe his tools were hidden in the pockets of his long black coat. He hadn’t taken it off, and he looked like he wasn’t planning on staying for long. I couldn’t decide whether that thought reassured or unsettled me even more. Silence stretched on as we stared at each other, my throat dry, but I made no moves to drink from my fine China cup. I gulped when the doctor finally moved, reaching inside his bag. Here it came, the torture for the next hours, he was just like all those other doctors. I could feel tears prick at my eyes and my chest felt on fire, my lungs constricting, but the world seemed to stop moving when the man finally retracted his hand from inside his ragged bag. He held no tool to harm me, instead, a slightly withering daisy was gripped daintily between his long fingers.

“I plucked this for you on my way here, Miss Harold.” The doctor spoke, leaning forward to extend his hand towards me. A daisy, from a man like him. A man who felt like the sun itself, warming my cold particles, how unusual. When I did not move to take it from him, his happy expression seemed to fall slightly. Before he could feel more disappointment, I quickly leaned forward and grabbed it from his hand. Our fingertips brushed for a second and the doctor gulped, loudly. I loved wearing my copper hair in a simple bun, lined with fresh daisies. How coincidental that I had made myself a daisy crown just this morning, and now, the doctor had brought one for me. It would’ve been endearing if it was from a suitor, but I haven’t had one since I was sent to the asylum.

“Everything has a price, Doctor, what must I offer in exchange for this?” I found my voice, less shaky than I had expected. My insides were twisting in every possible direction, my heart hammering so fast it made me feel lightheaded. I wondered whether I’d remember the doctor tomorrow morning still. It wouldn’t be the first time I experienced sudden memory loss.

The doctor frowned, sitting back on the couch stiffly, “Perhaps, your honesty? Will you answer my questions?”

“Will you measure my head and poke at my skin like all those other doctors?”

“No, I’m not here to physically evaluate you. I’m here to glance inside your mind.”

“That unsettles me more than getting cut open to determine whether my blood is still red or not.”

“Had they done that to you?”

“Yes, you should rather ask what had they not done to me, Doctor Jeong.”

The doctor gulped, his dark eyebrows pulled together now and his lips downturned. He fished for something in his pocket, and a small pair of spectacles were placed low on his nose. It made him look more mature, more serious. I wondered if he wore it so that the other doctors would take him seriously, or whether because his eyesight wasn’t the best.

“I won’t cut you open, Miss Harold, I won’t even touch you during my examinations.” My heart skipped a beat despite hammering uncomfortably against my chest, and I wondered why. His words, however, did bring a little comfort.

“How will you determine what is wrong with me, then?” I raised my eyebrows, my fingers popping when I released the tension from them. I laid my palms flatly against my sage green dress, and the doctor’s eyes fleetingly glanced at them.

“By talking, by listening to your stories and thoughts.” The doctor spoke of a practice I hadn’t heard of before, “If you trust me, that is, your secrets will be safe with me.”

“Will they be?” I smiled, a little ashen, “The committee will want to hear what I said, there are no secrets we can keep with each other, Doctor Jeong.”

The doctor hummed, an almost amused smile pulling at his lips, “My profession requires me not to disclose anything personal, so, even if the committee wants to hear it, I won’t relay our conversations word for word, Miss Harold.”

I gulped, analysing the man’s face. He looked sincere, his eyebrows didn’t twitch and he wasn’t sweating despite the coat still around him. It was summer, and it was warm outside, albeit not inside the tea room, that is why the grand doors were opened to let the warmth in. This room reflected a lot about how I felt on the inside, always cold and hollow, waiting desperate for the warm sun to fill me up with its hotness until it burned me away. I wanted to burn, I wanted to be freed of all I had to endure until now.

“You need my honesty, but are you willing to be transparent with me?” My question seemed to take the doctor off guard as his eyes momentarily widened. Then, he clasped his long fingers together and placed his arms on his thighs, leaning forward in his seat.

“As long as it helps us move forward and remains professional, I can be transparent with you, Miss Harold.”

“You must’ve read the reports about me, do you think I’m mad, Doctor Jeong?”

“Isn’t everyone a little mad, Miss Harold?”

“I don’t know, you are the doctor between the two of us, Doctor Jeong.”

“Indeed, and I claim that nobody is without faults or sins.”

“Then you must be a religious person, no?”

“My profession contradicts my beliefs, yes, but I do believe there is something stronger and greater than us, Miss Harold. If we ask for forgiveness, we shall be pardoned.”

“Father Leon would love to have you at his service, Doctor Jeong.”

The doctor chuckled, a small smile settling over his lips as I realised I hadn’t looked away from the man since he had sat down on the couch. That was news. I never looked anyone in the eyes, as I didn’t feel comfortable. I had been told by previous doctors that they could see straight to my soul, my wicked mind and rottenness in the blueness of my irises. Now I never looked long enough to let them see what was inside my eyes, but this doctor didn’t seem to be afraid of me, of what he might find inside my eyes. Could he not see the darkness of my soul? Or was his faith so strong he preferred to spot the brightness before he was proven wrong by the wicked that permeated those like myself?

“Do you believe in God?” Doctor Jeong’s voice was louder than before, more filled with emotion as if my answer was crucial to him.

“I suppose I must. Everyone says the devil was the one to make me act like this, and I wonder where had God gone to let the devil do this to me.” Doctor Jeong’s cheeks became a darker colour as he licked his lips, mouth parting, but no words left it. I hummed, placing my right hand over my left one. Doctor Jeong wore one single band of silver ring on his middle finger on his right hand. He couldn’t have been married, then, I concluded.

“Perhaps you’ll find an answer to your question once I have done my job here.” Doctor Jeong’s tone caught a solemn note, but I said nothing as he grabbed his satchel bag and adjusted the collar of his white shirt. I watched the motion, eyes glued to the fair skin of his neck even as the man stood. His ears were flushing red too, I wondered why. I suppose the summer warmth had gotten to him at last.

“You are leaving already, doctor?” I asked as I looked up, standing when I realised he was about to depart. My mother had raised me with good manners, I would have even walked him to the front door if it weren’t for Karina suddenly barging inside, her jawline set tight as she sent me a fierce look of displeasure.

“Eager to have him all to yourself, sister?” Karina’s voice dripped with venom as she rushed further inside, rudely grabbing the doctor’s arm. What if he didn’t want to be touched? Karina lacked the awareness to consider that for a second. The doctor remained silent as he looked between me and Karina, and I just chuckled, looking down to the floor.

“I already have him all to myself, no need to be eager about it too.” The forced smile on Karina’s face would’ve satisfied me, but now I wanted both her and the doctor gone from my sight. My heart was racing again and I couldn’t breathe well, the tremors of my hands would’ve made me spill my tea if I were to drink from it. Perhaps Matilda could accompany me around the gardens, I wished to become one with nature for the remainder of the day.

“I shall see you tomorrow, Miss Harold.” Doctor Jeong bowed his head slightly before he let himself be dragged away by Karina, who sent me a glare that would’ve scared anyone else but me. I let them leave as I crumbled back onto the sofa, suddenly feeling faint. I couldn’t decide whether the doctor would pick my mind apart or not, and it was scarier that I had no idea how he’d do it.

The air felt oppressive and thick, yet I could see the doctor’s motorcar approaching in the distance. Matilda had been kind enough to accompany me on my walk around the gardens, but she had rushed me back inside the tea room when my mother sent a butler to alert us that the doctor was fast approaching. Now, sitting on a chair by the open grand doors, I could see the dark clouds gathering around in the distance. It was as if they were trying to chase the doctor away, but he kept approaching until the motorcar's engine died down and his heavy footsteps echoed around the house. There was a knock at the door as my eyes watched a small white bird on a branch of a tree, my mind absent. The heavy footsteps approached further inside, and I turned my head to look up at the doctor.

“Hello, Miss Harold.” He said with an easy smile on his lips, holding his satchel bag in both hands. He didn’t wear a coat today, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up. His nape was sweaty as the top buttons were unbuttoned. The heat had finally gotten to him, it could get rather cruel in this part of the county.

“Hello, Doctor Jeong.” The smile came easily to my face. Despite only meeting him yesterday, my heart wasn’t racing like before. Perhaps it was the absence of his leather tool bag and the fact that the man was so young and innocent-looking. Before we could proceed, however, there was a knock at the door.

“Doctor Jeong,” Karina’s unmistakable voice called out with a shake to it, “Would you like some tea before you start your…examination?”

“The heat is already killing me, but thank you.” He declined with a gentle flick of his wrist, yet Karina lingered in the doorway. She was only looking at the doctor, her favourite dress ironed out and tightly cinched at the waist. I turned in my seat and watched her with amusement. She wasn’t subtle at all.

“May I help you?” The doctor asked, sounding confused as Karina stood still and slightly jumped, looking down abashed.

“No, I’m sorry.” Then she finally departed, closing the door behind her as Doctor Jeong had asked. I slowly looked up at the handsome doctor, finding his eyes with ease as his spectacles were close to slipping off his nose again.

“Won’t you sit, Doctor?” I pointed towards the chair, which was placed a decent distance away from mine, just by the other door. The breeze had picked up into a strong wind now, it blew inside and rattled the sheer curtains. I welcomed it with closed eyes while the doctor settled in, the rustling of paper caught my attention as I slowly fluttered my eyes open once again. It was silent for a second as I looked at the doctor, who was already watching me. His pouty lips were parted and his ears seemed to be red. As my eyes travelled all over his fair skin, I noticed the glint of something silver underneath his white shirt. It appeared to be a necklace, and once he leaned forward to retrieve a pencil from his satchel bag, I spotted a silver cross hanging off it. He really was a believer, then.

“Did you want to sit here?” The doctor asked as he leaned back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other. I hummed, clasping my hands together in my lap as the tremors slightly subsided. My heart was at ease, it finally wasn’t frantic like during breakfast and my walk in the gardens.

“Yes, I find nature most beautiful during this time,” I answered the doctor, turning my head to gaze at the white hydrangeas. Their scent was so strong I could almost taste it in my mouth.

“So, you like storms, Miss Harold?” The doctor asked and I chuckled, turning my head away when there was lightning in the distance.

“No, doctor, I’m terrified of storms.” I smiled as the doctor paused, he was jotting down my words in his notebook, I came to realise. He quirked an eyebrow, so I continued, “My father died saving me after I had fallen off the ship, the storm was terrible.”

The doctor hummed, his eyebrows slightly furrowing as he quickly noted what I had just said, “Are you afraid of water, then?”

“No,” I shook my head, our eyes meeting and staying locked as if we had been hypnotised by each other, “I’m only afraid of the destruction a storm can cause, even on land.”

“Have you seen many of those?”

“Yes, our neighbours’ barn was destroyed just last month, it was terrible.”

“Have you helped him?”

“As much as a woman can help, yes, I offered them my servants to help rebuild the barn.”

“Then you’re caring.”

“I suppose, if you say so, Doctor.”

“Do you not consider yourself a caring person, Miss Harold?” I smiled, watching the doctor’s expression even out as his pencil pressed a hole into the thin paper of his notebook.

“As a doctor, do you care for your patients?” I raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious since I hadn’t met anyone like him. If he dissected the mind, he must care for his patients, no?

“Within the limitations of my oath and law, yes, I do care for them.” Then the doctor seemed to consider his next words, licking his lips as his eyes bore into mine. They were wide and dark, and it was easy to get lost in them, “All I wish is to do is find a cure for them, to see them walk free of their shackles.”

“Can you cure madness, Doctor Jeong?” My voice sounded small, almost afraid. The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed as he averted his eyes, messily scribbling something down in his notebook. As I peeked at it, I realised the alphabet I was familiar with blended with one I did not know. Perhaps it was his mother tongue, then.

“Every person has a trigger, Miss Harold, if I find yours, I can cure it.” Then, he bit his bottom lip, and the added words were silent, “If you’ll let me.”

Silence stretched on, and I felt my heart race for the first time since I had seen the doctor today. It was unsettling, I felt my cheeks warm up. The redness from the doctor’s ears seemed to spread down towards his neck and chest, I wondered if his skin was as smooth as it looked at first glance. Then, without considering my next words, I let the truth slip past my chapped lips.

“I want to be free, sir, I don’t want to live like this for the rest of my life.” I had been young when I was convicted. My fate could have been much worse, but the men my father had been once acquittanced with owed him one, so they came to my aid. My sentence was very generous, the judge deemed me mad and unfit to be locked up in a women’s penitentiary, and instead, I was bound to constant surveillance for the rest of my life. Even when I slept, Matilda was there with me. Or my mother when the maid was too tired to continue keeping watch.

The doctor wetted his lips again, leaning slightly forward in his seat. The pencil was clutched tightly between his long fingers, and his tone had dropped lower too, “I can rid you of your burden if you’re honest with me, Miss Harold, I can set you free. But for that, you have to tell me everything that happened and made you do what you did.”

“Why won’t you say it, Doctor? Have you not read the reports? I was the talk of the whole town, still am, actually.”

“Something isn’t right about the reports, have you been truthful in your testimony?”

“Wouldn’t I be breaching the law if I wasn’t?”

“People lie all the time, Miss Harold.”

“May God forgive me for my sins, then, Doctor Jeong.”

A vein in the doctor’s forehead bulged as his jawline strained, mouth open but no words leaving his pretty lips. He huffed, then leaned back in the chair, eyebrows furrowing deeply as he wrote messily in the notebook once again. I smiled as I watched him, his black hair fell into his eyes as he looked down. His spectacles threatened to slide down his nose altogether, and I itched to fix it for him.

“Let’s start at the beginning, then, shall we?” The doctor’s tone had turned uncharacteristically soft as if he was talking to a frightened child. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked up once again and I gulped, feeling unsettled under his sudden undivided attention. His left palm pressed into the side of his thigh, his fingers tapping his black slacks rhythmically. I gulped, then nodded.

“What would you like to know about me, Doctor Jeong?”

“Tell me about your childhood. Your likes and dislikes, who is most dear to you and why. Have you loved before? Do you feel lonely now? Just tell me everything that crosses your mind.”

He wanted to know everything about me. It felt unravelling, dangerous. He had said my secrets would remain with him, would he note them down in the language only he spoke? Or would he tell the committee right after he was finished with his examination? Taking a deep breath, I turned my head to gaze outside once again, my lungs deflating as I exhaled long and loud. The lightning was closer now, the little birds were nowhere to be seen. Something coiled in my guts as my father’s face flashed behind my eyes, his warm smile and his kind tone still so present in my mind. If he were still here, perhaps nothing would’ve happened. There would be no Karina and Mr. Brooks, I wouldn’t be condemned for life.

“Much like I am afraid of storms, Doctor Jeong, I’m afraid of solace. It hadn’t always been like this, while my father was alive, I had never felt alone for even a second. He’d take me to the woods on horseback, we’d pluck flowers for my mother and he’d teach me everything he knew about the fauna and the poisonous mushrooms. He’d read stories for me before bedtime, and he had even taught me how to read. He was my favourite person, now it’s my mother and Matilda. She’s a young maid, we had found her hiding in the stable last winter. She was almost frozen to death, I thought I might be giving her a second chance at life if I took her in as my personal maid. She doesn’t speak much and I can’t tell whether she hates me or not, but I know she loves it when I take her on walks in the garden. I think she’s a little bit like me. Out there, in nature, we can both pretend to be free, just two girls roaming between flowers and giggling about the future.” The doctor’s hand seemed to be moving with my words, it was as if he tried to capture and note down everything I said. For that sole reason, I didn’t speak quickly, I let the words settle both in his mind and on his paper.

“I suppose my childhood isn’t anything special, I come from an aristocratic family, you must imagine what it was like. I was raised to have good manners and bow in front of men, but not without having an opinion and a mouth to voice them with. My father had been a fair man, he and my mother had always made every decision together, so he raised me to find a man who sees me as his equal and his other half. There had been moments when I had rebelled, I think that is only normal, but I was never a moody or explosive child. You can ask my mother about that, she’ll tell you so too.” I said as the doctor nodded along to my words, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I took a deep breath and watched his face as I continued talking, “There was only one thing I loved as much as I loved my father, and it was ballet. But that, too, was taken away after I was admitted to the asylum. Ever since then, I haven’t touched my pointe shoes. I had even asked Matilda to hide them deep inside my closet, my heart breaks anytime I catch a glimpse of them.”

A lump formed in my throat just from speaking about it, I could feel tears in my eyes as I watched the tree branches move violently with the strong wind. The willow tree looked gorgeous in the wake of the storm, and I wished nothing but to step under it and close my eyes, let the wind destroy my bun and rip the fresh daisies out of my hair. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the dark flashes of memories I had tried to forget so badly. The asylum was a cursed place, filled with evil people who only caused more harm. I hated it and everyone that was associated with it. I could feel the doctor’s eyes on me, and he gulped, inhaling sharply. I glanced at him, and he looked amazed for some reason.

“Can you tell me about the asylum, Miss Harold?” My muscles tensed despite the doctor’s soft tone, and my heart started racing painfully in my chest. I thought wringing my fingers tighter together would stop the tremors from worsening, but it didn’t. I felt lightheaded as my own shrill screams echoed in my ears, but I couldn’t speak. My bottom lip shook as I took a breath through my mouth, and shook my head frantically, “Alright, it’s alright, Miss Harold. We won’t speak of it, take deep breaths.”

The doctor leaned forward in his seat and I rigidly turned to face him, my eyes wide in fear as I waited for him to strike. Maybe his mask would finally slip, maybe the tools were hidden inside his satchel bag. The notebook, his scribbling, my stories…maybe they were all just distractions. And yet, the doctor’s eyes remained kind and ridden with worry as he seemed to breathe through his mouth as well, as if he was mirroring my actions. I closed my eyes as the first thunder shook the ground, and inhaled deeply, keeping the air in my lungs until I couldn’t no more. I released the shuddered breath and opened my eyes again, only to see the doctor gulp, loudly. His pupils were dilated and made his eyes seem completely black, his fair cheeks flushed deeply as his long fingers tightened around his pencil once again.

“Perhaps we should end the examination here, Doctor Jeong.” My voice was strained as I gulped around nothing, “The storm is here. You should head home before it worsens.”

As if nature had agreed with me, the air filled with electricity as lightning struck not far away, the thunder loud and following shortly after. Doctor Jeong’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, humming approvingly. He swiped his bottom lip with his thumb before he grabbed his satchel bag, adjusting his spectacles as they did slip off the slope of his nose. Thunder wracked the earth again as a colder breeze billowed past us, ruffling my dress and the hair that had fallen out of my bun. It also moved Doctor Jeong’s messy hair, jelled back and out of his eyes in an attempt to make him look classy. As the doctor stood, slipping the notebook inside his satchel bag too, I mirrored him, smoothing down my dress.

“I call what we do here sessions, Miss Harold, and not examination.” The smile was easy on his lips and I hummed, flinching when the wind slammed the grand door of the tea room against the wall. Perhaps it was time to close them, “I shall see you tomorrow?”

“Of course, Doctor Jeong, please take care on your way home.” My eyebrows furrowed in worry as Doctor Jeong nodded, opening his mouth to say something just as the door to the tea room was yanked open. The man in the doorway was unfamiliar, but he looked worried.

“Mr Jeong, we should go now if we don’t want to be stranded somewhere on the road during the storm.” He must be the doctor’s driver, then. My mother appeared behind the driver, looking as worried as if the doctor was her own child.

“We have guest rooms, Doctor, you could always stay.” My mother was a kind and loving woman, her intentions hardly questionable, “I would hate it if something were to happen to you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harold, but I shall be on my way.” Doctor Jeong smiled widely, then faced me once again, and bowed his head much like yesterday. Perhaps it was their custom to take farewell like that, so, I bowed back to him. The doctor’s eyes widened for a second before his smile widened just slightly, and then he and his diver were gone, my mother’s expression was worried as she watched them leave from the front porch. Big droplets of water started falling from the dark clouds, and I quickly closed the grand doors as Matilda rushed inside to assist me. The rhythmic fall of the rain was a glaring reminder of my irregularly fast heartbeat.

The eyes were windows to one’s soul, or so Yunho had been taught. He had dealt with many cases during his practice period, and now as a certified psychiatrist, he had gained even more popularity in the West. He had no choice but to move at a young age, the world was an ever-changing place. He was young and curious, he wished to explore and find people that needed his expertise. But there was something so mesmerising about her eyes which left him unravelled and flustered like nothing else. Her words dripped with honey, and Yunho could swear he heard angels singing, accompanying her soft tone whenever she told stories. He was captivated. He ached to write down every single word she uttered, he felt desperate to pick apart her brain, to look inside it, to fix her. He was desperate to understand what had triggered her manic episode, he was desperate to tell the committee that she was innocent. But he was a doctor first and foremost, and his job forbade him from any personal attachment towards his patients. But whenever he looked into her icy blue eyes, the breeze brushing the fallen copper strands of her hair against her sun-kissed cheeks, he felt his very own soul stir and reach out in desperation to connect with hers, to possess it. She was a madwoman, and he was a man desperate to stay sane in her company.

Another thing I completely wished to be free of was dinners, where I was forced to sit with my so-called happy family. The bags under Mr Brooks's eyes had been getting darker and darker lately, and the creases in his forehead were an obvious sign that something was worrying him. But it wasn’t my place to ask questions, so I continued to silently notice the small changes in his mood and behaviour. He had stopped pampering Karina, which was completely unheard of, and she was loud and clear with her complaints. She had wanted a silk nightgown just last week, but her father had denied her of it. He didn’t mention the cause, he only said she already has more than enough nightgowns. The clinking of silverware gave me something to focus on as my eyes were cast on the brussels sprouts on my plate, pushing around it as I didn’t enjoy their bitter taste. But Mrs Humphrey had cooked dinner with love, so I didn’t want to leave anything on my plate tonight. The silence around the table was broken as my mother grabbed her glass of wine, her kind eyes settling on me.

“Y/N, my dear, how are your examinations going?” I paused, feeling everyone’s eyes in the dining room on me. I gulped down the food I had in my mouth and tapped with a napkin at my lips, letting my hands fall in my lap as I hummed. Doctor Jeong’s words rang clearly in my mind, what we were doing was called sessions.

“They are called sessions, ‘ma, and they are going well,” I spoke gently, hoping she’d find my words reassuring. I knew she was constantly worrying about me, always fussing and around thinking I wouldn’t notice. I might be absent-minded a lot these days, but I’m mostly aware of my surroundings still. Mr Brooks nodded once, looking pleased as he wolfed down the steak Mrs Humphrey had made to be spicey, just like Mr Brooks liked it.

“That is lovely to hear,” My mother beamed at me, meanwhile Karina scoffed under her breath, “Do you find communication with the doctor difficult, perhaps? Or is everything clear between you two?”

Mr. Brooks nodded along, one eyebrow raised as he watched me curiously. I adjusted myself in my chair and plastered on a little smile, “Doctor Jeong is well-versed and rather attentive. He notes down everything I say in his notebook, and meanwhile, I have noticed he scribbles along in his mother tongue as well, I find no difficulties understanding him. He’s coherent and speaks English as if he was born around here.”

“That’s a very reassuring thing to hear, my dear.” Mr Brooks spoke up with a smile, the corners of his lips tugging up. Karina’s jawline was set tight as she let her fork clamper down loudly against her plate, her eyebrows raised mockingly.

“Why are we letting her spend time alone with that doctor, again? How is that helping her?” Her tone was high-pitched, filled with blatant jealousy that Mr Brooks and my mother remained oblivious to.

“Sweetheart, we’ve discussed this already,” Mr Brooks said with a tired sigh, giving his daughter a disapproving look, “Y/N needs a new medical approach, and Doctor Jeong is the best in this field. He came all the way here from South Korea when he was still just an apprentice. I’ve read up on him, he’s solved cases of mass hysteria and other mental issues no doctor could even come close to. Let’s not have this conversation again, Karina.”

Mr Brooks was mostly calling me insane to my face, but his words held no malice and I knew his intentions were pure. I couldn’t resent him for wanting to find a cure for me, something that could finally fix me. He had no obligation to look out for me like this, I wasn’t his daughter by blood, yet he had only treated me with kindness and understanding my whole life. He was a good man, perhaps a bit too absent from the household, but I could see in his eyes that he loved my mother dearly, and that was more than enough for me to accept him into our home. He couldn’t replace my father, but he filled the void that sometimes got too much.

“I think she just needs attention,” Karina hissed under her breath as she slammed her fist on the table, making the maids behind her jump, “What are you waiting for, stupid cunts?! My glass is empty!”

“Karina,” My mother muttered, her eyebrows pulled together as she gave her a displeased look while the poor maid scurried to fill Karina’s glass with wine, “A lady shouldn’t use such vulgar language, nonetheless in front of her elders.”

“Yeah, whatever Mrs Harold.” She scoffed as she glared at the maid, taking big gulps of her wine. I watched with distaste, catching Leia’s gaze for a split second. Her eyes were tear-filled and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from speaking up, it would only start an argument I didn’t have the mental capacity for right now. But Karina wasn’t done as her sharp gaze fell on me, her tone harsh when she spoke again, “I know you enjoy spending time with the doctor alone, it makes you fantasize, doesn’t it? You’re just playing with him like with everyone else around you, sister, aren’t you? How long do you reckon until you get him riled up enough to get underneath your skirts—”

“Karina!” Mr Brooks's voice was loud and stern, his eyes set on his daughter with disgust in them, “How dare you say such things to your sister? In front of me and her mother, nonetheless! You should be ashamed, is this who I raised you to be?!”

Karina chuckled, humourless, “Right, father, you didn’t raise me at all, perhaps that is why I am like this. Maybe you shouldn’t have admitted mother into an asylum because she didn’t know how to silence a crying baby, hm?”

The silence that settled over the table made my skin crawl. If anyone would’ve dropped a pin, everyone could’ve heard it in the dining room. I released a shaky breath, the tremors worsening as Mr Brooks seemed to be struggling with containing his rage in front of my mother. Her mouth was open and a hand pressed against it, eyes shaking with pain and incredulity as she looked between Karina and her second husband. I took a deep breath and pushed my chair back, grabbing my plate to try and stabilise myself, to stay in the present. Eyes fell on me, and before Leia could come to approach me, I shook my head with a small smile, “I’ll let Mrs Humphrey know she outdid herself once again, then I will be retreating for bed. Matilda will accompany me, sleep well tonight, mother.”

As I left the dining room, I heard Mr Brooks weakly whisper a good night, then Karina’s sobs as she raced up the stairs, slamming the door to her room loudly. The chatter and good mood died down the second the kitchen door swung open, Leia following inside after me. Mrs Humphrey looked concerned when she noticed me holding my plate and went to stand up and take it from me, but I quickly shook my head.

“No, stay seated, Mrs Humphrey, dinner is absolutely delicious.” I said with a smile, and the other servants and maids seemed to relax as well, “Would you mind…if I finished my dinner here, with you?”

“Oh, come here, my dear.” Mrs Humphrey’s frown was deep as she beckoned me over, making space for me between herself and our butler, Jesper. He was still a young boy, his eyes filled with a youthful spark, full of life and happiness. He offered me a small smile and placed mushrooms filled with cheese on my plate, knowing I loved them. I chuckled and thanked him, then looked over the table and realised I felt most comfortable when around these people. They were simple, they were happy, and they made the most of their days. They were free, away from society’s judgemental eyes, and they lacked the prejudice the other aristocrats hadn’t even tried to hide around me. I felt like I belonged at this table, and as the happy chatter picked up again and Jesper made small talk with me, with Carla eagerly interjecting sometimes, I could feel my tense muscles relax and the void in my chest disappear. For a little while only, while I was still at this table, enjoying my dinner with the people who looked at me as if I was just a human too.

The doctor was quickly growing on me. I couldn’t trust him, not yet, it would be too soon. It’s been only a week since he started visiting me for our sessions, but I started believing that he wasn’t playing a character when around me. He was genuine, his eyes sparkled curiously with each question he asked, his frown was always worried and it downturned his pretty pouty lips, and when he smiled, something warm seemed to flood my chest. I could only compare it to the sun, for I have never felt such warmth when gazing upon a man before. Not even when suitors were lining up in front of our house, asking for a chance at marrying me. The doctor was considerate and kind, he hung on to my every word. It was his profession, I knew he was only doing his job, but I couldn’t help but imagine he was a man interested in me, his notebooks filled with poems and sketches of me. It was a far-fetched fantasy, but it managed to warm my cheeks anytime I dwelled on it.

I was out in the back garden as I found myself thinking about the doctor again, excited to see him today as well. We had left off at a rather culminating point of my story yesterday, I wondered if he was as eager as I was to hear the rest of it. Matilda wasn’t feeling well today, and as my mother was in town, Carla was the one supervising me. I didn’t mind the change, she was a chatty girl and easily kept me from detaching from reality. Here, in the garden, as I thumbed at the leaves of the flowers, Carla was still speaking about an encounter with a fairy. A supposed fairy as she believed in God and deemed the little creatures spawns of evil.

“Tell me, young miss, do you believe it was Satan sending those fairies my way?” Carla’s voice was full of wonder, “Have I done something bad to attract his attention to me?”

“I don’t believe so, Carla.” I answered her quietly, my eyes following a bee as it flew from flower to flower, “You go to church every Sunday.”

“Perhaps I should go from now on every Wednesday and Sunday, too.” Carla huffed, hands on her hips as she tried avoiding the bee that was flying towards her. I chuckled, straightening up. The scent of the hydrangeas was familiar as I closed my eyes, inhaling it deeply into my lungs so that they would stay there for a long time.

“I don’t believe fairies are inherently evil, Carla.” I mused as the breeze brushed upon my cheeks, already flushed from the great heat. My dress was thin and simple, I couldn’t wear pompous dresses during summertime, they were too hot. I would often feel lightheaded from the strong sun, the thick dresses would only make me faint. The white fabric was soft against my skin, and the white ribbons brushed against my nape as my hair was pulled into two small buns at the base of my neck. I could’ve performed on stage looking like this, but even so much as looking at my pointe shoes would’ve hurt my soul. I didn’t let the memories resurface despite the sudden melancholia that wished to break through my emotions, “Fairies are small creatures that protect nature, maybe you had done something they didn’t approve of. Did you disrespect their land, perhaps? Or did you step on a flower they had blessed before? Fairies are territorial beings, and they are also quite vengeful. But if you ask Father Leon to bless you after service, I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Carla.”

The scoff that followed my words wasn’t coming from Carla. I didn’t open my eyes as I became aware of heavier footsteps approaching, I had completely missed the engine of his motorcar. I felt Karina stop behind me, but I turned my head towards the sun, basking in it. I couldn’t touch the celestial without burning to a crisp, but perhaps the one it had sent to me in human form was really here to save me. A clear of throat made me blink my eyes open, and I turned to look over my shoulder.

“If you have nothing else but fairies to talk about, then I don’t see why Doctor Jeong should entertain your madness any longer.” Karina’s eyes narrowed at me, “You belong in an asylum, sister.”

I smiled, a little amused, as an ugly grimace appeared on Carla’s face upon Karina’s comment. The maid made to open her mouth, which would’ve landed her in trouble, but the doctor beat her to it, “Thank you for walking me here, Miss Brooks. But I’d like to be left alone with Miss Harold, now.”

“Right,” Karina muttered, shooting me a jealous stare, “She gets to have you all to herself, as always.”

Then, she turned around and raised her skirt above her ankles to storm off. Carla nodded her head and followed after Karina, not in a hurry so that the woman wouldn’t pick a fight with Carla as well. The doctor sighed, pushing his small glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking a little bit bewildered. Then, he looked at me and the crease from his forehead disappeared. I was already smiling at him, my hands behind my back to hide the bad tremors. I had felt faint all day, but the doctor was here finally and I could finally take my first breath of fresh air of the day. I couldn’t help but smile widely at him, and watch as the flush from his ears quickly travelled down to his chest. Even more buttons of his loose white shirt were undone, the silver cross sitting against his chest now glinting under the sunlight. His trousers were high-waisted and the shirt was tucked neatly into it, a leather belt pulled around his waist. And there, in his right hand, was something white. I tilted my head in wonder as I looked at it, curious about what it was. The doctor liked bringing small gifts, mostly silly, but memorable.

“Hello, Doctor Jeong,” I spoke up, and the doctor released a loud breath.

“Hello, Miss Harold.” His voice shook slightly, then his fingers tightened around the strap of his satchel bag, “Here, I have something for you.”

Then he extended his right hand out towards me, and my eyes widened in surprise. I could tell the ballerina was made out of a napkin, I hadn’t seen anything like it before. My hands shook despite trying to ease the tremors, and my fingers hesitantly curled around the present as our skin brushed together. The doctor’s cheeks flushed rapidly, and I found myself unable to look into his warm eyes. I wondered if it was the heat that made our hands so clammy. I looked at the ballerina in my hands, melancholy overtaking me once again. I longed to dance around in the garden, Mrs Humphrey and my mother as my audience now that my father was gone, but it only brought back bad memories. I was too faint to twirl around now, my legs weren’t as strong as they once used to be. I would fall even before doing my first pirouette, it was depressing.

“How are you feeling today, Miss Harold?”

“Faint, but it’s from the heat, Doctor Jeong.”

We stood unmoving, our eyes boring into each other’s. I didn’t want to move to the tea room just yet, perhaps I longed to sit under the willow tree. The doctor made no moves, and so I said nothing about heading for the house. We were in eyesight if anyone were to look through the kitchen window, and we weren’t doing anything wrong.

“Thank you for the gift, Doctor Jeong, did you make it yourself?” I asked with round eyes, unable to keep the smile off my lips. The doctor flushed darker and averted his eyes, thumbing at his wet bottom lip.

“Yes, I thought it would cheer you up. I hope I wasn’t wrong.” His tone was tender and just a little hesitant, the doctor was almost cute like this.

“It did cheer me up, sir, I was thinking about ballet just now.” I paused, and waited for the doctor to look up into my eyes, “It seems you can already read my mind, I wonder how you do that.”

The doctor smiled, his forehead exposed as his dark strands were brushed away from his eyes, “We are making progress, then, reading your mind isn’t as easy as one might think.”

“And why is that?” I asked curiously, fiddling with the napkin in my hands.

“Because it’s very complex, you like to speak in riddles, and you evade most of my questions.” Then the doctor chuckled and I bit my bottom lip, averting my eyes in embarrassment, “You’re cunning, but I’m good at catching all the little hidden messages.”

I grinned at the doctor’s words, my suspicions confirmed. I knew I could play around with him, he seemed like a very smart man. Hearing he could read between the lines was more than satisfying. My heart skipped a beat, but it didn’t start racing like before.

“Do you like hydrangeas, Doctor?”

“Their scent is too intense for my liking, but they are pretty flowers, Miss Harold.”

“They symbolise purity and gratitude, even vanity in some cases.”

“What do they mean in your case, then?”

“Gratitude, Doctor Jeong, towards you.” Our eyes met again as I looked away from the white flowers, a sudden calmness settling upon my racing thoughts, “I hope the end of my story will be satisfying to you.”

The doctor gulped, loudly, then motioned towards the house, “Would you like to continue inside? Did you remember something of importance, perhaps?”

“Can we sit under the willow tree?” I raised an eyebrow, “Mrs Humphrey can see us from the kitchen if that’s of worry to you.”

“Sure, if you’ll feel comfortable.” The doctor nodded, fishing for his notebook and pencil as I hummed, leading us down the pebbled path, the willow tree was just by the end of it. The territory the house resided on came with a small pond, I liked watching the still water while sitting by the trunk of the willow tree. The doctor followed after me quietly, and he watched me settle down into the green grass, dress splaying out around me. It had ridden slightly up, exposing my shins as I pulled them underneath myself. The doctor seemed to be frozen, eyes glued to where my legs had been just seconds ago. Then, he gulped loudly and settled down next to me. He sat a little closer compared to the usual distance between our chairs, but his presence was soothing. I smiled as I faced him, eyes falling on his long fingers as he got comfortable, opening his notebook to where we had left off yesterday.

“I don’t remember anything new, doctor, but we haven’t reached that part of the story yet.” I smiled, then turned my head to gaze out at the pond, “Would you like to hear what happens next?”

The doctor exhaled, “You told me this noble boy barged inside your house in the middle of the night? He must’ve been madly in love with you to do such a thing.”

I chuckled, eyes focusing on the dragonflies above the pond, “I suppose he was at one point, yes. But men are easily converted, I find love like my mother and father had once shared hard to find, doctor. Our love didn’t last long, but I’m getting ahead of myself. It was a cold spring evening and he had been visiting, drinking with Mr Brooks to ask for permission to marry me. My mother was present too, of course, but she couldn’t say much against Mr Brook’s words. In the end, the proposal was accepted and the man left, only to come barging inside hours later.”

“Why did he do that?”

“Because he was drunk, and because he had something to say.”

“Did you hear him out?”

I chuckled, facing the doctor. His eyes were wide as he was watching me, pencil pressing against the white paper, “Yes, I did hear him out, but his words made no sense. He said something about a lavished lifestyle and a farmhouse, and something about being happy together even in a later age, it was endearing but very inadequate.”

“So, what did you do, then?” The doctor wasn’t even writing down what I was saying, it made me chuckle. The corner of his lips lifted subconsciously, he looked amused too.

“Nothing, I just kicked him out and told him to come back when he’s sober. His drunken words meant nothing to me. I did not want to marry a man who made foolish confessions in an inebriated state of mind, besides, he was a gentleman. He should have known better than to barge inside a lady’s home well past midnight, no, Doctor Jeong?” I quirked an eyebrow, my question seemed to snap the doctor out of his staring. He cleared his throat and looked down at his notebook, pausing for a few seconds before he jotted something down. I couldn’t read it, it was in a foreign language.

“N-no—I mean, yes, Miss Harold. That was rather inappropriate of him, I must imagine the discomfort he had created for you.” He had barely finished his sentence when a giggle bubbled past my lips.

“On the contrary, Doctor Jeong.” I grinned, ducking my head down to hide my amusement as confusion crossed the doctor’s features, “It was the most fun I’ve had in a while. Mrs Humphrey, my mother, and I had stayed up for hours giggling about it afterwards. We even made jokes about it and Mrs Humphrey let us drink her very secret brew that tastes like flowers but could knock out even a sailor with just two jugs. I have no idea what it is, but it’s very strong.”

The doctor’s eyes were filled with awe as I laughed, memories of easier times never failing to bring me in a good mood. It would’ve been easier like this, if things stayed put and if Karina wouldn’t have meddled with everything. I have faced hardships before, but having the person I considered my sister to betray me had stung like none other. In the end, neither one of us got what we wanted, just a lot of animosity and a tension-filled relationship. Sometimes I wanted to ask Karina if all of it was worth it, but I knew not to entertain an already greedy person.

“And how does this memory make you feel now?” Doctor Jeong’s tone was airy, and he wasn’t looking at me as he was scribbling in his notebook. I pondered for a second before I placed my hands on the grass, gripping it tightly between my fingers. Sometimes the tremors stopped when I grabbed something too hard.

“Bittersweet, but mostly happy. I’m grateful I was able to experience all of that at least once in my lifetime, others aren’t as lucky as I am. I am well aware of that.” The doctor nodded along as I spoke, but then he paused writing and looked at me with a frown.

“And when you think of that man? How does he make you feel, Miss Harold?” I gulped, not having expected that question. But it was easy to answer, I’ve pondered many times over this specific question, there wasn’t anything the doctor could surprise me with anymore. I smiled softly but knew the doctor could feel the shift in my mood.

“Mostly angry that I wasted years on that man when I could’ve found someone more decent, more loving.” Then I shrugged and watched as the doctor licked his lips, adjusting his spectacles on his nose, “Do you believe that God has everything planned for us, Doctor?”

“Mostly, yes, but we have enough free will to change the direction of our lives.” The doctor answered, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. I hummed, plucking the grass from the ground forcefully. My knuckles ached from how hard I had gripped onto it.

“You can’t run from what is meant for you, Doctor Jeong, we would’ve never met if I wouldn’t have gone mad.” But Doctor Jeong didn’t seem to be too convinced by my words. He chewed on his bottom lip, sweat rolling down between his pecks. I gulped, then averted my eyes from his exposed fair skin, and instead focused on his beautiful round brown eyes, “Are you glad we got to meet?”

The man’s eyes widened at my forward question, but I meant no harm nor did I have questionable reasons to ask such a thing. The doctor cleared his throat, playing with the pencil in his hands as he thought his answer over, “I’ll be glad once you are back to being yourself, until then, I cannot allow myself to feel any sort of satisfaction.”

“Don’t you think my madness is part of me, now?” I muttered, gazing off towards the house. The curtain in the kitchen moved, but I knew it wasn’t Mrs Humphrey. She was out in town with my mother at this hour. Doctor Jeong inhaled sharply, then closed his notebook loudly. The paper made a noisy sound, making me look over to him. The man looked aggravated as if my question had bothered him immensely, but I was merely curious about how he viewed me.

“Perhaps we should continue tomorrow, Miss Harold, and we must proceed with the story. The committee is pressing me with questions, they are very curious to hear the full story.” The doctor was avoiding my question, that was unusual. He stood, brushed the dirt off his trousers, then hastily grabbed his satchel bag and clumsily placed the notebook and his pencil inside.

“Thank you for indulging with me, Doctor Jeong.” I looked up at him, and had to shield my eyes from the sun, “I love sitting under the willow tree.”

“I will keep that in mind, Miss Harold, have a nice afternoon.” The doctor then bowed his head and I mirrored his actions, then he was rushing back towards the house, looking a little rigid. Karina stood in the doorway to the tea room, a tray filled with cookies and lemonade in her hands, but Doctor Jeong merely nodded at her and left the house in haste. Karina’s glare could be felt even from the distance, and I gently stood to head back inside, keeping the arrangement in mind. I wasn’t supposed to be unsupervised, I knew Carla would be in the laundry room if she had nothing else to do.

Yunho couldn’t sleep. He kept reading over and over his notes, all the small hidden messages making his head ache. His stomach growled in hunger, but he was physically unable to stand from his study and ask the housekeeper to prepare dinner for him. The girl was frail, she was soft-spoken but witty. She liked to keep him on his toes, and she was great at making him lose track of what was most important. He felt like he was making no progress, yet the committee kept pressing him for an answer. Father Louis was understanding enough not to ambush him with questions daily, but the rest of the officials weren’t. They wanted a diagnosis of Miss Harold already, they didn’t want to understand that Yunho couldn’t give his verdict in anything but a week. Building trust took time, getting to hear the unfiltered truth from someone who loved to play with her words took patience. Yunho was a patient person, but he wondered how long he had until he’d break. Whenever he closed his eyes, he felt as if she was watching him, standing over him, smiling at him. Her skin was sun-kissed and sometimes her cheeks were burnt from staying out in the sun for too long, but Yunho knew her skin would be soft. When he had twisted and turned his napkin into shapes, absentmindedly, he realised he had made a ballerina out of it. Thus, he had made his first mistake as a professional. He had allowed himself to sympathise with Miss Harold. He had allowed himself to notice her smile was brighter than the sun itself, and that she smelled an awful lot like those hydrangeas that Yunho was allergic to. And he had allowed himself to notice the tremors of her hands, making him yearn to hold her frail hands between his with the hopes of soothing her nerves. Yunho wondered if she yearned for him like she had yearned for her once lover.

The clouds were almost black as they expanded over the horizon. The wind was too cold for us to keep the grand doors of the tea room open, so they remained closed as I sat on the soft sofa, gazing out through the glass. Matilda had left the curtains undrawn for me, and a few scented candles were lit to ease my muscles' tension. I couldn’t focus lately, these past three days my mood had quickly reclined. I know the doctor had noticed it too, but he didn’t prod more than it would be considered rude. I was reluctant to tell him the cause of my moroseness, he wasn’t here to listen to me weep about how unfairly Karina treated me. She had been ruthless these past three days. I knew she had a vendetta against me, but ever since the doctor started coming here, she had been progressively getting worse and worse. I could handle it until I couldn’t. If I ignored her and got lost in a deep spot in the back of my mind filled with happy memories, I would end up with a backhanded slap to my face. If I talked back and stood my ground, I would only fuel her fire, giving her power over me. Karina was clever, she knew when to strike. If my mother was around us, she was an angel. If the servants were watching, she’d be sharp and arrogant towards me. If Mr. Brooks was present, she didn’t bother hiding her disdain, but she wasn’t as straightforward as around the servants.

She didn’t hold back one bit if it was just the two of us. My eyes were lost on the gloomy visage, eyes tracking the swaying vines of the willow tree. It was even more beautiful in the eyes of the storm, I could’ve stared at it for hours on end. My mind was silent like this, absent of all the turbulent thoughts that shook me to my core and kept me up at night, when Matilda, poor girl, struggled to stay up and look over me. Just last night, she had fallen asleep, and I was grateful because I had a moment to myself where I could secretly slip away and walk through the gardens in hopes of clearing my mind. It wasn’t a smart decision, however, because I couldn’t remember anything after I stepped through the threshold of the house. I just know sometime later I was gasping for air as my arms were restricted and my throat was scratchy, Mr Brooks desperately trying to hold down my trashing body. My white nightgown was dirty with mud and the ends of it were dripping wet with pond water. It wasn’t foreign that I would lose consciousness if something lay heavily on my chest and gnawed at my thoughts, but it had been long since I had lost track of myself so deeply. Not since the incident, at least.

And Karina was enjoying it, her lips pulled into a nasty smirk as my mother cried by my side, asking Matilda and Leia to bring cold towels and help me clean up. Mr Brooks had looked tired as he gently helped me back to my room and tucked me into bed, his eyes pained and suffering as if I was blood-related to him. His expression made me feel guilty for worrying not just my mother, but also him. I felt terrible, yet I couldn’t control my mind or my body when these episodes happened. Even now, as I sat on the sofa waiting for the doctor to arrive, I felt lightheaded and on the brink of losing consciousness. My body felt light and heavy simultaneously, and I could feel my pulse in my neck. My lips felt chapped no matter how much tea I drank, and my throat was tight. I wanted to see the doctor, I needed to tell him why I had done what I had done. I had always been too afraid to confess the truth, not wanting to hurt my mother and break up the second family she cherished. But I also couldn’t continue living like this, not when Karina prayed for my downfall. Her harsh words from yesterday were still fresh in my mind, and I had to blink the tears away for a second.

“I know you’re just a whore, desperate to find another man to toy with.” She had spat with flushed cheeks, a cup filled halfway with wine in her hand, “Do you seriously think that doctor wants to touch you? You’re a deranged woman now, Y/N, nobody will want you. Not even Doctor Jeong Yunho, you whore. I won’t let you have him too, you always get what you want—but not this time, Y/N, mark my words.”

And just when I had thought she was done, she had marched up to me and grabbed me by the throat harshly, making me gasp, “If he doesn’t send you to an asylum, I will kill you myself, Y/N. You’re an abomination and a disgrace, even your own mother hates you, whore.”

The knock at the door startled me, I had been lost deep in thought. I turned my head and noticed Matilda giving me a small smile, “Young miss, the doctor is here to see you. Would you like me to prepare anything for you two?”

My heart skipped a beat, but I couldn’t tell why. Perhaps because I knew he’d take my mind off things, even if I was forced to relive the past I tried to bury deep down, sequences I couldn’t even remember anymore. Or, maybe, it was because I desperately wished to gaze upon his soft face, lose myself in his warm and round eyes peeking at me over his small spectacles. I couldn’t decide which was the reason, but I needed his presence to calm my turbulent mind and body finally.

“Thank you. I will welcome him inside, and you can take a break.” I stood up, hands balling into fists as nausea washed over me, “We won’t need anything, but I hope you get some sleep, Matilda. You’ve been watching over me for three days.”

“That is my duty, young miss.” Then she bowed her head before I could tell her she needed to take care of herself, and she took her leave. I smoothed down my long-sleeved dark blue dress now that the weather wasn’t as warm as days ago. I hadn’t pulled my hair into a bun today, even if it was not ladylike, I wished to feel my copper strands brushing against my cheeks when I moved my head. It shielded my face like a curtain if I didn’t want to be seen, I hoped Doctor Jeong wouldn’t mind.

Sucking in a deep breath and bracing myself, I left the tea room in search of the doctor, who should have been in the foyer, getting rid of his coat and dress shoes, but instead, he wasn’t there. I paused for a second to listen for his voice, and a smile pulled at my lips when I realised he was in the living room. Perhaps we could hold our session inside there today, I could play the piano and show him my favourite piece, if that, of course, was deemed fine by the doctor. As my fingers brushed against the wooden door, about to push it further open, I realised the doctor wasn’t alone. Karina’s sweet giggles flooded the room before she continued speaking.

“Surely, Doctor. I am pleased to hear you do not burn yourself out by coming here daily. I can only imagine how tiring it must be to listen to my sister, she’s rarely coherent. You must have noticed, given that you are a doctor, that she often has no idea where she is or who she is talking to. She tends to get lost in her own mind and blabber on about nonsense.” Karina then paused as my heart raced, my eyebrows furrowed in distaste, “She looks completely normal upon first glance, but it quickly becomes obvious she’s—well, she’s insane, you know?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Brooks, I cannot be discussing this with you.” Doctor Jeong’s voice was neutral, and cold, unlike the tone he used with me, “But as a licensed doctor, given that I am one, I can tell when her surroundings influence her mood, or why she is in a bad headspace.”

Karina scoffed, sounding a little offended, “Are you insinuating anything right now, Doctor Jeong? I don’t need a license to be able to tell that my sister is insane. How long until you realise she’s just trying to trap you here, twirl you up into her web of lies and fantasies? If you think you can help a mad person, Doctor, I fear you should seek help too. She’s beyond help, she’s desperate and pathetic, and as I have stated, she’s mad—”

“I am not mad!” Before I could stop myself, I let my anger take over me as I barged through the ajar room, “I am not insane, Karina, you’re always putting words in my mouth! Who has ruined everything I have ever had, huh?! You, you did, so don’t call me your sister. I am not your sister, and I will never be, you filthy skank!”

Karina gasped loudly, her hand flying up to her mouth. The doctor’s eyes had widened too, clearly taken aback by my outburst. I had been soft-spoken and kind in front of him, careful to not show anything he could incriminate me with in front of the committee. Karina had gotten what she wanted all this time, I suppose. Now, the doctor would make an early report that wasn’t favourable for me without even hearing the truth, or as much as I could remember of it. I gulped, feeling ashamed as tears filled my eyes, but I tried to keep myself from crying. Karina wailing like a banshee next to Doctor Jeong was more than humiliating enough to force me to keep myself in place.

“Enough,” The doctor snapped, his friendly and soft features morphing into something of anger and vexation. For a second, I thought it was directed towards me, but then he turned his head and his warm chocolate brown eyes fell on Karina, now sharp, “This is the last time I let you off the hook, Miss Brooks. If you don’t stop treating your sister so poorly, I will have to write you up on the board as the main suspect that causes Miss Harold’s turbulent manic episodes to occur, is that what you want? Do you wish to also be psychologically evaluated? I can do that, I can get one of my colleagues to come out here and question you, but you might be surprised to find yourself deemed insane too.”

Doctor Jeong’s words visibly shook Karina as she crumbled into an armchair, fingers sinking into her hair as she shook her head at the doctor, crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks pathetically. My heart was racing in my chest, the doctor was all I could see. His flushed cheeks from anger, his whitening knuckles around the strap of his satchel bag, his rapidly rising and falling chest—Jeong Yunho had stood up for me, taken my side. He was my doctor, he was supposed to look out for me, but he wasn’t obligated to protect me from claims that might be true. I didn’t feel insane, I never had, but Karina might still be right. Maybe I was a danger to society and Doctor Jeong hadn’t discovered why yet. It was only a matter of time until I exploded in his face, showing him my true colours. I had no idea what I was fully capable of, that part of my memory was still absent, but I could never forget the feeling of pure satisfaction and elation as I watched Karina lay on her back, gasping for air as blood trailed from her nose down to her mouth, chin, and then neck.

Doctor Jeong sighed loudly, his eyebrows furrowed as he licked his lips, shaking his head in almost disappointment at Karina. Then, he faced me and his features instantly softened. My heart raced again, and I hid my hands behind my back. Then, without many words, he came closer to me and nodded with his chin towards the stairs, “Would you mind if we skipped the tea room today, I’d like a more private setting.”

I gulped, feeling lightheaded once again, “No, the storm ruins the pretty visage either way.”

The doctor hummed as I turned around and took off towards the stairs, his strong footsteps loud behind me. My hands trembled as we ascended the creaky old stairs, my fingertips tracing the old railing. Doctor Jeong’s fingers were close to mine, tracing the same pattern as mine, so close yet so far away at the same time. I exhaled softly and tried to keep a clear head, but my nausea was getting worse as I led the way to my bedroom. My mother would’ve been outraged by the idea of leading a man inside my room, but this was the doctor, he was here to help. I couldn’t think of a more private room than my own bedroom, the heavy door closed and locked once we were inside. The doctor seemed to tense when he heard the lock, his back to me. I felt exposed, a little naked, now that the man was in my intimate space. There wasn’t much to my room except for a desk filled with books and poorly done sketches, and a vase filled with daisies and tulips. The doctor headed for my desk, meanwhile, I headed for my bed. The sheets were satin and silky as I lowered myself onto the edge of my bed, letting my hands sink into the fabric. With a questioning glance, the doctor turned my chair around to face me and sunk into it with a heavy sigh.

“I apologise.” My eyebrows rose in surprise as I tilted my head in question, “For letting your sister speak like that of you, I should have never let her go that far. I shouldn’t have even let her corner me like that and-and—it doesn’t matter. I understand if you need space after this, I might be able to convince the committee to give me a few more weeks.”

“She’s not my sister.” I whispered as I wrung my trembling fingers together, looking down in my lap, “Karina is not my blood sister, Doctor Jeong. I might have viewed her once as a sister, but not anymore.”

The doctor fumbled around for his notebook and pencil, which had gotten smaller from having sharpened it so often. The doctor’s eyebrows were furrowed as he pushed the spectacles up on the bridge of his perfect nose.

“Does this have to do anything with what happened on that day?” The doctor’s voice was gentle, understanding even. I bit my lower lip and nodded slowly, feeling my head swarm around uncontrollably. Would he know what to do with me if I were to pass out? He is a doctor, after all, but Matilda is the one who knows me best, perhaps I shouldn’t have locked the door.

“She-she really—hurt me that day, and I—” My throat felt dry as my lungs started heaving for air, “I don’t know—maybe I did want her to di-die—I can’t do this right now, Doctor Jeong, I’m sorry.”

Doctor Jeong’s bottom lip was between his teeth as he suddenly let his notebook rest on the desk behind him. He leaned forward, lowering his head as he tried to make eye contact with me. I gulped and kept my gaze focused on my tremor-ridden hands, “Listen to me, Miss Harold, we don’t have to talk about it today. I’m just here to chat, I can tell you are not feeling well. Your mother informed me through a letter that you had hurt yourself last night, may I know what happened? Can you tell me? I won’t even take notes, just this one time.”

I gulped, slowly raising my eyes to look up at the doctor. He wore a tight beige shirt today with a dark blue vest over it, his pants snugly fitting his long legs. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his fair and smooth skin, veins bulging through. The wristwatch on his left hand looked fancy, the leather a very dark blue to match his vest. Doctor Jeong’s dark hair was swept back once again, but it looked fluffier today. I itched to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, wanting to feel its softness for myself. I tensed my muscles before I could do anything stupid like that. The doctor’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and his tooth was leaving a small white dent in his bottom lip. Because he was leaning forward, there was less distance between us, but still respectable. Like between doctor and patient.

“I—” I chewed on my bottom lip before taking a deep breath, “I haven’t been feeling well lately, Doctor, so I couldn’t sleep last night. I went for a walk and…I don’t remember what I did or what happened. Sometimes I lose consciousness while I’m awake, it’s frightening. I woke up with a muddied nightgown and a cut on my arm, Matilda had patched me up though.”

“How often does this happen?”

“Not that often.”

“Do you have an idea what may cause it?

“Well, yes. I think it’s Karina, she’s been antagonising me for the past three days and I’m so tired of it all. I just disassociate when I see her approaching me now, I’m sorry.”

The doctor sighed, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. His spectacles had slipped lower once again, “Do not apologise, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just glad you’re alright, Miss Harold.”

“The thought of you visiting daily keeps me afloat, Doctor Jeong, I have something to look forward to now.” I smiled, widely, and the doctor’s eyes widened before he blinked rapidly, looking stunned. Afraid the moment of lightness would pass by before I could grasp it, I continued, “Would you mind telling me your story today? What it’s like where you are from? How you were as a child? Is that…is that unprofessional? Are we not allowed to speak about you, Doctor?”

Doctor Jeong’s gulp was loud, then he took a deep breath and slowly leaned back in his chair, his legs spreading wide. He looked conflicted for just one second, but upon a glance at my face, he gave in. I couldn’t help but beam at the doctor as he chuckled, taking his spectacles off to place them on the desk behind himself.

“Where should I even start?” He hummed, looking towards the window, lost in thought. He was gorgeous, and he was kind. I hadn’t met a man like him before, I wished to trace my fingers along his jawline, but Karina was right. I couldn’t be a whore, not with this man, “As a child I was energetic and always blabbering on about whatever was inside my mind. I liked to ask a lot of questions, but I was reprimanded often for being too curious. Life is…different in South Korea at this time, very much different compared to how things run here. I am lucky I managed to sail so far away, my family has made great sacrifices for me to end up here. I’m not even able to send them often letters, it’s too risky.”

“Why?”

“Because they are in hiding, our belief in God is frowned upon, Catholics aren’t safe there now.” To prove a point, Doctor Jeong grabbed the silver cross underneath his shirt and brought it forward, clutching it tightly in his hands, “I can bravely say it here despite the other religions that exist, nobody has tried to murder me for it, so far. Besides, I cannot tell whether they still live where we did before I managed to sneak onto a French ship and escape. The elite class isn’t like the one here, it’s falling apart and I cannot be sure that my family are still part of it today.”

My eyebrows furrowed as an ashen look crossed the doctor’s face, “Do you miss your home?”

“Yes and no,” The doctor answered truthfully, “I was young when I sailed here, I had nothing and no one until my foster father found me. He was a Dutchman, very kind but unforgiving. I got lucky because he was a doctor and I came here to study advanced medicine with the hopes of once returning home and spreading the word, but I cannot go back, not yet. They’d shun me away, shame me and possibly kill me. South Korea isn’t welcoming of strangers yet, and in their eyes, I’d be one too for leaving our homeland only to return with new doctrines. Even if it means saving hundreds of lives. Not that I work with the physical body, but everyone needs someone who can soothe their soul once in a while.”

“You’re beyond courageous, Doctor Jeong, I admire you.” I sounded breathless as I closely listened to the doctor, making sure no word he uttered slipped by my ears. I wanted to know more about him, who he was and why he chose to be here. I couldn’t imagine being on my own, out on the streets, away from my mother, “I promise not to waste your time here, I’m almost at the end of my story.”

“I know, Miss Harold,” Doctor Jeong smiled softly, “Rather an acquittance than your doctor, I’d like to tell you that I look forward to our sessions. You are easy to connect with, and you don’t make it hard for me to glimpse inside your mind. I cannot say I understand each choice you’ve made, but that’s the beauty of having free will and individual thoughts, it sets us apart and makes us unique.”

I couldn’t help but blush as I averted my gaze from his intense one, feeling shy all of a sudden. The doctor wasn’t calling me specifically unique, but the implication was there, and I couldn’t help myself but imagine, “What about your home? What was that like, Doctor Jeong? And your family?”

For a second, he was silent. It made me think I had offended him in some way, but then his eyebrows slightly furrowed and he looked serious, “Since I am not talking to you as your doctor, you should just call me Yunho, if I may…Y/N?”

Hearing my name fall from his lips had my heart racing and my breath shuddering. I gulped, feeling speechless for a second as my eyes bore into Doctor Jeong’s, wondering if the man knew what it meant to drop such drastic formalities. But I obliged because I wanted his name to roll off my own lips like mine had done on his, desperate to fortify this frail bond between the two of us, doctor and patient, “Right, of course…Yunho.”

Doctor Jeong’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, his gulp was loud. I watched redness coat his ears down to his neck, his fingers digging into the wooden armrests. He was still wearing the silver band around his middle finger, I wondered whose it was. Was it from someone back home? Or was it from his foster father?

“Right, Y/N, well my home certainly was smaller than your house, and also built with different architecture in mind. And people don’t wear these fancy suits at home, we have our own traditional clothes that we proudly wear. I still have the one I arrived in tucked away as a means to never forget where I come from.” Doctor Jeong—Yunho—smiled softly, eyes glazed over with memories as he spoke quietly, almost as if to himself, “I have a younger brother, he’s the loveliest. I didn’t want to leave him home, not even my father and mother, but we would’ve been discovered if we were to run away together. My mother sent me off sobbing, clutching me to her chest and wondering if we’d see each other ever again. My father was a stoic man, but he had cried too. He had enough faith in me and God to know I’d make it out alive and become what they sent me away for. I left a dear friend behind too, but he promised to follow me one day. I do not know if we’ll see each other, perhaps he’s wandering around on a completely different continent, but at least I have something of his with me.”

My eyes flickered towards the silver band Yunho was absentmindedly playing with, his lips set in a tight line. So, the ring was from someone he dearly loved and cherished, I wished I could reach out and pat his hand to offer him comfort. But Yunho’s solemn look switched into one of contentment as he looked at me again, “Our house was in a lovely neighbourhood, filled with silence and the chirping of birds each early morning. Our servants were few, so they lived with us, and they had quickly become part of the family too. I would play in the dirt with my brother when our mother was busy in the kitchen, overlooking the cooks while also helping out. Our father worked long hours but he always returned with fresh flowers for my mother and some sort of western delicacy nobody was allowed to know about. I would often take walks on the beach, if there’s anything I miss terribly, it’s the wide sea and the calmness it brought with itself.”

“I love sailing,” I muttered, tucking my hands underneath my thighs as I hummed, “Despite what’s happened to my father, I find solace in the sea. It silences my fears, much like taking walks in the garden does. I feel like I belong to nature, that I can easily become one with it.”

“Nature is a beautiful place,” Yunho hummed, swiping his thumb against his bottom lip, watching me closely, “You’d love exploring the world.”

I chuckled sadly, “I would, Yunho, but I’m forced to rot away in this house under the very eyes of my servants and family. I can’t even be left alone here, sometimes I want it all to stop. Tell me, have you travelled a lot?”

Yunho looked abashed as he shrugged one shoulder, “Enough to see all sorts of places, people, and cases. Not each one had a happy ending, but I had learned something from each of them, so it was worth it in the end.”

“I wish to see the world, Yunho. I don’t want to be caged in here anymore. Could you set me free—no, will you set me free, Yunho?”

“I—I’ll try, I really will, Y/N. If you tell me the truth, I can help you and write a promising report on your case. But you have to be transparent with me for that to happen.”

“What if they don’t agree with you? See me as unstable and a danger to society, what then? Will I require a caretaker still?”

“I’m afraid, yes. Perhaps you’ll have even more severe surveillance, I’m sorry. I truly promise to do my best, but you have to trust me.”

“And what if…what if you became my caretaker?”

The silence that followed my question felt heavy, it felt wrong. I shouldn’t have asked that, but I was desperate to know how far Doctor Jeong would go to prove I wasn’t insane. And perhaps, a hidden sadistic part of me wanted to know just what exactly the doctor would do for me, to me.

“That would imply you are very unstable, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a thing.” Doctor Jeong breathed out, reaching for his spectacles.

“But would you become my caretaker?” I whispered, gazing up into his eyes with yearning as the doctor abruptly stood, “I wish to see the world, the places you go to. I wish to see South Korea once you’re allowed to go back, Yunho. Would you take me with you?”

He was packing his things frantically, breathing through his mouth loudly, “I cannot tell, Miss Harold, it implies great responsibility to look over someone unstable. Given if you were the object of my desires, I wouldn’t even consider becoming your caretaker, but I’m your doctor and it’s inappropriate.”

“Isn’t it only inappropriate if you make it that?” I stood, facing the doctor before he could run off. He looked conflicted and angry, so I backed off, “My apologies, I have taken you for granted and stepped over our boundaries as doctor and patient. I hope I haven’t made you too uncomfortable, Doctor Jeong, that’s not what I wished to do. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I will be back tomorrow, and you must tell me what happened, Miss Harold.” With a nod of his head, the doctor was at my door, quickly unlocking it, but he didn’t twist the knob right away. He took a deep breath and released it with a whisper, “And I would become your caretaker, if I could.”

His footsteps echoed through the house just as lightning struck in the distance. I walked to the window and watched the doctor get onto the motorcar as his butler drove away, trying to avoid the storm. And then, just like that, the world started spinning as blackness threatened to coat my vision.

My knuckles were bloody from having picked at the skin consistently since I was awake. The tremors from my hand have extended to my whole body, my head felt underwater. I couldn’t understand what was happening around me, but I jumped each time thunder rumbled the earth. I know I had been placed on a chair in front of the window in my bedroom, Matilda sitting in the corner with my mother regularly checking on me, but I couldn’t tell what was being said to me or done around me. I didn’t have an appetite this morning, and getting out of bed was harder than ever before. I knew something was wrong, that something had disturbed my peace of mind, but I had no idea what this sudden change in my mood meant. I tried to break through the veil of haziness and speak to Matilda, tell her that my head was throbbing and my joints ached from how wrung up my body was, but my lips formed no words. I tried using the breathing technique Mrs Humphrey had once taught me, but nothing was working. I wasn’t able to control my body, and it was only making me more anxious.

The door to my room opened, but I continued to look out the window absentmindedly, bracing myself for the loud rumble when lightning struck again. After the doctor left yesterday, it hadn’t stopped raining ever since. I knew he couldn’t make it today, but he was determined enough to push through the storm and visit me. Unless it was a serious issue that needed to be urgently taken care of, the doctor never cancelled our session. The thought of seeing him when I felt so unwell managed to calm my racing heart, but until he was actually standing in front of me and I could gaze into his deep eyes, I couldn’t help but take shallow breaths as my muscles tensed up even more.

“Look at you,” It was Karina’s voice unmistakably, “trembling and sweating like a dying child, aren’t you? Who are you acting for, hm? The doctor isn’t here, Y/N, no need to act all pitiful like this, nobody in this house cares about you.”

Her voice was crystal clear for some reason, it made my ears ring as I released a shuddering breath. My mind was so askew that I couldn’t even answer her, I just needed a warm embrace and a deep voice to whisper that everything was fine. Did nobody care about me? That was so depressing, it brought tears to my eyes.

“Besides, he’s not coming today.” I failed to inhale as Karina continued to speak, “He sent a letter to your mother that he couldn’t find a carriage in time, so he isn’t coming. How tragic, all this acting only for him to not witness it…”

The sound that left my mouth was quiet, but unmistakably a whimper. Matilda shifted in her armchair and cleared her throat. I could see Karina through the reflection of the window, she was smirking maliciously as she stared at the back of my head. She looked so pleased with herself, that it made tears stream down my cheeks. I wanted to say something, but the lump in my throat was getting tighter and tighter, I realised I had stopped breathing. Why wouldn’t Yunho come? Was he like Karina too, did he not care about me? Did he lie to me yesterday? Was I worth so little that he couldn’t take on being my caretaker? Why must this be my fate? Why must I be forced never to leave this estate, this house, trapped under the eyes of people who either hate me or pity me? I wanted to sob, but the more I tried to breathe, the quicker I realised dark spots had started appearing in my vision.

“I don’t know what you two do during your little sessions, but the committee has given him one more week before he has to make his final report,” Karina chuckled, I heard her coming closer, fingers gripping the back of my chair, “And then, he’ll be all mine. I already talked to my father and he considers Doctor Jeong a nice suitor, how exciting. You can’t have him, Y/N, and he won’t have you either. I see the way you look at him, you are pathetic.”

Karina’s warm breath fanned my ear and cheek as she whispered her last words, cackling like an evil witch in all those fairytales my mother had told me about. My mouth parted to inhale deeply, but the spots grew darker, becoming more.

“Miss Brooks, please,” I heard Matilda plead as she sprung up from her seat, “Leave young miss alone, she isn’t feeling well.”

“Oh, shut up, you silly goose!” Karina snapped at Matilda, throwing her a disgusted look, “You and everyone else who feeds into her delusions should be admitted to an asylum, get a grip! She’s fine, she just needs her daily dose of attention, stupid girl.”

Hearing the word asylum cracked something further inside me as I sprung up from my seat, eyes wide and body cold. I looked at where Matilda was standing, but all I could see was the face of the man who found great pleasure in cutting me open just to leave me bleeding and helpless. A scream tried to tear through my throat, but I lost my balance as I tumbled to the floor, fingers digging into the floorboards painfully. Someone shrieked as my stomach heaved, but there was nothing to empty. I could hear the man’s words, his tone unbearable and scratchy as he told me I was worthless and a whore, hungry for male attention ever since my father had died. It made my skin crawl, it made me feel dirty and disgusting as I tried to scrape at my arms.

“Mrs Harold!” I could hear the panicked screams, but I couldn’t tell where I was anymore. I felt caged and in danger, like someone was leering over my shoulder, waiting for me to pass out so I could be targeted. I whimpered when I felt hands on my back and tried to slap them away, but I was forcefully hauled up to my feet. A wail finally tore through my lips, and I started trashing around when I felt myself being lifted off the floor and carried somewhere.

“No! No, stop!” I screamed, my voice nothing but a screech as my nails sunk into whoever was carrying me, “Don’t take me back there! I haven’t done anything, please! No—no! I didn’t mean to—I don’t know—wait, no, please, I’m sorry, stop!”

My body sunk into something very soft and warm as fingertips pressed into my skin, forcefully prying my eyes wide open. My lungs heaved for air as I tried to get away from whoever was touching me, but I couldn’t, they were stronger. They were always stronger, I could never get away. They would never leave me alone, I was always their little experiment. They would cut me open as if I was a rat, they would ask me questions and whip me even if I told the truth, they liked to touch me and make me beg for them to stop…I wanted to die. I couldn’t do this anymore. Why would they torture me like this? Did my mother not love me? Had my father’s ghost abandoned me?

“Please.” I managed to whisper when my body finally froze up, all fight leaving it. My muscles and joints ached, my heart thumped wildly, and I couldn’t hear my thoughts anymore.

“My baby, please, stop.” A female voice pleaded above me, “Nobody is hurting you, tell me what’s wrong, baby. I’m here, your mother is here, please.”

How could my mother be here? The asylum didn’t let anyone visit us. My eyes burned when I opened them, but I couldn’t see well, they were filled with tears. There, looming above me stood the one man I yearned for. His eyes were kind and brown like the most expensive Swiss chocolate, his skin fair with a rosy flush to his cheeks that made him endearing, small spectacles slipping down the perfect slope of his petite nose. The doctor was here.

“Yunho, save me.” My voice was barely audible as I croaked out my words, but I noticed my mother’s eyes widening before I drifted off to the darkness that had come to claim my body. Here, nobody could hurt me.

But even in my dreams, the miscreants wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t tell where I was due to the darkness that enveloped me, but I felt frozen down to the bone. My summer dress did nothing to keep me warm, and the little friction to my arms only caused me to shiver more. I tried to call out to see if anyone was there with me, but my vocal cords wouldn’t even croak. My heart was racing and my eyes burned, I could tell I was in danger but I couldn’t see because of what. The impending doom I felt, however, said to me that I needed to run and that I needed to run now. So, I didn’t wait around as I grabbed the skirt of my dress and aimlessly took off, unable to see anything due to the permeating darkness. My feet hurt from all the little rocks that cut into it, and then something touched my cheek that made me cry out. It was warm, almost scorching hot against my frozen skin. There were whispers around me that I couldn’t make out, or understand even if I concentrated on them, but then one of them started making sense. It made more sense than the others, its timber familiar and warm, kind. Then, I could feel fingers tracing my left cheek, a calming hum easing my tense muscles until I could finally take a deep breath. It burned my lungs, it felt as if I was inhaling for the first time.

“Open your eyes, Miss Harold.” Then, just so that I only could hear it, the familiar voice whispered, “I’m here.”

A gasp tore through my lips as my eyes flew open, jolting me awake as I sat, frantically looking around. It was a lot darker in the room than the last time I was conscious, and the rain was hitting the roof of the house harder than before. Matilda, my mother, Mr Brooks, and Mrs Humphrey all stood at the foot of my bed, different emotions reigning on their faces. As I made eye contact with my mother, she let out a loud sob as she fell into Mr Brooks’ arms, and I felt my lower lip trembling. I hated seeing her in a state like that, worrying over me. Before I could cry too, my head was gently turned to the side until all I could see was the doctor. My mouth opened in shock as the doctor looked at me with sad, but worried, eyes, a wet rag clutched tightly in his other hand.

“Yunho.” My throat felt scratchy as I reached out incredulously, wondering whether I was just hallucinating. I noticed my bloody knuckles were bandaged now, ointment placed on the nightstand table next to my bed, “You are here? Really here?”

“Yes, Miss Harold.” He smiled gently, hesitantly letting me touch his jaw, “How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” I said before I could mule over my answer. My stomach was aching and my head was thumping, “I don’t know what happened to me, Doctor, I cannot remember.”

“Don’t try to remember now, your body and mind are overwhelmed,” Doctor Jeong then gently guided me to lay down in my bed once again, “You need to relax, Miss Harold. You fainted, and Miss Matilda has told me you haven’t eaten all day long, that’s unhealthy.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt like a child being chastised by their parent for the first time, except that Doctor Jeong’s face didn’t look even a little bit angry like my mother’s had back then, “I thought I would throw up if I ate anything, still do.”

The doctor hummed, then slightly turned to look back at the others in the room, “Mrs Humphrey, can you bring me that tea I asked you to brew? It will greatly help Miss Harold right now.”

“It’s storming outside, why did you come?” My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the doctor’s serene face, his spectacles were missing and his hair was a wavy mess on top of his head. Looking further down, I realised he wasn’t wearing his fancy suit. Instead, the doctor wore a beige tunic with the strings undone, showing a silver of his collarbones and chest. His silver cross dangled between his pecks whenever he moved forward to check for my temperature, letting the cold rag ease the thumping of my head. The doctor’s boots were still on his feet and looked muddy, but nobody was paying attention to that as he sat on the edge of my bed, taking care of me.

“I’m a doctor, my duty is to ensure my patients are healthy and safe.” Then he glanced back at my mother and Mr Brooks, Matilda had left the room with Mrs Humphrey, “You scared everyone, you scared me, Miss Harold.”

“Thank you for coming, but what you did was unsafe, Doctor Jeong.” I gulped, eyebrows furrowing in worry, “How will you get back home?”

“He will sleep here tonight, sweetheart.” Mr Brooks answered for the doctor, looking just as worried as I felt, “Can’t let him go out in this bad weather, it’s risky. I will ask the maids to make dinner for you, Doctor Jeong. The guestroom is already being prepared, your butler can sleep with the rest of the servants, if that is alright.”

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality.” Doctor Jeong bowed his head, smiling at Mr Brooks, “I’m sorry to say this, but Miss Harold should rest now and the more of us are in the room, the bigger the risk of overwhelming her is.”

“Oh, of course.” My mother whispered, her eyes glossy again, “Rest, my dear.”

I hummed as I watched her and Mr Brooks leave, leaving me alone with Doctor Jeong as the door closed after the two exited the room. I sighed long, looking at the doctor as he removed the rag from my forehead to wring it in more cold water. We said nothing as he placed the rag back onto my forehead, gently removing wet hair strands from my cheeks. He sat close to my body, but his eyes avoided looking into mine. I gulped, trying to find the right words to say just as there was a knock at the door. Doctor Jeong told them to come in and Matilda came inside with a tray and a cup of tea. She offered me a sad smile as she placed the cup of tea on the nightstand.

“Get some rest tonight, Matilda.”

“But you are not feeling well, young miss.”

“This is an order, how long until you faint from exhaustion? Please, I won’t leave my bed tonight, you shouldn’t either.” The maid looked hesitant, but didn’t say anything other than a quiet ‘thank you’, and then she was out of my room, closing the door after herself.

“Someone should check on you tonight, though.” Doctor Jeong said quietly as he helped me sit up, puffing up the pillows behind my back. He grabbed the cup of tea and handed it to me. It was still hot, its scent herbal. My nose twitched as I took a whiff of it before tasting it, cringing away from it, “It tastes horrible, I know, but it’s very good for your health. Drink it.”

It tasted so bitter I thought I would throw up on the spot, but it was supposed to make me feel better, so I toughened up and drank it as quickly as possible. The doctor watched me as I placed the cup on the nightstand, looking a little amused. I wrung my fingers together and placed them in my lap, looking down at my hands. I felt guilty for having forced the doctor to come all this way in such bad weather, yet he was looking at me with kind eyes and a soft smile.

“How do you feel now?” He asked, turning his body more to face me.

“Slightly better, my head isn’t thumping as violently as before, thank you.” I answered, sinking back into the pillows and cushions, “I think—this could be a grave accusation, but what if Karina is the reason I am like this?”

I couldn’t meet the doctor’s eyes as I chewed on my bottom lip, my thoughts whirling around too quickly for me to comprehend them. The doctor froze for a second, then I saw a hand reach out, only to settle on the blanket next to my thigh. I could feel Doctor Jeong’s body heat through the blanket, I wished he had placed his hand over my thigh instead.

“Why do you think that, Miss Harold?”

“May I call you Yunho?”

“Of course, Y/N.”

For a second, I paused and looked up with a smile. Yunho was already looking at me with a small smile on his lips, and I huffed a little embarrassed. Seeing him dressed so casually was doing something weird to me, my heart raced from excitement as I felt shy all of a sudden.

“Just like on that day, she was saying bad things to me again, antagonising me. I know she hates me, but I get so angry around her that sometimes I can’t even form words.” I gulped, eyebrows slightly furrowing as Yunho’s fingers twitched next to my thigh, “I wasn’t feeling well all day, but then she started speaking and I just—she brought the asylum up and I was back there again, being terrorised and touched—I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry, Yunho.”

“Let’s not talk about it, then.” Yunho’s jaw was clenched as he licked his lips, his forehead creasing as he leaned slightly forward.

“I don’t remember anything after that, even her words are muddy.” I felt helpless as my eyes bore into Yunho’s understanding ones, “Matilda was there the whole time, you can ask her what happened, I’m sure she’ll tell you everything. She hates Karina as much as I do, she wouldn’t lie for her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Y/N.” Yunho nodded once, then tilted his head to the side. I gulped, feeling nervous for no reason, “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep tonight? Are you feeling tired?”

I hummed, playing around with my fingers as I looked down at my lap again. Yunho’s fingers were tapping the blanket, his breaths audible but even, “I feel spent, and I know I will be able to sleep, but I’m…scared to fall asleep alone.”

“I understand, I’ll let Mrs Harold know. Perhaps she could keep you company.”

“Yunho?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can you stay until I fall asleep?”

My voice was quiet as I glanced up at Yunho through my eyelashes, feeling my cheeks heat up. He looked taken aback, then something I couldn’t recognise crossed his features for a split second. He exhaled through his mouth and gulped, loudly. He hummed, deep in his chest, and flattened his palm against the blanket as he shuffled his feet around until his muddy boots hit the ground. I realigned my pillows and crawled a little further away on my bed, to make more space for Yunho as he made himself comfortable, still on the edge of it.

“But I cannot stay once you are sleeping, I’m sorry.”

“I know, it’s alright, Yunho.”

Our smiles were small but appreciative. Yunho nodded and chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes raking over my face as I watched his cheeks flush a deep shade of red. It wasn’t warm in my room, but I suppose the sheets could make him feel warm too. His hand balled into a fist, grabbing a tight hold of the blanket as I glanced down at it.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

“You too, Yunho.”

Every waking moment he spent thinking of her. Even in his dreams, she appears as a vixen, tempting Yunho to do unforgivable things. He knows he cannot, he’s her doctor and she’s a patient in desperate need of treatment. Yunho knows this, she isn’t his first case. He’s met people with manic episodes before, potential dissociative amnesia too, but something sets her apart from the rest. Yunho has never once in his life wanted to reach out and cradle one of his patients to his chest and tell them everything would be alright now that he was there. But when he saw her, so frail and generous, soft-spoken and kind, he couldn’t help but feel anger whenever she told him of Karina. Yunho had a feeling she wasn’t like that unprovoked, and the more he heard of Karina and her schemes against his patient, the more convinced he was that Karina had lied in the first place to get her into that asylum, far away from the safety of her home. Yunho knew what went down inside an asylum, he’s treated many mentally unstable patients before, straight inside those horror houses, and his blood boiled anytime he saw pain and terror strike upon her face whenever the asylum was mentioned. Yunho didn’t want to know, truth be told, what had happened to her there because he was sure he’d march up to that asylum and strangle every man who had hurt her. He was a doctor, his ego and fame protected him from making a mistake, but when she had led him inside her bedroom, Yunho was close to throwing it all out the window, quite literally. Her unique scent of hydrangeas had been so potent inside her bedroom, and her sitting daintily on the cushions of her queen-sized bed had his thoughts going haywire. Yunho wanted to touch her, not just tell her that she was safe and sound with him, but show her too. He was wanting and wanting, and he wondered if her story would have a happy ending. Could he save her from the madness they plastered over her head? Or would he dig her a bigger hole once the committee hears his verdict of her mental state? But what Yunho most importantly needed to sort out with himself, was the question that’s been mulling over in his head ever since she had uttered it. Would he be willing to become her caretaker? Just to keep her safe and away from Karina, of course, Yunho was a professional, above all. He told himself he didn’t have second intentions with her, but the more days passed by spent in her company, he couldn’t tell for sure anymore.

Karina was right about one thing, the committee had given Doctor Jeong one more week to sort out everything. He was right, I couldn’t beat around the bush anymore, besides, we had gotten close in my story to that faithful day. Doctor Jeong knew this, I knew it too. Because he was afraid of overwhelming me again too soon, he had given me two days of bed rest before he’d return to resume our sessions. The two days had gone by and I was nervously waiting for him in the foyer. After the storm passed, the heat returned even stronger. I didn’t wish to stay in the house, it aggravated me anytime I glanced towards the stairs, Karina’s injured body lying by the foot of it too clear in my mind. The doctor’s patent motorcar was louder today than other days as it rolled to the front of the house, where he was welcomed by Mr Allen, the gardener. He was an elderly man who had grown fond of Doctor Jeong like many others in the household. Myself included, which would explain why my heart was beating uncontrollably once again, sweat brimming my eyebrows.

“Will you be alright?” Leia asked as she shuffled past behind me, fresh bedsheets in her arms, “I don’t think Matilda will survive one of your episodes.”

Leia had no mal-intentions, she was just honest down to a pulp. I chuckled, glancing at her as she had stopped in the doorway to the laundry room.

“I might not survive another episode, too.” Leia’s eyes widened guiltily, but I continued to smile, “If the doctor writes a good report about me, I’ll finally be out of your hair, Leia. Pray for it.”

“I don’t believe in God, young miss.”

“Don’t let Doctor Jeong know that.”

Speaking of the devil, his knuckles rasped against the sturdy front door as Leia grinned, disappearing inside the laundry room. I opened the door before the doctor could knock again, welcoming him with a bright smile on my face. He paused, looking taken aback.

“Good morning, Doctor Jeong.” I greeted him, stepping aside to let him walk inside.

“Good morning, Miss Harold, you seem to be doing fine.” He returned a small smile as he shrugged his blazer off, wearing another tunic but fancier this time. It was a deep green, paired with his brown trousers which made him look like he was a huntsman returning from a long hunt to his wife, jittery to have her in his arms. I gulped, feeling embarrassed by my thoughts when I realised, I had imagined myself as the wife Doctor Jeong would return home to. It was inappropriate, but the thought was intrusive and fast before I could stop it.

“Thank you for letting me rest, it has helped.” I hummed, raising a hand when the doctor went to step out of his polished shoes, “Do you mind if we sit underneath the willow tree today?”

“Not at all,” The doctor beamed, taking me off guard, “I was just about to suggest it, you know we cannot postpone today’s topic. Being in a place you love might bring comfort, I hope, at least.”

“You are thoughtful,” I smiled, then led the way towards the tea room, the grand doors were pulled open, letting inside the fresh warm breeze. Mr Allen was in the doorway, trimming the bushes, but he made way for us when he spotted us. I offered him an appreciative smile as he raised his hand in a silent greeting, a straw of wheat between his teeth as he tipped his hat towards Doctor Jeong. The doctor bowed back to him politely before we made our way down the gravel path, headed towards the willow tree. The warmth today made me feel hot despite the thin summer dress I wore, its sleeves short with a sweetheart neckline. It was a sage green, a pretty contrast against my copper curls. Without needing to ask, Matilda has made a daisy crown to wrap around my bun. I felt pretty and safe covered in my favourite things, sitting underneath the willow tree as frogs ribbited down by the pond, bees buzzing by. The doctor got ready as he opened his satchel bag, taking his notebook and new pencil out. As we sat, I noticed our thighs brushing together, the doctor’s now musky cologne invading my senses. When he placed his notebook on his left thigh, twisting his upper body to face mine, the pages of it brushed against my own thigh too.

“In our last session, you spoke about visiting your father’s grave with your mother. You made him a daisy crown since he loved the flowers just as much as you do, and then, when you returned home, your once lover was waiting for you in the foyer.” Doctor Jeong’s tone was gentle but impersonal, he was a professional after all, “You stopped after you said you were fighting and it got…violent? You must elaborate on that, did nobody hear it? Did nobody help?”

I sighed, picking at the grass, “It didn’t get violent in the sense of a physical altercation, but our words were harsh and unforgiving. He called me many names that day, he broke my heart, Doctor Jeong. I know you are curious about what was said, and because it leads up to what happened between Karina and me, I shall tell you.”

The doctor was jotting down my words in his notebook, his hand flying over the page. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he pushed at his spectacles with his other hand. He hummed and briefly glanced at me when I remained quiet for too long. I had to brace myself, so, I took a deep breath and gazed at the doctor instead of at the house, finding my nerves calmer if I gazed at his beautiful face, and his chocolate brown eyes whenever he held eye contact.

“Matthew, the man I had once loved, was my fiancé. He had asked for my hand while my father was still alive, our love story goes way back. We’ve grown up together due to our father’s being friends, and chancefully had fallen in love too. He was always sweet and loving, he respected me, and always heard me out. I suppose that is what attracted me to him most, I could see a glimpse of how my father treated my mother in him. But we had our ups and downs too, he was way too jealous and hated it when I spoke to other men, meanwhile, I had no problem if he had female friends. After my father died…it was hard for me to come to terms with it, I was sad every day for a very long time. I didn’t want to see anyone but my mother, not even Matthew. He knew I needed time, but he was getting impatient, he was bringing up marriage more often than not, but I wasn’t ready yet. I had just lost my father and the thought of not walking down the aisle with him by my side just hurt too much.” I paused and licked my lips, pulling my knees up to my chest as I felt the doctor shift and lean even closer, “And then as my mother and I healed together, she found Mr Brooks. It took them a while to settle down, paperwork and whatnot got in the way as well as people talking nasty behind their backs, but when I found out Mr Brooks had a daughter too, I felt hopeful. I thought I would finally find a true friend, someone to share everything with. Karina was lovely at first, very kind and funny, I could easily consider her my sister even if we weren’t related by blood. But then, one evening we went out to a pub where she finally met Matthew, and things just…changed.”

Doctor Jeong hummed, still writing as I let my eyes take in his focused expression. His forehead was creased slightly as he chewed on his bottom lip, his neck flushed from the heat. I had also shifted more into his space subconsciously, and I had to refrain from tracing his brows before sinking my fingers into his smooth-looking hair, “You see, it wasn’t Matthew who had changed, but Karina’s attitude towards me. She became snappy and rude, she didn’t make it obvious, but I knew she was looking down on me. She barely talked to me now when my mother and her father weren’t around, but she somehow always found time to ask about Matthew. At first, I thought nothing much of it, I figured she might’ve not liked him too much and was looking out for me in an obscure way, but then I found their letters. Mr Allen was bringing in the post and I told him I would sort them out, so when I saw Matthew’s letter, of course I had assumed it was for me…except, it hadn’t been. It was addressed to Karina, and there were all sort of weird questions about me as if whatever Karina had said before had upset him.”

“Has Karina been sending him letters behind your back?” Doctor Jeong looked confused as he looked up at me, his round eyes narrowed and void of kindness. When the doctor was this serious, he looked almost frightening. But I knew he was kind and caring underneath that mask, so I didn’t care. I hummed and nodded, absentmindedly picking at the scabs that had formed over my bruised knuckles.

“Yes, and she was lying to him, saying very ugly things about me. Still to this day, I don’t understand why she did all of that. Leia says she’s blinded by jealousy and wants to be better than me, but unless Karina says it, I don’t want to believe it. Anyways, I didn’t confront Karina right away, I hurried over to Matthew’s house to talk to him.” I huffed sadly, looking at the doctor again, “He was just about to mount his horse and leave for the city, but when he saw me, he knew we had to talk. It turns out, Karina has been lying about me for months now, saying I was seeing other men behind his back and somehow even made up some evidence of it. She had sent him handkerchiefs that had been my father’s, claiming they were of those I was—sleeping with. She even told him I was badmouthing him and that I was only marrying him out of pity, and because my father had made me promise I would marry someone richer than my family. But—it was all lies! I loved Matthew, I always have! I wanted to marry him and have a nice household, but Karina took it all away from me. What he said to me…it had hurt a lot, and it still does, so I won’t repeat his words, but he broke off our engagement and told me to never appear in front of his eyes. I had loved him, Yunho…”

My throat clenched as I took a shuddering breath, eyes filled with tears. Yunho had stopped writing and looked at me with pain in his eyes, bottom lip between his teeth, “I’m sorry, you deserved better.”

I hummed with a sad chuckle and quickly wiped my eyes before the tears could fall. This was it, this is what Yunho had been desperately wanting to hear for a month now. I lowered my legs and looked at Yunho with a neutral expression, making his eyes widen minutely, “I know, but it’s okay. If God is watching like everyone claims him to be, Karina will be punished, and so will Matthew. I was a mess after that conversation with Matthew, and I cried all the way back home. My chest was clenching and my heart was thumping wildly, I thought that was what heartbreak felt like, and I still believe so. When I stumbled through our front door, Karina was just…there. Waiting for me in the foyer with an amused smirk. She didn’t even feign innocence as she asked what happened, she could clearly see Matthew’s crumbled letter in my hand. I won’t deny it, I said some very ugly things to her. I didn’t even let her speak as I exploded on her, I’m still surprised the house staff didn’t try to stop me. I have said this in my report too, but I struck first, I slapped her and pushed her back when she started laughing. She was only doing it to make me even angrier, and it was working.”

My muscles tensed as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, keeping it in my lungs as Yunho’s jaw was clenched, his eyes focused on my face as I continued talking, “I needed space, so I backed away before I could do anything really hurtful. My head was thumping and my body was shaking, I felt like I was suffocating. Karina just continued laughing as I hurried to the stairs, wanting to lock myself in my room and cry myself to sleep. She was following after me, now cackling instead of laughing, and then she said something—something that I’ll never forget, ‘All that courting and playing around each other just to never even fuck him? Don’t worry, you’re not missing out on anything, sister, he’s not even good in bed.’ I saw red when I heard her say that, my thoughts were a mess and I didn’t even doubt the accuracy of her words. I just reacted, I know I slapped her again as I stopped on the stairs, but I couldn’t say anything as I was close to sobbing, so I just ran up the rest of the stairs, but she was still following after me. She was saying something, and I was screaming at her to shut up, but she wouldn’t. And I—I just really wanted her to shut up, to not look at me with those eyes and I just—I don’t know, Doctor, I don’t know. My whole body was shaking and I couldn’t see clearly, my head was aching and I couldn’t even hear anymore, I just—I just remember suddenly coming to myself again when there was a shrill screech. And then I remember Matilda looking at me with terror in her eyes as she called for Jesper and Mr Allen to come help, to call for a doctor.”

“In your report, you said—”

“I know what I said, Yunho, I said I turned around and gave her a backhanded slap, yanked on her hair and bashed her head against the wall before pushing her down the stairs.” Yunho’s eyes were shaking as our faces were close, “But I don’t remember doing any of those, the lawyer told me to say that to protect myself from a serious accusation. Matilda lied for me, and so did Mr Allen. In the end, Mr Brooks paid the judge and I was simply classified as insane, the case was swept under the rug and I’ve been forced to live like this ever since.”

“I knew there was something wrong with that report,” Yunho muttered under his breath, “But why did you lie?”

“I was young and scared,” I sighed, my eyes searching Yunho’s face for any judgment, but it wasn’t there, “I thought they would lock me up if I didn’t make up a story. But in the end, I was locked up in my own house for six years, a prison still, just different. I fainted in the court too, I don’t remember much from there either.”

Yunho looked troubled as his eyebrows were deeply furrowed, his bottom lip thoroughly chewed on, and his spectacles pushed up on his nose. With his free hand, he reached forward, but stopped just before his fingertips could touch my hand and instead balled it up into a fist and lowered it back into his lap. His jaw clenched as he gulped, shaking his head as he looked down at his notebook.

“I have a scar on my abdomen,” I whispered, hand pressing against my covered stomach, “from having fallen over and cutting myself, do you believe me, Doctor?”

When Yunho’s jaw just clenched and he didn’t look at me, I gulped nervously and reached towards my sleeves to pull them off, to let the dress pool at my waist, but one fleeting glance at me had Yunho reaching forward with a panic-ridden face, his eyes widening, “Stop, what are you doing? I believe you, Y/N, I do.”

His hands were big and warm, wrapped completely around mine as the sleeve of my dress swiftly slipped off my left shoulder. His thumb rubbed my bruised knuckles, and despite the sting, I welcomed the affectionate gesture as it covered my arms in goosebumps. I released a long breath, my eyes boring into Yunho’s. His eyes were easy to read, he looked conflicted and confused. I had no idea if he believed me, but I wanted him to. Hurting Karina was wrong, but she deserved it, and I was glad I managed to make her hurt at least once compared to how many times she had hurt me. But I remained silent as Yunho leaned even closer, our faces a breath away from each other. He gulped, loudly, then frowned. As I opened my mouth, he looked alarmed and scrambled backwards, letting my hands drop into my lap as he gasped, grabbing for his things frantically. I didn’t understand what was happening, but when I tried to help, he just pushed my hand away. My heart hammered in my chest nervously as sweat rolled down my temples, and I stood so quickly I got whiplash. Doctor Jeong was just about to take off towards the house when a desperate question left my lips.

“Will you save me, Doctor Jeong?” My voice was trembling just as much as Yunho’s hands, “Will you become my caretaker and take me away with you, will you?”

My questions went unanswered as Yunho ran off, not even bothering to go inside the house as he followed the cobbled path to the front of the house. The engine of his motorcar was loud as I slumped back against the tree with a dizzy head.

The committee was more eager than I had thought at first to wrap this whole thing up. Just two days after my last encounter with the doctor, a letter came at an early morning hour that the verdict would be given today. I was nervous, but I braced myself for the worst possible ending, which would be me being sent back to the asylum. I doubted I would survive that once again, so I could only hope the doctor had taken pity on me and would be generous in his report. My mother had been buzzing around the house all morning, making sure everything was perfect for the arrival of the committee. Cookies had been baked, fresh tea was brewed, the ground floor aired out with every corner dusted off, and the tea room was decorated with vases of freshly picked flowers. The grand doors were opened, creating a serene surrounding as I sat on the sofa by myself. Nobody was inside the room except for me, something which was rare. I gaze forward, at the visage, trying to commit it to memory. I wondered if I would get to see it tomorrow too.

Matilda had dressed me in a dainty white dress to feign innocence, with my hair pulled in a low bun, and daisies hanging out of it. It felt as if the ghost of my father was here to cheer me on, to offer me some braveness before everything would unfold. And it would, way too soon. There were loud knocks against the front door before it was opened, and six people piled inside our foyer. My mother and Karina quickly walked inside the room with my mother sitting next to me, meanwhile, Karina took her spot in her favourite armchair. The image was eerily similar to the first day the doctor had arrived, it made my heart race. The rest of my future was in the hands of another man, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I knew what I had done to Karina was wrong, but a small part of me knew that she had deserved it. My muscles tensed when Mr Brooks’ voice carried inside the tea room as he led the committee and Doctor Jeong inside. My jaw clenched and my hands balled into fists as they each walked in, eyes on me as I remained unmoving.

The committee consisted of the town mayor, the judge who had handled my case, the town’s richest married couple, and Father Louis, the head of our church. My stomach churned as the familiar faces sat down surrounding me, leaving space for Doctor Jeong at the front. Mr Brook sat next to my mother and held her hand, making my mother sigh loudly. I didn’t want to look at anyone, I was afraid to see what they hid in their eyes. The doctor seemed tense as he rolled his shoulders a few times, then cleared his throat and accepted the tea from Mrs Humphrey, who had insisted on staying in the room, in the back where she didn’t bother anyone. I couldn’t focus on anyone else but the doctor as he finally seemed like he was ready to speak up. He faced the room and his eyes took in everyone, staying on me for a second too long. I could see Karina sneer from my peripheral vision, but I didn’t care. I was just as curious to hear what Doctor Jeong had to say as the committee.

“Dear committee, Mr and Miss Brooks, Mrs and Miss Harold, and of course, Mrs Humphrey,” Doctor Jeong bowed his head lightly, “Thank you for coming, and I’d like to thank the committee for entrusting me with this intricate and peculiar case. I must say before I begin, that I have encountered cases like Miss Harold’s before, but neither one has been as complex as hers. I trust my personal judgement and everything I have learned up until this point, that my verdict is the right choice, and that if the committee sees it fit as well, it shall proceed with Miss Harold’s sentence accordingly.”

Doctor Jeong’s fingers were wrung together in front of him, his dark blue suit was perfect. He looked dashingly handsome with his wavy hair falling all over his forehead and into his eyes, his spectacles perched into the pocket of his vest. His warm eyes found mine for a second before he looked around the room again, nodding to himself. He took a deep breath and continued his speech, starting to pace around the front of the room. Him standing in front of the garden and the path that led to the willow tree was dreamy, “We all know that Miss Harold had lost her father when she was young, which would be hard news to swallow for a person at any age. I assume that his early death left Miss Harold traumatised in a way that could go unnoticed unless looked upon by a professional, which didn’t happen. Her stress and repressed pain had accumulated, waiting for a small spark to ignite the explosion, which did happen as we all know it. I spent a month daily by Miss Harold’s side, listening to stories of her childhood, and her adulthood, all leading up to the moment we’ve all been curious about. During my time studying her, I’ve come to observe that she is a very kind soul, attentive, and a generous person. She is soft-spoken and very sensitive to everything that happens around her, it is rather hard for me to imagine she could even as much as hurt a fly.”

I gulped, feeling my heart hammer in my chest as Yunho spoke with much conviction, his eyebrows furrowed as he stopped moving around, his eyes settling on Father Louis, “Her mental state, however, fluctuates a lot based on her surroundings, she easily reacts to the change of weather and the change of mood of a person. People like Miss Harold aren’t only in touch with their peers, but with nature as well, as insane as that might sound, it’s a rather special attribute to have. She’s had bad days during our sessions, and I had the chance to further observe the cause of this. As a psychiatrist, I do not enjoy lightly throwing out diagnoses, but I have to ensure the health of my patients. Miss Harold suffers from manic episodes that get triggered by certain words, environmental changes, and people. In Miss Harold’s stories, I have found one person who seemed to be always around her when these episodes happened, making me confident in my theory that she is Miss Harold’s trigger.”

The people in the room gasped as they looked around. My heart was hammering, I could feel my pulse in my throat, but I couldn’t help but let out an amused huff. Karina’s eyes were wide and her knuckles white as she gripped the armrest of the armchair, fear painting her face. It felt satisfying looking at her, and if I hadn’t known the doctor better, I would’ve missed the satisfied smirk on his lips there for a millisecond, “If this wasn’t about the health of Miss Harold, I wouldn’t be throwing out names so unabashedly, but this is to ensure her safety and health. Miss Brooks seems to like to pick on Miss Harold whenever she gets the chance, and she likes provoking her sister. Before anyone could deny my claim, I was witness to such a thing happening, Miss Brooks herself has said some very rude things about Miss Harold that no lady should utter, less about their sister, even if not related by blood. That being said, I cannot throw all the blame on Miss Brooks since Miss Harold is traumatised and doesn’t know how to handle it, or how to control her outbursts.”

Then, as if there was nobody else in the room with us, Doctor Jeong’s eyes found mine, his expression softening. Karina had started crying next to me, but I couldn’t care less as my mother was glaring at her, the committee didn’t look very pleased either.

“What she said in her report…” Doctor Jeong loosened his necktie a little, licking his lips, “Turns out to be true. In a fit of rage, she disassociated and acted upon instinct. I do not know if she had told anyone, but Miss Brooks had come between Miss Harold and her fiancé, breaking off their marriage. As someone who had been in love once, much like all of you in this room, I’d like to assume, we all know what it means to experience our first heartbreak. For someone who had grown up with this boy, loved him with their whole heart, and was supposed to grow old with them, to hear their engagement was broken off based on some lies made up by Miss Brooks not too soon after Miss Harold’s has lost her father must’ve been devastating. Thus, the trauma she had experienced before due to her father’s untimely death combined with another tragedy has made Miss Harold’s mind break, lose its bearings, making her unable to tell right from wrong.”

I couldn’t breathe as my eyes bore into Yunho’s, filling with tears. I had expected him to go against me for having lied in my report, or to try and go around the topic without bringing it up much, but no, he was actively lying for me and keeping up the image that I had a lapse of judgement all this time. My mother’s hand found mine as she squeezed it reassuringly, tears streaming down her cheeks. I glanced at her fleetingly, my body buzzing with life as my hands trembled. I wanted to see the faces of the committee members, but Yunho was all I could look at. There was a heavy sigh in the room, it could’ve come from Mr Brooks or someone else, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m very close to giving my verdict, so allow me to say this before that,” Yunho smiled softly, looking towards the committee with a gentle look on his face, but with a steely look in his eyes, “Miss Harold’s is a human like all of us in this room, and she is allowed to make mistakes. She’s been punished for her mistakes, probably unfairly, and we mustn’t make the same mistake again. I have concluded, that Miss Harold needs an environmental change for her to fully heal. This house no longer feels homey to her, she feels caged in and watched all the time, plus now you all know that Miss Brooks won’t leave her alone either. As a verdict, I have concluded that if the committee and her mother agree, Miss Harold could be assigned a new caretaker. And…before you make suggestions as to who could fit this role best, I would like you all to consider me as her new caretaker for the next year. I am a doctor, I know what to do and how to act in case she is having another episode. I will be leaving the country in a month to return to France, where my foster father has requested my presence. The environmental change would benefit Miss Harold greatly, that is, if you trust me, of course.”

I felt close to fainting by the time Yunho had stopped talking. Him, Doctor Jeong Yunho, my new caretaker? Could that be possible? Would the committee even let it happen? I had no idea, but I wanted to fall in his arms and sob as I thanked him for his effort, for listening to me, for trying to save me from this place. The committee erupted in whispered mutters amongst themselves, but Father Louis seemed more than pleased with Yunho. His brows were sweaty as he dabbed at them with the back of his wrist, his arms covered with the sleeves despite the heat. My mother wasn’t moving next to me, and Mr Brooks had turned his body away from Karina, who was trying to catch her father’s gaze insistently. Then, there was a tsk as the judge rose to his feet, all eyes falling on him.

“Thank you. Doctor Jeong, for your in-depth analysis and for the tabs and reports you’ve been keeping on Miss Harold this month, we appreciate it.” He rubbed at his chin, his hair already silver from age, “We have selected you, Doctor, to treat this delicate case because we have heard of your expertise. You have never once failed to treat your patients accordingly, and I find no reason to doubt your verdict, however, wouldn’t it be risky to take Miss Harold away from here? Couldn’t that trigger her madness even more? And if Mrs Harold won’t agree, she cannot go. Either way, we cannot let her go unless you promise to report back to us monthly, Doctor Jeong, and once the one year is up, you must return her home. She shall be reevaluated, then her fate will be decided for the future.”

When Yunho and my eyes met again, I knew my fate had been sealed. France, a new beginning by his side, sounded like a far-fetched dream that was now within my reach.

Yunho was a professional, except when it came to her. The lines had blurred long ago, he couldn’t tell who was the doctor and who was the patient when it came to her. All Yunho knew was that he could never let her go, not when she clung to him as if her life depended on him. Her lips tasted like honey and her moans were the prettiest music he had ever had the chance to hear, her skin soft and warm and her body so pliant underneath his. All it took was one touch from her for his whole being to crumble, he felt drunk on her, insatiable. Yunho knew he couldn’t let her return home, not now that he’d found Mingi too, not when the three of them were living in a tucked away village in a homey cottage, away from prying eyes. Yunho finally had what he’d been yearning for his whole life. His family was back, right within his reach, and even when he missed his home, he’d gaze upon Mingi and her, and realise that his home was here with them. And she was sweet like nectar, Yunho’s guilty pleasure that he just couldn’t get rid of—didn’t want to get rid of. He was a bad man for preying upon the innocent and unassuming ones, but may God forgive him for his sins, he was just a man after all. He knew he was bound to become insane like his patients one day, but Yunho was already a madman for her, and he didn’t care. Profession be damned, only the four walls of their cottage would truly know the truth, much like her amnesiac brain that had no desire to return to a land and home that’s treated her so horribly once. Here, Yunho was a complete man and he had wowed to protect what was his…no matter what it took. Mingi and her were staying there with him, forever.

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luvhcarly · 7 days ago

Text

TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU WANT IT.

You start to fail one of your classes at college and San as your professor notices that. He decides to help you out as a good professor, but it takes another turn…

PAIRINGS: soft dom!San x fem!reader

GENRE: smut, professor x student, college AU

TAGS: smut, unprotected sex (don’t!), fingering, cum swallowing, praising, use of pet name (love), divorce!, cheating, age gap (San is in his 30s and reader is 22.), swearing, lmk it I missed anything

WC: 7K

A/N: here I am with writing a professor x student smut. I feel kind of ashamed but nvm! I don’t know if I love this one or hate it… if you find any mistakes lmk. English is not my first language!!

Your attention was focused on your notes and you nervously tapped your pen on the desk. You were nervous. Nervous that you don't understand it. You always understood everything and you were always the best of the best. Your grades were something that made you happy, successful and you felt at least somehow important. Well, a short circuit came, a short circuit that you didn't know would ever happen. You started to fail Media & Communications. The subject was quite fun, you understood it from the beginning and did well, but as time went on it somehow went downhill.

"Ms. Y/n.” A male voice was heard, which interrupted you out of your thoughts. You looked up from your notes and looked at your professor of Media & Communications. "Stay after class." He ordered and you nodded, you knew what it was about. Mr. Choi was a good professor, he cared about the students and that they understood the subject, which most professors did not do.

When the class ended, you stood up, holding your notes tightly in your hand, but the rest of your things were in your backpack, which was slung over your shoulder. The classroom was emptied and only you and the professor remained there.

"Yes, Professor?" You asked him nervously, he was leaning his body against his desk, he had glasses on his eyes and his hair was slicked back. He was wearing a shirt with a tie and black pants that fit him perfectly.

“You are failing my class.” He remarked how you wouldn't know about it yourself. His gaze shifted to you and your nervous expression. A small sigh escaped your lips and you held the notes even tighter than before.

“I know…” You admitted, he adjusted his glasses a bit and raised an eyebrow at your answer.

"And? What's the problem?" He asked, placing his hands over his chest as he scanned you from top to bottom. Your hair was down, you were wearing a black shirt that hugged your body. Your skirt was short, above the knees, but not too short.

"Well..." You swallowed loudly and looked at him, his shape was casual, but he was patiently waiting for your answer. "I just don't understand the subject." You admitted, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“I figured that out, Y/n.” He bounced away from his desk and walked over to his chair. He sat down and took a pen in his hand. He raised his eyebrows again and waited for what you would say next, but when you remained silent he asked again. "What exactly do you not understand?" He started rummaging through the papers while you shifted nervously from foot to foot. You felt embarrassed that you were dealing with something like this at all. You were always a good student, even excellent.

“Journalism & News Reporting…” You mumbled like you didn't even want him to know. He shifted his eyes from his papers to you and raised one eyebrow. At first you had the feeling that he didn't hear you, but then he started talking again.

"Were you thinking about getting a tutor? Or asking your classmates about it?” A small sigh escaped his lips and you shifted your gaze to the ground.

"I asked a classmate about it but I still don't get it. I just have trouble with finding the researches.” You ruffled your hair nervously and he nodded at your answer. He saw that you were nervous. He knew you. You always sat quietly at the end of the row, right at the front and listened carefully. You were one of those students who excelled in his class. You were an excellent student, you always handed in your materials on time and you always had an A+, sometimes an A, but you never failed. He was quite surprised when he read your test and saw that you wrote nonsense there.

"Do you have time tomorrow?" He broke the silence between you. You redirected your gaze to him and blinked quickly being surprised.

“What?” You asked because you weren't sure if you heard him correctly, but when he repeated the question, you parted your lips.

"Do you have time tomorrow, Ms. Y/n?” With a raised eyebrow, he watched as your lips slightly parted over his words.

“Y-yes I have.”

"Good. Stay after class tomorrow. Bring your materials.” He said and stood up from his chair, leaning his hands on the desk and watched as you nodded and bowed your head in gratitude and respect. Without a word, you turned around and walked out of the classroom. When the door closed behind you, you leaned against it and sighed loudly.

After the class next day, you stayed, just like he told you to. You nervously sat in place and waited until the class was empty. "Good luck." Your friend told you as she packed her things and with those words she left, leaving you sitting there alone.

When all of a sudden they all left, the class fell silent and a slight chill ran down your spine. While he was just sitting on his chair and leafing through his papers. With your hands on your thighs, you nervously wondered if you should say anything at all or wait until he transferred his attention to you. It took a while until he stopped flipping through the papers. But when he finished, he slowly got up from the chair and walked over to your desk.

"So, show me where are you stuck at?" He didn't usually tutor. Well, never. This was the first time he tutored one of his students. It was forbidden in their code, but he broke it and was willing to help even if you didn't ask for it. He didn't even know why he did it, but it was probably because he felt sorry for you. He saw how you struggle with it and try to understand it, but somehow you couldn't bear it. San noticed you, but rather in the form that every professor do to every student who is doing well.

“Well, the assignment that you gave us. I found some interesting topic but I am struggling with finding the right resources how you taught us.” You took your computer from your bag and turned it on. While you were waiting for the computer, which for some reason was turning on even more slowly than usual, he asked:

"What topic?" He asked with a raised eyebrow and put his hands in the pockets of his pants. This time he didn't have glasses on his eyes, which usually fit him nicely. He was wearing a white shirt again, which was a little unbuttoned, but not too much. His hair was slicked back as usual.

"The future of work." You admitted and watched as he sighed at your answer.

"Good idea, but too difficult to make a research." You opened your mouth as if you wanted to protest him, but you didn't know how. He was right, that's why you're sitting here.

"Um, what about Human trafficking awareness?" He thought for a short moment and when he thought of an interesting topic, he proposed it to you. You tilted your head to the side and nodded at his suggestion.

"That could be good too."

“Good.” He replied and sighed. You redirected your gaze to the computer that was already on and cleared your throat a little. Then you opened the material and bit your lip, while he took out his phone from his pocket and started texting. He had a disgusted expression on his forms and for a few seconds he was as if frozen. You didn't pay much attention to it, but you still tried wrote things in the material that you still knew how to do. But then the bad always came. Writing about what it is and how it works went well for you, but when it came to research, you had a block.

San put his phone in his pocket when he noticed that you stopped writing. Your look was confused, he could see it on you. The problem is that you really don't understand it, not that you chose the wrong topic. He slowly walked up to you from behind and leaned down to get a good look at your computer. His face was inches away from yours, you could smell his perfume as soon as he bent down. He ran his eyes over the screen and carefully read what you wrote.

"If you want to have a good research you need to gather your information from blogs." He informed you as he kept reading your notes.

“Yeah, I know that but those blogs are hard to find.” You admitted and swallowed loudly. When he finally pulled away, you were relieved. You let out a huge sigh that you didn't even know you were holding back.

"Hm..." His eyes narrowed and he began to think. "Are you using keywords?" He asked you with a raised eyebrow, while you turned your head to look at him at least out of the corner of your eye.

"No…?"

"You need to use keywords or you won't be able to find anything good and interesting." He answered you right away, you parted your lips as if you wanted to say something, but then you immediately closed them and just nodded your head at his sentence.

As time went by, an hour passed since you were sitting here with him. You collected information and it was more than you thought you would collect. San cleared his throat and looked at his watch on his wrist.

"We will work on it tomorrow." He let out a sigh and you lifted your gaze from the screen to look at him. He had a tired look on his face, which you noticed only now. You felt bad that he had to stay here because of you.

"I think I understand it now." You gave him a sweet smile and turned off the computer. San looked at you in surprise but then nodded at your statement. You packed your things in your backpack and got up from your chair.

"Thank you." You started talking, and he looked up from the ground and paid attention to you. "Thank you for your help, sir." You bowed your head as a sign of the respect you show him.

"No worries." He put his hands in his pants pockets again and watched as you smiled sweetly at him. Your smile was sincere and it warmed his heart at that moment, but then he put the thought behind him. You nodded at his words and directed your steps away from the classroom. You looked at him for the last time as you left and then closed the door.

Weeks have passed since the professor tutored you and helped you. But there was one problem, you didn't know what to do again. You felt embarrassed that you would go to him with that, but you still went to see him after class.

"Professor?" He looked up from his papers and took off his glasses. "Yes?" He was actually quite surprised to see you standing in front of his desk.

"I feel dumb that I am asking about this again, but I am at the end of the research and I have a problem how to end it. I know that it's not your duty to help me and I also know that I shouldn't ask this-"

"Come to my office after your classes. Right down the hall.” Your eyes widened when he immediately cut you off. Your friend who was standing near you looked at you with a surprised expression.

“Okay.” You nodded and then started walking towards your friend and you walked out of the classroom together. San watched you run out of the classroom, your hair blowing in the air and how you laughed at something your friend said. He started paying a lot of attention to you, and he didn't like it. He was interrupted from his observation by the ringing of the phone. When he saw who was calling, he rolled his eyes and picked up the phone.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Your wife refuses to sign the papers no matter what." It echoed from the other side of the phone, at which he sighed and rubbed his face. He leaned his body more against the chair and thought.

"Tell her that I agree." He blurted out.

"What? Are you insane? There is a big chance that you will win it.”

"Tell her that I agree and that she can keep that damn apartment." He said again and more clearly. He was so done with that shit, he was tired.

“San-“

“I have a class. Do what I said…” With those words, he ended the conversation and let out an annoyed sigh. Finally he can get rid of that woman.

"Going to Mr. Choi office? Y/n you don't seem like you-"

"What the hell?! No! It's not like that." You punched her on the shoulder with a furrowed brow, but she only let out a laugh.

"Come on, don't tell me that you never had thought about him like that." She swallowed loudly and shook her head at her cocky thinking.

"Well, I didn't." You stopped in your tracks and raised your eyebrows. "Did you?" You asked and she just laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"You are unbelievable!" You laughed at your friend and caught up with her. When you stopped by her locker, you leaned back and waited for her to take her things.

"I think you should fuck him." She blurted out and looked at you.

"What?" Your eyes widened and you stared at her in confusion. "I have a boyfriend, did you forget?" She rolled her eyes at your answer and sighed.

“Oh, you mean that asshole who cheated?” You were taken aback by her reminder. You swallowed loudly and shook your head. Whenever you thought that you are over it, someone slapped it in your face. Every damn time.

"It was a year ago... and he changed." You muttered as if you weren't sure if he had really changed. He's been acting strange lately, he's been more withdrawn from you and you haven't spent as much time together as before.

“People like him never change, y/n.” She commented while you nervously looked at the ground and thought. "I think you should do the same." She closed the locker and looked at you.

“Well. I am not like that. Besides he is our professor. He is like 8 years older than me.” Your friend shrugged her shoulders at your sentence. "But he is hot." When she saw how you opened your mouth and was about to say something, she immediately stopped you. "-and don't deny it!" She pointed a warning finger at you and you laughed at her behavior. Of course, he was hot. But that was it, or?

When your classes were over, you went to his office as he told you. You nervously held the laptop in your hand, and when you suddenly appeared in front of his door, you became even more nervous. Your friend's words stuck in your head and you couldn't suppress them. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Slowly, you raised your hand and knocked on the door. When his voice was heard "come in." you opened the door and stepped inside.

His body was completely leaning on the chair, his hair was messy, which you had never seen before, and he had a weird expression on the shapes. He look nervous, angry? He pointed to the place opposite him for you to sit down. And so you did. You sat across from him and nervously played with hem of your skirt. Why did he look so good? Nope. Don't think about it. You repeated in your head.

"Show me." He blurted out, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"What?" You looked up at him and blinked quickly your eyes as if you didn't understand what he meant

“The research.” He cleared his throat and leaned closer. Your parted her lips and shook your head, turned on the laptop and opened the research folder. Then your turned the laptop towards him and he began to scan it with his eyes. You watched how his chest rose gently when he breathed and how his adam’s apple always rose a little when he swallowed. It was hard to take your eyes off him. He noticed your look very well, felt it. But for some reason he liked it... You cleared your throat a little and then you realized that you were staring at him for too long.

Just then the phone rang, he shifted his gaze to the phone and sighed. He turned the mobile downwards and once again looked at the computer screen.

"If it's something important you can take it." You told him and he looked at you and then looked back at the screen. The cell phone started ringing again and he rolled his eyes and turned it off. His brow furrowed and he looked even more angry than before.

“I think we should discuss it tomorrow.” You started to get up from your chair and he raised an eyebrow. "Sit. Down." You swallowed at his voice, which was rougher than usual, and sat down to the chair. After a while, he started typing into your laptop what made you confused.

"I didn't-" When you wanted to say something, he turned the laptop towards you again.

"Done." He said and got up from his chair, as you swallowed loudly.

"Sir- I just wanted to discuss it not you to write it for me..." you got up from the chair and he just looked at you and leaned his body against his desk.

"You're welcome." That's the only thing he let out and he continued to watch you as your nervously cleared your throat and looked at him with an uncomprehending look.

"I feel bad-"

"There is nothing to feel bad about. I wrote if for you. You didn't ask for it so." He sighed and waited for your answer.

“I-… well thank you, sir.” The way you said 'sir' triggered something in him. He bit the inner corner of his mouth and nodded his head.

“Sorry to ask- but you seem tired. Are you feeling okay?” You said and he started paying attention to you even more. You didn't want him to take it as an insult, but you were interested. You've never seen him so freaked out. It was quite strange for you.

"It's nothing." He let out a fake smile. He was surprised that you noticed something about him and he was quite happy. It warmed his heart a little. You didn't want to pressure him, so you nodded and packed the laptop into your backpack. "Thank you again." You thanked again, but when you were about to leave, he stopped you.

"Wait-" You turned around and raised your eyebrows. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment as if was thinking. He didn't want to bother you with his problems. Hell, you were his student, so why did he want to tell you everything that was on his mind. What bothered him.

"I-..." for the first time in your life, you saw him as if he was lost. As if he couldn't find the right words to say. "I just divorced recently and I don't know it's just been a hard time for me lately." His words surprised you that he confided something like that to you. You devoted your attention only to him and his nervous expression.

"I am sorry to hear that."

"I am not, it's just she has been pissing me off lately. She is refusing to sign the papers.” He throwed his hands in the air and you raised an eyebrow at his angry reaction.

"Why?”

“I don’t know. But she makes me sick.” He confessed and broke eye contact with you. He felt embarrassed that he was telling you this, but inside his heart he was relieved. He felt much better when he told you and got it out.

"What happened between you two, if I may ask?" You were curious and you could never suppress it. Even if sometimes your curiosity was too much, he didn't seem to mind that you were asking.

"I found out that she has been cheating on me." Your eyes widened when he said what happened. You cleared your throat and nodded.

"Well, she is a bitch. I know how you feel. Betrayed? Not enough?” When the word bitch escaped from your mouth he chuckled. But then, when you started to name how he feels, his smile slipped out of shape.

"How do you know?"

"Well, my boyfriend cheated on me a year ago so I kind of know how you feel. But when she is your or I- I mean 'was' your wife then you must feel a lot of worse." Your words were true, but something made him angry when he said that your boyfriend cheated on you. Why? You were kind, smart and attractive...

"Are you still with him?" You were taken aback by his question. But you let out a sigh and nodded your head.

“Why?” He asked being curious, why would you stay with someone who cheated on you? San saw it as a betrayal, when he learned that his wife had cheated on him. That's why he threw the divorce papers in front of her the very next day.

"I don't know..." You really didn't know why you were still with him and why you forgave him. You felt love for him, but it faded over time, but when he came begging to the door with flowers in hand, it warmed your heart.

Although it was probably because you didn't want to feel alone. "I didn't want to feel lonely I guess." The atmosphere between you was quite awkward and serious. San sighed at your words and pursed his lips.

He undrestand, you're young and you didn't want to be alone. Loneliness is the worst, he always said.

He thought for so long before submitting the divorce papers. He wanted to communicate it, but also he didn't feel like it. He didn't want to forgive her even in his worst dream. It was disgusting what she did, and the love for her immediately disappeared, no matter what it was.

Well, he thought about the fact that he would be alone. He was alone as always. Although he didn't want to feel that way, he didn't want to live with someone who lies.

“You know people like that never change?” He asked and his words were sharp, as if he wanted to change your thinking about how it really is.

"I know." You nodded at his words and sighed. You knew that everyone who tells you that is right. They don't change. Never. Even so, you believed that he was different, that he wouldn't do it again. San didn't answer your words, as if he didn't know what to say. There was an awkward silence between you, but then he broke it.

"Did you ever think about doing the same to him?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. His thoughts started going where they shouldn't, again. Ever since he tutored you for the first time, he started thinking about you differently than before. His eyes always fell on you even during class, in the corridor. He watched how you always wore only skirts to school, once you wore a skirt that was too short and it almost stuck out your whole ass. And you were wearing the same skirt now. He didn't want to think of you like that. But he couldn't control himself. That day he spent the whole time with the pain in his pants.

San knew that it was wrong and that you were too young for him, to hell with the fact that you were his student, but the way you looked at him, which you probably didn't even realize, made him want to fuck you even more.

“No….” Your lips parted as if you wanted to say something more. He pushed his body off his desk and moved closer to you. “Do you think about it now?” He watched your surprised expression, he didn't even know what he was doing. Well, he longed for you. He watched as you set your lips into a thin line and then bit down on them, as if you weren’t so sure what he meant.

"What do you mean?" You asked him to know what he was running into right now. He moved closer to you and leaned down so that he was dangerously close to your lips. “What do you think that I mean, y/n?” He raised his eyebrows as if he was curious about what exactly you were thinking about right now. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers touched your cheek and you stopped breathing for a moment. What he did was wrong, and you knew it yourself. But you couldn't tear yourself away. Something was holding you in place.

"Would you like to do the same to him? Do you want him to feel like a shit, which he deserves?” You swallowed loudly at his words and watched as he looked at your lips. He wanted to kiss you so badly, but he was waiting for your answer.

"Yes." You mumbled like you weren't sure if you really wanted it. "You don't sound so sure." He tilted his head to the side, watching your nervous expression. “Yes, I do.” You blurted out more clearly and he chuckled. Without further warning, he pressed his lips to yours. He put one hand on your waist and other one on your cheek, gently caressing it with his fingers. The kiss was soft at first, but then he deepened it and began to kiss you more dominantly. His grip on your waist was tight and he pulled you even closer. When you felt his hard cock through his pants you let out a little sigh and he took it as a good chance to enter his tongue into your mouth. The kiss was hungry, something you never experienced before.

"We shouldn't." Your hand touched his chest but you didn't pull away. "I know, but fuck I can't help it." He tried to breathe it out, kissing your lips was his new obsession. He wanted to kiss you everywhere, but when you said you two shouldn't, he looked at you with a desperate look. "Tell me to stop and I will." He blurted out, keeping eye contact with you.

"I don't want you to stop." You admitted and swallowed loudly, his pupils widening at your answer. He moved the other hand that was on your cheek to your waist and started to navigate it to his desk. When your ass leaned against it, he immediately lifted you up a little so that you were sitting on it. He pressed his lips to yours again and slowly began to leave wet kisses everywhere. He slid one hand slowly under your short skirt and his touch sent chills down your spine. His touch was hot, and powerful, something you wanted to feel all the time. He pulled away his hand from your thigh and he touched your shirt and he took it of from you, leaving you in your bra.

For a short moment he looked at you with an amazement, then he pressed his lips to your neck and his hands started to roam all over your body. His fingers traced the lace edge of your bra, his touch gentle yet insistent. He unhooked the clasp slowly, his eyes locked onto yours now, watching for any sign that you might pull back. The bra fell away, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He took a shuddering breath. “Fuck, so beautiful.” He complimented you as he took a step back, admiring you. You blushed at him, of course your boyfriend complimented you, but when San said it, it was different. You felt more… confident and appreciated. With one swift move you pulled him back by his black tie which he smirked at. Slowly with your fingers you started to unbutton his shirt as he watched you getting more and more eager for him.

When he saw how you are struggling with the buttons, he moved your hand away and did it by himself. “Are you that nervous that you can’t even unbutton it, love?” San looked at you with raised eyebrow and with a grin. God he was so hot. You knew that you shouldn’t do it. Fuck, he was your professor. But handsome professor…

“Maybe.” You swallowed when he pulled his t-shirt off, revealing his toned abs. He tossed it somewhere and slowly with your fingers you started to caress his abs. Your movements were slow, controlled and you observed him. “If you won’t stop touching me like that I won’t be able to control myself.” He grabbed you by your chin to make you look at him. His eyes were narrowed and there was a hunger in them, possession. “Yeah? Maybe I don’t want you to control yourself.” You leaned closer to his ear and whispered into it, your hot breath tickling his ear. He smirked at you again and he kissed your neck again, his hand slowly making his move to your breasts.

He touched your breast which made you gasp and you squeeze your eyes at the feeling. He chuckled against your neck as he felt how you stopped breathing for a second. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on one of your breasts, his eyes never leaving yours. His tongue gently flicked out, circling your nipple before taking it fully into his mouth. He sucked gently, his other hand cupping and massaging your other breast. You let out a moan when his tongue touched your nipple, immediately a chill ran down your spine.

“Please-“ The throbbing feeling between your legs was getting more and more uncomfortable and painful. He pulled away from your nipple and looked at you with a cocky grin. “Please what, love?” You were out of breath, your chest rising up in an incredible way. “I need you, please.” You were eager, like never before. You needed him. And you could feel that he needed you too. Again, he captured your lips as he pulled your skirt down, revealing your clothed core. One hand was gripping tightly your waist, while other one touched with his index finger your clothed pussy. He could feel how wet you were and that drove him crazy even more. With a smirk he pulled your panties down, exposing your wet core.

“This wet for me? Fuck-“ He chuckled and you kissed him again, to make him shut up. His words were confident like he knew what to do. It was different than previous sex you had. This one was more heated, more touchy. And you liked that. Slowly with his thumb he started circling your clit with a skillful touch. He watched as you broke apart at his touch. His teasing was painful but in a different way, pain that you enjoyed.

San pushed two fingers inside you, his thumb continuing to circle your clit. He began to pump his fingers in and out, finding your sweet spot with each stroke. “Do you enjoy your professor’s fingers inside you, love?” Only a moan escaped from your mouth, he felt how your walls hugged his fingers perfectly when he hit that sweet spot which made you gasp every time.

“Tell me how much you enjoy it.” He lifted your chin again to make an eye contact with you. Your cheeks were flushed red and you had a begging look in your eyes, that look that made him harder than before.

“I- fuck, I need more.” That’s the only thing that escaped your mouth, he let out a chuckle and put a third finger in you, stretching you even more. You gasped when he speeded up the pace, making you a moan mess. He felt that you were close when your walls tightened around his fingers more, he continued to rub your clit with his thumb. His other hand reached up to squeeze your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He leaned down to capture your mouth with his, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge.

He groaned deeply as he felt your climax, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers. He kissed you fiercely, drinking in your cries of pleasure. Slowly, he pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, never breaking eye contact. You watched how he licked his fingers covered with your cum. His hands moved on your thighs, spreading them wider as he stood up between them. His belt hit the floor with a clatter and he pushed his boxers down, his hard length springing free. He stroked himself once, then positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes intense.

He teased you for a moment, the head of his cock sliding up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Then, with a sudden thrust, he entered you fully, his thickness stretching you deliciously.

“Fuck, so-“ he moaned as he entered you. “So tight.” San smirked as he watched your mouth fall open in a perfect 'O' of pleasure, your gasp music to his ears. Slowly, he began to move, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in, setting a deep, intense rhythm. His hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. He kept thrusting deeply, hitting that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. He watched hungrily as you made those beautiful sounds, his face contorted with pleasure and concentration. He could feel you getting tighter around him.

"Turn over, love.” He slowly pulled his cock out as he ordered you to turn around. He stepped back a little to give you a room to turn around. With a confused look on your face, you turned around slowly. He leaned his chest against you from behind, his hard cock touching your bare ass. “Fuck, so beautiful when you obey like this.” San leaned closer to you, whispering into your ear words that made you like crazy. “Good girl, just for me.” He was something else, no doubt that your classmates date older man. They are different, more manly.

He put his large hands on your waist possessively, gripping it tightly. He kicked your legs wider, then without second thought he slammed back into you from behind, filling you to the brim again. He started pounding into you, which made you bent over a little and put your hands on the desk, gaining some stability. His hot breath was against your neck as you squeezed your eyes at his deep thrusts, his cock hitting every right spot.

“San~” He groaned deeply as he heard you calling him 'San' for the first time, the familiarity sending shivers down his spine. He pressed his chest against your back even more as he continued to thrust into you. “Say it again. Say my name.” With a moan he said as he started to kiss your neck, biting it.

“San-“ You moaned his name again, as he kept pounding into you, his hands roaming over your stomach and up to your breasts. When all of a sudden your phone started to ring, he quickly reached for your phone and chuckled when he saw the phone caller ‘Boyfriend’. But he didn’t stop, instead he wrapped his arms around your waist more and pulled you even closer.

“Answer it. On speaker.” His voice was low, something inside him snapped when he saw the name on display. “What?” You asked out of breath as he kept pounding into you, his balls slapping against your ass each time.

“Answer him, love. Let’s see if you can keep quiet.” When he accepted the incoming call, he put it on speaker and put it before your mouth.

“Y-yes?” You answered as you swallowed loudly, trying to stay silent. He continued his relentless thrusts, his breath hot against your ear as he watched you answer the phone. Your boyfriend's voice floated out, concerned. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything- everything’s fine.” After your answer you put your hand over your mouth, his thrusts became slower, more deliberate, each movement designed to make you moan, to make you struggle keeping you quiet. He noticed when you put your hand over your mouth to stay silent, trying to be the good girlfriend – and it made him want to fuck you harder.

"Are you sure?"

“I am fine!” You replied with a raised voice as San smirked at your reaction, feeling a thrill at the slight raise in your voice. He knew he's making you struggle to maintain the lie, making you struggle to keep quiet while he used you. "When are you coming home?” He asked you, keeping the conversation going.

“In- in an hour.” You swallowed loudly as San bit your neck, leaving a wet kisses behind. His thrust were deep, deep enough to make you roll your eyes every time.

“Okay, love you.”

“Yeah, love-love you too.” As soon as you hanged up the phone, San bit down lightly on your shoulder instead of your neck this time, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Love you," he mocked softly, his hips resuming their powerful rhythm. “You must love him so much when you let your professor fuck you in his- in his own office.” He struggled with his words as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. “I- fuck…” You struggled with your words, being unable to say something duo to his deep thrusts and how he is gripping your hip tightly. He chuckled darkly, amused by your inability to form coherent words. Each powerful thrust pushed your thoughts away, filling your mind with nothing but the sensation of him inside you. “What was that? Having trouble concentrating?” He squeezed your hip more painfully, forcing you to arch your back more.

“I- I can’t…” You managed to get out as you opened your mouth again but then closed it. He laughed huskily, relishing your desperate moans and how your body squeezed around him involuntarily. “Can't what? Can't think straight when I fuck you like this?” His voice dangerously in your ear as he thrusted particularly deep, making your knees tremble.

“Y-yes, fuck. Too much.” His lips curved into a smug smile against your neck, knowing exactly the effect he's having on you "Then tell me to stop..." He deliberately grinded against you again, his hands trailing down your sides "Say the word, I'll stop right now..."

“No, don’t! Don’t fucking stop.” You moaned as he squeezed your ass making you gasp. San chuckled, a dark and satisfied sound that rumbles through his chest. He leaned in as his hips continued to move, grinding against you with each word. "That's what I thought." He took a deep breath as he moaned in your ear, making a chill ran down your spine.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like I do, right love?” With a low and possessive voice he whispered into your ear as he could feel your walls tighten around his dick even more. You only shook your head but he wasn’t satisfied with it enough.

“Ah, come on, use your pretty mouth like you always do in my class when I ask something.” You swallowed when he remained you again that he is your professor. He didn’t sound like he was referring to that but somehow it did.

“No he doesn’t- he doesn’t.” You moaned as he let out a small laugh, being satisfied with your answer. Fuck you were so fucking beautiful, he wanted to be in your pussy everyday, touch you everyday…

“I’m close, fuck.” He buried his face in your neck from behind and exhaled deeply. “I know, love. Just- just hold on for me okay?” He let out as he kept thrusting more and more chasing his high. He could feel how close you were. He kissed your neck slowly and moaned as he tried to keep control.

“Let it out.” He whispered into your ear, making you gasp, he felt you trembling beneath him. Your legs were shaking as you let it all out, he thrusted into you for the last time as he came. He put his body on you, still being inside you as you both tried to catch your breath. Your chest was rising up in an incredible speed. Fuck that was the best fuck you ever had.

He cleared his throat as he pulled out of you, making you empty all of sudden. With a slow movement you moved back and turned around. San looked at you with a grin on his face, your mascara was smudged, your hair messy and your cheeks flashed red. “So beautiful.” He leaned for a kiss and you let him kiss you again and again. He cupped your cheek and then pulled away, he grabbed his pants and put it on as he watched you put your clothes on. God, you were so beautiful. He knew that it was wrong, hell it was awful what he did. But he felt wonderful, you made him feel something he never did before. And you felt the same towards him.

A few weeks passed since the wonderful fuck you had, that you can’t stop thinking about. At the end of the class which you didn’t pay much attention to, because your whole eyes were stuck on him, his voice interrupted you.

“Ms. Y/n, meet me after your classes.”

next part

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seonghwaddict · 15 days ago

Text

self-sabotage — ateez texts

in which you tell them they broke up with you in your dream.

pairing. ot8!ateez x reader. genre. established relationships, smau/texts, crack, fluff, sugg. warnings. petnames, nightmares, mention of periods, swearing.

lilo’s notes. GUESS WHO’S BACKKKK (me). happy belated valentine’s day. i thought id try something new, let me know what you guys think.

masterlist.

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf @okdudeiime @jjoongstar

562 notes · View notes

mingoooossii · 2 months ago

Text

ATEEZ comforting you after you have a rough week.

Ot8 x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, reader is overwhelmed in most of these, mentions of exams(scary ik), kinda corny tbh, also not proofread so there might be some mistakes.

A/n: i used most of my braincells 4 this 🫠 yea also this purely depended upon my mood so that's why some of them are just thoughts while the others are full blown conversations. will most likely rewrite this is in the future I think. Also I'm planning on opening taglists so if you want to be included just lmk!! (for ateez or any other group)

Words: 3.1k

Requested ♡ Ateez masterlist.

"When you feel like you're nowhere, Let it go 'cause I'll be there for you..."

⋆˚࿔ Hongjoong

• whenever things get a little too much, you'd usually suck it up

• it wasn't healthy, you know that yet you couldn't afford to fall back now so you did it anyway

• him, who's very sensitive to your every little changes in mood, of course, noticed it too

• you tend to sort of shut down whenever you get overwhelmed, causing you to get moody and quiet, often leading to minor arguments with him

• but he understands (being prone to overworking himself, he was never too fond of the after effects)

• but that doesn't mean he's not going to do anything about it

• ”you're taking a break.” “But I need to finish this-”

• he cut you off by closing your book, making sure to bookmark it before picking you up from the chair

• ”have you looked at yourself yet? you're about to collapse.”

• you fell silent at that, letting him carry you over to the bed, feeling your irritation dissolve at the stern tone, yet you could pick up on the hint of worry.

• ”but I need to finish it, or else I won't catch up on my work. I'm already behind in-”

• your worried ramblings was silenced by his lips pressing against yours for a brief moment

• ”i vaguely remember someone pulling me out of my studio, by my ear, when I was overworking myself.”

• he muttered, sitting beside you once he put you down on the bed, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

• ”you should listen to your own advice, you know?”

• you could feel the tears pricking your eyes at his words, making you feel helpless and frustrated

• ”there's just…so much. i don't know if I'll ever finish it…what am I gonna do?”

• you mumbled, your lips trembling as you tried to bite back your sobs

• his expression softened at your words, pulling you into his embrace, stroking your hair

• ”i know. but exhausting yourself is only going to make it harder for you to catch up.”

• ”let's take a break, okay? you need to rest, let your mind calm down first.”

• you felt him pull away from you, his hand wiping your tears away

• ”how about we go for a walk outside? some fresh air would help, i think.”

• you thought for a bit before nodding. you definitely wouldn't be able to get anything done while you were in this state.

• he finally let a small smile break free, standing up, moving to get your shoes for you

“An ice cream could help too, i've heard. and there's a parlour that just opened up, down the street. i think it's fate.”

⋆˚࿔ Seonghwa

• "are you okay?"

• he asked softly, worry lacing his tone as he watched your sullen figure drop down onto the couch.

• "I'm okay."

• your curt response came out as if it was clockwork, removing your bag before burying your face into the comforter

• you obviously weren't. Well, it'd been like that for a while now

• he sighed before coming over to you on the couch. He knelt down and reached out to take off your shoes which you forgot to

• you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling guilty

• "i got it...-" "Let me."

• you paused before laying back down, feeling a bit nervous at his tone of voice. Was he mad?

• "I'm sorry... it's just lately everything's been going downhill..."

• you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as you let your emotions of the past week finally weigh you down

• "i c-can't seem to do anything right and...i can't muster up energy for anything...i.."

• you sniffled, waiting for a response. He didn’t reply, instead placing your shoes neatly to the side before standing up and sitting down next to you on the couch.

• "Hwa..."

• a tear rolled down your face as he wrapped his arms around you, resting your head beneath his chin.

• it was incredible how the warmth of his embrace contrasted the gloominess you've been feeling all week.

• "I'm not mad. Why would I be?"

• he spoke quietly, his eyes shutting for a moment, his hand tracing patterns on your back

• "and you know... people don't always have to be okay..."

• "if that were the case then, i think we'd be superhumans..."

• you let out a laugh at his words, feeling your heart lighten slightly

• "i guess..."

• he smiled at the pleasant sound, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand moving to wipe your tears away.

• "so don't put yourself down, i won't let you."

• he whispered, his expression gentle yet firm before pulling you close again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

• "I'm still gonna worry though. Because I'm a human, a human who happened to be really really really in love with you."

• you chuckled, feeling exasperated yet so so light hearted

"Well, then...this human loves you too, a lot."

⋆˚࿔ Yunho.

• exams were coming up.

• and with exams came all nighters.

• you knew it wasn't healthy at all but your brain refused to listen to you, conjuring up various 'what ifs' each one, bleak.

• yes, exam seasons usually had you stressed.

• he knew it too.

• don't get him wrong, he knew you'd do well (with you being one of the most hardworking people he knows, there was no doubt about that)

• but he knew you couldn't help it. Despite all the assurances, a small part of you always doubted if your efforts were enough

• and he was worried. Of course, he was but he couldn't push you to take breaks even when he knew you needed it

• because he thought it'd be better to be distant than to have you completely shut him out

• but he wasn't sure anymore.

• even more so when he came upon you staring down at your books with teary eyes. You couldn't take it anymore.

• "I'm just so tired"

• you sobbed, burying your face into his chest. He had carried you to the bed from your desk, despite your protests but now you were glad that he did.

• "i know, love."

• he whispered, his hand rubbing your back soothingly, his heart clenching at the sound of your sobs. How could he have let it get this bad?

• but one thing was sure, he wasn't about to let you go through this alone.

• "Take a break, hm?" "But i...-"

• "No buts."

• he replied firmly, his expression showing his worry

• "Baby, it's admirable, it really is...you work so hard and I'm so proud of you..."

• "but I'm worried."

• he mumbled, his voice soft and low, tightening his hold on you

• your words faltered as you sensed the genuine concern in his voice, a twinge of guilt washing over you.

• "You always seem so tired and i...i can't help but feel frustrated for not being able to do anything..."

• his tone was soft, holding you close as if he feared losing you.

• "i don't want anything to happen to you..."

• you heart clenched at the tone of fear in his voice. you felt him lean back, taking your face into his hands carefully

• ”no matter how important it is, pushing yourself beyond the point of breaking will never do you any good.”

•he whispered, his voice quiet as he stroked your face gently

•you stayed silent for a moment, his words going through your mind. you could feel the toll these last few days had on your body. crashing out wouldn't be far at this point.

•so you nodded, reluctantly agreeing, not wanting to worry him any longer and also because you knew you needed this.

•he smiled, seeing you agree (although reluctant) relief coursing through him finally.

“Good. Now, how about some tea? I'll…let you get back to it after a break and this time, I'll help you.”

⋆˚࿔ Yeosang.

• something was wrong.

• he wasn't used to seeing you so...pensive.

• that slight slumping of your shoulders, the way you zone out mid-convos and the quiet sighs that escapes you whenever you think no one's looking

• no, he definitely noticed. It was so unlike you and...he wasn't sure how to react.

• would you be mad if he were to bring this up?

• or would you pretend like there was

nothing wrong?

• he knows that you value your independence very much, often preferring to deal with things on your own

• he respects that and doesn't push in anyway, not wanting to make you uncomfortable

• but he'd also feel a bit guilty (thought it was never his fault) feeling like he was failing as a boyfriend for just watching from the sidelines while you struggled

• though initially, he'd be a bit hesitant and cautious when approaching the matter

• he wouldn't directly confront you but lets you know that he's there for you

• "I'm here, if you want to talk."

• he'll also try to distract you with other activities, whether if it's like a walk in the park or a simply game

• he'll try his best to keep the atmosphere quiet and positive so you'll be able to relax your mind even if it's just a little

• and when you finally open up to him, he listens.

• he doesn't really respond in between and just lets you rant while listening intently

• and you know he is from the way his hand gently squeezes yours in assurance whenever you come to a pause, letting you know that whatever you were feeling was valid

• he isn't that big on physical affection but won't hesitate to shower you in it if you were to ask

• he's just a green flag over all

"I'll be here if you need me. I'll always be here."

⋆˚࿔ San.

• "come here."

• you hesitantly glanced at him before immediately looking away once you met his eyes. How does he know you so well?

• "choi y/n, come. here."

• he repeated, his tone a bit more firm now, spreading his arms wide and looking at you expectantly

• "what's with the choi?"

• you sighed, half-laughing, but you walked towards him, your emotions bubbling up again.

• "you own my heart, so you might as well take my last name too."

• he said softly with a small smile as you finally stepped into his arms.

• "seriously..."

• you mumbled, your voice breaking towards the end as you pressed your face into his chest, tears starting to flow again

• "there we go..."

• he guided you to the couch before sitting beside you. He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you into him and gently ran his fingers through your hair, whispering.

• "you did a good job, hm? I'm so proud of you."

• "it doesn't feel like that though..."

• you laughed. his words, though comforting, stung a bit, reminding you of your failures yet again

• he frowned, picking upon on the hint of self depreciation in your tone

• "how dare you say that about the love of my life? Do you have any idea how much they mean to me?"

• he spoke, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand reaching up to pinch your cheeks

• "what're you on about?"

• you chuckled, avoiding his hand, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated at his sudden burst out

• "I'm serious, my love's the best, the smartest, the kindest, the most hardworking, the prettiest...the list goes on..."

• he continued, his voice firm as he made you face him, wiping your tears away

• "but you know what i like the most about them?"

• he asked, his expression softening considerably

• "they never give up. no matter how hard it gets, no matter what anyone else says, they never give up, because they know that they can get through it..."

• he stroked your face, his eyes never leaving yours, the genuineness in them halting your breath for a moment

• "I know you can..."

• you felt your heart tighten at his words, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. You hugged him again, tears forming again.

• "why do you always have to be so nice? I hate you..."

• you sobbed, though there was no real heat behind your words

• he chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly

"It's okay, in return, I have lots of love to give you..."

⋆˚࿔ Mingi.

• he knew that things have been rough for you lately

• while he was worried, he wasn't sure to how to bring it up without making you feel even worse

• so he had hoped you'd come to him first

• though nothing prepared him for the sight of you sobbing into your hands infront of him, when you did

• initially he was at a loss as to what to do (it's that T in him)

• but he could feel his heart breaking as he watched you desperately trying to wipe your tears away which seemed to be flowing endlessly at that moment

• instantly he pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly like he wanted to shield you from whatever that was hurting you

• "I'm sorry..."

• you weren't sure what he was apologising for and neither was he

• though he wasn't good with words in this situation, he was there for you

• and he hoped you'd know it too

"don't hold back your tears, just let it all out. I'm here."

⋆˚࿔ Wooyoung

• he’s been walking on eggshells the entire week and he wasn't sure how long he could he take it

• your obvious avoidance of him, the curt texts, (hell, he'd prefer it more if you argued with him than this) it was all getting ridiculous

• so, what was the next step? obviously, confronting you.

• though it wasn't going like how he expected it to go.

• ”I'm sorry, i thought it'd be better to avoid you than to let you get affected too”

• you mumbled, your voice a bit hoarse as you brought your blanket covering you, closer

• your face was red, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you supported yourself on the wall.

• these past few weeks had taken a toll on you, worse than you thought and before you knew it, you had a fever.

• ”Affect me-...are you serious?”

• he spoke before he could stop himself. really? that's what you've been worried about?

• “I've been worried sick! you think I'd care about some damn germs?”

• you fell silent, feeling a bit guilty now.

• he huffed as if he was in disbelief. he wanted to say more but paused, his eyes falling on your pale face

• he sighed before stepping in, his hands reaching for your face.

• “you're burning up…”

• he muttered, worry lacing his tone as he supported you, making sure to close the door before leading you to your living room, sitting you down on the couch

• you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you watched him bustle around your apartment

• it was weird, seeing him so serious like this, different from his usual playful self

• and it only made you more guilty for worrying him

• ”I'm sorry…”

• he paused, hearing your words, his movements slowing down as he closed the door to your shelf after retrieving the medicine

• “you know? these past few days, I was wondering whether I did something. I couldn't figure it out.”

• he spoke up, returning to the couch, kneeling infront of you, placing a hand on your lap

• “besides, what if you were in your death bed? of course i need to be here.”

• he added, a small smirk forming on his face

• “Hey!”

• you countered, your eyes wide, hitting his shoulder making him laugh out a small ‘sorry!’, lightening the mood slightly

• “no but seriously, you should've told me you were sick. i would've came running.”

• “you always take care of me when I'm sick. I want to do the same…”

• he muttered, his playfulness dissolving into softness, his hand squeezing yours gently

• you felt your heart melt at his words, warmth coursing through you, the pleasant kind this time.

• “Alright then, can you…make me your special chicken soup?”

• you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes. you’ve been craving it actually.

• his smile returned even more brightly as he stood up, turning to make his way to your kitchen

“I'll make you the damn best chicken soup you're gonna ever have! You won't even need medicine cause it's gonna heal you up right away.”

⋆˚࿔ Jongho

• he knew you were having a rough week

• considering how moody you've seemed lately and you also didn't talk much

• and you were usually the 'affectionate' one in your relationship so the lack of it made him pause

• he was concerned, obviously, but didn't voice it directly or push you to open up

• he trusted that you'd come to him if there was something

• however, it seems like you finally reached your breaking point

• he regretted not talking to you sooner when he came home to you crying one day

• he immediately engulfs you into his embrace.

• you seemed a bit surprised to see him, not expecting him to come back so early

• and you felt bad to burden him with your emotions, surely he had a lot on his plate as well-

• "stupid, you should be worrying about yourself."

• he mumbled, his voice annoyed yet... concerned, pulling you closer when you tried to move away.

• he won't respond with words when you start to pour your worries out

• but you know he's listening with the gentle but assuring squeezes he gave your hand whenever you come to a pause

• well, it wasn't like he really had to talk when his embrace spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

“Don't feel bad for feeling bad, you don't always have to be okay, it's completely normal.”

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chaeinedup · 11 months ago

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*Incoming photo* Ateez

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woncon · 3 months ago

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➳ sick duty.

➶ poly!ateez x gn!reader (yungisang focus) ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ Yunho is sick, and you and Yeosang are on sick duty. When the others still haven't arrived with jelly, you decide to go to the nearest shop in the raging storm and buy some, because Yunho really wants them.

➴ genre: slice of life, sickfic, estabilished relationship, polyamory, non-idol!au

: ̗̀➛ warnings: yungisang focus, but everyone gets screen time, poor yunho has a fever, one sexually suggestive offer, petnames, nudity

⌨ :: 3.5K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ This idea came to me when I saw a double rainbow in early June while listening to Golden Hour Pt1. It was supposed to play in the summer, but I never got to the end. Now autumn came and I decided to write it. But in this rainy, gloomy weather it seemed better to set it in a more autumnal setting. That changed my basic idea a lot, but I'm happy with it as it is.

⁀➷ My lovely @wonsheep, I'm still sorry the rain poured on you so heavily on Wednesday. :( But it was very motivating, as you can see. Many thanks for reading through the story and founding my silly mistakes!

➳ mlist

I'm hot.

I want tea.

I'm cold.

The sickly season of the autumn-winter months spares no one. Yunho, who is hard to dislodge from whatever well-endowed giraffe's legs he has, is now curled up in the middle of the bed, disconsolate because he didn't pull on a thick enough scarf, or was carelessly underdressed in the living room, or simply spent too much time around a co-worker who has been lurking with some virus. Whichever the case, the poor guy is in a terrible mood.

"I want medicine," he whispers his next wish.

You look at your watch.

“One more hour before you can take the next one,” you say, brushing his hair away to touch his sweat beaded forehead. It's still as warm as underfloor heating.

Frustrated, he rolls to the side and buries his head fully into the pillow. You drop your hands back into your lap, helpless. It's simply exasperating to watch him suffer, to listen to his snotty, ragged breathing mix with the rain beating against the window.

“Do you want something to help?” you ask, when he turns to you again and raises his feverish eyes to you. The skin around his nose is flushed from all the blowing.

“Jelly.”

Yunho is convinced that jelly sweets can help him. Or at least when he's sick, he likes to eat sweets. Other times, not so much. Unfortunately, you guys weren't prepared for Yunho being sick in the near future. Plus, there's a storm brewing, the kind you haven't seen in a long time. It's been raining steadily for a week now, sometimes more, sometimes less. The others went to do the shopping with the car, leaving Yunho behind with the promise to bring him some jelly. He responded with a small, grateful smile.

Now, looking at his tortured expression, you would give a lot to see that smile again, the hope in his eyes. You reach out and take his hand. You sigh. Gently, slowly, you caress the back of his hand, knowing how sensitive he is to touch when he has a fever. You don't want to overdo it and hurt him, but at the same time you want to let him know physically that you're there for him.

"It's on the way." You really hope it is. The last time Jongho called, they were already at the checkout. Your youngest friend boasted that they were bringing five full bags of jelly beans. That was about twenty minutes ago. No news since then. It bothers you that you can't offer an immediate solution to Yunho's every wish.

Before Yunho can ask any more questions, the door opens. Yeosang arrives with a tray holding a steaming mug and something wrapped in napkins that you can't identify yet. With cautious steps, he moves to the other side of the bed among some discarded clothes - because Yunho didn't want to shower this morning, just threw everything off the bed he'd chosen as his regular place - and then takes a seat, placing the tray safely on the bedside table, gently moving Seonghwa's half-finished book.

“I've brought the tea," he says to Yunho. "And I found some biscuits to go with it."

Interested, the patient moves up on the pillow, but still looks vulnerable. Yeosang holds the cup in his hand and gives the man small sips. Meanwhile, you get up and gather up the laundry strewn around the bed and take it to the bathroom. On the way, you hear a conversation emanating from the kitchen, from which you hear the word 'jelly bean' clearly spoken at one point. So after throwing the laundry in the hamper, you go to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. The room is filled with the smell of hot water and tea leaves. Mingi is putting away the tea ingredients. The call is already finished, his phone is on the counter.

Originally, Mingi wouldn’t be on sick duty today. Today's subordinates are you and Yeosang, Mingi just didn't want to leave the apartment in this crazy weather and he’s helping you instead. It's not like this sick duty thing is strict in your relationship, and it's set in stone that Mingi can only nurse Yunho on Mondays and Fridays and holidays or anything. That said, there are rules. For example, Mingi usually only needs one nurse when he gets a cold or something more serious, but at such times it is Yunho for most of the time. Then there's Jongho, who, if he falls ill, no matter what the schedule, has all eight of you at his disposal twenty-four hours a day. Or, again, there's Seonghwa, who hides the fact that he's sick until it's too obvious, and you're all freaking out as to why he won't let you take care of him.

Yunho usually hardly gets sick. When he does, even a mild cold will get him down. And when he is ill, he's even fussier than the sick Wooyoung, and only one lover has a hard time coping with his demands. Usually two people are enough to care for him if there are jelly beans nearby. Which, for now, there aren’t.

“Are they on their way home?” you ask Mingi, who's packing honey.

"It's worse downtown than here," he says. "The traffic's bad. They're just moving towards home inch by inch."

You both look out of the window, and the tapping of the rain remains as unrelenting as the fever that plagues Yunho.

“Is the tea to his liking?”

“I'm sure of it,” you smile at him. Mingi is usually insecure when it comes to Yunho's well-being. You suspect that the boy's illness was a more significant reason for Mingi to stay home than his desire not to get wet. “But you can ask him.”

You return to the bedroom with Mingi at your side. You remind yourself that this room now functions as a ward. The patient is huddled near the edge of the bed, munching on biscuits soaked in tea, so that they don't scratch his throat.

“It's not jelly,” he mutters, then pulls away from Yeosang and lies back on the upholstered cushions.

You look at Yeosang. Your theory is that you're thinking the exact same thing. If jelly beans are the only thing that helps your boyfriend, you'll do anything to get them. You're even willing to go to the convenience store in the pouring rain, because when you are on sick duty, Yunho mustn't lack anything.

"We'll go and get jelly beans," you say. Yeosang nods his head in commitment.

“We'll go?” Mingi looks terrified. “All of us?”

You can't leave Yunho alone in this state. It's a good thing that Mingi is here, in addition to Yeosang and you, ready for action, and not stuck in traffic with the others downtown.

“No. You stay here with Yunho and look after him.”

Mingi continues to blink.

“We'll be quick, don't worry, you don't have to multitask. Yuyu will probably fall asleep soon.”

"It's not me I'm worried about," he protests, "You'll get wet and cold."

"The store is not far away. We won't have enough time in the rain to freeze to death."

Yeosang wraps Yunho in a blanket and kisses him on the head.

"Mingi?" The man folded in a burrito addresses the worried individual.

“Yes?”

“Gimme a hug.”

Mingi doesn't resist, but climbs onto the bed, swapping places with Yeosang, who pats his shoulder as he passes. Before you even leave the room, you hear Mingi apologize and ask for Yunho's forgiveness.

Yeosang sticks the umbrella out the door. Just a little to test how much it rains. There's really barely any surface out, but the wind immediately grabs it and tugs it further. He pulls it back in time before the umbrella swings out or the wind wins, and you close the door with a great struggle, which also wants to jump off its hinges from the violent gusts of wind.

“I think this will stay here,” Yeosang says, and then drops the solid black umbrella behind you.

You zip up your raincoat. It occurs to you that maybe Mingi is right, and you'll be so wet you'll get stuck in a puddle of icy water. Yet the idea doesn't discourage you, doesn't make you stay, because Yunho needs the jellies.

Yeosang adjusts his hood, then holds out his hand. You embrace him tightly. You check your wallet stashed in the waterproof pocket one last time and place your hand on the doorknob. Then you push it down. The door swings open, and you let it drag you along with it. The back of your coat gets soaked immediately. The rain doesn't fall, it instead pours down from behind in a wave with the wind. Clinging on to Yeosang in vain, it's hard to keep up your own pace and not lurch forward like a rag doll. It's a wonder your boyfriend can close the door.

Although the shop is indeed a block away, at this time it feels like you're wandering for eternity. For one thing, the scenery is completely different in the rain, it's harder to navigate, especially in the raging, commanding wind. Around one corner, Yeosang has to pull you in, because out of nowhere a car appears, its wheels gallantly splashing a full puddle onto the pavement.

Somehow, you do reach the store. As soon as the automatic door closes behind you, the storm is out of the way. Inside, the weather is pleasant. Only the clothes clinging to your skin and the small puddles and mud stains on the floor left by other shoppers are reminders of what a doomsday is happening outside.

“Huh,” you sigh in relief. The first game of the war against weather is over. You only have one more to go to succeed in the jelly bean mission.

“We're crazy," Yeosang shakes his head in disbelief. Then he smiles up at you, sweetly and lovingly, because he's proud you're crazy. You return it.

Insanity is part of sick duty to some extent. Last time San must have used up thirty tissues a day, and ran out in the middle of the week. Hongjoong ran so fast to replace the used-up packets that he was almost hit by a truck. And when you were sick and craving nothing but a mug of hot tomato soup when all the shops were closed and there were no tomatoes at home, only ketchup... Well, Jongho tried.

You purposefully seek out sweets. Luckily, you don't have to wander around and scout the place, you'll often find yourself here. You take off two bags of Yunho's favourite flavour, sour apple. You remember again how pitiful your otherwise healthy and cheerful boyfriend looks.

“This will help him,” Yeosang says encouragingly, as if he's reading your mind.

You nod, then head for the cashier. You get in line. From here, you can see the window and the rain pouring down.

For the first time since the jelly bean plan was born, you have time to think about Mingi's excuse when he cuddled up to Yunho. It's my fault. I'm sorry. But how could it be his fault that Yunho caught a cold?

You're rewinding the previous two weeks. Yunho was in home office the whole time. He really enjoyed it, and when he wasn't working, he was playing video games. He didn't put his foot out until one time when he had to pop down to the shop for something. It didn't rain so heavily that day, just a gentle drizzle. Maybe Mingi had taken off Yunho's blanket one night? It couldn't be, either, because they'd been sleeping far apart lately.

It's your turn, so you suspend your musings. When you get back, you'll ask Mingi and hope it's not too embarrassing for him not to tell you. If he feels guilty, you could help him and reassure him that it's not his fault.

You and Yeosang pay. You put the bags in your coat pockets. You pull the hood up, not that it matters. You cling together again, then step out onto the soggy pavement.

The way back is harder. This time the wind brings the rain from the front. Each blast smacks you in the face. Neither of your hoods can stay up. Your hair gets wet, the rain drips under your coat. You successfully step into a puddle, literally splashing in the muddy water, and the inside of your boots get soaked. You're wet everywhere, from your elbows to your toes. It's really annoying, but you don't falter, clutching Yeosang's arm until you reach the sheltering door of your home to drop in like two wet rags on the threshold and with a combined effort you shut out the cold, ominous wind. Yeosang slides along the door, his hair leaving a wet streak on the wooden panel.

“We did it,” he sighs, and proudly rattles one of the jelly beans he pulls out of his pocket. The bag is intact, of course.

“We did,” you agree, and pull him up off the ground.

Suddenly you're faced with the problem of not knowing what to take off first because everything is equally soaked. It's almost as if your clothes are the cool part of your skin, plus outer layers. Finally, following your boyfriend's example, you throw your coat on the floor first, then your shoes on the doormat, and socks after.

Before you reach for the next layer of clothing, there is the sound of footsteps. You think Mingi is coming, but when he sighs, you realize it's not your tall lover.

“You guys are adorable and dedicated, but silly at the same time," says Hongjoong with crossed arms.

“But at least Yunho’s jellies will hold out until he heals,” answers Yeosang, taking off his shirt.

“When did you arrive?” you ask.

“About a minute ago. But we'll talk later. Now go take a shower before you too end up feverishly next to Yunho,” Hongjoong advises, then retreats and San steps forward. He unconcealedly runs his eyes over Yeosang's naked torso, and yours, which still has your shirt stuck to it, rather tightly, so it might even be useless.

“If you get sick, I'll be on sick duty every day. The thing is, the adorable, dedicated, silly people are just my type” he winks.

“Move over, Sanie," Wooyoung appears and nudges the other one in the side, "You promised to help hyung pack up.”

San hums and walks away, but still smiles in your direction. You all love to oblige Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and that goes for when there's an opportunity to flirt as well.

“You two are sexy, all wet,” Wooyoung admits. “If you need help with the shower, let me know. I'll be within earshot.”

“We'll consider it,” you promise. Wooyoung nods with a grin, and he also retreats to the kitchen.

You pass through the hallway, but before you can go to the bathroom, Jongho stands in front of you with a plate of jelly beans. “Here. I thought you should be the ones to give it to him. You made a greater sacrifice, and most of us stayed dry. Except for Hwa hyung, who opened the door and held the umbrella.”

“Thank you,” you say at the same time. While Yeosang takes the bowl, you press a kiss on Jongho's cheek.

When you retire to the bedroom, the scene is quite cozy. Yunho is in bed, hugging Mingi, craving jelly beans, and you offer him what he craves most, and what you fought Mother Nature for.

“We got it,” you report.

Yunho snaps his head up. The mere hope brings life to his sick features. You stand by the bed, careful not to get rainwater on it.

“Here, hyung," Yeosang hands the bowl to him in a soft whisper.

“I hope you weren’t too desperate, baby. We hurried as much as we could.”

“You're the best," says Yunho, touched, between bites. “I love you.”

“We love you too, giant baby. Very much,” you assure him.

And he smiles up at you. The mission is a complete success. Whether all that time and getting soaked was enough to put you to bed remains to be seen. In the meantime, you bask in success.

Mingi sneezes. Then he reaches under the pillow and takes out a handkerchief. “My throat may be a tiny bit scratchy.”

“Should we set up someone on sick duty for you too?” Yeosang offers readily.

“Our poor boyfriends,” you sigh, watching them. Yunho in the midst of illness, Mingi as he probably slips into a state of flux.

“I deserve it,” murmurs Mingi, looking ruefully at Yunho.

“Why do you think so?” you ask the question that has been nagging at you for a good twenty minutes.

“When we ran out of milk last week, Yunho and I went to the grocery store... I offered to make out with him in the rain. It didn't rain much, and there was no wind. Still, that's how Yunho got cold.”

"Come on," the other protests hoarsely. He sucks on a jelly bean with great enthusiasm. You wouldn't believe he can taste it. “You offered, I agreed, I could have said no, but I didn't. All in all, it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” Yeosang raises his eyebrows. “You were dying before the jelly arrived.”

"If you haven't kissed Mingi in the rain, you won't understand," he declares, then turns to Mingi. “Want a jelly, princess?

Yeosang and you leave them alone, let them romance each other in the infirmary. Barefoot, you stomp off to the bathroom. You open the door, and a thick, fragrant steam rises from the room. A pleasant warm breeze reminds you how cold you are. You hurry inside. Yeosang closes the door to keep the comforting steam from escaping.

Seonghwa is already drying his hair and got dressed. You look at him expectantly, ready to be reprimanded. But he has no such plans. He takes your face with one hand and Yeosang's with the other. “I am proud of you. Take a bath, then we can watch a movie. We made a whole list while we were stuck in traffic.”

Yeosang hums, you nod in response. Good idea. At this time of year, there's no point in doing anything other than curling up on the sofa together.

You bask in Seonghwa's soft touch until the last moment, and the knowledge that he's proud of you. It's really enjoyable to play good cop, bad cop with Hongjoong, and they don’t scold you twice. Regardless, you need to figure out a way to cheer up that boyfriend of yours who called you adorable, dedicated, and silly all at the same time.

“So he probably caught it while kissing,” you acknowledge what you've heard by tugging your trousers down after Seonghwa has left you alone.

“Interesting.”

“And understandable. Sounds romantic.”

“Do you want to go back?” Yeosang glances up at you as he pulls towels out of the closet. The look in his eyes is willing. It embarrasses you to know that he would take a single word from you and go back with you into the pouring rain to fulfill that desire.

“I wouldn’t do it in this weather. But, for example, standing in a cool summer drizzle, refreshing after the heat. When me and my partner won’t be so likely to have a fever for a week.”

“Last summer Woo did it with someone. I think it was with Sanie, but I'm not sure. Maybe he caught Hongjoong hyung in a moment of weakness.”

“Really? Is it fashionable to kiss in the rain in our relationship?”

“A bit.” Yeosang undresses completely.

Your hand is over the laundry basket, you've dropped the last of your clothes in it, yet you don't move. You’re looking at Yeosang. At his naked back, how rainwater is dripping from his hair, onto his delicate muscles. The line of his shoulder blades as his back narrows, ending in the lovely hips you'd hold in your hands for days. And of course you can't neglect his ass or his thighs or his whole being, because once you start looking at him, one part of him is not enough, and the whole of him is overwhelmingly wonderful.

He turns back to you. “Are you coming?”

“Sure.” You follow him into the bath. You take his face in the palm of your hand and kiss him on the lips. “Wooyoung was right.”

“About what?”

"You're sexy when you're wet," you explain, and at the same time you probably reveal that you were just staring at him.

"He didn't just say that to me, love," he replies, pulling you close. Then he opens the water. The warm, soothing drops fall on your head and drip down your chilled skin. Like rain.

“I have an idea. Let's kiss here like it's raining.”

“Oh,” Yeosang smiles sweetly. His thumb caresses your cheek. “Okay.”

And you shower until the hot water runs out.

#ateez x reader #ateez x gn reader #poly ateez x reader #poly ateez #yeosang x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #hongjoong x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #seonghwa x reader #gender neutral y/n #ateez fluff #ateez ot8 #poly kpop #ateez oneshot

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bombuni · 2 months ago

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bsf!ateez & ur crush on another member

warnings: cursing, kms/nsfw jokes

bom note: text fic reqs will reopen once i finish the ones in my inbox :) just thought this would help me get into the groove again!

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez texts #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader

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eightmakesonebraincell · 15 days ago

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and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky (teaser)

genre: poly doctors!ateez x doctor fem!reader, hospital romance, established relationship, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.6k (teaser) + approx. 37k (full fic)

c/w: slightly aged-up characters, slow burn except it's burning in reverse, lots of medical themes, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

synopsis: after transferring during the last year of your residency program, you work alongside your eight boyfriends at kq hospital. it becomes harder to keep your relationship the same as it used to be as you all navigate the respective challenges of being doctors and nurses. you come to experience love and loss in both warmth and coldness, but only one of them will keep your relationship alive.

a/n: not my titles becoming increasingly longer with each oneshot i write 💀 but this is probably my fave one yet and i hope it slaps when the full fic drops

your feet drag against the floor as you trudge listlessly back to your locker, body heavy as if you are caught in the very midst of a snowstorm. your shoulders cave even further in on themselves when you check your phone to see no reply from hongjoong.

you want nothing more than to bury yourself in your boyfriend’s arms, nose pressed against the soothing rumble of his chest as he listens to you complain about your day. it will not change anything about the situation with dr. lim and dr. nam but at least you will be able to release the hot steam that has built up from the bubbling pit of lava in your chest.

if hongjoong is still working, perhaps you can sit in his office and wait on his couch. his presence will be enough to keep you grounded.

some of the nurses in the neurology ward greet you cordially as you exit the elevator and you return their smile before sitting on a bench further down the corridor to avoid being in anybody’s way. you test your chances and call hongjoong’s number, only to hear the line ring until it sends you to his voicemail. when another attempt ten minutes later yields the same result, you send a text telling him to call you when he is finished.

you resign yourself to the bench with a passive sigh and wait, all the while a tempest swirling inside of you. eventually, one of the junior residents tilts her head at the sight of you still sitting on the bench, having passed by you almost twenty minutes ago in the same position. she calls out, “doctor l/n?”

you jerk up from where you are fiddling with your phone. recognising her as hongjoong’s colleague, you ask, “i’m just waiting for doctor kim. do you happen to know where he is?”

“doctor kim?” she furrows her brows, “he left already. he actually left early today.”

“oh.”

the heat in your chest suddenly dissipates, immediately replaced by a frigid hollowness that makes your mind go blank instead. horrified, you feel your eyes involuntarily start to prickle with tears no matter how hard you will for them to disappear.

“do you want me to pass a message on for you?” the resident looks at you with a twinge of concern, but mostly curiosity.

you shake your head and mumble, “no, that’s okay, thanks,” then rush away to avoid embarrassing yourself any further. deciding against asking one of your other boyfriends to drive you home, you forgo catching the bus too in favour of walking through the streets.

it’s not even a big deal. we’ve all forgotten about dates before and hongjoong would never deliberately blow you off.

you know that. you know this is not something you need to be upset over and you know that your boyfriend must have a reason. yet knowing does nothing to stop the trembling of your lips as you swipe furiously at your dripping tears with the back of your hand. on top of everything that has piled up today, hongjoong forgetting about your date is enough to topple it over completely.

the light snowfall from earlier has already stopped but the temperature remains just as low. as you tread through the chalky streets home, thoughts creeping through your mind like the fractal branches of a snowflake–fragile and delicate–you welcome the numbing chill around you instead and let it paralyse your emotions like an anaesthetic.

by the time you reach the front door, you have collected yourself enough. the rims of your eyes and the tip of your nose still have a slight redness to them but your appearance can easily be dismissed by the biting cold outside. you unlock the door and walk in.

you are met with immediate warmth; from the residual heat of shared dinner, from the streaming glow of lights, from the peals of low laughter. walking through the corridor almost feels like walking through a warped tunnel of dissociation–so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

san sits on the couch, languidly scrolling on his phone with an arm wrapped around yeosang’s shoulders, who is flicking through a thin booklet of paper. sitting cross-legged at the coffee table in front of them in a stark contrast of mess is hongjoong–hongjoong who is hunched over his own booklet with a newly-made carpet and tablecloth of thesis and journal articles, textbooks and tablets.

you are so caught up by the hurricane of a scene that you do not realise you are about to step on the corner of a textbook until hongjoong’s head snaps up to look at you.

“be careful!” his warning cry is sharp with alarm.

your body jolts and you step backwards. “sorry.”

despite san and yeosang’s chirpy greetings, you remain frozen to the spot. the two of them clamber up to pull you into an excited hug, only to pause when they realise there is no way to navigate the landmine of paper scattered around the room, so they settle back into the cushions instead.

“don’t mind the mess,” yeosang giggles, unaware of the sudden onset of unease that courses through your body. “even seonghwa has given the okay for him to do this.”

your words come out thick and sticky as you ask, “what is hongjoong doing?”

san’s voice is sympathetic, “there was a last-minute change to his presentation that he’s doing at that annual neurological association meeting. his department head wants him to do a different topic.”

“he could’ve told me, i don’t know, five fucking months ago,” hongjoong curses fiercely at his tablet, “but he just had to wait until my presentation was basically done to let me know.”

you have had a bad day…but so has hongjoong.

the door opens behind you. fumbling for a moment, you try to make yourself smaller against the wall to make room for whoever of your boyfriends has returned. it is mingi back from his shift which tells you just how long you had waited for hongjoong, considering mingi’s shift ended almost two hours after yours did.

“y/n?” mingi’s eyes widen slightly as he smiles, the sight of you a pleasant surprise. he asks, “did you and hongjoong come back from your date already?”

you wince at the bomb he has unwittingly dropped; the very one you yourself were still unsure how to navigate.

“shit,” hongjoong’s head snaps towards you again but for an entirely different reason this time. “holy fuck. oh my fucking god.” his hands flutter as he upturns the scattered notes around him in search of his phone, face draining of all colour as it dawns on him he had silenced his notifications. “the date–i forgot. fuck, i am so fucking sorry, y/n.”

your boyfriends on the couch watch with darting eyes and mingi glances at you cautiously. in some twisted reality, you almost feel immobilised by guilt as hongjoong stumbles to his feet, grasping the phone he has finally found from where it had been tossed under the table.

nothing changes the fact that he forgot nor the fact that you have had a rough day. but just as you had realised, hongjoong has also had a rough day, if not worse than yours. and as with any relationship, one will always have to yield under pressure lest both people break.

swallowing thickly, you manage to force out, “that’s okay. i forgot too.”

a white lie, but a white lie has never hurt anybody.

mingi catches the slight twist of your fingers in the side of your jacket. he murmurs, “let’s go inside,” then tugs you by the elbow. he steps you carefully through the landmines further into the living room, gingerly toeing papers inches aside to reveal the floorboards underneath for the both of you to step on. hongjoong is still looking at you remorsefully as you near, his hands itching to reach out but afraid they will not be met with forgiving ones.

“it’s okay, joong, really,” you extend your fingers in his direction and gently squeeze his hand. “sorry to hear about your presentation. i know how hard you’ve worked on it the past few months.”

sadness still lingers in your boyfriend’s eyes at having made such a careless mistake despite the grateful smile he gives you. “i’ll make it up to you after the presentation is finished,” he vows. “i’ll take you out for a nice dinner and i promise i won’t forget this time.”

you chuckle softly with a reassuring nod, “okay.”

“what about you? how was your day?” hongjoong asks.

an hour ago you wanted nothing more than the comfort he could offer while you vented about your day and you are almost certain fatigue and frustration are smeared across your face right now. yet you simply answer, “it was a long day but it was good.”

another white lie.

before your boyfriends can probe any further, you state, “i’m going to take a shower first. might head to sleep early today.” you lean forward to give hongjoong a chaste kiss, who easily relaxes into it with relief. you turn to rise onto your tiptoes to give mingi one too before meeting yeosang and san halfway from where they kneel on the couch to also kiss you goodnight.

then you turn and retreat to your room. it is not all too bad, you reconcile with yourself. alone time would be good after today’s events.

a third white lie.

but again, that is fine, because a white lie never hurt anybody…nobody except for yourself.

taglist pt. one | apply | comment to be tagged for this fic only

@thecarnivaloflies @ilovekimhongjoong @ifykyunho @ppprimary @hwas-housewife

@itza-meee @lavishloving @okshu @mizumigi @everythingboutkpop

@ayytease @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hongjoongsprincess @booyoungie @green-agent

@darkmentalitystarfish-blog @taytayy178 @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @sourkimchi

@mimilia1801 @kibs-and-bits @mlysalt @jjoongstar @aaa-sia

@nollamuumialaaksossa @skz1-4-3 @minkilicious @joongscheese @ddeonghwva

@delulu18 @teenyfinds @shakalakaboomboo @hxpelesscxven @fureastel

@seomisaho @levishun @lesyeuxdeanna @readerofallthingss @potatos-on-clouds

@apriecotte @hhoneylix @kyeos4ng @smally97 @savluvsmingi

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xosannie · 7 months ago

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Ateez members that would praise or degrade you

☆genre: smut (ot8xreader)

☆word count: 1k+

☆warnings: degrading and praise (obvi), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), just a teeny little bit of biting, exhibition (through the phone), slight bondage, orgasm denial, use of sex toys, aggressive, “fucked to mush”, hair pulling, fingering, titties get sucked a bit. (Let me know if I missed any)

☆MDNI 18+ only! If these kinds of thing make you uncomfy just leave plz. Otherwise, enjoy you horny ppl :3

Praising:

Seonghwa

Seonghwa sat in his chair as you’re sucking his dick, kneeling under his desk. He caresses your hair, looking down at you, his attention—that was once on the Legos he was building, now watching the way you slowly take his length in your mouth. You look up at him with wide eyes, taking him deeper down your throat. You pull off panting loudly and stroke him faster to catch your breath. You kiss his tip before taking him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. His brows furrowed as soft moans escaped his lips. He instinctively bucks his hips as he locks eyes with you.

“That’s a good girl, there you go. You’re taking my dick so well, fuck you make me feel so good, sweetheart. Keep going.”

Yeosang

Yeosang hovers over you, his arms flexing as he supports his weight on his elbows. He fucks you with slow and deep thrusts, leaning down to kiss you softly yet passionately. With every hard thrust, the bed rocks, and hits the wall. He kisses down to your neck, sucking and biting ever so gently just to soothe the slight pain with his tongue. You whimper softly at the feeling of his mouth, and you moan his name as he gives another deep thrust. Your hands entangle in his hair as you hold him impossibly closer, wrapping your arms around his toned body. He nibbled at your earlobe before softly whispering with his gentle yet deep voice.

“You make such pretty noises, baby, keep moaning for me I want to hear you. I love fucking you so much, you’re perfect.”

Jongho

You were on FaceTime with Jongho, missing the man who was halfway across the world due to his tour. You propped your phone against a pile of pillows, legs spread wide, fingering yourself while Jongho watched through the screen. You look away, feeling slightly embarrassed being the only one naked as Jongho watched fully clothed. Even though he wasn’t there in real life, you can still feel the way he stared at you intently, which made you dripping wet even more. Jongho groans as he hears the noises of your fingers moving in and out of your wet pussy. He started to palm himself through his pants, breath growing more labored the more he watched you, wishing he could jump through the screen this very moment.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful, baby. Look at you, you’re doing such a good job fucking you’re pretty pussy. God, I wish I was the one making you feel that good.”

Degrading

Hongjoong

You were on your knees, a vibrator stuffed in your pussy and your hands were tied behind your back. You sat there trembling, begging desperately for release that Hongjoong had been denying you for what seemed like forever. He watched with amusement, sitting in front of you at the edge of his bed. His arms and legs crossed, as he gripped the controller to the toy. He could tell you were close to release again by the way your hips started rocking and your moans became more high-pitched. He smiles wide, waiting for you to get on the very edge, and right before you cum he turned the toy off with the controller. You whine desperately, on the verge of tears, body squirming as you look up at him with pleading eyes. He smirked down at you, laughing at your desperation.

"Aw, look at you, you look so pathetic, begging for me to let you cum. I bet you were really close this time, weren’t you? Well, that’s too bad, now take that toy, naughty girls like you don’t deserve my dick.”

Mingi

Mingi pinned your legs against your chest, drilling his dick in you as you lay there and took it. You moan his name loudly, eyes rolling in the back of your head. He grunts as he feels the way your pussy clenched down on his length. His thrusts were so hard and fast your brain turned to mush, the only thing you can think of was Mingi and his big dick. He throws his head back, moaning out loud, his grip on your thighs so harsh you were sure there would be bruises the next morning. He twitched inside you at the way you looked so fucked, mouth agape with a bit of drool rolling down your chin. Your hair was a mess as black streaks ran down your face, tears ruining your pretty mascara and eyeliner you had on earlier.

“Fuck, take my dick you slut, you love it, don’t you? I know you do, you’re clenching down on me so hard as if you’re afraid I’ll pull out, fucking cock slut.”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung had you bent over the kitchen counter, you reached behind, grabbing his hips, wanting to feel him deeper. He was in the middle of cooking dinner, but you decided to come in and tease him, wearing an apron and nothing else. When he saw you, his jaw practically dropped, as you would sway your hips teasingly, bending over and exposing yourself to “pick something up.” He snapped, and now here he was thrusting his now-hard dick into you, giving you what you came in the kitchen for. He gripped your hip with one hand and ran his fingers in your hair with the other, tugging at the strands, making you moan louder. He pulled your head back and leaned in while thrusting deep into your aching pussy, whispering in your ear.

“You really want my attention that bad? We already fucked this morning, but you’re such a fucking whore you need to come in here practically naked so I can give you my dick again. Such a needy little bitch.”

Praising and degrading

(My personal fav)

Yunho

You guys were in the middle of a movie night, but you grew too needy when you watched the way Yunho’s hand ran up and down your thigh. Now you were lying back on the couch, legs spread open in front of Yunho as he hovered over to you. His fingers slowly moving in and out of your dripping cunt while simultaneously pressing down on your clit with his thumb. His fingers were so long they filled you up just nicely. You reached over to grab his arm for support as you moan his name softly. He had to pin your thigh down to prevent your trembling legs from closing shut on him.

"Aw, baby, you’re so pretty like this, taking my fingers like the good slut you are. You’re so needy we can’t even watch a movie without you getting horny. That’s okay though, take my fingers, baby.”

San

San moaned loudly, resting his head against the headboard as you bounced on his length at a fast speed, riding him. He gripped your hips, guiding you up and down, his biceps flexing with every movement and a slight sheen of sweat forming on his skin. You held onto his broad shoulders, throwing your head back and moaning loudly. San bites his lip as he watches the way your tits bounce in his face. His hands ran up your body to grasp your breasts, leaning forward to take one in his mouth. You gasp and hold his head against you, loving the feeling of his tongue massaging your nipple. He moans against your skin when you clench around him, getting closer to your high.

“There you go, baby, you ride me so well. Cum on my dick like the pretty cockslut you are. Fuck, you deserve it, this slutty pussy deserves to cum.

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed :p Let me know if I should write more stuff like this. Feel free to give recs on what you want to see next.

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #fanfic #smut #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #jongho smut #ateez oneshot #ateez ot8 #atz smut #atz scenarios #atz x reader

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domm1etae · 3 months ago

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bf!yeosang, who just wanted you to ride him right there on the couch, leaned back, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you closer, the last of his patience unraveling.

imagine yeosang reclined against the cushions, his dark, half-lidded eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart race. his lips part slightly, his breathing shallow as he takes in every movement you make. one hand slides up your thigh, the other gripping your waist as he groans, “you’re gonna be the death of me,” his voice low and thick with desire.

you can feel the strain in his body, the way his muscles tense beneath you with each slow, deliberate roll of your hips. his head tilts back briefly, but his gaze is quick to return, sharp and unrelenting. “just like that,” he mutters, his tone filled with raw need, “keep going. don’t hold back.” his grip tightens as he guides you, his touch grounding but never controlling.

as you pick up the pace, the cracks in his composure grow. his jaw clenches, and his chest heaves with shallow breaths, but he’s still watching you, completely mesmerized. “fuck, you feel so good,” he rasps, his voice breaking slightly as his hands roam your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

when he finally lets go, his head falls back, and a guttural groan escapes him, his body trembling beneath you. your name spills from his lips in a breathless whisper, drenched with pleasure and surrender, as he holds onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in the moment.

#that bunny on top is me when yeosang #ateez #kpop #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #atz #ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez oneshot #smut #yeosang x reader smut #yeosang #ateez yeosang #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang scenarios #yeosang smut

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bvidzsoo · 2 months ago

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You can run but you can't hide

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: vampire hunter!Jeong Yunho x vampire!female reader

𓇬 Warning: rather suggestive, gore, blood, violence, death, murder, lot's of blood drinking, manhandling, toxic relationship, lots of hate ngl, maybe some medical inaccuracies, slight power dynamic? 𓇬 Word count: 25.8k 𓇬 Rating: mature 𓇬 Genre: vampire x vampire hunter romance, enemies to lovers, they've known each other for centuries, modern time setting, doctor!reader, cop!Yunho, smut, angst 𓇬 Summary: You thought your life ended with your sister's, but then you realised there was nothing sweeter than revenge. Finding the vampire hunter who had killed your sister proved to be easier than you had first anticipated, but you changed your plans last minute. Walking away after turning him into a vampire wasn't your smartest move, and you'd learn to profusely regret it.

A/N: Oh my, oh my, lovelies I'm back! Starting off the new year with this monster of a oneshot? Yup, this took me like two weeks to write, and I hope it's good and that you'll love it! ^^ I'm working on a Mingi mini-series, so look out for that! Let me know if I didn't tag something, and let me know what you thought of this piece! I appreciate your feedback lots. <3 I hope y'all had a lovely weekend, and honestly, huge shootout to @spiralala because if they didn't send in that ask, this oneshot wouldn't exist lmao, so if you read this, I hope you enjoy it! Man, my gallery is a shrine of Yunho performing that Oz thingy, istg I have a problem but he looked so hot that day ugh...see y'all again soon! ^^ divider

1822

There was nothing more pleasant than hearing the writhing man’s moans on the floor, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he clutched his forearm. His face was bruised from the blows he had taken prior, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as his smooth light blue velvet suit was all muddy and torn. The violin in the distance created a haunting ambivalence with the rattling wind, chilling you down to the bone…if you could feel it. I circled the man, his left hand still tightly clutching his silver stake, and a malicious chuckle tumbled past my lips. He looked pathetic laying in his own pool of blood, his pride not letting him beg for his life…yet. I could make any man beg; he wasn’t different. Once the venom started spreading through his bloodstream, he’d be screaming for me to put him out of his misery. If he begged nicely, I might make his demise quicker than planned.

“Look at you,” I snarled, lips curling into a disgusted smile as he blindly whacked his hand out, trying to aim for me uselessly, “So pathetic, so frail, so…human. Weren’t those serums supposed to make you strong?”

The man heaved a sharp breath, his eyes snapping open. They were hazy and painted with pain, but the fire was still rampant in them, furious, and so ready to wreak havoc…if only he could, “I’m-I’m going to—ugh—I will kill you, monster.”

“Yeah? You will?” I chuckled, giving his torso a good kick, making the man cry out in pain. He tried to pull his legs to his chest, still gripping his silver stake, sweat beading his bruised face. He breathed through his mouth, his right hand convulsing as his jaw clenched, “When? Are you sure you can do that right now, darling?”

“Don’t—” But he couldn’t speak as a yell tore through his lips, his whole face going beat red as he trashed around on the cold forest floor. The leaves had long died, and snow was supposed to fall anytime. I watched as the man tried to regain some sanity, but his veins started blackening. The venom was spreading, once it reached his heart, he was a gone man.

“Don’t what?” I hissed, grabbing the layers of my skirt and bunching them up so that I could crouch down next to him. He tried stabbing at me pathetically, barely able to lift his arm anymore, so I kicked the stake out of his hand, sending it flying into the tree closest to us. It stuck into it, my jaw clenched as I watched it, wondering just how many of my fellow vampires’ lives it had taken. The man at my mercy was a vicious hunter, the best in their coven, and he had taken my sister’s life. He deserved no mercy nor forgiveness, and none would be given to him tonight. He had messed with the wrong vampire, I shall not stop until my sister is avenged, “I’ve dreamed of this moment, hunter. Want to know why?”

He spluttered words intangibly, and I gripped his thick black hair to yank his head back. His eyes flew open and he tried to trash away from me, but the venom had his body mobilized, “You think I don’t know?”

His words were barely a whisper, his throat no doubt on fire. His sheer willpower was impressive, others would’ve already succumbed to the excruciating pain. My eyebrows furrowed slightly, curious as much as confused. How could a mere mortal hold on for so long? I would’ve found it impressive if it was anyone else.

“Yeri.” The utterance of my sister’s name brought a painful stab to my frozen heart as if I was the one stabbed to death by the vampire hunter at my mercy. Her name leaving his lips felt like a sin, it made bile rise in my throat as my hands started shaking, paralyzing anger streaming through my bloodstream. He had no right saying her name, his smug smile despite the painful wince burned into the back of my mind. I moved fast without thinking, gripping his jaw into a crushing hold as the hunter’s eyes widened. He didn’t look confident anymore, a shuddering breath left his lips as his body started trembling. My sharp nails dug into his skin to draw more blood, and I relished in the fire that burned through my body, leaving me even more hungry for revenge, for justice.

“You know what?” I whispered through gritted teeth as our eyes bled into each other’s, our faces mere inches away as I yanked him up effortlessly. He moaned in pain and clutched at his bleeding bite wound, his eyes slowly becoming bloodshot. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to see, “I was going to kill you, to end your pathetic existence for once and for all.”

He gulped nervously, but he showed no fear on his face, making me even angrier that he was still holding out, acting like this was nothing. I wanted him to scream in pain, to beg for his life, and promise he’d do anything for me if I kept him alive…but the vampire hunter remained true to the tales told about him around campfires. He was unafraid, dedicated, focused, fierce, and unapologetic. To think he could’ve lived for another day if he hadn’t fallen for my trap was almost satisfying enough. The ball was beautiful, people inside the castle were drunk, causing mayhem to their liking. The hunter had been part of the celebrating people before I managed to lure him away, far away from any prying eyes. He was strong and had managed to cut me here and there in our tousle, but it was nothing compared to the cuts I had given him. Cuts that would stay with him for eternity. I smirked, watching as life slowly drained from his once handsome face.

“But you made me realise something, hunter,” I paused, making sure he could still hear me as his heartbeat started vanning, “Letting you die is no punishment to someone like you, it’s an honour. And I cannot let you have it after what you’ve done to my sister, Yunho…no, I will turn you into the monster you’ve hated your whole life. I’ll create something you were taught to hate, to hunt. And I’ll enjoy every single moment of it, hunter.”

Nothing but Yunho’s widening eyes with fear and desperation could’ve given me this immense satisfaction I felt as my words dawned on him, words sputtering past his lips, intangible and breathy as he tried to grasp for his psyche. But he was far too gone to try and save himself now, and I closed my eyes to drink in the broken pleas falling off his lips, the begging and panic that coursed through his body, so delicious, so thrilling to take it all in. I bit my bottom lip as I felt my fangs shift, poking past my lip as Yunho shook his head furiously, his eyes filled with tears. Their redness blurred with his tears was almost beautiful.

“No, don’t do it—please,Y/N, you can’t—”

“I can’t?”

His screams fell to deaf ears as my fangs pierced the pale smooth skin of his neck, drinking his rich and warm blood…at least what was left of it. Feeling his lax body in my arms reminded me of my sister’s numb body, and I ignored the burning of my chest as I sucked the blood out of his system, only to replace it with a piece of mine, forever part of me for I was his creator and him my genesis.

Current time

It had always amused me that despite all the monsters lurking in the shadows, humans never learned from their mistakes. Nighttime in a big city made no difference to the daytime, the wicked still prowled, catching the innocent in their web of lies and tricks. And due to that, the hospital never slept at night. The electronics’ low buzz was like a constant ringing in my ears, I could hear it even when I was far away from the hectic environment. My forehead creased as I read through another file, wondering where Yeosang had gone when we still had so many patients whose data wasn’t placed into our database. On a night like tonight, busier than usual, we were short on staff, so I had no choice but to help out with the administrative work if I wasn’t needed in the ER. My office was far away from the hustle and bustle of the emergency room, but still close enough that I was easily reachable in case of an emergency. The clock on the wall kept ticking, and my head had started aching at some point in the night. I still haven't gotten used to the fluorescent lights and the strong smell of sanitiser even after sixty years of being in the field. I was, however, thankful that I managed to get over my bloodthirst.

I cannot say there hadn’t been incidents when I had just started working as a doctor, but it was easily explainable if you knew how to cover your tracks. Besides, my coven was influential enough to get me out of trouble if I managed to mess up even after all these years of practice. I sighed and reached for my thermos, taking a sip of the salty fresh blood I had borrowed just at the beginning of my shift. Nobody would notice, there were enough blood donors daily, allowing me to take a few blood bags for myself and my coven. With the changing of times, we also had to change and accommodate to the modern world. Life was a lot easier now, and if you kept a low profile and knew the right people, staying under the radar wasn’t too difficult. If there was anything I missed from the eighteen hundreds, however, it was the possibility of coming and going without anyone keeping tabs on you. Social media was a fun thing that I couldn’t fully enjoy, not unless I wanted the leader of our coven breathing down my neck and locking me away for a century or two. So, empty and blank accounts were the only way to go by if I wanted to watch those stupid, but hilarious, reels that my coworkers sent to each other. Nobody was supposed to know, but I had one follower, and that was Yeosang, easily the first human I had actually grown to somehow care for.

He was adorable yet fierce, very loyal, and the hardest-working person I had come across in the few years I had been alive. But speaking of Yeosang, I glanced at the clock again and wondered if he had decided to take his much-needed break. It was close to midnight, he would usually join me at this hour and eat his meal in silence while I typed away on my computer. I pushed the glasses higher up on the bridge of my nose and focused back on my task, knowing it was best if I got this over with before the next influx of patients came. I wasn’t in the mood to work afterhours tonight, our leader had come up with a new tradition solely for her own enjoyment, and I needed every wink of sleep I could get if I wanted to sit through a night of nostalgic vampires conversing about the rottenness of our current world…as if we weren’t part of what made it worse. The clock to my left beeped and I jumped as the door of my office suddenly slammed open, Yeosang’s frantic eyes falling on me.

“Doctor!” For such an angelic face, it would surprise everyone when they first heard his deep voice, “We need you down, there was a shootout close by and several police officers were injured. You are needed to take care of the less serious ones.”

Well, duty calls then. I pressed the power off button of the screen and took my glasses off, closing the buttons of my white gown as I followed after Yeosang. His heart was beating fast as he dodged the few people in the hallway, hurriedly leading the way as I kept up with his pace. There was no reason for us to take the elevator, so we quickly ran down the stairs and headed for the ER, which was once again filled with patients in need.

“Doctor Bae!” The head doctor yelled once he noticed me, Yeosang and I headed over, “Room three is yours, we will send the patient in as soon as we’ve got his information noted down.”

I nodded and headed for the private rooms just past the doctor, eyes set on the third room. Yeosang ran ahead and pulled the door to the side for me, and I thanked him quietly as I rushed in to wash my hands and quickly wear clean glows. The screen on the wall beeped and I looked up at it, reading the extent of the cop’s injury. He was grazed by one bullet while he needed another one taken out, stitches no doubt necessary. I nodded to myself and was about to mentally map out my actions when the door was pulled to the side and Yeosang’s comforting voice flooded the room.

“Right here, Doctor Bae will now take care of you.” The man’s back was to me, and Yeosang was already at the door, “I’ll be back to assist you, Doctor, but I’m needed at the front desk still.”

I ushered him out with a flick of my wrist, knowing that I was capable of taking care of the patient on my own. This wasn’t my first time stitching up bullet wounds, besides, if the man was able to walk inside on his own, he was doing better than I had first expected. The examination room wasn’t too big, so it took me barely three steps to cross over and come to a standstill in front of the patient. Mouth opening to ask for the place of the injury, I froze when my eyes finally fell on his face. The silence was eery in the room as the man’s head raised, one reddish eye staring back at me widely. His heartbeat stuttered, and his blood smelt fresh and—alive. He wasn’t supposed to have a heartbeat. My mouth dropped open as my eyes ran over his face, trying to make sense of the situation. He looked the same as all those years ago. Youthful and handsome, slopping nose and pouty lips, cheeks flushed and jawline prominent. One eye, however, was hidden behind a black eye patch, his dark blue hair framing it so people wouldn’t stare at him. And yet, the sight of the vampire hunter wouldn’t have been so shocking if he didn’t feel so…human.

Without thinking, I grabbed his chin and tilted his head back, eyes tracking his smooth neck. The bitemark was gone since it wasn’t the first one on his body, long healed, yet the paleness and coldness of his skin felt familiar under my fingertips. His jaw had clenched as he yanked his head out of my grip, his expression transparent for once. He was seething, it was easy to see the hatred in his one eye…another telltale that he was a vampire, which left me confused as to why his heart was still beating.

“Look at you,” My voice was quiet, almost disbelieving as I let my eyes roam over his sturdy body, “I thought you would’ve killed yourself once you awakened as a vampire, but no, you’re living like all those monsters you hunted.”

His jaw clenched as I smirked, something heavy settling over my chest. Was it satisfaction? Then why did I not feel any pride gazing upon him? Wasn’t I supposed to feel smug and fulfilled that my creation was right in front of me? A successful transition was rare, sometimes the venom destroyed the human if they were too weak physically or mentally. I hadn’t even stuck around to make sure Yunho would indeed transform into a vampire, I wasn’t interested enough to see it to the end. The thought of knowing that I had made him suffer as much as I had suffered upon the loss of my sister was enough…it was everything I needed. So, seeing him now, the same body and soul I had drained the life from, why wasn’t I over the moon to know he had made it? That he was punished and living the nightmare I had trapped him inside of.

The shouting voices outside the room snapped me into action, I was a doctor first and foremost here, and he was my patient. I would’ve loved watching his blood dry out of his body as I made his bullet wound worse, but I would have lost everything I had built so far. Besides, he was a vampire, that wouldn’t kill him. I grabbed the hem of his leather jacket, intending to yank it off him, but suddenly long fingers were wrapped around my wrist.

“What are you doing?” Yunho hissed, his one eye narrowing suspiciously. I paused and raised an eyebrow.

“Patching you up, since I’m a Doctor…” I trailed off, letting it hang in the air as Yunho scoffed, his grip tightening around my wrist. It didn’t hurt, but it would’ve crushed my bone if I was a human, “Why are you bleeding? Vampires don’t bleed like this.”

But Yunho didn’t answer, he just pushed off the bed, towering over me. Any vampire hunter coven would’ve scrambled to have Yunho with them, he was practically designed to be one. Intimidatingly tall with a strong build, able to hunt and good at combat. He was fierce and fast, he was so quiet even the vampires failed to hear him coming. The serum his coven had forced him to drink only enhanced his skills, making him stronger and quicker than a human was supposed to be. He bled like any other one but his wounds healed faster, his grip was of iron, able to snap anyone’s neck in two. I wasn’t scared of him, not now, not back then. I had taken care of him once and showed him that he wasn’t untouchable nor undestroyable like he was made to believe. The pure rage I had felt back then was nothing but a simmer now, but it only needed a little timber to set it off once again, destroying anything in its path.

“I’m like this because of you.” Yunho was breathing hard as he grabbed my arm with his other hand, gripping it a bit too forcefully. I didn’t flinch as I stared up at him, trying to keep my satisfied smirk at bay. Provoking an irate vampire was never smart, especially not a stronger and bigger one, “I’ve been looking for you, Y/N, and I’m going to destroy you now that I’ve found you. You and your coven too.”

I chuckled cynically, grabbing his wrist to squeeze it until his hand turned blue from the loss of circulation, “Oh, really, now? Is that all you’ve got? An empty little threat? I’m so—”

But I never got to finish my taunting as I was flung into the nearest wall, the breath knocked from my lungs as I collided with the strong surface. I caught myself quickly, though, and looked at Yunho unimpressed. Was this the best he got? He had done more damage as a human compared to this.

“That’s not how you treat your doctor, Yunho, should I sedate you?” The brush of wind touched my cheek as Yunho stood in front of me once again, perhaps impressively fast. I smiled at him, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “Why don’t you sit down and—”

I gasped as my airways were constricted by a choking grip, the back of my head colliding with the wall as Yunho threw me up against it again, his fingers locked around my throat in a vice-like grip. My jaw clenched as I hissed at him, kneeling him in the groin. If this is how he wanted to play, I was going to give it to him. I kicked him in the stomach, sending him stumbling back as his eye narrowed again, darkness settling over it. I chuckled and ran towards him, throwing a punch that he easily dodged, but not so much the knee in his gut that had him groaning and hunching over. I chuckled and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back as he glared at me, “When will you learn that you can’t defeat me?”

Instead of an answer, an elbow came up and knocked my head back by the chin, making me bite my tongue painfully so. I hissed as my fangs poked past my bottom lips, letting Yunho know that I was triggered. Before I could get it back under control together with the fire in the pit of my stomach, he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me over to the medical table, grabbing the first thing he could…which was a scalpel that he held dangerously close to my eye.

“When will you stop underestimating me?” Yunho growled, and I tried to yank my head away, hands gripping the edge of the table, as one wrong move would have the scalpel in my eyeball, “I’m not a human anymore, Y/N.”

Before I could answer, the rattling of the door caught both of our attention. I sucked in a deep breath as the door started opening, Yeosang’s heartbeat pattern already familiar, “Doctor, I’m—”

But thankfully someone called his name out before he could pull the door open, “Gosh, okay—I’ll be with you in a second, Doctor Bae!”

“Who’s that little weasel?” Yunho leaned down, his hot breath hitting the side of my cheek, “Your little blood bag?”

“Watch your mouth.” I hissed and braced myself on the table as I forcefully yanked myself away and out of Yunho’s grip, kicking the back of his knees, and making him buckle forward. He was still holding the scalpel, so I yanked it out of his hand and held it to his neck as I yanked on his hair, “He’s a nurse, leave him alone.”

Yunho chuckled, grabbing my wrist and twisting it until I yelped, having to release him. He wasn’t even phased by the sharp knife cutting into his neck, fresh blood dribbling down his neck. His scent was sweet, almost intoxicating as my mouth started salivating. But I had no time to waste as Yunho twisted around, rising to his full height, grabbing me, only to fling me into the wall on the other side of the room. The door rattled as my body collided against it and a sharp pain shot up my spine, leaving me breathless as I lay on the floor, holding myself up by my arms.

“Did the modern age make you weak, Y/N?” Yunho taunted, his lips pulled into a vile sneer as he stalked towards me. I chuckled, brushing the hair out of my eyes as I looked up at him. Before I could answer, however, the door started opening again.

“Doctor, I—” I was up in a second, pushing the door closed and keeping it shut despite Yeosang’s struggle to open it.

“Get me gauze!” I called out, watching Yunho as he hadn’t stopped advancing towards me, “From my office!”

“But that’s too—”

“Now, Yeosang!” I shouted as Yunho snickered, grabbing me by my skull and squeezing. It wasn’t enough to crush it, but I winced as I tried to kneel him in the groin again, but he was smarter this time and knocked my leg almost out from underneath me with his. Then, very predictably, I was once again flung across the room, crashing into the machines and utility metal desk, a pained groan leaving my mouth as my side started throbbing.

“Doctor Bae?” Yeosang sounded alarmed as I heard his footsteps come closer once again, “Is everything—”

“Yes! Get me that gauze, now!” I shouted again, standing up and throwing Yunho a glare. I’ve had enough. I gritted my teeth as he chuckled, stalking towards me, no doubt wanting to throw me against another wall again. The room already looked like a mess, I couldn’t let him break even more expensive equipment. So, when he was close enough, I moved behind him before he could catch me, grabbing him by the hair and yanking as hard as I could as I veered him towards the examination table. I pressed his head against the cold metal and leaned forward, eyes set on the silver cutter I kept there for emergencies like this one. Yunho was trashing around like a wild animal in my hold, and I had to strain my muscles and use all the strength I had to keep him put with my body, but he thankfully went lax when the silver touched his cheek.

“You are done, do you hear me?” I hissed close to his ear, anger seeping into my voice, “I will not let you walk into my workplace and act like an animal. If you wish to kill me, fine, you can have your way outside the hospital.”

“A vampire having a conscience?” Yunho huffed, relaxing in my hold as I pressed the silver cutter deeper into his cheek to make a point.

“Times have changed, Yunho, but don’t think I have forgotten what you did.” I hissed and he shouldered me, making me step back, my grip falling from his hair. As he whirled around to face me, his face was red, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I didn’t drop the silver cutter even though it had started burning my skin too. It seems like Yunho didn’t take his time to train himself with silver, the cutter had left an angry red mark on his cheek.

“Oh, I’m glad you haven’t forgotten, Y/N.” He smirked, my stomach dropping, hatred blinding my mind, “I just regret not making it more painful for her, I wonder how much torture she could’ve taken before—”

The slap echoed in the trashed room as my chest fell and rose rapidly, my hands trembling as I tried to push the vision of Yeri’s numb body out of my mind. If I lost control in the hospital, everything would be compromised. We wouldn’t be able to just leave. I couldn’t let Yunho’s presence and words shake me up so hard, I was his creator and he’d never be able to dominate me…it’s not how things worked. Yunho slowly turned his head, glaring at me fiercely as he suddenly grabbed his side, wincing in pain. The black fabric was soft in my hand, and as I looked back up at his face, I realised I had yanked the eye patch off his face, now two round, but sharp eyes staring back at me. The eye that he had concealed looked normal, without any faults, until I looked closer. I still remember what Yunho’s human eyes looked like. They were a rich brown almost like dark chocolate, warm and deep, it was easy to get lost in them. And the concealed eye had remained the same as if his humanity had refused to let go of him. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to recall having come across something like this before, but I came up empty-handed. Was he a vampire? Or was he a human?

“What are you?” I whispered, eyebrows furrowing as fresh blood oozed out of Yunho’s bullet wound.

“The monster you had created.” He hissed, his fangs suddenly flashing as he opened his mouth, his reddish eye bright under the white fluorescent light. But his heart continued to beat and his blood continued to flow, his brown eye odd against all the anomalies of his being. Before I could patch him up, however, he whirled around and stumbled towards the door, having me race after him.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t need your help, I can heal just like you.”

And then the door was pulled open forcefully, rattling under Yunho’s strength. Yeosang was in the doorway, hand outstretched, and his eyes widened as he looked up at Yunho, then at me, confusion slowly overtaking his expression as he looked past us, and inside the examination room. The gauze I had asked for was in his hands, but he seemed lost for words.

“What—what happened?” He asked quietly, coming to Yunho’s aid when he stumbled forward, trying to leave the room. Before he could speak up and say anything, I chuckled and walked back inside the room, trying to tidy up the mess we had created.

“He’s a bit dizzy so he stumbled and fell.” Yeosang looked more confused as he held Yunho up, who was becoming paler by the second, “Don’t worry, he’s okay.”

“He doesn’t look okay, though,” Yeosang muttered and veered Yunho back inside the examination room.

“Just bring me water.” Yunho croaked out as he finally lay on the table, wincing as he tried to get rid of his leather jacket. Yeosang nodded and hurried towards the bottle of water, grabbing a clean cup for Yunho.

“Now stay silent and let me fix you.” I hissed under my breath as I tore his tee apart, eyebrows furrowing at the many scars littered across his abdomen. The first bullet had grazed his ribs and the other one was ledged in an otherwise life-threatening spot, but Yunho would be fine once I had extracted it. I made sure Yeosang didn’t see the second bullet as he handed Yunho his water, eyes sweeping over the room.

“I’ll try and fix up this place,” He muttered under his breath, giving me a questioning gaze. I nodded before I looked back at Yunho, who had started sweating. So much for playing the tough guy, he couldn’t even fix his problem without my help. But I didn’t forget what he had done to Yeri, and he wasn’t safe from the coven. They would hear about this, and I’d find out what caused him to turn into this half-looking human and vampire.

The end of my shift came with the orange sun brimming the horizon. The hospital was relatively calm once the police department left, and because we had to keep up the appearances, Yunho was advised to return in a few days to get his stitches checked. I hadn’t actually stitched him up since his body was already healing by the time the bullet was out, but nobody had to know that. One look from him told me I wouldn’t return to my coven if any human found out about his true nature. It was ironic, wasn’t it? Having to hide amongst the creatures you once used to be, used to love and cherish. Now, there was no resemblance to the human he had once been, just the pure darkness of the creature he had succumbed to. I recognised the look in his eyes, I had stared at it many times in the mirror in the past, but for someone so desperate to preserve their humanity, it was disarming to see none of it left in him.

The sounds of the busy road became white noise as I got off the highway, the dirt road leading me far away from the lively city and deeper into the forest. A typical location for a vampire coven’s mansion, but it’s what worked best for us. Nobody bothered us here, and we didn’t bother others either…well, except for the few neighbours who shared our wish for solitude. But the houses were far paced out, we rarely saw each other. If the elderly couple had already died, I wouldn’t be able to tell…except that the light was on outside their porch, and the man was having his first cup of coffee for the day ahead of him. He raised the mug in a greeting and I made sure to wave at him, wondering when was the last time I did a wellness check on them. They had no family to take care of them, so, out of generosity, I would visit them every few months to make sure they were as healthy as possible.

The mansion came in sight as I drove towards the driveway, four garage doors hiding our other luxury vehicles. I was never one to show off our unlimited wealth, but our leader had an eye for collectable pieces and wasn’t shy to parade around the city with them. I parked just to the side and took a deep breath, closing my eyes as the car’s engine was killed, utter silence wrapping around me. I smelled like the sanitiser from the hospital, and my white boots were dirty from Yeosang accidentally stepping on them in his rush to help other officers once Yunho was taken care of. My wrists ached from having typed on the computer numerous patients data, but my skin was cold and smooth. I didn’t have to worry about growing bloodthirsty, not for another week. The fridge inside the mansion was stuffed with blood bags, so making up another lie as to why I’d have to check on the blood donors again wasn’t necessary for a good month. I had a feeling Yeosang was growing suspicious of me, he’s been by my side for four years, and without undermining his intelligence, I doubted he’d ever figure out I was a vampire. There were few clues he could catch onto, and he’s seen me in the daylight, so he couldn’t actually blame it on the fact that I only took night shifts…if it came down to that and I didn’t know better, I could also say he was a vampire too since he only took night shifts as well.

I flinched when I felt warmth on my face, and I blinked my eyes open, staring into the blinding rays of the rising sun. Another day had come, a new beginning for humans, and the moment to retreat for the monsters. I wondered if Yunho was capable of walking in the sun without feeling fatigued or nauseous, I wondered if he fed on blood or food like humans, and I wondered…why he was back just now. Was it sheer coincidence we had run into each other once again? Or was it the bond that connected us, somehow always leading us to each other in the end? I sighed and grabbed my purse and keys, getting out of the car and shivering at the cool breeze of the morning. Summer was a few months away, half of my coven might leave for the time being and retreat to colder places, but I couldn’t. I had a job and a life outside of being a vampire, I knew Yeosang would ask questions if I just up and left. In fact, I was more than sure he’d try to follow me. We had gone to a team dinner a long time ago, and in his drunken stupor, he had confessed that he’d follow me to the ends of the Earth because he trusted my judgment and expertise. Perhaps it was that moment which made me adore the frail human, wanting to make sure he was safe from other creatures like myself.

I locked the car and headed for the front entrance, listening to the gravel crunch underneath my boots. I could use my vampire speed, but there was something in me that wanted to enjoy the mundane things today. It’s not like I could shut off my powers and heightened senses, but I had control over them, and it came in handy quite often. If not because I had to appear human around the humans, then for all the things that went down inside the mansion. Fifteen people weren’t little nor much, but they each had needs and cravings that I honestly found no joy in overhearing anymore. Over two hundred years of housing together did that to you. For once, the mansion was silent as I entered it, locking the door after me since I knew nobody would leave the house until twilight. The property we lived on was huge, the mansion was probably capable of housing up to thirty people. I had no idea how our leader had found it, nor how she managed to convince the realtor to let us have it, but it was luxurious and somehow comfy still, I liked it. It looked a lot like those Pinterest vision boards I did for myself about a hypothetical small apartment in the heart of the city. I could leave the mansion, and step out of the motherly arms of the coven, but it wasn’t that easy.

They depended on me and I needed them. All my life, the vampire one at least, they were the closest thing to a family, they were the only constant in my life. I grew and learned with them and from them, they forgave my mistakes and rarely punished me, but maybe that was because they didn’t know what I had done all those years ago, in 1822. Nobody knew about Yunho anymore, the feared vampire hunter had just disappeared one day and his own coven had gone to war with ours, only to massively lose against us. Our coven had been bigger back then, some perished and others decided it was time to move on, but those who had a deep sense of loyalty and craved to belong somewhere were still here. I headed for the marble stairs, the interior just a tad bit colder than outside, my footsteps loud as I followed the stairs to the third floor, where most of our rooms were. We had maids and a few butlers, but that was only because our leader preferred blood fresh from the source, and to be honest, we were too lazy to keep the whole mansion clean, so we needed a little bit of help. The closer I got to my room, the more my stomach twisted with nerves and uncertainty. I couldn’t keep Yunho a secret anymore, not when he was so close to us and a very potent threat. I could tell he still hated our kind, and I knew just because he was one of us now didn’t stop him from wanting to kill us. And because he was a cop now, he could easily get rid of the coven without anyone raising any suspicions. I wished this was only about our safety, but his existence could be my sister’s salvation.

Knowing that the wisest thing to do now was let our leader know about Jeong Yunho, I stopped in front of her door and took a deep breath, telling myself that facing punishment was good if it meant Yeri could see another break of dawn. I raised my hand and knocked against Joohyun’s door, three times in the pattern that told her I was calling for a meeting, then hurried to my room to get rid of my things. I had left my gown at the hospital, but as I walked inside my en-suite bathroom, the stench of the disinfectant was sickening, so I quickly splashed water over my face and scrubbed my hands until they were raw. I pulled my hair in a low ponytail and changed out of my tight black blouse in exchange for a comfortable sweater that felt like a shield around my body once Joohyun’s sharp eyes were to stare me down. I knew I had to do this, it was for my sister. So, I left my room and hurried towards the meeting room, one floor below, not bothering to knock since I knew everyone who needed to be inside was already there. The heavy door opened easily under my hands, giving way to the dimly lit room with a long table in the middle. The floors and walls were covered in pure marble, glimmering in the yellowy light as I eyed the vampires sitting scarcely around the table.

Sooyoung, who was our financial advisor, looked like she had just been awakened, and I knew I’d get an earful for not letting her have her beauty sleep. Seungwan, who looked bored as her sharp nails clicked against the wooden table was busy sketching in her notebook, her hair a mess, and I wondered when was the last time she had gone to sleep. She was a renowned artist, and speculations were going around the internet that she was the reincarnation of a princess living in the 17th hundreds, her current photos compared to the paintings made of the princess. It didn’t take two to guess whether she was a reincarnation or not, those inside the coven knew the truth. Then Seulgi, who was glaring at me annoyed, didn’t even bother sitting down, her arms crossed over her chest. I wondered if she had ever come across Jeong Yunho without knowing his identity, she was the head chief of the police. She was probably supposed to head in right now and I was keeping her back, maybe that’s why she was so annoyed. Lastly, our leader, Joohyun, sat at the head of the table, expression gentle as her arms rested on the massive chair’s armrest. She looked tiny in that big chair, but then again, she had always been tiny.

“Will you explain why you’ve evoked us here?” Seulgi snapped, her annoyance spilling into her tone as I gulped, advancing further inside the room. Behind Joohyun, a thinly veiled curtain served as a divider. What was beyond it would’ve made my heart race in nervousness, the lump in my throat choking if I allowed myself to miss my sister too much.

“Sit down, Seulgi,” Joohyun muttered, still only looking at me, “You will give me a headache if you keep pacing around, your job isn’t more important than a council meeting.”

That seemed to get Seulgi to tense up, but she couldn’t say anything against Joohyun, so she took her seat close to hers, crossing a leg over the other as well as her arms across her chest. I gulped and stood at the other end of the table, gaining Seungwan’s attention as well as she stopped doodling. Sooyoung was more awake now, easily able to notice my hesitance since she had always been a good observer.

“You did something, didn’t you?” Sooyoung asked, narrowing her eyes in disdain. Joohyun raised her hand to silence everyone, looking around the room before she leaned forward, her long black hair silky and straight as it fell to her hips.

“Let her speak,” She snapped, raising an eyebrow, “Why did you invoke the council, Y/N?”

It was now or never; I couldn’t back out anymore. I licked my lips and pictured myself speaking to my boss, who was an old man, borderline insane but still an exceptional doctor. If I imagined I was speaking to him, who rivalled Joohyun’s sharp features, the words came a bit easier to speak. I lowered my eyes to the table and decided to tell them where it all started, “After Yeri was killed, I was on a rampage to find the hunter who had done that to her. It took me three years, but I found him, he was a Jeong, from the Jung hunter coven, and he was their most prised soldier. His name is Jeong Yunho, and he…he’s still alive. After I found him, I planned on killing him, but he said things that angered me and I didn’t go through with it, I bit him a second time and…left.”

“You left?” It was Seungwan asking, her eyebrows furrowed, her tone alarmed.

“Is this why that fucking vampire-hunting coven attacked us?” Sooyoung snapped, her sharp eyes burning into the side of my head as she stood up revolted.

“Enough, let her continue!” Joohyun snapped, and everyone settled back down as I pursed my lips, reluctantly looking up at Joohyun. Her expression gave nothing away, but she had one hand fisted and it was enough to tell me I was in trouble, big time.

“Yes, I left him there, and yes, that’s why the coven attacked us,” I admitted shamefully, even after all the time that had passed, I haven’t stopped feeling guilty for the loss I caused, but it was only fair. He had taken Yeri from us, I took him from the Jung’s.

“I’m just impressed you managed to take Jeong down,” Seulgi muttered, ignoring Joohyun’s sharp glare for interrupting me, “But I suppose something happened, otherwise you wouldn’t have admitted to trying to kill him.”

And she was right, I nodded a bit embarrassed, “Yeah, he’s…alive. And a vampire, but not really, I—it’s difficult to explain. When I bit him a second time, I knew he’d become a vampire but I didn’t stay there until the transformation went fully through, I felt the bond between us spark to life and ran off. Humans were also coming inside the forest for some reason, I couldn’t let them see me. But he’s back, and he’s not fully a vampire. He came in tonight with a bullet shot, he’s a cop, and his heart is still beating. He bleeds like humans and he doesn’t heal as fast as vampires, but he’s inhumanely strong and fast, and his eyes…one is crimson and the other brown. But he’s still youthful, he looks the same as back then, and he hasn’t aged one bit. He is a vampire, but he’s somehow also a human, and I…I don’t know. I made a mistake, and I have to fix it before it gets bad.”

“Yeah, you better.” Sooyoung snapped, her face red from anger, “If I knew you’d be this daft, I would’ve never transformed you.”

“I didn’t ask to be transformed!” I snapped, turning sharply to glare at Sooyoung, who deflated in her seat and looked away, “None of us did, Sooyoung, Yunho is the only one I transformed besides Yeri.”

A deafening silence settled over the room, however, it didn’t last long as Seulgi was swiping on her phone rapidly, her eyebrows more and more furrowed as seconds passed by, “You don’t mean this Jeong Yunho, do you?”

I gulped as she turned her phone, showing me his profile, his information written in small letters right underneath his picture, “That’s him.”

“He’s in my division, way too small to come in contact with me.” Seulgi muttered, turning her phone to look at it as Joohyun motioned to be handed the phone too, “He’s been an officer for six years, always gets the most brutal crime scenes, and does some private investigation from time to time. He’s also great undercover and refuses to work with partners, he’s quite promising, I cannot lie. A few other officers have been fighting over him to get him in their team, but he refuses them and says he wants to stay in my division. Do you think he knows who I am?”

“I doubt it,” I shook my head, pulling out the chair to sit down, “Unless he’s kept in contact with the Jung’s, who know our faces.”

“He hasn’t,” Joohyun spoke up, still staring at the photo, “The coven would’ve long killed him, it’s impossible he’s still in contact with them. But if he’s operating on his own, he’s a greater danger than the coven itself, he’s a rogue and they are dangerous. It’s good you told us, Y/N, even if he’s the fruit of your mistake, getting rid of him now is better than never.”

“We can’t get rid of him.” I whispered, but they all heard me as my eyes went past Joohyun, falling on the divider, “Not yet.”

“Why?” Seungwan asked confused, looking towards the divider as well, her eyes solemn as she stared longingly at it. Yeri was beyond the veil, I hoped she could hear us, hear me that I hadn’t given up on her, not now and not ever. If this didn’t work, I’d find another way to bring her back from her eternal slumber. I was a doctor, medicine was evolving in ways one could only dream about back in our days, I’d find a miracle and make her live again if I had to.

“There’s an ancient tale,” I gulped nervously, Joohyun’s eyes narrowed as the other three girls watched me closely, “That says if a vampire is placed in eternal slumber, their essence isn’t lost yet. We can save Yeri if we find her hunter and feed her their blood…the hunter who had tried to kill her was Yunho, and he’s here.”

“But he’s a vampire,” Joohyun spoke, finality to her tone as if she thought I was insane for bringing this tale up, “And the hunter needs to be human in order to bring the fallen vampire back, the blood needs to be fresh and untainted, which you had made sure isn’t anymore.”

“He is human, Joohyun!” I exclaimed, feeling desperation crawl up my chest, “Half human, but it’s still there. He could be useful, we could try at least. The tale doesn’t say anything will happen to the vampire if the ritual fails, no?”

Joohyun pursed her lips, glancing at Seulgi who looked uncertain, “Giving away our location and identities is very risky, Y/N. Even if nothing happens to Yeri if the ritual fails, we will suffer. Sure, he isn’t in contact with his coven anymore, but if you say his strength can rival ours, he’s a threat. I cannot risk exposing my whole coven to something like that, it’s enough that he knows you still exist. He’s too close to us, get rid of him before I interfere.”

I opened my mouth, ready to plead, but surprisingly, Sooyoung beat me to it, “It’s about Yeri, don’t you miss her too? I want to hear her joyful laughter again and look into her soulful eyes, our coven has been so cold ever since she died…and if we have such a high chance of bringing her back, why should we waste it, Joohyun? We could kill Yunho anytime, I can do it if nobody else wants to, I’ve taken men down twice his size and strength, I’m not afraid.”

“This isn’t about who’s afraid and who’s got more ego, Sooyoung!” Joohyun snapped, slamming her palm on the table. Seungwan jumped and looked down, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Everyone wants something, Joohyun,” She spoke up quietly, playing with her fingers, “He must want something too, maybe he’s looking for someone, maybe he wants to kill someone, if we find out what he wants, we could blackmail him into helping us. Think about it…”

“She’s not wrong,” Seulgi muttered under her breath, swiping left a call that seemed important by her exasperated sigh. Silence settled over our group as everyone looked at Joohyun, awaiting her final decision. She didn’t look pleased or trusting of our ideas, but I knew she missed Yeri just as much as the rest of us. She was my sister, but she was everyone else’s sister too. She was young when I had turned her in order to save her from sickness, she never really had the chance to grow up and become a woman, she was everyone’s little sister.

“Seulgi, find out everything about Jeong Yunho and bring the information to me in two days,” Joohyun’s tone was final, her jaw clenched. I tried to keep the smile off my face, but I was beyond ecstatic. Finally, we had a real chance of awakening Yeri, “Make sure the others don’t know much about this, especially not that he’s from the Jung coven and Y/N—he’s your responsibility. Keep an eye on him, find out more about his peculiar condition, and bring him to me when I say so. Everyone is dismissed.”

We stood at once, but I didn’t leave the room like the others, my feet carried me towards the thin veil. I pulled the curtain to the side and proceeded further inside, eyes falling on the altar that allowed Yeri’s body to rest upon. Her body was placed on silky cushions, a thin blanket pulled over her body to keep her warm despite her not needing it. I took a deep breath and neared her, staring down at her frail skin, with no wrinkles or blemishes on her face as her eyes remained closed. Her chest fell and rose, a dark splinter still in her, close to her heart, from where Yunho had attacked her. Her wavy blonde hair was faded and her lips were a light pink, making her look closer to a corpse than a living being. She was sicklier than even a vampire. I gulped and gingerly traced my fingers over her eyes, wishing to see the flutter and open, their familiar crimson just a distant memory.

“We’ll meet soon, Yeri, I promise,” I whispered and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, hoping she could feel it and hear my words too. She was beautiful, her white dress spilling off the altar as I committed her serene face to memory once again, then turned, my mind set to find Jeong Yunho and make him pay one last time.

In all my six years of working at the hospital, I hadn’t bothered taking any days off . There was no reason for me to go on a vacation, I had already seen most of the world. Besides, I didn’t tire like humans, so really, there was no need for me to take days off. Besides, I felt it was my duty to be at the disposal of those humans that needed me. So, when I called in and told my boss that I would like to take the night off since a family emergency had come up, he was rather surprised but mostly happy. He even added that I should take off another day or two and have a quick relaxing trip while I was at that. If I thought more of it, I might take him up on his offer, but not to go on a relaxing trip…but to bring back my fallen sister. Yeosang, however, was less enthusiastic about my sudden absence.

“Wait, what do you mean something came up?” I could hear the confusion through the phone as I walked down the dimly lit streets, water splashing against my boots since it had rained not long ago. I hated the muddy smell of the earth after the rain, and especially all the worms that sought refuge above ground.

“Well, exactly that, Yeosang.” I answered amused, glaring at a drunken couple that was ready to fuck by the wall of a building on a rather busy street, even at this ungodly hour, “One of my family member’s dog died and…I need to attend the funeral.”

I hoped I didn’t jinx it, Sooyoung would have my head if anything happened to her lovely Bishon Maltez, Haetnimie. Yeosang paused, releasing a long sigh, then hummed, probably feeling bored all alone in my office. It was past midnight, so he must’ve already had his meal for the night, “I’m sorry to hear that, my condolences.”

“Yup, I will let her know,” I muttered half-heartedly, eyebrows furrowing when my eyes zeroed in on the neon sign above the door Yunho was just about to enter. Two days ago, Seulgi placed a heavy folder in front of Joohyun with all the necessary information about Jeong Yunho, and now, I was tasked with following him and finding out more about his ‘mundane’ life since there were very few records about it. He was rather good at keeping low-key, it was annoying. Not even the trace of a money transfer, I wondered how he did it. Thankfully to Seulgi, we still managed to get a basic background check on him, hence I knew his location now. His apartment was in a rather high-end part of the city, which was surprising since I thought he’d want to stay away from humans. He often bought beer after being finished with his shift and conversed with the old lady at the laundry mat, who lived in the less fancy apartment complex next to his. He also liked petting stray kittens, even if they hissed at him at first. I thought animals sensed evil, but then again…Sooyoung did own a dog too, and she was an angel, liked everyone but Baekhyun who would bark back at her.

“Hey, I’ll talk to you later, Yeosang,” I said as the bouncer let Yunho inside the nightclub, spiking my curiosity. Was he really here to admire some pretty ladies? Is this how he fed? A bit perverted and sadistic, but I couldn’t judge him too hard, “Have an easy shift.”

“Thank you,” Yeosang muttered, and I figured he was pouting since our conversation was short cut, “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Old habits die hard.” I chuckled before hanging up, then cut the line and smiled at the bouncer charmingly. He eyed me up and down, not budging. Great, of course, he’d let Yunho in without a blink, but not a fine lady wanting to enjoy some other fine ladies.

“Are only men allowed inside?” I raised an eyebrow, rolling my shoulders back. I wasn’t too muscular or too small, but I looked far from threatening still. Unless I showed my fangs, of course, “Thought the pretty ladies were for everyone to enjoy.”

I flashed him a hefty bill from my pocket, and the bouncer coughed and looked towards the line, pursing his lips. He glanced at the bill before he nodded, knocking on the door. It opened swiftly and I flashed the bouncer a charming smile before I slipped inside, making sure the bill landed in his opened palm without anyone seeing. And just like that, my eardrums were overwhelmed with loud thudding music. I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, willing myself to acclimate to the sudden change. The blinding lights made my eyes water and my head ached from the much too loud noise, the sweaty bodies making my skin itchy, but I willed my mind to focus on finding Jeong Yunho again. I knew he was in here somewhere, but I needed to find him to observe him more, learn his patterns to know how to lure him into my trap. I had done it once, I could do it twice. I didn’t need Sooyoung to interfere like she so much wished to do, I was grateful Joohyun knew that and told her to prepare herself for the ritual, instead.

The club wasn’t exactly like I had expected it to be, the dance floor was filled to the brim with raunchy dressed people, drunk or high out of their minds. The pretty ladies performing were there too, trapped in glass cages, their makeup sparkly and their dresses skimpy as they danced provocatively, prompting even more lustful eyes to watch them. A few bills were caught in their bras or the string of their visible thongs, and men were desperately throwing even more at them. Turning my head away from the sight, I looked towards the bar, hoping to find Yunho there, but it was almost as if he had vanished. Finding a tall and hunky man like him shouldn’t have been so hard, not with his dark blue hair and the distinctive long leather coat he was wearing tonight. Not giving up just yet, I ventured further inside the club, scooping out the place, trying to locate the restrooms…maybe he had gone there. I felt someone slap my ass and my irritancy instantly flared as I whirled around, crimson eyes burning into hazed ones. The man wasn’t ugly, but he was too drunk to know where he was, and he had touched me without consent. He tried staggering towards me, but I stopped him before he could, hissing at him, my fangs showing. Even a drunk man knew to stay away, and after he raised his hands in surrender he stumbled away, already finding his next victim.

I scoffed under my breath and walked away from the overcrowded dance floor, eyes narrowing when I realised there was a narrow corridor right by the restrooms. And just like that, Yunho was back in my sight as he appeared out of nowhere, rounding the corner and hurrying down the hallway. I followed after him, hastening my pace to keep up with his long strides, and felt a little hesitant when I saw two big-looking bodyguards blocking the middle of the hallway. They didn’t stop Yunho, though, so I hoped they wouldn’t stop me either. I clenched my jaw and held my head high, making sure to not look them in the eyes as I neared them. If they were to stop me, I would just knock them out. I knew I was too close to Yunho, that he might’ve already noticed my presence, but there were no signs he had, so I continued with my pursuit once the bodyguards didn’t even as much as glanced down at me. The walls were blood red, and Yunho had long rounded the corner to the right, disappearing to somewhere else. The music from the rowdy club was just a dull sound now, and something lower and much slower flooded the corridor as I came closer and closer to the corner. Then, as if I had been teleported to another dimension, this room was bigger and less filled with people.

The lights were dim and burgundy, coating everything and everyone in a reddish haze. The people in here were also fancily dressed, sitting around huge tables, bottle girls in their laps or walking up to their tables with fresh champagne. The sight was jarring, but I played it off as I looked for Yunho again, who was at the bar now. He was leaning over it and speaking to the barman, who was smirking at him while checking Yunho out repeatedly. Yeah, anyone with a good pair of eyes would appreciate his looks, especially his innocent face when his eyes were filled with darkness and danger. I gulped and walked to the very end of the bar, where a man was already sitting and could cover me from Yunho’s eyes with his large body. I wasn’t here to get anything, but I suppose I would’ve looked suspicious, so I flagged down another barman and asked for a Hugo. The man I decided to sit next to glanced at me a few times from the corner of his eyes, but I kept looking straight ahead so he wouldn’t try and speak to me.

The Hugo was delicious as I sipped on it, turning around in my seat to further observe the room. The women dancing in here mostly lacked their bras, and a few guys who were placed in glass cages wore nothing but jockstraps. Yunho, who had migrated from the bar, was now speaking to someone sitting by a large table, surrounded by men in suits and women in tight body dresses. Yunho didn’t sit down, his eyebrows were furrowed as he stared down at the man smirking at him, pointing towards a young-looking guy in the glass cage. I looked at the boy and wondered how old he was, his ankles were wobbly as he danced in his heels, his chest red and eyes mostly cast down. I wondered if he needed a way out and if I could provide it to him. My thoughts, however, quickly returned to Yunho as his body tensed, eyes turning into slits as the man he was talking to laughed loudly. I took a sip of my drink and watched as Yunho’s hand balled up into a fist, his arms shaking. Would a massacre occur now? Or was he strong enough to withhold his anger? I watched with excitement licking up my stomach, suddenly realising that I was watching my creation.

And he was a fine piece at that, visually, it would be even more satisfying if he was a strong-willed vampire as well. My suspicions were confirmed when Yunho took a step back, nodding his head stiffly and stalking off. I finished my drink when I realised there were multiple corridors leading to who knows where, and Yunho was headed down a brighter one. The light was distracting as it flashed over my head, my footsteps louder than I would’ve liked them despite the music playing in the main room. Yunho was ahead one second, and then the next second my back was digging into the hard wall, my airways restricted as Yunho’s large hand wrapped around my neck, squeezing mercilessly.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He hissed under his breath, jaw clenching even more. I could practically hear his teeth gritting together, it was a jarring sound. I couldn’t speak with how strongly he was squeezing my neck, so I opened my lips and grabbed his wrist, trying to make a sound to no avail. His grip loosened just enough to let me speak as he towered over me with his menacing height.

“What?” I chuckled, my throat a bit scrappy despite the drink I had just minutes ago, “Can’t a woman enjoy a place like this one? The girls are rather pretty—”

“Bullshit.” Yunho hissed, suddenly pulling himself away from me as he glared at me. I smiled, adjusting the collar of my black shirt, pretending that I was then dusting off the corset I decided to wear tonight. Yunho didn’t say anything else, but suddenly, he took off back towards the main room, me hotly following after him. Well, since I had been already discovered, there was no reason for me to pretend I wasn’t here. Maybe if I talked to him, I could get more information out of him.

“Where are you going?” I called after him as Yunho hurried back down the corridor, walking too fast but not that it looked unnatural to the human eye. He didn’t answer, obviously, so I just followed after him. I felt eyes on us as we stormed through the main room, and Yunho came to an abrupt halt when the man he had been speaking to suddenly raised an arm, his head tilted as he was looking me up and down curiously.

“Brought a snack for me?” My eyebrows furrowed as I turned to look at the man, ready to lash out or even bare my fangs at him, but I realised he was human. What an odd thing to say, then. Too focused on the man, I didn’t notice Yunho stepping closer to me, nor did I realise he grabbed me until he was squeezing my bicep so hard I almost whimpered. I know we were vampires and our pain tolerance was higher, but he could be a bit gentler with me.

“Found her for myself, actually.” Yunho’s tone had completely changed from how he had spoken to me. It was velvety, dripping with cynicism yet honey at the same time. One glance down at me and his eyes narrowed slightly, “Mind if I don’t share her with you tonight?”

What was going on? Who were these people and why was Yunho hounding me like his life depended on it? Taking a deep breath, I realised his cologne was oozing off of him, dark and somehow sweet, nauseating for my sensitive nostrils.

“You’re quite quick, Jeong.” The man huffed, clearly displeased by Yunho’s words, but he chuckled and flicked his hand, turning his attention away from us. I looked up at Yunho questioningly, but he started pulling me after himself, his jaw clenched tight still. I had to sprint to keep up with him, and my arm was turning white from how hard he was squeezing me. But he didn’t slow down until we left the weird room as he pushed me towards the corridor that led us here. I stumbled before catching my footing and whirled around annoyed, glaring up at him as he stormed up to my face.

“Stop pushing and pulling me around, fucker.” I hissed, craning my neck back to glare into his eyes. Yunho huffed, an unamused grin settling on his lips as he tilted his head.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked, tone gravely as I smiled, trying to tone down my sudden anger.

“Clubbing, what else am I supposed to do here?” I raised an eyebrow, but Yunho didn’t seem to buy my explanation. I wouldn’t stand around here and let him manhandle me more, so, I turned to leave but as I rounded the corner, I was being held back by my nape, Yunho’s hot breath hitting my ear from behind.

“I know you’re lying to me,” He hissed, his grip tightening around my nape when I tried to brush his touch off, “Why were you following me all night long?”

I chuckled, staring at the backs of the bodyguards who seemed like mannequins since they weren’t moving at all, “What are you doing in a dodgy place like this one? At first, I figured you were just a pervert coming here to feed, but clearly, I don’t know enough about you. You are my second creation, and you turn out to be pitiful—”

I gasped as my back collided with the wall loudly, a sharp ache shooting up my shoulder blade. I glared at Yunho, pushing at his chest when he came towards me, but he didn’t budge too much. I didn’t try too hard either, so maybe that’s why.

“Shut your mouth,” Yunho growled, his face contorted in pure anger. I laughed, letting my head fall back against the wall as I watched Yunho, “You don’t know nothing.”

“Yeah?” I hummed, chewing on my bottom lip as I let my eyes take him in again, “I pride myself on having a good eye for beauty, but really…that broody personality of yours ruins it all, Yunho. A master would usually want to be proud of their offspring, but you are making me question my judgment all those years ago. I should have let you die, shouldn’t I?”

That seemed to hit a nerve as Yunho huffed through his nose, his neck flushing red. I smirked, raising my eyebrows to provoke him even more, but he was still practising self-restraint, so it wasn’t fun anymore. Deciding that I wanted to know more about this place, I continued, “Why are you here, Yunho? And what’s this club?”

He seemed to consider his answer for a second as he glanced towards the motionless bodyguards, I wondered why they weren’t reacting to our little fight. Maybe they just didn’t care, maybe couples fought all the time in these narrow corridors.

“I’m undercover.” Yunho barely but whispered, knowing that I would hear him, “So get the fuck out before you ruin the whole operation!”

I pursed my lips, looking left and right, slowly nodding my head, “Right, you’re a cop. Interesting choice for a career, you miss hunting, don’t you? Makes sense, I suppose—”

I was cut off as noise filled the corridor, coming from the red-light room. It was two men, conversing with each other, saying something about Yunho and…me. Yunho’s jaw clenched as he heard them too, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. He looked annoyed as he looked back at me. I blew his cover, the men were coming to get him. I suppose the man he had been talking to was the one he was after, and now I had probably ruined Yunho’s credibility to him. Not wanting to be captured for no reason, or for a bloodbath judging based on Yunho’s rapid heartbeat, I did what I thought was best for a distraction. Just as the two buff men rounded the corner, I slapped Yunho hard across the cheek, the sound echoing in the hallway. Even the two bodyguards glanced back before minding their own business again. Yunho’s eyes widened as he held his red cheek, slowly turning his head to look at me bewildered.

“I hate you!” I screamed shrilly and grabbed the collar of Yunho’s leather coat to yank him into myself, making him knock me back against into the wall since he lost his balance. His eyebrows furrowed for a second, but then I slammed my lips against his, our eyes stayed open as Yunho stiffened. The press of our lips was painful and Yunho had started pulling away, but my grip tightened on his leather coat as I pulled him even closer, my eyebrows furrowing as I subtly moved my eyes towards the frozen men sent to take care of us. It seemed like Yunho finally understood what I had in mind because his body relaxed a bit, large hands coming up to cup my cheeks strongly. His eyes slowly fluttered shut and so did mine as I pressed up on my tiptoes to kiss him better, letting him tilt my head back just a little bit. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, the opposite of my cold and smooth lips. The kiss was aggressive and lacked any warmth or pleasure as our lips smacked together painfully, but at least the two men sent to take care of us were slowly backing away.

My lips parted in a silent gasp when Yunho pressed me back up against the wall, licking into my mouth with little care as I grabbed the back of his head, fingers tangling into his smooth dyed hair. I yanked on the short strands as he sucked on my tongue, starting a burning fire in the pit of my stomach as I tried to keep the sounds threatening to leave my mouth down, eyebrows furrowing as a pleasurable feeling bloomed in my chest. I’ve kissed many before, but neither had felt so right and so fitting. Maybe it was because he was my creation, but the longer our mouths stayed glued together, the more clouded my mind became with his scent and beating warm heart. I could smell his blood pumping through his body, the veins on his hands bulging and a rich blue, his fingertips digging into my cheeks painfully. My fangs ached as he pressed his body against mine, keeping me caged between himself and the wall, my nerves on fire. If my heart would’ve been able to still beat, it would’ve been racing and flooding my cheeks with warmth, instead, it was my ears ringing and my stomach churning in unexpected want. Unable to hold back as Yunho’s tongue slid against mine, I grabbed his neck to keep him locked in place and swiftly sunk my fangs into his bottom lip. He let out a loud whine as fresh, rich-flavoured blood flooded my tastebuds, making my eyebrows furrow as I moaned.

The taste lingered on my tongue as Yunho pulled back with a loud gasp, his bottom lip slightly bloody as my jaw ached even more, my fangs yearning to sink into his smooth veins. I was breathing hard as Yunho kept me immobilised against the wall with his own body, his eyes shaking with anger. The men who had come to take care of Yunho had backed down, probably to report back to their boss.

“You’re human,” I whispered as I licked the remnant of Yunho’s blood off my lip, hands balling up into fists as I struggled to hold back from biting him again. He hadn’t been this sweet as a human when I had transformed him…or maybe I just hadn’t had blood from a living source in too long? That could affect how I reacted to fresh blood.

“I’m a monster.” Yunho looked disgusted as he forced the words out, his jaw clenched and face still close, “You did this to me.”

“Yeah, I did, but you’re not fully a vampire, are you?” I whispered, looking into his eyes once again, observing the crimson of one and the brownness of the other.

“It’s your fault.” Yunho hissed and I hummed, reaching forward to touch his chin, but he knocked my hand to the side with hatred written all over his face, “I will rip you to shreds if you cross my path ever again.”

I chuckled, “No, you won’t, because you can’t, Yunho.”

He licked his lips, tilting his head as he slowly leaned back close, lips ghosting over mine as I gulped, feeling something in me tremble at the proximity. I wanted his lips on mine again, my fangs in his skin and his blood on my tongue.

“If I can’t kill you, I’ll stake you like I staked Yeri.” My blood froze as I looked at Yunho with tense shoulders. His smile grew, looking smug and taunting, “Will you scream like she did? Beg for mercy and call for help? For your sisters like she had? Oh, what I would do just to see the light drain from your soulless eyes like hers had, slowly, teary, and shakingly, with your name dying on her lips.”

I prided myself on having great self-control, on knowing when to stay level-headed, and on not losing my head when provoked. But not even Yunho had expected the speed nor force I threw him against the wall with, both hands wrapped around his neck and squeezing until I could feel his muscles caving in underneath my skin. His eyes were bulging as he tried to claw at my hands, push me away and free himself, but my whole body was rooted in anger, wanting to take, to destroy, to avenge. I felt sick to my stomach as bile rose in my throat, my body shaking as Yunho tried to gasp for air, his eyes glossy, and I wanted to hear the snap of his bone, I wanted his head to roll to the side boneless, I needed his breath to freeze in his throat, his lungs never to function ever again. And I wanted to rip his still-beating heart out too, just for good measure. But wouldn’t that make me the monster he thought we were? The monster he had become? There was no light left in Yunho’s eyes, in his soul and heart, his body remained the same while he had lost his psyche. I felt tears stream down my cheeks, hot and burning, as I ripped myself away from Yunho, who started wheezing for air and fell to the floor in a ball, coughing and holding his neck. The bodyguards glanced back but didn’t do anything when I looked at them.

“If I can’t kill you, then Yeri will.” I gritted through my teeth, and with one last glance at him, I didn’t even care who saw me, I left the club in the blink of an eye, chest heaving as my head thumped, bile rising higher into my throat until I was forced to find a trashbin and double over it. Acid burned my throat as much as the tears in my eyes, but I willed myself to take a deep breath and relax my muscles. Yunho was still human, his blood and heart at least, so he would bring Yeri back. He would pay for what he did, and I’ll be there to watch his downfall.

We knew what—no, who—Yunho was after. The universe had mysterious ways of working. Perhaps it was his punishment for taking so many innocent lives, perhaps it was the curse I wished to put upon him when I found Yeri’s motionless body lying on the cold floor of Seungwan’s castle, right in the middle of a ball where she was supposed to find a suitor for herself. I sighed as my eyebrows furrowed, eyes staring down at the paperwork without seeing the words. The ER had been busy all night long, Yeosang and I had just caught a break, Kai and Jennie telling us they’d cover for us while we’d take a breather. I didn’t think I needed it until the brisk night air filled my lungs, Yeosang’s steady heartbeat a nice reminder that I was alive. He was silent until he excused himself to grab some much-needed coffee, asking if I’d like a cup too, much like always. The answer was always the same, no, thank you. Coffee was too bitter and didn’t help me stay alert, so I preferred not to drink it for appearance's sake. My phone pinged with a new message, and I was finally able to release a sigh of ease. Yunho was supposed to come in to check on his non-existent stitches, I had begged the head doctor all night long for him to appoint Yunho to me again, making up all sorts of far-fetched explanations.

“What’s got you thinking so deeply?” I flinched hearing Yeosang’s deep voice next to me, having failed to notice his approach. Yeah, I was too in my head if I couldn’t notice an approaching human.

“Life, I guess…” I muttered as I leaned over the railing, looking down at the ground. It wouldn’t be a high enough jump, not to me. Yeosang just hummed and mirrored me, taking slow sips of his warm coffee. It was very bitter based on its scent, I wondered how he could stomach it.

“Time flies by fast, doesn’t it?” Yeosang spoke quietly, his cup of coffee hanging over the railing, “One second you’re just a child, and then the next you’re supposed to make money and look out for yourself in a world that mostly isn’t fair.”

Humans had different issues than us, I glanced at Yeosang and saw his eyebrows furrowed deeply. I wondered if life hadn’t been kind to him. It wouldn’t be fair if anything happened to Yeosang, he was too good, too kind. I hummed, watching him take another sip of his coffee before he hung his head low.

“My best friend is sick,” He whispered, voice gravely, and something stiffened in my chest. Perhaps it would have been my heart breaking for him if it were still functioning, “Very sick. I’m a nurse, I know so much about medicine and how to help people, I know the best doctors and yet—I can’t do anything to help him. He’s going to die, Y/N, and I can’t stop it.”

I had never heard Yeosang so broken before, so small and helpless. My eyebrows furrowed and I sighed, figuring he looked like he needed a hug right now. So, I turned towards him and grabbed his bicep, making him look at me defeated. I offered him a small smile and pulled him towards me, confusion visible on his face as he let himself be manoeuvred around. My arms wrapped around him in a friendly hug, hoping it would be comforting too. He remained stiff for a few more seconds, but then his arms wrapped around my torso and he placed his chin on my shoulder, squeezing me for a second.

“Thank you.” Yeosang whispered with a smile in his voice, “I didn’t think I’d find a friend at my workplace, especially not a doctor, but you’ve treated me with respect since the beginning. Even when I still felt nauseous taking blood.”

We both chuckled at that as I remembered Yeosang’s rocky start at the hospital. He needed a good year until he got completely in shape and accustomed to the life he had chosen, and that was understandable. What he did wasn’t easy, yet he managed better than most people I knew. Before the hug could become uncomfortable, we pulled away and Yeosang took a sip of his coffee to hide his small smile. Turning humans into vampires wasn’t like what it used to be. Mistakes happened, of course, but my coven believed in giving a choice to the human that wished to turn into one of us. We didn’t just take it greedily, we asked and told them what this life came with. We didn’t just stop existing one day, even when the earth threatened to stop spinning, we’d be here, living and breathing. We weren’t invincible, no, but we were durable and stronger than those around us. Joohyun had always believed even vampires could be forgiven for their sins, and bringing another person into our coven without a deep reason meant expulsion from it. I gulped and took a second to reconsider my words, but I hated seeing Yeosang in pain.

“And if…there was a cure for your best friend, would you want him to have it?” Asking without explaining first was greedy, but maybe I didn’t want to lose Yeosang and his kindness in this unfair world. Surely if his best friend became a vampire he’d wish to follow, no? That was greedy of me and wishful thinking, but I had long stopped asking for forgiveness for my sins. If I truly wasn’t greedy, I would’ve never transformed Yeri, I would’ve let everything progress by its natural rhythm.

“There would be a price to pay, I suppose…” Yeosang was smart, he knew there were things he couldn’t explain, I smiled as I nodded, “Yes, I would want him to have it as long as he does too.”

I hummed, deciding that bringing this up to Joohyun once the whole Yeri thing was over would be worth it. Our coven was tight-knit and strong, filled with talented people, offering a home to Yeosang’s friend would be nothing. He’d learn from the best and become even better. Perhaps it would be Joohyun or Seulgi turning him, after all, it was inevitable for the offspring not to take attributes from its creator once the transformation was through, it was smartest if the bite came from the best of the best vampires.

“Well, then—” Before I could tell Yeosang that I might be able to help him, my phone beeped, signalling that Yeosang and I were needed down, “Jeong Yunho just came in, I’m needed, but you can stay and finish your coffee.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows furrowed as he grabbed my wrist before I could hurry away, “Is this that man? The cop who was shot at twice? The one who fell over and destroyed the whole room?”

There was a tinge of scepticism and amusement in Yeosang’s tone as I hummed, averting my eyes because I hated lying to him, “Yeah, so I better go before he falls over again.”

Yeosang snorted as he released my wrist, raising his eyebrows, “I won’t have to fix up that room again, right?”

“Nope, I promise.” I blinked at him innocently and he shook his head, leaning back against the railing as I headed for the door, “I’ll call you when I need you, don’t come down until then!”

Yeosang nodded and I turned to race back to the ER, using my vampire speed since nobody was around, besides, I knew nobody was interested enough to watch or rewatch the security cameras. I fixed the collar of my white gown and nodded at the receptionist, showing her a thumbs up when she pointed towards private room number three. The head doctor spotted me and gave me a curt nod before he was whisked away by a nurse, who rushed him down towards the cardiovascular section. The door to the room was already open and Yunho was sitting on the table, his hands intertwined and placed in his lap as he stared at the floor. I pulled the door closed behind me, shutting us in, silence enveloping around us. I knew he didn’t need to get checked, but it would be too suspicious if I came in and he left right away. Besides, this was my chance to get him. I had told Joohyun that Yunho was partly human, so his blood was useful to us. This was the best time to knock him out and kidnap him. He’d do the same if he was in our spot, I’m sure of it.

“Good evening, Mr Jeong,” I spoke up as Yunho raised his head, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever, why did I have to come to the ER again?” He sounded stoic and unimpressed, “You know I didn’t even get stitches.”

“Yes, I do, but the rest of the staff doesn’t.” I snapped, trying to keep my vexation at bay, but after our last encounter I couldn’t help but look at him with spite, bile rising in my throat as his words echoed in my head, he was insufferable, “So unless you want to be discovered, you sit on your ass and shut the fuck up.”

Yunho smirked as I walked closer to him, tilting his head, “Careful, your true colours are showing, Dr Bae, where’s the tempered and kindred-hearted Samaritan wannabe?”

I released a long huff, an unamused smile settling on my lips, “I suppose someone like you doesn’t deserve that treatment from me, so there’s no need to act differently around you. Besides, are you sure that it’s just an act? I’ve lived for over two hundred years, people change.”

“People, yes, not vampires.” His eyes narrowed as I came to stand in front of him, my hands in my pockets, fingers playing with the syringe hidden there.

“You’re wrong about that, Yunho, but you’re too rooted in your hatred to notice it.” Yunho’s rosy cheeks twitched, his eyebrows furrowing some more, “If you wouldn’t have been so blinded by your stupid coven’s preachings, you would have seen that the coven you’ve been hunting for centuries weren’t your enemy.”

“Yeah, right.” Yunho snapped, his jaw clenching, “Every bad thing that’s happened to me was because of you and your leader. I won’t let you walk away anymore, not now that I’ve found you again.”

I smiled, gripping the syringe as I could tell Yunho was getting more and more aggravated. His heart was picking up its rhythm and his eyes were slowly darkening, the crimson swirling deep in his pupil.

“Did you never try to find out more about the bond between the creator and its creation?” I quirked an eyebrow, and based on Yunho’s clenching jaw, it confirmed that he knew about it, but not enough, “You know…I made a mistake after I turned you into a vampire. I left you to fend for yourself, I left you alone and unprotected from the hunters. I can admit my mistake, sure, but I’m also conscious taming you might’ve never worked like with other hunters.”

Yunho released a long huff, sneering at me, “I would’ve ripped you to shreds.”

“Yes, I know.” I chuckled, tilting my head with mock concern, “I heard the carnage you caused once you awakened. As much as I find that hot and appalling at the same time, you ostracised yourself from every coven by doing that. That’s why you’re alone now.”

“No,” Yunho smirked, slowly standing up to tower over me. I gulped as I tilted my head back, unafraid, “I’m alone because I choose to be. I don’t need anyone telling me what to do or breathing down my neck like your stupid coven leader does. Even as a human and a vampire hunter, I never operated on my coven’s terms, that’s why I managed to kill so many vampires.”

I tried to smile, but my blood was boiling in anger as he leaned closer, licking his lips slowly as he took in my expression. Something made my fangs ache the longer we stared into each other’s eyes, my stomach coiling as his sweet blood called out to me.

“That’s why I still manage to kill so many vampires.” Yunho’s deep voice was nothing but a whisper, taunting and full of himself. My hands started trembling as I itched to bash his head in and scream at him, a sinking feeling settling in my gut this time, “Remember Seonghwa? Oh, poor little, gentle, Seonghwa…”

I couldn’t breathe, and my vision blurred as Yunho snorted, raising his hand to cup my cheek, fingers tracing my cold skin, “He begged, a lot, he even promised to stop drinking blood altogether. He almost had me convinced, I can’t lie, his eyes were just so innocent, and he was really loyal to you, did you know that? He actually loved you, fascinating, isn’t it?”

I wished for Yunho to drop dead, for the ground to open up and swallow him alive, for the earth to roll into his lungs and choke him to death. I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from whimpering when he grabbed the side of my neck, caressing my skin so lovingly that he could’ve fooled anyone. There were faint bruises around his neck, my fingerprints ebbed into his skin in an ugly black and green, perhaps he was too human for simple bruises to heal fast, “Would you like to join him?”

Hate was something I had grown familiar with a long time ago. It was an emotion that wrapped around my dead heart and cocooned it in a safety net, protecting it from the coldness of the world, the unfairness and tragedy that followed everywhere I went. In this second, I knew that it was no accident Seonghwa just perished one day, disappearing without a trace and a word. My bottom lip threatened to tremble as I gripped the syringe firmly in my hand, fingers wrapping around it tightly. Then, before Yunho could strike again, I moved swiftly and plunged it into his neck, injecting the sedative into his body. Yunho’s eyes widened as he wrapped his hand around my wrist, yanking the syringe out, but it was already too late. I knew he’d fall to the ground, so I grabbed his arms and pushed him down on the table as he gasped for air, his eyes becoming hazy as he tried to stand, but his muscles were too relaxed, his mind slowly slipping away from his grasp.

“I’ll see you in hell, Jeong Yunho.” I hissed before his eyes fluttered closed, his body going lax on the table. With shaky hands, I fished my phone out of my pocket and texted Joohyun that I had Yunho, and that they had to come to the hospital now. She replied that they were on their way, equipped to take Yunho back to the mansion. Without allowing myself to think about the fact that Yunho was the cause I lost two people I loved most—Yeri, my sister, and Seonghwa, my lover—I dialled Yeosang’s number while I walked to the door and locked it.

“Is the room still in one piece?” Yeosang asked jokingly and I tried to smile, but I felt hollow.

“The room, yes,” But I wasn’t anymore, before Yeosang could realise something was wrong, I continued, “Can you get me a gurney without anyone asking questions?”

“I—what?” Yeosang sounded confused and surprised, but he was up on his feet and moving based on the click of the door on the other side of the phone, “If the head doctor is busy, I might get away with it.”

“Good, I’m in room three, be swift, yeah?”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five.”

And just like that, Jeong Yunho would never see the daylight ever again.

I was exhausted by the end of my shift. The sun was high up in the sky with a few clouds obscuring it as the morning traffic was rambunctious, with angry and impatient drivers honking every few minutes. The ride home felt like it would never end, the highway was blocked off at one point and I had to wait for twenty minutes until we could get going again. Yeosang, my light and saviour, had proposed staying on a call with me after he saw my state by the end of our shift. He rambled on about cooking a delicious breakfast before putting on his favourite show, rolling into bed, and falling asleep to it. He hadn’t asked questions when I had let him inside the small room with the gurney, eyes falling on Yunho, a flash of recognition crossing Yeosang’s features. I expected him to ask questions and demand answers I couldn’t give him, but he just chuckled and told me he was glad the room had stayed intact this time. He, once more, didn’t ask questions when Joohyun arrived with her two bodyguards, two buff men who were more than excited to haul Yunho on the gurney and out of the hospital, placing a white sheet over his body so nobody would grow suspicious.

“Come straight home once you’re done with your shift,” Joohyun had muttered, her eyes falling on Yeosang, who was busy sanitising the table Yunho had been laying on moments ago, “Make sure he doesn’t say a word.”

There was a threat in Joohyun’s words that didn’t sit well with me, so before she could leave, I grabbed her arm and glared at her, “Yeosang isn’t a threat, don’t make Mark follow him.”

Joohyun considered it for a second as her eyes fell on my co-worker again, a contemplating look crossing her features, “Yunho was your first mistake, so I’ll let you off the hook this time, but make sure it’s not repeated with this Yeosang guy.”

And I knew she meant it, I wouldn’t mess up anything with Yeosang. He didn’t know the truth, but he knew something wasn’t right. As long as he didn’t ask too many questions and didn’t try to find out for himself, I could help his best friend, and perhaps even offer him eternal life. But all these thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind as I pulled up to the mansion, the sunrays were just a bit hotter today as they rosied my cheeks. I could hear a commotion inside as I walked closer, the door opening before I could even grab the doorknob. Seulgi stood in the foyer with her arms crossed, expression displeased.

“Your little hunter killed a maid, screamed to be let out for hours on end, and finally stopped when Seungwan went inside to give him another sedative. He’s been silent since, but he’s tried to break free at least three times.” I sighed, closing my eyes as I leaned against the wall, my feet aching from having stood on them so much all night long, “Now, thanks to him, everyone in the mansion knows of our plan, and there have been upheavals. Joohyun’s been holding a meeting since five o’clock, welcome home, Y/N.”

My jaw clenched as my head pulsated, muscles begging for a long hot bath. I suppose I wouldn’t get that, not yet at least, “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?”

“No,” Seulgi scoffed, walking closer as she grabbed the tray of food off the table in the middle of the room, “He’s your creation, so go tame him. I don’t care what you do with him, but if he’s not well-behaved, I will kill him before we can awaken Yeri. This is your mess, so fix it.”

My jaw clenched as she pushed the tray of food against my abdomen, forcing me to take hold of it, “He’s been refusing to drink any blood, so go feed him. He can’t be malnourished when we need his blood.”

“Can’t I take a bath first?” I asked defeated as I let my bag fall to the ground, hopeful that our maid would notice it and take it up to my room for me. I don’t think I’d have the power to come downstairs once more today before I get to sleep. Seulgi’s face, however, was a clear answer that I wouldn’t get a breather before I’d have to face Yunho, so, I sighed and headed for the wide staircase, trying to steel my nerves and push through just for a little bit more. My phone dinged, and I grabbed it before I could head down the hallway to check Yeosang’s message. It was a selfie of him and his favourite plushie, a cute expression on his face as he winked at the camera. I chuckled and snapped a shot of the meal on the tray, telling him my breakfast was ready too…even if it was a lie. After covering for me today, I felt like he deserved to believe my being was normal, even if not true. Yeosang didn’t deserve to lay awake at night—or day, in our case—wondering why I was so strange and whether he was safe or not by my side.

I came to a stop in front of the room Yunho was held hostage in and looked down at my black heels, ankles a bit wobbly. I stepped out of the heels before pushing them to the side, instant relief flooding my calves and toes, a quiet groan leaving my lips. If Yunho’s hearing wasn’t already focused on every little sound, now he certainly was alerted of my presence outside his door. I didn’t knock even though it felt wrong, just unlocked the door and hurried inside to make sure he didn’t try to leave. I expected him to be all up in my face, expression maddened and chest heaving, his face red from anger and his muscles shaking from straining, but I was met with a Yunho sprawled out on the queen-sized bed, his feet dangling off the edge. The lock clicked into place behind me as I walked further inside, taking in the brightness of the room. The blackout curtains were completely undrawn, a harsh stream of light flooding the room. So, Yunho wasn’t as bothered by sunlight as the rest of us. I kept my eyes on his unmoving body as I proceeded further into the room, placing the tray on the desk. There was a bottle of water, half emptied, next to some painkillers that looked untouched. Right, I had used a higher dose of the sedative since I didn’t know how his body would take it, some side effects like a headache and nausea would be expected for a human…but Yunho wasn’t fully human, so we had no idea how his body would take it.

The silver tray clinked as it slipped from my hands slightly, fingers shaky from exhaustion as I took a deep breath, telling myself that I would be soon done here and in the safety of my room. The sound, however, elicited the skip of Yunho’s heartbeat as his head raised, eyes narrowed when he realised it was me in his room. Perhaps he was still under the influence of the sedative, that’s why he looked slightly dazed. He stood, slowly pushing himself up as I released the tray and set it aside, ready to leave, but suddenly he was all up in my personal space, crowding me against the side of the desk. I flinched, taken aback by his actions, and gripped the edge of the desk for stability. There was exhaustion in Yunho’s eyes as he stared down at me, then looked past me at the tray. There was no reason for me to feel nervous all of a sudden, especially not when my anger was far from being gone, but the sudden closeness allowed for me to inhale Yunho’s scent greedily, gums itchy as my fangs wanted to grow just a bit longer to sink into his warm skin.

“Is that for me?” Yunho’s voice was raspy as he nodded towards the food on the tray, and I glanced back to look at the copious food.

“Yes—” My answer was cut short when a hand wrapped around my neck, slamming me against the wall. I groaned in exasperation and grabbed Yunho’s wrist, my nails sinking into his skin as I scowled at him, annoyance flaring up my insides, “You have to stop throwing me around, it’s getting old, Yunho.”

He didn’t say anything as his fingers started squeezing harder, making it difficult for me to breathe. But I wouldn’t give in, not when we were so close to having Yeri back, so I kicked at his legs until he had to step back, his crimson eye gleaming under the natural light.

“You took me as your hostage,” Yunho spat, his heart slowly starting to race, “And you’re planning on using me to awaken your sister, wasn’t she dead?”

“I see they’ve explained everything to you.” I smirked and patted down the front of my blouse, an expression of satisfaction crossing my features as I raised an eyebrow at Yunho, “How does it feel to know you didn’t actually kill my sister? Even better…you are going to bring her back to life—”

But truly to Yunho, his anger got the better of him as he slammed me back into the wall, squeezing my cheeks together so it was difficult to speak. I must’ve looked silly with my lips jutting out, the pressure on my cheekbones wasn’t light, but I couldn’t help but feel satisfied by his reaction.

“She won’t come back, I’ll make sure of that.” Yunho hissed, his eyes searching my face, “You’ve led me to your lovely hideout, too, I’m going to hunt down every single one of you, Y/N. And I’ll leave you for last so that you can watch everyone perish right in front of your eyes.”

I slapped his hand away as I sneered at him, resisting the urge to punch him, “Your threats, too, are getting old, Yunho. If you think you can just waltz in here and take down a whole coven, you are wrong. Nothing is the same anymore, we’ve changed too. What makes you think you’d get away with it?”

“I’m part of the police.”

“And so are we.” A beat of silence passed as Yunho processed the information, eyebrows furrowing for a second in confusion, “Now eat your goddamn food and behave, Yunho, don’t make it harder than it has to be. You shouldn’t have killed that maid, she did nothing to wrong you.”

“A human willingly subjecting themselves to vampires are just as vile as the creatures we are, I should put each one of them out of their misery.” Yunho hissed, his jaw clenching as I huffed, pushing him back by his chest to free myself. I barely took a few steps, however, when Yunho’s iron grip around my bicep stopped me, “Take that disgusting thing away from me, I don’t eat human food.”

I paused, eyebrows furrowing. I thought Yunho was more human than a vampire, so how come he didn’t eat normal food? Maybe he was just trying to play with us. I took a deep breath and turned my head to look over my shoulder at him, “Don’t think you can toy with me, Yunho, the less difficult you are, the faster we’ll be done with everything.”

“I’m a goddamn vampire, how do you expect me to stomach regular food?!” Yunho snapped, his patience running thin once again as he whirled me around, dragging me back towards the desk. I stumbled over my feet due to the force but caught myself on the edge of the desk. I threw him a heated glare, narrowing my eyes at him in annoyance. Getting manhandled by him was turning old rather fast.

“You taste and smell human, your heart is still pumping blood, why do you think I assumed you ate food like any other human?” I scoffed, grabbing the tray to take it away with me. If he didn’t want to eat normal food, fine, I didn’t care. He could starve himself, at least he’d die faster once we were done with the ritual.

“Stop saying I’m human!” Yunho screamed, his voice wavering, “I’m a fucking monster, I’m just like you! That thing they gave me—my coven—that serum made me like this! I didn’t die nor become completely a vampire because I was already digesting vampire blood, to begin with, unbeknownst to me. My system was used to it and couldn’t break the particles down accordingly, I’m an abomination.”

So that’s why he was like this, then. I knew the hunters were taking something back then, something that enhanced their strength and speed, but I would’ve never thought they willingly drained the blood of vampires just to harvest it for terrible experiments. I sighed, looking down at the tray in my hands. I didn’t understand why Yunho hated being a vampire so much, after all those years, I assumed his prejudice would lessen, but no, he was still rooted in his hatred for us, indoctrinated to take us out no matter what…no matter if he was one of us, now.

“Can you…” I sounded tired as my jaw clenched, my exhaustion catching up with me all of a sudden, “Stop calling us monsters? Calling yourself an abomination? It’s not—we’re not the devils you were made to believe we are, Yunho, we were once, yes, I can’t deny that. But not anymore, we’ve evolved with the rest of the world, we’ve changed our ways, it’s…we don’t kill for the fun of it anymore, can’t you see that? Can’t you try and understand?”

Yunho shook his head, expression filled with disgust, “Maybe you think so, but I see it first hand, day after day what vampires are capable of, the many lives they still take, the families they rip apart for entertainment, the people they drive mad because they can—so don’t come here and try to lecture me about my beliefs when you don’t know shit!”

I jumped when Yunho’s curled fist came down on the tray I was holding, sending the contents to the ground as the porcelain shattered and the delicious-looking food splashed all over the floor. I stared at it, dumbfounded, until I felt something warm trickle down my palm, between my fingers. I hissed as I registered the sting of the cut left by the sharp edge of the tray, turning around my hand to bring it closer to my face. The wound wasn’t too big, located in the centre of my palm, but it oozed more blood than it was supposed to. Perhaps the cut went deeper than I expected, that would explain the dull sting of pain travelling through my nerves. Nothing a little sanitiser couldn’t help, though I doubt the wound would stay open until I reached my room to clean it up, it was already slowly closing up. There was a strained inhale, however, and I realised Yunho’s heart was racing as I slowly lifted my head. His face had paled and his lips were parted, saliva gathering in the corner of his mouth as he gulped down the excess, his eyes shaking. Yunho’s scent was suddenly overbearing as he stepped over the mess on the floor, his eyes fixed on the blood that had pooled in my palm. I felt something deep in my gut coil, my skin feeling peculiarly hot as Yunho gripped my hand harshly, raising it to his face.

I stopped breathing as I watched his eyes flutter closed, nose almost buried into my palm as he inhaled long, his lips parting even further as a small groan slipped through. My eyes widened, and before I could pull back and make sense of his sudden actions, fingers cradling through my hair at the back of my head immobilised me, the grip firm and strong as I felt cold and sharp teeth sink into my neck. I tried to recoil from Yunho’s fangs sinking deeper into my skin, but he was suddenly much stronger than ever before, flushing me against his body in an iron grip as his fangs hit my artery, making me groan in pain. I could feel every single muscle in my body tense up at the intrusion, my brain commanding me to fight back as bile raised in my throat, my fingers curling into Yunho’s form-fitting black blouse. It stung as he greedily gulped down my rich blood, the gurgling noises were loud as I was moved backwards until my back hit the wall. I was too exhausted to fight back with my whole being, but the more I tugged at Yunho’s hair in hopes he’d release me, the harder he sucked, moans slipping past his lips. I was getting lightheaded as my legs became sore, unable to feel my toes I gasped, something snapping deep in my gut.

A scorching hot flame travelled through my body, making me gasp loudly as my head fell back against the wall, lips parted in a whine as I leaned more towards Yunho, baring my neck for him so he’d have more access to it. The light-headedness turned into a daze one only experienced when drinking from their partner during sex, and suddenly I was aching all over, my fangs pushing past my bottom lip as my gums ached, “Yunho, wait, stop—”

But he didn’t listen as he slotted a thigh between my legs, pressing it against my suddenly aching core, and I moaned, relieved by the pressure, but it wasn’t good enough. If he continued drinking my blood, he’d leave me too drained. I couldn’t let him do that, but I couldn’t make him budge as he clung to me, whimpers slipping past his lips as if he hadn’t fed in over a month. I had never experienced anything like this with anyone before, drinking blood without having sex wasn’t pleasurable, it was painful and appalling, but right now all I could think about was Yunho’s strong thigh pressing against where I needed him most, my hips slowly starting to move as I ground against him. Yunho’s large hand curled around my jaw as I felt his fangs finally retract from my neck, the bite leaving a dull pulsating in my neck. I felt breathless, my body on fire as Yunho raised his head, both eyes bloodshot. I would’ve gasped at the sight if it wasn’t for the lips that pressed hungrily against mine, tasting my own blood on Yunho’s lips felt foreign but not as disgusting as one would expect.

There was something about his warmth and his racing heart that made my brain feel intoxicated, making me realise this wasn’t enough, that I needed more and that I needed it now. I groaned as our lips tried to find a rhythm, but Yunho wouldn’t surrender as he nipped at my bottom lip, trying to lick into my mouth as I resisted giving in fully to him. He was so warm it felt as if his body was burning up, much like the sun, melting away the coldness that clung to mine all the time. It felt like when I had awakened, aware of everything surrounding me and so overly sensitive. He gripped my hip with one hand as the other still cradled my jaw, and suddenly started guiding my hip in a dangerously slow rhythm, making me groan against his lips. I couldn’t fight back, though, it felt too good to ask him to stop, and yet it wasn’t enough, so I finally parted my lips and allowed him to explore my mouth with his eager tongue, suckling on my tongue like it would satiate his hunger. Yunho moaned as I felt his hand on my hip start to trace up my torso, gripping at my skin through my clothes, cupping my breast as he squeezed it, not stalling as it travelled up to rest at the base of my neck.

“Why is your blood so sweet?” Yunho rasped out as our mouths finally detached, my lungs felt on fire despite us not having kissed for too long. I needed a second to realise Yunho had asked me a question, mind fogged up with desire as I could finally grind against him however I wished. Yunho looked down between us and groaned, his grip tightening just a bit around my neck, “Answer me, Y/N.”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, eyebrows furrowing when Yunho grabbed me again, stilling my movements, “Fuck, I’m not lying, I genuinely don’t know. Your blood is sweet too, too sweet, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Anytime your scent hit me harder, all I could think about was sinking my teeth into your skin, your warm and rich blood, the aching of my fangs.”

“Yeah?” Yunho groaned, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over my neck and I shuddered, fingers tangling into his dark blue hair.

“Yeah.” I keened as he pressed a gentle kiss against my neck, tongue lapping at the teeth marks that hadn’t faded yet. Feeling his tongue against my skin made me tremble as my body felt ignited by sparks of desire, and I massaged Yunho’s scalp as he continued peppering kisses against my neck, sometimes nipping at the skin without biting into it.

“I could suck you dry,” Yunho mumbled, biting at my jaw just a bit harder, making me yelp. He raised his head so we were looking into each other’s eyes, both burning with want in them, “I could rip your heart out even, or I could tie you down and escape, kill your whole coven and come back to finish you off later.”

I chuckled, one hand sneaking down his torso, grabbing at the obvious bulge in his jeans. Yunho’s jaw suddenly clenched, his eyes shifting downwards before he looked back at me, “Really? Could you do that when your dick is straining like that against your pants?”

“Shut up.” Yunho hissed, disgust crossing his features before he slammed his lips against mine for a second time, making me laugh as I tried to dodge his insistent kiss. My amusement didn’t last for long, however, because I was suddenly hoisted up, legs around Yunho’s hips as I clung to his larger body, confusion written all over my face. Yunho didn’t look at me as he took us to the bed, sitting down with me in his lap as he leaned closer, burying his nose in my neck as he inhaled deeply, long fingers digging into my back as he felt me up. I closed my eyes and shifted forward just slightly, back arching when Yunho’s hands settled on my hip, realising I was seated right over his dick, his bulge pressing up into my clenching core. With an experimental roll, I tilted Yunho’s head back and leaned down, lips hovering above his as he breathed through his mouth, eyebrows furrowed and eyes ablaze as he stared up at me.

“I’m your creator, don’t think you can harm me as easily as you’d like.” Before he could say anything, our lips met again, moving hungrily as I pushed my tongue past his teeth, tasting him again with hunger, hips picking up a steady rhythm as Yunho’s hands helped for an easier glide. He tasted like mint and candy, not as sweet as his blood, but almost just as satiating. It was a constant push and pull between us, and I knew I didn’t want to be in his arms like this, but something just felt right about letting him kiss me, touch me, feel me up, and even feed from me. I suppressed a moan as he ground up just a bit harsher, his fingers to leave faint bruises if he squeezed any harder, mouth warm against mine. He tipped his head back as my hands cradled his cheeks, fingers buried in his warm skin as our tongues continued to tangle together. A particularly slower roll of my hips, however, had Yunho’s eyebrows furrowing as he turned his head, breathing loudly as his chest heaved. I smirked and kissed his cheek before dipping my head, exploring his soft skin and appetizing neck, his bulging veins practically begging for my fangs to sink into them.

“Is there—fuck,” I teased his skin by biting into it without leaving a trace, licking the faint teeth mark with my tongue before it could disappear, “There’s a deeper connection between us, isn’t it?”

I hummed, pulling back to look down at Yunho, my hips finding a slower rhythm just to antagonise him more, “Yeah, I made you, so in some ways we are connected. It manifests differently in each vampire, though.”

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed and suddenly he stopped me, leaning forward so that his lips hovered over mine, “You think I can’t kill you?”

“I know you’d like to try,” I chuckled, pressing a mocking kiss against the corner of his mouth. Being with Yunho felt right, something about our bodies being so close to each other felt calming despite the hatred we carried for each other. I couldn’t trust him, but something told me he wouldn’t rip out my heart right now, “But when I turned you, I only wanted you to suffer and not actually lose your life. When one turns into a vampire, it takes attributes from their creator and the purpose they’ve been turned with matters for how they’ll look at their creator. I know you’ll eventually find a way to kill me, but until then, you’re physically unable to do so, Yunho.”

Yunho’s jaw clenched as he stopped my ministrations, hatred and disgust swirling in his irises. He didn’t say anything for a second, but the hand around my throat was a good warning that he thought about choking me again. At this point, he made me think he had a kink for seeing me fight for a single breath, and it wasn’t as hot as one would think. But behind all those strong emotions, there was fear hiding behind Yunho’s brown eye, his bottom lip quivering when he spoke.

“I hate what I am, and I will make sure all of us eventually die, I won’t let humanity become enslaved to vampires.” He whispered, gripping my neck just a bit tighter, “You can keep me here all you want, Y/N, I will never help you. Yeri will remain in her slumber because I refuse to give you my blood, and you can’t take it if I won’t let it.”

I smiled, patting Yunho’s cheek almost affectionately, “I can’t, but Sooyoung and anyone else can.”

I pressed a chaste kiss against his lips before detaching myself, oddly feeling cold and guilty. I didn’t want Yunho to hate me so ardently, but the feeling was mutual despite me having pushed it to the darkest corners of my mind. He had killed Seonghwa, the man I wished to live with for an eternity. There was no scenario in which I could forgive Yunho for his sins, and I trusted he’d be punished for everything he’s done one day. Yunho remained motionless as I stood, patting down my hair and readjusting my blouse, my swollen lips tingling as Yunho licked his. My desire wasn’t the most important thing, I wasn’t here to sleep with Yunho, no matter how much my body yearned for it.

“I will slaughter you if you touch me—”

“Everyone has a price, Yunho.”

“I don’t, Y/N.”

I chuckled, walking past the mess on the floor as I grabbed the key out of my pocket. Yunho could’ve taken it this whole time, yet he didn’t. He knew where it was, his eyes now fixed on it, but he made no moves to stand from the bed. His cheeks were flushed and his pouty lips even plumper, his blouse askew, and the bulge less visible in his jeans.

“Yes, you do, Yunho.” I twisted the lock and turned to give his defeated body one last look, “Song Mingi.”

And I left the room as Yunho gasped, springing up from the bed and banging on the door to be let out. Everyone had a price, even Jeong Yunho. A life for a life.

The full moon was high in the sky, its gentle light radiating through the open windows. The breeze was cool but nobody could feel it in the dimly lit room, red candles burning away as the strong scent of blue sage filled our nostrils. The vampires around me wore dark burgundy capes, the hoods draped over their eyes as their hands remained buried in their sleeves. My fingers gently traced Yeri’s soft hair, her skin pale and sickly as she remained unmoving. The conference room had been transformed for the ritual, Yeri’s body now aligned in the middle on an altar decorated with white flowers and a silky tablecloth. Her dress was pristine, the small gems embroidered into it sparkling if the light fell on it just right. My dark gown touched the floor as I remained standing next to Yeri’s body, murmuring reassuring things to her in hopes she could hear me. The low murmur of the other vampires suddenly stopped as the double doors opened, Mingyu and Chanyeol carrying a tied-down Yunho inside the room. The silver around his body dug into his skin, and judging by the prominent vein on his forehead and his straining jaw, it was more painful than he could handle. Our eyes met as he was dragged towards the altar, Mingyu muttering a low warning in his ear before Yunho could even think of escaping.

Joohyun, wearing her white dress followed inside, a flower crown prettily decorating her head. She looked innocent, dainty, like an unassuming maiden as she took slow but powerful steps towards the altar, a book in her hands. The long sleeves of her dress hid her hands, and I flinched when I felt a hand grab my shoulder. Sooyoung motioned to the side, gently pulling me away from my sister’s body as my gut coiled nervously, eyes falling on her before watching Yunho again, scared that he’d try to kill her once more. Flashes of Yeri’s bloodied body made me close my eyes, my hands shaky as Sooyoung offered her hand silently, a support she knew I needed right now. I released a shaky breath and watched as Joohyun went to the head of the altar, standing behind Yeri. She looked down at my sister and smiled softly as she traced her eyes for a second, then looked up with a hardened expression. Yunho was dragged next to her by the two bodyguards, trying to trash around in their grips, but the silver only made his skin burn more, so he succumbed to the pain and stopped moving around. His chest was heaving and everyone could hear his racing heart, our eyes found each other once again and I could see just how much he wished to kill every single one of us in the room. I don’t think I have ever felt someone’s hatred as intensely as Yunho’s right now. My jaw clenched as I looked away, focusing on Yeri instead as Joohyun opened her arms, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Everyone, please join hands.” Her soothing voice rang out in the quiet room as everyone followed Joohyun’s instructions. We all stepped closer to the altar, our hands joining together as Yunho looked around frantically, probably looking for a route to escape, “We are here, Yerim, we will set you free. Your suffering ends today.”

I gulped, feeling a tightness in my throat as I looked at my sister, everyone else’s head bowed down in respect to the coven leader. Joohyun met my eyes as she opened the book she had brought with her, an ancient artefact that carried all of our secrets. Perhaps Yunho knew that too because his eyes widened as they fell on it, trying to mutter something, but the rag tied around his mouth made it sound intangible. A slow hum left Joohyun’s throat as she grabbed the silver knife placed on the altar, the book placed by Yeri’s head was flipped open to a page I had never seen before. The gathered vampires followed Joohyun’s lead, and soon I found myself humming lowly in my throat, feeling like I was being electroshocked each time Joohyun’s intonation changed. She was humming a lullaby I hadn’t heard before, but the rest of us kept the initial hum going, concentrating on keeping it uniform. Joohyun raised her hand, muttering a quiet prayer before she cut her finger, drawing a bloody cross on Yeri’s forehead. Yunho’s face morphed into disgust as he tried to speak, yanking on his restraints to no avail as I watched him with furrowed eyebrows, coming to a sudden realisation. Joohyun would kill Yunho once the ritual was over, he wasn’t allowed to live another day.

That wasn’t the realisation, however, but the voice that whispered to me to save him, to take him away before the light faded from his eyes. It was always hard for the creator to watch its offspring perish, but there was something deeper about this that I couldn’t fully understand. Yunho’s eyes shook as we looked at each other again and his jaw clenched when he was hauled forward by Mingyu, Joohyun’s arms extended as she continued to mutter under her breath an incantation in an ancient language I’d never heard before. I didn’t want Yunho to die once Yeri awakened, I had promised a life for a life, and suddenly I realised the voice I heard in my head wasn’t mine, it was Yunho’s low timbre pleading with me to find a way out. He was looking for Song Mingi, whoever that was, he couldn’t die until he found him alive and breathing. My eyes widened as Joohyun raised the silver knife high, her eyes completely white as she hissed. I tried to move towards her, suddenly afraid she’d kill Yunho right now, but Sooyoung’s grip on my hand tightened, yanking me back to my spot. She shot me a warning look, enough to tell me that if I broke the circle, the ritual would not work out. So, with bile in my throat, I was forced to listen to Yunho’s racing heart as Joohyun cut a small gash on his neck, grabbing the back of his head and forcing it down.

His blood trickled slowly as he forced his eyes shut, arms trying to rip his silver chains apart, but I could smell his burnt skin mixing with his blood’s intoxicating scent. I could feel my fangs poking against my bottom lip, but this wasn’t the time or place to yearn for Yunho’s sweet blood. My eyes zeroed in on the first blood droplet as it splashed against Yeri’s closed mouth, then another, and another, until it was enough to trickle inside her mouth. Joohyun continued chanting, her voice rising in volume as did the hum of the vampires, and I realised I was doing it involuntarily as if I was entranced by our leader. Joohyun’s head snapped back with a sickening crack as her mouth opened, all sounds halting as Yunho was trembling, fear, anger, and disgust swirling in his irises as more blood trickled down his neck, wetting Yeri’s lips. Then, as the silence stretched on and Chanyeol had to catch Joohyun’s limp body when it fell backwards, there was a loud gasp as if someone had been suffocating but managed to break through the surface. The vampires froze as my eyes widened, watching as Yeri’s bloodshot eyes snapped open, disoriented and full of fear until they fell on the hovering hunter above her.

I felt my knees wobble as I watched my once again living little sister grab the back of Yunho’s head and yank him down, sinking her fangs into his neck. A pained sound left Yunho’s body as Mingyu stepped back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he let Yeri have her way with Yunho. The vampires looked astonished as our circle broke apart, some taking steps back while the others remained frozen. I could hear Seungwan crying behind me, her sobs loud as Seulgi hurried to Joohyun’s aid, snapping orders at Chanyeol as to what to do with her. Sooyoung remained on my side, her grip bruising on my bicep as we watched Yeri breathlessly, my eyes filled with burning tears as Yunho struggled to break free from my sister’s attack. She looked famished, her eyes were gleaming red and she was greedily gulping down Yunho’s blood, long nails piercing his skin as her eyes snapped around the room alarmed until they fell on me. Yunho had stopped trashing around, his breathing becoming shallow, and I realised that his heartbeat was alarmingly slowing down. Feeling an unexplainable pull, I jumped forward and pushed Yeri off him, her fangs dripping with his hot blood as Yunho slumped against the altar, struggling to breathe. Sooyoung was by my side, cradling Yeri to her chest as I rushed around the altar, holding Yunho up and yanking the rag off his mouth.

“Water.” He heaved out, struggling to breathe, “I can’t—breathe.”

I felt myself panic as I looked around, but nobody seemed to want to help the hunter. My jaw clenched as I heard my sister’s timid voice asking what had happened and why everything felt so weird, but upon my eyes meeting with Sooyoung’s, I understood that she’d take care of my sister while I tended to the hunter.

“Come on,” I whispered and hauled Yunho’s large form into my arms, his weight pressing but nothing I couldn’t handle. I felt judgmental stares follow after me, some murmured even, as I hurried back to the room Yunho was held inside, wondering if my heart would be racing in fright if it was still beating. Yunho was mumbling intangible things, but I didn’t focus on them as I barged inside the bedroom and hurriedly placed him on the bed, my skin burning when I touched the silver chains. They were enchanted so that Yunho couldn’t break them, but they came undone easily under my grip. His arms unravelled from around his body as he groaned, trying to turn onto his side as he squeezed his eyes shut. I hurried to the desk, grabbed the bottle of water he hadn’t touched since yesterday, and uncapped it as I held his head up, knees sinking into the soft mattress of the bed. When Yunho realised I was helping him drink, he gripped my hand greedily and downed the bottle, breathing hard as his head fell back to the mattress, eyes half opened as he tiredly looked at me.

I gulped and stood back, putting distance between us when I realised his heart had a steady rhythm once again, “You didn’t let her kill me.”

I huffed, an unimpressed smile pulling at my lips, “It’s not just you who can’t kill me, Yunho, I can’t kill you either…for now.”

“For now.” Yunho echoed, his voice gruff as he curled up in a ball, his teeth chattering, “I will escape—and there will be no trace left of the Bae Coven.”

And I knew he meant it, so I hummed and pulled a blanket over his shivering body, knowing that he needed the rest. I left the room with a sinking feeling in my stomach and locked the door twice, pocketing the key to make sure nobody would be able to enter it. I couldn’t risk them doing anything to Yunho. But until he recovered, my sister was the most important thing.

The mansion felt more alive than ever before. It’s been barely three days since Yeri awakened, yet joy and laughter filled every hallway of the otherwise sombre house. It felt like a rock had been lifted off my chest, like I could breathe easier as I could finally smile and enjoy another sunrise. Yeri, despite her brightness, hid a darkness she thought we couldn’t see. She was trying to come to terms with the fact that she’d been dead for over two hundred years and that the world she once knew wasn’t the same. It was hard, I could see it in her forced smiles and her jumpy body whenever someone crept too close to her as if she was expecting to be staked again. I couldn’t understand her pain, but I could be there for her to help her out. My bed no longer was empty, she’d be waiting for me after my shifts, her pyjamas pink and her hair now short. She looked gorgeous as the sun beamed inside, surprisingly she craved the summer warmth more than any of us. I smiled as I entered my room, a phone she still struggled to understand in her hands, her eyebrows furrowed as she kept pressing the screen.

“What are you doing?” I asked with a chuckle, walking closer to my bed. Nobody had seen Yunho in the past three days, and nobody but me was allowed to enter his room. The coven was undecided about his fate, and it was all thanks to Seungwan’s kindred spirit and my insistence that keeping him alive would benefit us. The others didn’t have to know that somehow a selfish part of me had grown dependent on the vampire hunter, the thought of losing him now sounded terrible. He was a bad man worthy of punishment, but the song of his blood was stronger than all the bottled-up feelings I’d felt for him for so long.

“Seulgi downloaded some game for me, apparently,” Yeri answered as I kneeled on the bed next to her, my room now decorated in pink trinkets. Yeri’s always loved pink, she even wanted to dye her hair the colour once she found out it was now possible, “But this stupid thing won’t work!”

Her accent was heavy and of different times, it brought a sense of nostalgia over me as I grabbed her phone out of her hands and placed it aside. Yeri just pouted as she looked at me, her calmness managing to settle my nerves. Our bond was special, after I had turned her into a vampire, something connected us like nobody else. I could feel her emotions and she could tell where I was all the time, whether I was safe or in danger. Knowing that she finally wasn’t in distress managed to make me feel less bad about the fact that I couldn’t be by her side all the time due to my job.

“What did you do today?” I asked as I brushed a strand of short hair out of her eyes.

“Sooyoung showed me the—garage and we went for a ride?” Yeri’s lips pursed as she grabbed my hand to hold it, “But she said the horses and carriages were replaced a long time ago…I really wanted to go on horseback, though.”

I chuckled, taking in my sister’s less pale complex and her reddish irises. She wasn’t warm, but her voice filled my chest with adoration, “We’ll buy you some horses, I’ll talk to Joohyun.”

“Is it true you won’t let anyone see the hunter?” Yeri’s voice was just a whisper as I looked down, chewing the inside of my mouth.

“Yes, I have to sort out some issues first, I’m sorry.” Yeri just hummed, and then I felt her hand cupping my cheek.

“I’m not mad at you,” She was smiling softly, her eyes sad, “You can do whatever to him, he’s yours. If you wouldn’t have turned him, I would’ve never returned. Seungwan told me all the things you did for me, the research, the places you visited to find out more, thank you. I knew you were a great sister, yet you surprised me once again. I love you, Y/N.”

I leaned forward to hug her tightly, sniffing a bit as I felt the tears burn my eyes, “I love you too, Yeri, I’m glad you are back.”

“Me too,” Yeri giggled, but then her excitement died down, “This world is scary, though, I don’t think I like it here.”

“You’ll get used to it, a lot has changed and a lot has improved, living now is a bit more comfortable.” Yeri nodded as I slowly got off the bed, looking towards the bag I had discarded at the door.

“You’ll go see him, right?” She pointed towards my bag, “That’s why you brought home blood.”

I hummed as I grabbed the two blood bags out of my bag, gripping the doorknob, “I have to, if I didn’t hear his heartbeat, I’d think he was already dead.”

Yeri chuckled as she fell back into the pillows, clutching one to her chest, “Don’t take too long, I still have so many questions before you fall asleep.”

I laughed and nodded before closing the door, then headed for Yunho’s room which was one floor underneath us. I could feel my hands sweat for no reason, something in my gut twisting. I fidgeted with the key as I stopped in front of his door, debating whether I should knock first or not. Most of the coven was asleep now or out doing their daytime jobs, but a few remained in the mansion to hide out. I unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, looking first at the bed, but Yunho wasn’t there. My eyebrows furrowed as I realised I could smell his scent inside the room, but it was faint. His heartbeat, however, was strong and telling me that he was inside the room. The door clicked shut behind me as I realised the window’s lock was broken, now wide open as the breeze billowed through the curtains. My eyebrows furrowed as I whirled around, looking for Yunho. Was he inside the bathroom? The water wasn’t running, but maybe he was in there. But if the window was open, why hadn’t he escaped yet? In my confusion, I failed to notice him creeping up on me, one large hand wrapping around my throat from behind. I froze, hands holding the blood bags tighter.

“You finally came,” Yunho muttered into my ear and goosebumps erupted on my skin, his lips warm as they brushed against the shell of my ear, “Thought you’d never visit your favourite vampire hunter.”

“You’re a bit bold, don’t you think?” I questioned, making Yunho chuckle, “Did you regain your power?”

“Mostly,” Yunho hummed walking us closer to the window, “But I’m famished.”

“That’s why I brought you blood.” I raised one blood bag, but Yunho tsked, “What? Is it not good enough for you?”

“I have my ways of hunting, and right now…” My jaw clenched as he lightly nipped at my jaw, “I’m craving something fresh, something warm, young, and something that’s inside this mansion.”

My eyebrows furrowed as Yunho’s hand tightened around my neck, the two of us standing in front of the window. He chuckled, and before I could ask what he meant, he kissed the corner of my mouth tauntingly before his lips brushed against my ear once again, “You didn’t lock the door.”

The glass cracked as my head collided with it, making me let out a pained yelp as I fell against the windows, blood bags falling from my hands. My head thumped painfully as I hissed, trying to regain my bearings as my vision swam for a second, turning around to face Yunho…except that he wasn’t inside the room anymore, the door wide open. My eyes widened as I felt a chill run down my spine, with feet tangling together, I dashed towards the door, mind whirling where he could’ve gone. And then, the thought struck me like lightning, and I screamed Yeri’s name as I dashed up towards our shared room, my hands shaking as I barged inside. The window was still open, a pink shawl on the floor as she lay on it, her eyes closed and—I stopped breathing as I kneeled next to her, unable to tell if she was dead or not. But gripping her cheeks painfully, she stirred and blinked her eyes open, confused and alarmed.

“Y/N?”

“Lock the door and the windows, do not go out until I say so,” I commanded as I rose to my feet, body now shaking from anger as I realised Yunho had tricked me on purpose so he could flee. I slammed the door behind myself and fled the mansion as well, sweating under the scorching hot sun as I turned around in one spot, trying to clear my mind to find Yunho. He was close, without drinking blood, he wasn’t as fast as usual, and the sun would also hurt him now, so I wondered where he was hiding. Taking a car would’ve been too obvious and loud, so that means…my eyes fell on the forest, and before I could blink my feet were already moving towards it, branches snapping under my weight as I ran fast, trying to track his scent down. The sounds of the forest felt disorienting with all the flowery scents making me feel nauseous, the birds chirping over my head feeling as if they were taunting me since I couldn’t hear Yunho’s heart anymore. I stopped to catch my breath and closed my eyes, hearing the creak not far from here. Would he go there to try and refresh himself before he continued trekking back to the city? And just like that, faint sweetness made my throat go dry. He was here, close by, and I would catch him.

I took off running again, pushing myself just a bit further despite the strong sun making my muscles ache, and I almost missed him as I wheezed past a deer. He was using it to mask himself, I smirked as I stopped behind a tree, watching the two move as one. The deer seemed almost unaware of Yunho’s presence right next to it, but Yunho’s narrowed eyes told me that he was trying to find me as he felt the place out. Without giving him the chance to find me, I pounced towards him, scaring the deer off as Yunho hissed when my body collided with his, pushing him down to the ground. The scenery felt eerily similar, except that it was daytime now and Yunho was as much of a vampire as me. The last I got to straddle him in a forest was the night I turned him into one of us after having played around with him for a bit. Yunho’s chest fell and rose rapidly, his eyes burning as he gripped my hips and tried to flip us over, but my thighs squeezed his torso firmly.

“Did you think you could outrun me?” I chuckled, raising my eyebrows at him, “You haven’t had any blood in three days after you were nearly drained, I thought you were smarter than that, Yunho.”

“How’s your sister doing, by the way?” The question paired with his insufferable smirk felt like a punch to my gut, and before I could stop myself, I landed a harsh slap across his cheek. Yunho’s head whipped to the side, but instead of the anger I was expecting, he started laughing, his shoulders shaking as he suddenly went lax underneath me. I glared at him as I gripped his jaw and forced him to face me, his cheeks and neck were red, his pointy lips chapped, and his dark blue hair messy.

“You’re fucking lucky I created you, Yunho.” I hissed, grip tightening on his jaw. He hummed, staring up at the clear sky.

“I almost thought you had forgotten about me,” It seemed like he wasn’t done taunting me as he pushed his lips out, looking up at me with his big eyes, “Shouldn’t you look out for me? See? You abandoned me again, and then you’re surprised I can’t trust you…”

“Quit the bullshit, Yunho.” I snapped, fed up with his attitude as he laughed, one hand sneaking to my lower back as I tensed, “You can’t leave until the coven hasn’t decided your fate. Joohyun won’t let you leave now, most likely, and it’s your fault.”

“Everything is always my fault,” Yunho groaned as he rolled his eyes, his other hand sneaking up on my thigh. My eyebrows furrowed as I looked down at his hand, feeling that warm flicker deep in my stomach. It was back, that feeling of belonging and lust as I stared at Yunho, confused by his words and actions, “If you would have just killed me, I would be out of your hair right now. Admit it, Y/N, you wanted someone to play with and that’s why you walked away in the end.”

“I did not want anything to do with the man that tried to kill my sister—” My words died in my throat when I was suddenly flipped over, my back hitting the cold ground. I froze as Yunho now kneeled between my legs, his hands trailing up my thighs as I frowned at him. This wasn’t like the Yunho I knew, he’d be threatening me and trying to kill me by now. What was his plan?

“And yet here you are, with him between your legs and his fangs sunken deep into your neck.” He smirked as he lowered himself, biting my jaw mockingly as I tried to slap his head away, but his fingers intertwined with mine, hands immobilised on both sides of my head.

“Yunho—” My warning fell on deaf ears as his teeth sunk into my neck, a moan falling past my lips as the initial pain didn’t even come this time, just soaring hotness that travelled through every limb, alighting the dormant fire underneath my skin. My head fell back as my fingers tightened against Yunho’s, his heavier body pressing mine firmly down into the ground. He grunted as he took more blood, his hips grinding down almost teasingly as my eyebrows furrowed, stomach clenching in yearning, “I thought you didn’t feed from living people.”

Yunho chuckled as he pulled back, licking my neck and kissing up to my ear, where he nibbled on my lobe, “You are not alive, though, and I think I found a new way to feed. Aren’t you just so pliant, Y/N?”

My jaw clenched and I turned my head swiftly, aiming to headbutt him, but he was faster. Yunho laughed, thrusting once as my thighs tightened around his hips, my eyes bleeding into his with anger, “You don’t seem to hate it as much as you make it seem.”

“Get off, Yunho!” I snapped, ripping my hands out of his as he slightly leaned back, tilting his head in amusement, “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

He grinned and braced his weight on his hands, but he didn’t sit back. I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to care as he pretended to think, “You said I have a price, and you’re right. Your little sister is well and alive once again, how about we make a little deal?”

That sounded horrible, “What deal?”

He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to my lips, and I should’ve been embarrassed that I chased after his lips when he pulled back. Yunho was amused by it, one hand coming to cradle my cheek as he hummed, “I saved your little sister, you help me find someone…”

“You saved her?” My laugh was humourless, “After you killed her, right…”

“Song Mingi.” Yunho snapped suddenly, his features darkening. So, he was done playing around, huh?

“What about him?”

“You said I have a price, and that it comes with him, well you were right. That Seungwan girl…she seems to know him.” Right, Seungwan could find anyone in a matter of hours, “Yeri is alive, so help me find him.”

“Why?” I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head, “Who’s he to you?”

Yunho looked reluctant to speak, but he gave in when I raised both eyebrows, “Someone whose life I ruined a long time ago. I was foolish and I went back to my coven thinking they’d help me, instead, they locked me up and started experimenting with my blood when they realised I was half human. Mingi…he’s a victim of that experiment, he’s…he’s like me just more…violent.”

Understanding washed over me as Yunho’s eyes lowered, “You created him, didn’t you?”

He looked at me without answering, and I just knew, “You love him.”

Yunho’s jaw clenched and I scoffed, something like regret, anger, and disgust swirling in my stomach, “You want me to find your lover for you after you killed mine?”

“You can do whatever you want with me once I know Mingi is well and alive, just help me out this once.” He didn’t look into my eyes, but he looked so small as he lowered his head. I scoffed, wanting to refuse him, to rip his head off, but I couldn’t. The pain, the uncertainty and the yearning of not knowing what happened to your lover hit me like a truck, and I felt pity for Yunho because I knew what that felt like.

“Once you find Mingi, you’ll never cross my path, do you understand?” My eyes were hard and my voice cold as he looked at me, face impassive, “And if I see either one of you, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Deal.” Yunho didn’t even miss a beat as he sat back, extending one hand.

“Make it a blood promise,” I smirked as Yunho’s jaw clenched, but he bit into his palm and so did I, our blood smearing together once we shook hands.

“I’ll leave your coven alone, then, but if I see you or Yeri, you’ll be dead.” I chuckled and nodded, sitting up as Yunho got off me, surprisingly even helping me up. He remained gripping my arm as he pulled me close into himself, his eyes soft for the first time I’ve known him.

“Thank you.” He whispered, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned down, our lips meeting in a soft kiss. I gripped his nape and pushed up on my tiptoes, our lips locking together as Yunho hummed, pressing more kisses against my lips as we pulled apart.

“Thank you too, although I’ll never forgive you.” Yunho smiled, stepping back.

“That’s alright, I’ll never forgive you either.” I nodded, watching him step into the sun, making me wonder how one man could be as beautiful as Yunho. Before he departed, however, he seemed to linger for a second, his eyebrows furrowed.

“There was a belief in my coven…that a soul that is suddenly ripped away from this realm will wander back to claim what’s theirs.” I didn’t understand what he meant by that, but before I could question it, he continued, “How long has it been since I killed Seonghwa?”

I froze, breath stuttering in my throat, “Are you saying—”

“He’s around, you just have to find him.” A small smile settled over Yunho’s lips as I felt tears brimming my eyes, hands shaking. He turned his back to me with a chuckle, waving his fingers as he took off, walking further into the trees.

“I’ll stop by to get my refill later this week!” Yunho’s voice called as I listened to his even heartbeat, feeling weak all of a sudden as I had to lean against a tree for support. I had Yeri back, and now all I had to do was find Seonghwa once again. A shuddered breath left my lips as I smiled, flipping Yunho off before I started walking back to the mansion, keeping to the shade since I was already feeling lightheaded.

Maybe keeping him alive was the best decision I could’ve made, after all.