#just give dream all the sharp items

[amielot]

the broom system has been replaced by the knife system.

[twilightau]

LOVE VIRUS; L.DH

synopsis — after a fateful encounter with a mysterious resident, you decide to follow his example and became a nurse, just to get the chance to see him again. romance, fate-like moments, you expected a lot from your first meeting after many years... just to find out he is the most insufferable jerk!

genres — first love au, co-workers-to-lovers, doctor au

pairing — lee donghyuck x fem!reader

warnings — language, mentions of death, incorrect medical descriptions, accidentally attempted suicide, sharp objects, medical setting

word count — 7,6k

[ ♡ previous part. ] — [ ♡ next part. ]

Nobody liked the ending of things. Everyone liked beginning something believing or hoping it would help them reach a specific place. Still, that certainty stops once you get the spot you only dreamt about.

Endings were never your think. Everyone liked beginnings, it meant starting on a dream, creating hope, believing in a certain goal. But it all halts it's fairytale-like meaning when you don't know what to begin with.

High school ended in less than eight days, and you were wasting time with your girlfriends in the streets of Seoul, none of you with any ambitions for the future. All you could think of was which bars to sneak into and how to convince a tired convenience store employee on midnight duty to give you a pack of cigarettes for cheaper.

Uncertainty scared you, but it was so damn frustrating to find a career path that suited you. You weren’t the smartest in class, you hated numbers, you were far from the most athletic, and frankly speaking, you hated studying in general. No one was going to accept a student with a bad rep anyway, even though most of the bad doings were done by your friends, you were just merely a bystander.

But what will you become if you cannot find the right path in time?

These wandering thoughts and ‘what ifs' were eating away at your sanity. Your drunk friend waved at you, signing you to another night of drinking all your insecurities away. You smiled at her, about to join the group when you heard a loud clatter behind you. A small elder who was collecting cartons onto his little cart fell to the ground, his frame getting smaller with each bathed breath you took. 

You didn't know how you crossed the road in seconds. Your heart was still racing while you asked the elder if he was alright. You could still hear the ringing in your ear while you told him to follow your breathing pattern. He tried to grasp for something inside the cart, you leaped forward to find his bag hanging on the handle of the cart. But it was too late, the man was already out cold on the ground.

If what you felt before was anxiety, you are now in full worry. “Sir, can you hear me? Please answer me if you can?” You heard his breathing but it started to sound more labored by the second. You searched his bag for any indication but found two unfamiliar types of medicine. You were not a pre-med student and stood frozen at the realization that you did not know how to help this elder.

“Someone help! This man collapsed on the ground!” You yelled into the empty streets of Seoul at twilight. Everyone was busy zombie-ing themselves to a restaurant or club to relieve stress, the working class could not afford to save another person but themselves. You kept shouting for help, feeling the man’s pulse weakening. The sight was making your heartache.

“Are you alright?” You heard from your left, you nodded before taking the outstretched hand without looking, pulling the person down with you to observe the elder. He didn’t seem to mind, immediately getting to work. “Okay, what happened?” You told him how you found him and how long you have stayed and watched his condition.

The stranger starts looking around, grabbing the elder’s bag and rummaging through his things as if looking for specific items. It is the first time you look at the stranger, and you realize it is a handsome stranger. 

The points of his curly brown hair are slightly darker, soaked in sweat as if he came running. His nose had a soft round tip and his lips were upturned, a wide cupid’s bow engraved in his upper lip. You almost start counting the moles on his face before you realize what he might be looking for.

“A-are you looking for these?” Your outstretched hands contain the two unknown tubes of medicine. The stranger looks relieved and nods. He opens the cap and you realize it is a needle instead of a pod of pills. He stabs it into the leg of the elder with a force that shocks you, but his smile reassures you ever so slightly.

“Can you call an ambulance? The number is on that utility pole, I think–” He looks at the medication bottle for a second, “Mister Hwang is going to be just fine, don’t worry.” You nod, but your hands still tremble, the adrenaline leaving your body. The stranger holds you still, “You did well. Mister Hwang is going to be okay thanks to you.” He gave you a warm smile and patted your head encouragingly. 

When the ambulance arrived, the stranger took over the situation entirely. “Hello, my name is Lee Donghyuck. Please go to Neo-Seoul Medical Center, I’m a 2nd-year resident there.” The paramedic nodded and Haechan hopped onto the vehicle behind the stretcher. You watched as the back doors closed and the car drove away, the whole scene leaving you in awe.

The words he had spoken to you were still replaying in your mind, slowly woven into your heart like a design into a sweater that cannot be removed. For the first time in your life, you did not screw something up, you helped save a human and you succeeded. Haechan and the ambulance were long gone by now, but it was almost like the trail it left behind was highlighted in gold; you had found your career path in life thanks to him.

♡

Neo-Seoul Medical Center was one of the most prestigious university hospitals in all of South Korea. Standing in front of a hospital to start your career was unimaginable for you five years ago. And if it depended on your GPA back then, you’d have never been able to start a medical career at all. It helped that you had good study buddies who helped you with the selection exams as well as teachers who truly saw your good qualities behind all the natural clumsiness you radiated.

You smiled at the building once more before Chenle called your name, telling you to hurry up before you got late for your introduction week. He was one of the few close friends you made during nursing school. He was similar in the way he always went beyond for the people he cared for, but unlike you, he doesn’t always act on his emotions.

Your introduction group consists of two other rookie nurses: Ningning and Sion. You weren’t familiar with the two, but it wasn’t unknown that Yizhou was the top student during your years in nursing school. 

The receptionist pointed your group towards the eleventh floor where a head nurse would appoint you each to a department.

Once the elevator door opened, you were met by an administrative nurse who told you to wait a bit. The LED screen above the reception showed that there were several surgeries being performed right now. Your eyes widened at a familiar name between them.

Lead surgeon – Lee Donghyuck – General Surgery  00:02:10:37

He has not left this hospital despite all these years. A small smile creeps up your face. Ever since you decided to study nursing, you had secretly wondered if you’d ever get to work with him. The image of the two of you rushing to help patients always helped you ground yourself while preparing for another practical exam. 

A familiar mop of dark brown curls passed your daydreaming state and you were quick to react. His scent, his hair, his soft features, and his moles; it was just like you remember. You start to realize that he hasn’t moved, your hands unbeknownst to you holding onto the sleeve of his dark blue scrubs. He looks at you with confusion, about to speak but you beat him to it, almost in a hurry to tell him everything you wanted to him all these years before you lose your courage.

“Dr. Donghyuck, I– I’m so glad to see you again. Thanks to your help, I was able to see the path before me and worked hard for the past 5 years to get here. I am so happy to be able to enter the same hospital as you and look up to you as–” He holds up a hand, making you stop mid-sentence. He raises a brow and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. 

“Listen, I don’t have time for this right now.” He looks at your badge and then your fellow rookie nurses behind you. “You are the new rookie?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes before continuing, “Okay. Listen up, you guys, too. Do not ask stupid questions that you could have studied beforehand, do not waste doctor’s time, and –,” he looked straight at you, “Do not talk to me unless necessary. I’ve got better things to do.” You let go of his sleeve, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment and anger. Who the hell does this jerk think he is?

“Seems the rookies have met our fellow Donghyuck” A female voice states, you look to your left to find a woman in purple scrubs next to your group. “Hello rookies, my name is Karina Yu. I’m the head nurse of the emergency department and your temporary mentor while you do the rotations. Now get out your little notepads, write down everything I’m telling you, and make sure to ask if something is unclear. The emergency department isn’t a place that goes slow and steady, if you notice something you must be fast on your feet and react quickly. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Nurse Karina is fine, by the way.” She smiled kindly before it dropped and she started to walk and talk like it was a military drill. 

♡

“Okay, this is our weekly schedule board. We have it digitally but since the emergency department is about always being on the move, it would be too troublesome to have someone look it up every seven minutes. I added some ID pictures so you guys can easily distinguish which surgeon and doctor is who.

This is Lee Mark, he is a cardiac surgeon who often handles emergency cases since he just recently switched to CS from GS. The cardiology department is on the eighth floor, but you will find him in the doctor’s room of our department more often. If you have any questions, go to him and he will answer them in detail for you.

This fellow is Lee Donghyuck, he is from general surgery and the main surgeon you will work with here. Liu Yangyang is also a fellow GS specialist and the other surgeon you will meet the most often. Both the general surgery specialists are quite strict and meticulous in their work and it shows in the way that they will hold you accountable for any mistake you make. Remember, this is not nursing school anymore, you passed your exam: now it is real.

“Yes, earlier you mentioned we will start rotations in the ER. Do all four of us start in the ER?” You ask, trying not to get too embarrassed by your little stutter.

“No, from the spreadsheet I received only nurse Yizhou and Y/N will start in the ER. Nurse Chenle will assist Dr. Lee Mark in cardiology and Nurse Sion will join neurology and assist Dr. Qian Kun until the further rotation. The four of you will rotate around cardiology, neurology, and emergency as you have chosen these preferences. Of course, if in any case, those three departments end up not befitting your best qualities, you can apply for any of the other departments you want to try out. After your introductory period, you can decide which department you want to join.” The four of you nod at Karina’s words. 

“The surgeons in our team seem to be young, do we not have any senior doctors in our team on site?” Ningning asks. Unlike the way you asked your question, Yizhou remains cool and focused, her hands writing down everything she hears while her eyes are trained on everything Karina points out.

“Good question, we do have young surgeons because they are exceptionally good and adaptive to the always-changing situations in the ER. Do not let their age fool you, Mark has already finished his fellowship and is only a humble step away from his next promotion. Haechan and Yangyang are both in their last stretches as well and have gained enough trust from the Chief of General Surgery dr. Kim Doyoung to work independently on ER cases while our emergency surgeon Dr. Lee Taeyong is on leave.”

♡

The soft melody of a random R&B song plays in the living room while you clean the fog of your mirror. You look at your tired reflection, but muster up the energy to smile back at yourself. As much as today went by fairly peacefully, you can’t shake off the unfortunate encounter with Dr. Donghyuck. Was five years enough time to change an entire personality, or did your young and naive self paint him in a light he was never meant to be seen in?

“Y/N, where did you put the remote? I swear you never place it back at our designated spot!” Winter complains, already in the doorway of your shared bathroom to give you an earful about designated spots for shared items. But every word she planned to say dies down when she sees your face.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? Didn’t your first day go well?” She takes your hand and leads you to the couch, two cups of warm tea already on the coffee table. “What happened?” She asks after you haven’t answered her first question.

“It’s nothing. Just some nerves” You try to shrug it off, but your roommate keeps staring at you with suspicion. 

“Babe, as a third-year nurse, I have already honed the ability to sense lies whenever I ask my patients about medication. I don’t want to play nurse when I’m at home as well. So spill, what is upsetting little spring sunshine?” You crack a small smile at the nickname; your overexcitement on the first day of moving in made the apartment owner laugh, she said a little spring sunshine will move in with the resident winter princess. Since then, Winter and you have started to call each other those nicknames to become more comfortable with each other as roommates and friends. 

“Remember why I joined nursing school in the first place?” You asked, looking down at your takeout and poking in it with your fork. “Yeah, you fell in love with a resident and wanted to become a nurse so you could work beside him,” Winter answered breezily, slurping a long strand of noodle loudly as she looked for you to continue. 

“Don’t make it sound like I’m doing all this over a crush! I truly got inspired to get into this work field!”

“Was anything I said false though?” You didn’t answer. “Point proven.”

"Anyway!" You try to continue the subject so the two of you won’t go down that tangent. “I met him today and he became a completely different person. I’m not saying I expected him to be 100% the same, but it is kind of sad that I couldn’t find traces of the guy who inspired me in him anymore.” Winter hums, putting the plastic fork to her lips.

“Hold up, you met him today? If you were in intro group four…and you start rotation in the ER…” Minjeong taps the crease between her brows, trying to piece the strings of information together. After a few moments of silence, she gasps at the realization.

“Your first love is Lee Donghyuck isn’t it?” You nod, the burdened expression on your roommate’s face unsettles you. “You look at me like I made a big mistake, is he in a relationship or something?”

“No,” You felt relieved for some stupid reason. “But Donghyuck isn’t exactly the type of guy I imagined you being into. I thought you meant Mark Lee when you first talked about your crush.”

“What’s wrong with Donghyuck?”

“I want to say it’s a rumor, but I saw it firsthand once with a rookie nurse a few years ago. A nurse quit after just a week because Donghyuck gave him a hard time. Be perfect or he will lecture you until you’re about to hand in your resignation letter.” You pale at your roommate’s words, deeply regretting every course of action you took today, including entering the hospital. “But I’m sure it’s just a facade, so don’t lose hope yet!” She tries to cheer you up, but it is already too late. You have dug your own grave.

♡

As if the gods wanted to mess with you for a bit, you were assigned to assist Donghyuck’s patients. To say your first week went bad was an understatement. Karina was right when she said Donghyuck has a low tolerance for questions he gets annoyed at anything relatively quickly.

On your second day shadowing him, you noticed that he had long legs. Legs that do not wait for you and your cart to keep up. He gave you a side-eye when you eventually arrived at the right room, you also got lost because he didn’t wait up.

(“If this were an emergency alarm, the patient might have already died. Keep your head in the game, dreamer.” He mockingly taps his writing clipboard against your cart before turning around and smiling brightly at his patients. You feel like you were fuming from the ears at his act.)

On your fourth day in, you discovered a little hiding area where you could take a break without Donghyuck throwing mean remarks at you. You figured, if he can’t find you, he can’t talk bad about you.

The little box of cookies you found in a drawer was already half gone once you heard two people enter the room, a small curtain separating you from them. 

“Dude, I think that Nurse Y/N might have a crush on you!” Dr. Liu said with excitement. It has been a while since romance blossomed for his friend and the littlest indication that it might happen again made him happy. 

Donghyuck raised his brow, “Who?”, and Yangyang’s smile drowned away. He doesn’t even know your name? “Nurse Y/N, she is – dude?" Donghyuck shakes his head. “For real? The nurse who has been assisting you for the past four days?” 

“Oh, the dreamer. I doubt she’d have a crush on me.” Maybe it was because you couldn’t see his face, but your delusion might have caught a bit of a somber tone in his voice.

“Besides, the chances of something happening between me and her is 0.00001%. Any other rookie might even be better than her.” Lee Donghyuck has proven once again that he is hard to empathize with.

(“Have you seen my chocobi cookies, by the way? I was planning on eating them but I couldn’t find them in my snack drawer.”)

You finished his nasty cookies with no regrets. 

Your fifth day came around and you were doing your rounds without Donghyuck, the doctor was yet to return from a four-hour surgery and thus you ended up doing the rounds with Mark. 

Although Mark was a bit too much of a talker, it was a nice change of pace compared to the GS specialist who criticized your every move. 

“You just have to look through the words,” Mark said after he finally made you share your worries with him. The two of you already arrived at the third room for the current check-up round.

“I’d rather not look straight into his eyes. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t have made it past day one, dr. Lee” You slide open the door and greet the patients warmly. In the room were four patients from a traffic accident that happened on your second day. Because it happened late at night, Mark was already scheduled for a long surgery for pediatrics, causing Donghyuck to do back-to-back surgeries on these four patients. 

Minnie, a high school girl, greeted the two of you with a timid smile, her eyes lingered longer on Mark before meeting yours again.

“Dr. Donghyuck is currently occupied, so Dr. Lee Mark over here is guiding me today.” You explained to the girl, the feeling that she might have a crush on Donghyuck was unbelievable but also kind of cute.

“She has been waiting to thank him since yesterday evening.” Riku, a college student, commented, earning a glare from the girl which caused him to laugh. You hum while prepping Mrs. Choi for a blood sample. After you finish filling two small tubes for the tests, she signals you to come closer.

“Dr. Donghyuck allowed her boyfriend to visit her yesterday, even though visiting hours were already over. The academy hours these days cause students to finish their studies at late hours.” You look back at Minnie, noticing a singular rose in a tiny vase next to a small teddy bear on her nightstand. The scene reminds you of a sweet youth drama.

“How is your appetite, Mrs. Choi? I noticed you didn’t eat much the last few days, if you want, I can alternate a few things on your menu plan to help get your appetite back?” The older woman softly shakes her head. “No need, the doctor gave me some stomach medicine yesterday. I feel much better now.”

Although you added a small comment about Mrs. Choi’s appetite into your nurse log before you clocked out for the evening, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to take the note as seriously as he did. Writing up medicine for patients always required a lot more paperwork, and your seniors in nursing always recommended trying to minimize the prescriptions doctors had to make. 

“I’m glad it is working out, Mrs. Choi. Let me know if you need me to adjust anything, alright?” The lady smiled before turning to Mark. “The other doctor and nurse Y/N make such an interesting duo, don’t you think? They remind me of my first love.” You were already halfway through the room to check on the last patient, the comment made you stop in your tracks a second too long. Mark laughs, “What was your first love like Mrs. Choi? I wonder how Donghyuck and Y/N compare to it.”

You try to focus on the teenager’s stats, Jisoo is also seemingly intrigued by what Mrs. Choi has to say about her first love and late husband.

“We were like opposites. Chan was always driven by his ambitions, he never knew when to stop and enjoy the slow and steadiness of the world. After we met, he used to tell me how I re-taught him how to live life.” Mrs. Choi’s gaze was fixed on the window, but you knew that she was also holding back tears, it was evident in the way she spoke about her late husband. 

You finish up Jisoo’s check-up before returning to Mrs. Choi’s bedside, squatting down and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “He sounds like a love worth spending a lifetime with, Mrs. Choi.” Her gaze turns to you and you can see the glossiness of her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispers before lying down again, Mark and you bid the other patients goodbye before leaving the room.

“You handled that situation well, nurse Y/N,” Mark says after a beat of silence. You give him a sad smile, “She lost so much in the past few days, dr. Lee. If I can lighten that pain for even a moment, I will.”

“You live up to that speech dr. Nakamoto gave on your second day, huh?” You smile, thinking back at the random visit of the pediatrician. He was looking for a specific person (you later figured that person to be Mark) but got thrust into giving the rookie nurses a motivational speech by nurse Jaemin.

(“I don’t think I’m in any position to give a speech, dr. Na.” Yuta eyed the nurses with an awkward laugh, making Jaemin, the ER doctor, challenge him further. “These nurses will rotate into your department soon, anyway. Besides, I doubt you’d come all the way down from the tenth floor to disturb us in our busiest hours, right Dr. Nakamoto?”)

Doctors treat illnesses, nurses heal patients.

Although he probably said those words without much thought behind them, you found new meaning behind those words. Sure, ever since working with Donghyuck, many of your rather superficial motivations disappeared into thin air. But Dr. Nakamoto’s words were a good reminder that Donghyuck wasn’t your only reason. 

It’s patients like Mrs. Choi, those who don’t only suffer bodily injury or illness, but also have a wound to the heart that needs healing. The surgical scars will eventually fade, but without genuine and continued support and care, a patient might carry painful memories for a long time. To you, soothing their hearts for even a moment was a reward worthy of suffering through the nursing program, and even Dr. Donghyuck’s never-ending remarks.

♡

The taste of Winter’s cooking was one you could never quite get enough of, the girl was always in her element in the kitchen and it was evident in her food. Tonight you were also accompanied by Karina. Although you already knew Winter had invited a friend over, it didn’t quite dawn upon you that the nurse friend she mentioned from time to time was going to be the head nurse of your department. The awkwardness from your greetings earlier still lingers ever so slightly in the back of your head, but you try to pay it no mind. It did help that none of you talked about work, rather giggling away with every sip of wine as you talked about your college adventures.

“You know, I think you will do well in the ER, Y/N. If you can handle someone as cold as Donghyuck, I don’t doubt that even the most enraged Karen will get to you.” Karina says in between hiccups. Winter is already leaning on her arm, slowly drifting off with occasional mumbles while Karina keeps rambling on about random thoughts she has. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker, but luckily Winter had opted for wine (the two women had already finished a few shots of soju before you came home) which you were able to handle.

“I think Donghyuck truly has a stick up his ass like he knows the ER is heavily understaffed and yet he is driving any nurse he sees away.” Karina huffs, another large gulp of red wine. 

“It’s one thing to feel entitled because you’re a good doctor, but it’s another to assume every nurse to be at that level from the start, right Y/N?” You try to pry the wine glass away from her hands, but she downs the entire glass before you can.

“Karina, are you going to be okay?” You watch as she stands up and points her finger at the decorative succulent on your dining table. “This plant is dying, it’s withering away.” It was a fake plant.

“I will call a cab for you, Karina. Where do you live?” The woman seems to acknowledge the time and her condition, already stumbling into your hallway to grab her shoes. You follow behind her with her belongings. She laughs a little too loud at your questions and points upstairs. “I’m alright, Y/N. I’m your upstairs neighbor!” She chirps happily as she spreads her arms in the air before blacking out. Great.

The trip is anything but easy: the elevator decides to take everyone else to their respective floors before arriving at the sixth floor, and of course, Karina keeps wiggling in your hold while the other residents keep side-eyeing you in your pajamas.

Since she didn’t quite tell you which unit she lived in, you had to walk past each front door like a creep with Karina’s arms nearly killing your neck. None of the unit numbers 601-604 had her surname on it. You were praying that you didn’t have to go all the way down the hall to unit 610 before you finally read her name underneath unit number 605, right next to Lee Donghyuck’s name. 

You froze, trying to process what this meant, but Karina had already woken up and was loudly banging on the front door of unit 605. You were torn between leaving her here, but she didn’t quite look sober enough to stand steadily.

The door opens after a few loud bangs from Karina, an annoyed – nothing new there – Donghyuck opens the door. His hair was damp and he was wearing grey sweats and a black shirt, a towel around his neck, and black-framed glasses adorning his face – definitely new. It takes everything in you to not admit he looks like a cute nerd in those glasses.

He was about to hurl a mean comment. At this point, you are pro at recognizing this. Donghyuck stops when his eyes settle on you. He raises a brow, and you only reply to his wordless questions with a sheepish smile.

“Your girlfriend had dinner over at our place, sorry. I put some hangover medicine in the pocket of her jacket for her to take in the morning. See you tomorrow, Dr. Lee!” And you ran away, accidentally pushing Karina into Donghyuck’s arms, but you weren’t going to stay there a second longer than needed.

Even though you thought you were pretty sure that you didn’t like Donghyuck anymore, the new information that he lived upstairs with his girlfriend still left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

♡

You were transferring your notes into the nurse logs when Karina entered your little cubicle. “Hey Y/N, are you busy?” You shake your head, moving to the side so the head nurse can comfortably stand in your little workspace.

“Normally I wouldn’t talk about personal affairs during working hours, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was upset at my boyfriend and when Winter said the two of you were going to stay at home and just casually drink, I couldn’t help but ask to join. I needed some company for a bit.” She starts to explain, and you start to notice that drunk Karina and sober Karina aren’t much different. 

The scary image of head nurse Karina fades away as you watch her ramble, animatedly making her points with her facial expressions and hands. You smile at the sight, realizing the subtle cuteness of Karina’s true character. “It’s okay, nurse Karina. We all have ups and downs in relationships.” Karina shyly nods, “I also have a little request to make.” You let her continue. 

“Please don’t tell our colleagues about Donghyuck and I living together, it’s embarrassing.” Although you were confused as to why it would be embarrassing, you promised her you wouldn’t tell a soul. She gives you a grateful smile before her pager goes off. Before you turn back fully to focus on your logs again, Karina calls your name. “You can just call me Karina when we are alone. I think we are way past the formalities after what happened.” 

Karina disappears behind the doors and your polite smile falters slightly. You wonder why Winter and Mark didn’t warn you about the relationship between Karina and Donghyuck, feeling stupid that you were so open about your admiration for the man in front of people who knew he was already off the market. 

It wasn’t like you were full-on pursuing him, but it does hurt to know that his type and you were so far off, evidently marking that 0.00001% to be true. Karina was extremely pretty, smart, and good at her job. Sure, she was a rambler and loud drunk, but she easily carried herself in confidence.

A soft cough pulls you back from your thoughts. Donghyuck leans against the wall, handing you his clipboard. “I saw you were filling out the logs, can you upload this chart to Riku’s profile?” You wordlessly take the papers and start typing, expecting him to leave after he says what he needs, but you don’t hear any footsteps. Before you can ask, he starts speaking again. 

“She’s my cousin.” His words were rushed and Maeda Riku’s chart had already taken most of your attention, making the only sound coming out of your mouth a confused ‘huh?’.

“Karina, she is my cousin. I’m not dating anyone. That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday before you ran off.” If someone told you you would see an awkward Donghyuck less than two weeks into the job, you wouldn’t believe them. The man had a sharp tongue and – just like his cousin – carried himself with certainty, attitude, and incredible skills that steadily established his dominance in the department. But for some unknown reason, he was avoiding eye contact and fumbling with something in his pockets in front of you. 

“Oh.” 

“I gave her the hangover cure, it helped.” He added after way too many seconds, still fumbling with his white coat pocket. You give him a weak smile, not knowing how to act in this strange situation. The air was not tense like it usually was, but it was far from comfortable.

“I got you the same one.” His hands were too fast, but the bottle on your desk and his empty pockets prove that he had been fumbling with the hangover medicine all this time. 

“Thank you…” The act of kindness (?) made you speechless. 

“You were reaching for your head a few times while doing rounds. It’s disturbing my work and the patients. If you can’t handle alcohol, don’t drink.” And the Lee Donghyuck you knew has ruined the moment again.

“I don’t think I deserve scolding when your cousin ended up like that.” Your remark earned a half-hearted scoff from him. You hated the way your heart started beating like your younger self again.

“Just drink it and get ready to join me for your OR testing.” 

♡

The biting winter air felt like tiny pricks against your exposed skin, but you remained seated on the cold wooden bench while hugging your bottle of water tightly. Your OR testing didn’t go wrong, but it didn’t go smoothly either. 

It wasn’t necessarily what Donghyuck said, but it was the way that he said those words to you in a room filled with your peers and other colleagues. He was complaining about how handling different tools wasn’t just about speed, but also about precision, how you were too hasty and could cause dangerous accidents. How he wouldn’t tolerate it if it were to happen in his OR and how you weren’t going in there anywhere soon.

It hurts that just when you finished painting him as an awful person, he started to make you doubt him again, causing his words to twist as painfully as they were the first few days as his assisting nurse. 

You weren’t a big fan of crying, it felt like losing control over your feelings, but you couldn’t help it when you’re so deep into your self-pity party. 

“Nurse Y/N?” The voice of an uncertain Minnie makes you look up, staring into the eyes of an equally teary-eyed teenage girl. You try to wipe away your tears in a hurry to attend to the girl, but she just hands you a handkerchief with a sympathetic smile.

“You know, crying does make everything a bit better, don’t you think?” She asks through a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. You breathe in some more air, feeling better despite being spotted by one of your patients. The two of you don’t say much at first, sitting in a comfortable silence while staring at the few white dots in your pitch-black sky. 

“Boys are stupid.” She suddenly says, catching you off guard. 

“Why would you say that?” 

“They just are, I think girls cry more often because of them than any other reason.” She explains nonchalantly, making you grin at your words.

“Can’t disagree on that.” You mumble.

After a while, you returned inside to finish one last welfare round before switching out with the night shift nurses. You greet Karina as you pass the nurse station, she holds you back by your arm. “I had a word with Donghyuck about what happened during testing, are you alright?” Admittedly, you were still a bit mad at his choice of actions, but you couldn’t blame him for correcting you on something you did wrong. 

“I will get over it, but thank you for looking out for me.” You grabbed your necessities and walked through the dimmed hospital corridors, making your way quietly through the resting areas of your patients. Most were already asleep, some mumbled soft words while you gently checked their stats and some even bid you a good night before turning around to sleep. 

Once you made your way into room 4, you expected Minnie to have returned when you opened your curtain, but her bed was still empty. You frown, remembering how she mentioned how cold it was and that she should quickly return and sleep the night away. 

After a few confused moments at her bedside, you notice the small but important details surrounding her little sleeping space. 

The rose she received days ago bore no petals and the little teddy bear was stuffed inside the small trash can. The conversation from before replays in your mind, and you take out the handkerchief she had handed you. 

You recognize the handkerchief was part of a goodie bag for a small promotion the hospital held once in a while. The words 2023 on the embroidery make you speed walk towards the storage room where older items were kept for PR. 

The storage room wasn’t a huge mess, but it was evident that someone had roughly opened the stored tissue papers and used a few. Your heart ached, thinking how the young girl must have cried in here, feeling lonely and betrayed.

Without thinking, you put out your pager and send out a notification for a missing patient, running towards the terrace where you last saw her. You kept calling her name, heart hammering in your chest as different thoughts spun in your mind. 

Different nurses and medical staff on the floor start spreading and calling out for Minnie, everyone equally worried for the young teenage girl.

You end up on the eighth floor, briefly informing Mark before rushing off into another hallway, feeling more and more anxious with each passing second. You hear a click from nearby and rush towards the sounds, opening the door to a balcony wordlessly as you freeze, Minnie’s hands on the railing and a devastating look in her eyes.

“Minnie–”

"Don't!" Her voice shakes as she puts one leg over the railing. “I don’t want to hear about how young I am, how much life I have to live. What is the use if no one will love me?”

“Why would no one love you?” You ask softly, still stuck in place, afraid that one wrong move will make her do something irreversible. 

“Because I’m permanently broken. Because I have a scar that will never heal. Because I will have to return to the hospital every few years.” Minnie wasn’t directly looking at you, she was staring down the levels, the tears in her eyes dropping down eight floors.

“But it will heal, Minnie. Both your scar and your life.” You carefully take a step, noticing how she doesn’t flinch at your movement. “Right now, you are in a very tough battle, wanting to look the prettiest for a boy you like, don’t you?” She is quiet.

“And having him see you in a hospital gown, having him not see the best version of you, it hurts, doesn’t it?” She closes her eyes, whispering a small and shaky ‘yes’, but you heard her.

“I used to think like that, too. I used to think that once I meet the love of my life, I have to be perfect already so that he will fall in love with me.” Minnie doesn’t react, even though you are certain she knows you’re closing your distance slowly.

“But I found out, quite recently, that I don’t want to be perfect to be loved. I want him to see me at my weakest, and see how I fight my way through my weaknesses. Don’t you want to show him that you are a fighter, too?” Minnie looks up at you, although she doesn’t say it, her eyes tell you everything you need to know.

“Thank you, Minnie. Give me your hand and I’ll help you down slowly, is that alright?” She nods, giving you a hand before turning around. The action makes her foot slip and she slides off the railing with a scream. You lunge forward, holding her hands as tight as you can. 

“It’s okay, trust me, I will not let go.” You grunt, trying your best to lift her, but she is too heavy for you to pull up alone. “Somebody, help!” You shout out in between reassuring words for Minnie. You feel her trying to climb up, causing her grip on yours to loosen. You shout for help again, begging the skies to help this little girl. You were fighting a rough battle with exhaustion, using every fiber in your being to keep the hold on the girl’s hands. 

You start to lose grip, you shout out for help one more time before you feel a warm body against you, arms surrounding yours and holding onto Minnie’s forearms.

“I got you” Donghyuck speaks to you softly before raising his voice for Minnie to hear. “Minnie, I will count to three, and Nurse Y/N, and I will pull you up. I need you to use your legs to climb up, okay? Everything is alright. We got you.”

You finally look at him and he nods counting to three before you gather all your remaining strength to lift Minnie. The three of you land on the ground of the balcony, most of the landing softened by Donghyuck embracing you both. 

Minnie holds onto you tightly, crying into your chest as she keeps mumbling apologies. You close your eyes to keep your tears in, soothing the girl with strokes through her hair. “Everything will be fine from now on, Minnie. You are a fighter, remember? You will show everyone that you are a fighter, okay?” Donghyuck stands up, typing on his pager before the medical staff comes through the door with a wheelchair, taking the shocked teenager from your arms. 

You are still shaken from everything that happened in the past 10 minutes, your legs and arms have completely given up after all the adrenaline wore out. Donghyuck wordlessly helps you on your feet. “Let’s go, my shift ended as well. I’m taking us home.” His voice was soft again, just like when he told you that he got you in your most fearful moment. 

He tugs you forward, but you don’t budge causing him to shoot you a questioning expression. “I can’t walk anymore.”

You didn’t have any ulterior motives when you said those words, but getting a piggyback home from Donghyuck did feel nice.

It still felt odd, you were sure a week ago that you hated his guts, but now and then, he made your heart flutter like five years ago. The thoughts confused you, making you unsure about how you should act around the man. Avoiding him wasn’t an option for now, although you knew your rotation in the emergency department was coming to an end soon. 

“You have potential.” He suddenly speaks as your apartment complex comes into sight. “You aren’t as fast as Nurse Ningning or as knowledgeable as Nurse Chenle, but you notice the small things about patients.”

“I doubt small things matter as much as accuracy and knowledge in this work field, Dr. Lee.” You mumble into his shoulder.

“You might think so, but I know for a fact that if you didn’t notice those things, we might have lost a lovely person today.” It was hard to find the right words to say, so you stayed quiet and let him continue.

“Your attentiveness saved a life, Y/N. Don’t ever think any less of yourself as a nurse.” Normally, you’d assume he is saying this to mock you, but even without seeing his face, you know he said those words sincerely. 

“Thank you for finding me, Dr. Lee.” You say after he steps out of the elevator on the fifth floor. “It’s hard to miss you when you still shout like an endangered teen girl.” Your heart skips a beat.

“So you remember me?” You don’t know why you’re holding your breath, but you are.

“I didn’t at first, but after all the hints and pieces I got from why you joined the nursing program, together with what happened today, I just followed the string of information and realized that young girl was you.”

He has stopped in front of your apartment and you try to hurry off his back before your roommate sees you, but he doesn’t let you go as smoothly as you thought. Your roommate seemed to have sensed you because the door swung open. Winter looks at you, your arms around his neck, and then Donghyuck himself. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, you rip yourself from Donghyuck’s hold – ignoring the immediate absence of his warmth – and wave him goodbye, slamming the door in his face and shushing Winter.

“Girl, you act fast.” Minjeong throws you a smug grin. 

“Please don’t even start, Winter” Unfortunately for you, her grin only widens.

The two of you continue to argue, unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck was still outside, listening to your little arguments with a chuckle. He stops himself from mumbling how amusing your reaction was, the word ‘cute’ almost escaping his lips. His footsteps start echoing again after your voices fade away, heading home in high need of some back pain-relieving patches.

any like, reblog, comment and feedback is appreciated! if you'd like to be on the taglist of this fic, let me know through an ask or comment on this work ♡

[mashtatosworld]

angel of my dream

summary: you and your husband are trying to expand the family, but good things take time

You weren’t sure when exactly the fun, carefree decision to have a second baby turned into a full-blown military operation, but by the second month of nothing happening, Jiyong was officially on a mission.

He handled it the only way he knew how - with intense focus and obsession.

He’d send you cryptic texts throughout the day like:

[gdaddy] Fertility window tonight!! xxx

[gdaddy] Wear something easy to take off i'll be home in five

[gdaddy] Do you think if I give up smoking it will help? 😓

That's when you knew he was serious.

Of course he'd cut down on his bad habit since first having Diva, but that didn't mean he wouldn't slip away sometimes to the balcony after one of her tantrums.

Then he started taking vitamins he read about in some random article at 2am, and even started swapping his beloved beer for herbal teas.

And you?

You were amused.

At first.

Then the scheduled baby-making started.

The moment your ovulation tracker lit up with that green window, it was go time. It didn’t matter if you were at home, at a photoshoot, or in a moving vehicle - Jiyong was not about to miss the chance.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The new regime was how you ended up on the sidelines of one of his elaborate music video shoots on New Year’s Eve.

You were perched on the edge of a heavy equipment case, scrolling idly through your phone while the crew made adjustments to the next scene.

Nearby, Diva sat cross-legged on the floor with Jiyong's trusted hairstylist, completely unbothered by the chaos around her. The stylist had given up on keeping her tools organised, letting Diva toy with her collection of glittery clips and hair ties. Your daughter was fully engrossed in slipping said items into her socks, thinking no one was watching.

You sighed, making a mental note to empty her socks before you two left.

Then you glanced up just in time to see Jiyong walking off set.

His white chiffon shirt was half-unbuttoned, clinging slightly to his chest from the exertion of the last take. His hair was deliberately disheveled, a burning orange, and his dark eyeliner gave him a sharp, almost feline edge. He looked sinfully good - smudged makeup and all.

He passed Diva on the way to you, his pace quick and purposeful, but he still slowed just enough to dip down and press a quick, fleeting kiss to the crown of her head.

“Be right back, princess,” he murmured in passing, his voice soft and warm.

Diva, ever the unbothered daughter, didn’t even glance up from her task, simply waving him off with a distracted, “Mm, ‘kay.”

But you knew the look in his eyes when he finally reached you wasn’t the same one he gave her.

He stopped walking, immediately bracing one hand against the crate beside your thigh, leaning over you, his breath still uneven from the performance.

“Hey…” he breathed out, his lips curling into a slow, lazy smirk, the kind that made heat curl low in your stomach.

You glanced up from your phone, raising a playful brow. “You look like an angel.”

His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with mischief.

“We have ten minutes before they reset the lights…” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate, dripping with suggestion. His breath ghosted over your lips, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. "Here? Right now?"

“Fertility window,” he nodded sharply.

Oh, for the love of -

You barely had time to blink before his fingers curled around your wrist, swiftly tugging you off the crate. His grip was firm, his pace determined and quick as he led you through the winding hallways of the studio.

You glanced over your shoulder once, catching a glimpse of Diva still perfectly content, absorbed in her own task.

Completely oblivious.

Good.

Jiyong’s grip tightened slightly as he pulled you around a corner, slipping through a side door into a dimly lit back room used for meetings, completely out of sight from the crew. The door clicked shut behind you.

He immediately sat you on the table, his mouth claiming yours with a hungry kiss. His hands roamed your body - desperate, urgent, fuelled by his determination. You could feel the tension in him, the need for this to work, the almost frantic edge to his touch.

But the moment things were about to get heated, he pulled back abruptly. You blinked in confusion, lips swollen and parted, but he was already moving.

“Wait, wait…” he muttered breathlessly, rummaging through a nearby box.

“Wait for what?” you asked, dazed and confused as he snatched a small throw pillow someone had left behind.

“Here - ” He slid the pillow under your lower back.

You blinked, staring at him incredulously. “Are you seriously pillow-propping me right now?”

He gave you a wide-eyed, slightly defensive look, dead serious. “Yes. It helps the sperm swim faster.”

Although you two shared certain favourite positions when you were intimate, his research had temporarily steered him away from using them.

You closed your eyes, dropping your head back against the table. “Oh my God, you are so serious about this.”

“Of course I am.” He gently lifted your legs, holding them at a specific angle. “And afterward…” He glanced up at you with a small smirk, still slightly breathless. “We’re keeping these up for ten minutes. Minimum.”

You stared at him, half-exasperated, half-bewildered. “Jiyong… you realise this isn’t exactly sexy, right?”

He sighed, looking down at you with dark eyes. “I know…” he murmured, kissing the bare leg propped against his shoulder. “But once you’ve got my little angel in you…” His voice was low and teasing as he nipped at your skin. “I’ll let you go back to riding me every night. Deal?”

You smirked moving to rest your arms behind your head, getting comfortable. “You drive a hard bargain, Kwon.”

He grinned, eyes burning with affection and longing.

When it was over, you both stumbled out of the room, breathless and flushed. You hastily fixed your clothes, smoothing your hair and wiping at the faint smudges on his lips. His hands were still trembling slightly from the rush.

You barely had time to fully compose yourselves before you were back with Diva. She was now sitting in Jiyong's make-up chair, her legs swinging slightly, watching herself in the mirror as the stylist added some sparkly clips to her hair.

You glanced at your husband, flushed and panting slightly from your intimate escape. He was tugging at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool down. His lips were pink and swollen from kissing, his eyeliner even more smudged. He looked wrecked - and unfairly hot.

The hairstylist glanced at you both, then raised a suspicious brow. She narrowed her eyes slightly, pursing her lips as she tugged at a stray section of Diva’s hair.

“You two look... tired.” Her voice was dry, almost teasing.

You forced an innocent smile, while Jiyong bit his bottom lip, clearly suppressing a smirk.

“Long day,” you offered.

Jiyong stepped forward towards the make-up station. "Let Appa see your new hair," he murmured, lifting Diva from his seat and plopping her on his lap once he sat down.

He sighed and rested his head on hers as his stylist began to fix his messy, slightly damp hair. Meanwhile you found yourself a bottle of water, feeling particularly parched.

You watched your husband in the mirror, his eyes closed and forehead resting against your baby's head.

He looked exhausted and you wondered when he'd finally admit it, or if he'd let himself burn out first.

You sighed to yourself and tightened your grip around the plastic bottle, you wouldn't let it get to that point. Not again.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Four months.

You’d barely noticed the first month slip by without success.

It had been new, exciting, and honestly kind of fun. Jiyong’s sheer determination and focus made the whole trying process thrilling - you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, stealing moments wherever you could, relishing in the stolen intimacy.

But by the fourth month? The thrill turned into something else entirely.

You were starting to feel it now. The exhaustion. The strain. The gnawing disappointment when another month came and went without that tiny pink line appearing.

Jiyong, though? He was relentless.

But as the tour began, it became harder to keep up. You were both exhausted. The constant flights, the back-to-back shows, the lack of privacy - it was wearing you down. You tried not to let it show, but Jiyong could see it.

He didn’t say it out loud, but you knew he was scared.

He was nearly 40. His "I'm too old for this" worries were starting to creep in.

He hadn’t openly voiced them to you yet, but he'd made passing comments, and casually mentioned one night "Maybe we should see a specialist - just in case."

But you weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

So, you decided to ease up. You ditched the fertility teas and the endless concoctions he kept pushing your way. You stopped monitoring your body like a science experiment. Instead, you took a step back to breathe.

You needed a break from all of it.

Which was how you found yourself out for a girly day with Diva.

The two of you strolled through the streets, hand-in-hand, with her dressed in her tiny, adorable outfit: a puffy pink jacket, a fuzzy white hat, and glittery boots she had insisted on wearing. You took her shopping, bought her some new hair clips, and let her pick out her own ice cream flavour at the cute little café she loved.

It was exactly what you needed - a day without pressure, just you and your daughter enjoying each other’s company.

Meanwhile, Jiyong was off filming a YouTube show - a press appearance on "Yong Tarot" hosted by Lee Yong Jin.

He didn’t love doing these kinds of shows anymore. Over the years, he’d become increasingly private. Sure, he had no problem with public appearances and stage performances, but discussing his personal life on camera made him hesitant.

Still, he agreed. It was part of the promo, and he didn’t want to seem difficult.

He stared at the deck of cards skeptically. Lee Yong Jin shuffled the deck dramatically, shooting him a cheeky grin.

“So, what do you want to ask?”

Jiyong twisted his lips in thought. He considered brushing it off with something generic - a typical “Will my album do well?” or “What’s my luck like this year?” But his heart beat a little faster, and before he could stop himself, he spoke.

“When… when do you see my family expanding?”

The host stilled for a beat, eyes widening slightly before glancing at the camera crew with a knowing grin. “Oh-ho! Your family? Another baby on the way?”

Jiyong shifted in his seat, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I- I would like that.” His voice softened slightly, the vulnerability slipping through.

The host shuffled the cards, and for a moment, Jiyong held his breath.

When the man finally revealed the result, he stared at it for a beat, then looked back at Jiyong with a grin.

“This year.”

Jiyong blinked. “What?”

“It’ll happen this year.”

His heart practically burst from his chest.

He wasn’t even a big believer in tarot. He didn’t put much stock in predictions or fortune-telling. But at that moment? He wanted to believe it. Needed to believe it.

Without thinking, he whipped out his phone, his eyes still wide with excitement.

“I need to call my wife. Right now.”

The host chuckled. “You’re calling her? On the show?”

Jiyong didn’t care. He tapped your name, waiting for the sight of your beautiful face to appear as the shows camera zoomed in on him, capturing his eager expression.

You picked up on the second ring, the sounds of Diva’s giggles filtering through the line.

“Hey, Ji.” Your voice was warm, carefree.

“Jagi! You’re on camera right now, but I had to call you. Say hi.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Lee Yongjin just did a tarot reading for me. Tell her what you said.” He shoved the phone toward the host, practically bouncing in his seat.

The comedian grinned at the camera. “I told him he’ll have another baby this year.”

You blinked, startled, and let out a surprised laugh. “Oh? That soon?”

Jiyong practically melted. His face lit up, his smile so wide it nearly split his face in half. He turned the phone back to himself, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

“You heard that, jagi? This year!”

You laughed softly, but before you could say anything, Diva’s little voice piped up.

“No baby.”

Jiyong sighed, already knowing what was coming. You pressed your lips together and slowly panned your phone down, to where she sat beside you. Diva glared right at the screen.

“No baby!” she repeated firmly, crossing her arms.

The host burst into laughter, and Jiyong shook his head, going into dad-mode.

“No, no, no,” he tutted. “We've already talked about this. Don't you remember why I bought you the iPad?"

She shook her head with a fierce scowl. “No baby. No, no, no - " Diva pointed accusingly at the camera.

"Ok, enough of that, you two," You intervened, knowing it would only be a war of 'no's' between them.

Clearly, she was not on board with the expansion plan.

When the call ended, Jiyong went back to grinning like a fool.

On his way home, he couldn’t stop thinking about Diva’s jealous little outburst. It made him laugh, but it also tugged at his heart.

So, on impulse, he stopped at a toy store.

By the time he walked through the door, he was holding a box with a small baby doll inside - a cute one, with chubby cheeks and a pink onesie. When you gave him a questioning look, he just smiled.

“It’s so she can get used to the idea of a baby being around.” He held it out proudly.

Jiyong walked into Diva's room with the new toy but you said nothing, letting him test the theory for himself.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The next morning, he woke up to an unfamiliar silence.

No gentle tugging on his hair, no giggly calls of “Appa, wake up!”, and no tiny feet stepping all over him.

The bed was unusually quiet, the sheets cool where Diva’s warm little body usually snuggled between you and him.

Jiyong frowned groggily, slowly sitting up, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. He squinted at the clock - half-past ten.

His princess was always up before this, demanding his attention the moment her eyes fluttered open.

The silence made his chest tighten slightly.

“Princess…?” he called softly, voice rough with sleep, expecting her tiny footsteps to come padding into the room any second.

Nothing.

He pushed the covers off hurriedly, padding out of the bedroom in his rumpled pyjamas.

When he reached the sitting room, he stopped short.

There she was.

Perched on the floor with her legs crossed, Diva sat with her back to him, facing the tv. It was switched off but the remote was beside her like she'd tried to figure it out.

She had also helped herself to breakfast: a half-squashed handful of strawberries, two packets of gummy bears, and a juice box she had punctured at the wrong angle, making it leak slightly down the side.

She sat there, completely independent, with her tiny chin lifted in defiance as she took a loud, dramatic sip from the juice box straw.

Jiyong’s heart sank slightly.

“Yah, what's this…?” he said aloud, stepping toward her.

She didn’t even turn around. She just hmpffed, louder than necessary, her tiny shoulders stiff with exaggerated offence.

He crouched down beside her, frowning slightly, tilting his head to catch her eyes.

“Hey, baby… why didn’t you call for me?” he asked, his voice soft and almost pleading.

She stubbornly kept her eyes on the blank screen, refusing to look at him.

Jiyong reached out tentatively, brushing his fingers over her soft hair. “You don’t want me to help you with breakfast? Turn on your show?” he murmured gently.

Without a word, she shrugged his hand off and scooted further away, pointedly ignoring him.

His chest tightened with guilt, his lips parting slightly in disbelief. She never ignored him.

And then you appeared from the bedroom, blinking at the sight of the two.

"Hey, did you do all that by yourself?" You asked at the sight of her little set up.

She nodded and you chuckled.

"Well done, baby. You're so smart."

You passed them and headed to the kitchen, ready to make some proper breakfast for her anyway. Jiyong hurried after you, a deep frown on his face.

"No." he said, resting his hands on the marble counter top as you pulled out a mixing bowl. "Not well done."

"Huh?" You ask in confusion, continuing to work around him as he stewed.

"It's dangerous. She shouldn't be able to run about the house unsupervised. She could have hurt herself. We need to put her back in the crib."

Oh.

So that's what this was about.

You shook your head with an eye roll. He hadn't been happy to move her from a crib to a toddler bed because he thought she'd no longer call for him.

That fear had gone unwarranted though, and now she would just see herself into your room instead. Until that morning.

"Independence is good for her." You disagreed. "All the drawers have locks on them. She only found what she could reach." You shrug, cracking a few eggs into the bowl.

"y/n, you know what she's like. Soon she'll be climbing on the counters."

"Well we'll remove the stools."

But he wouldn't hear it. "No - "

"Jiyong, please don't." You sigh, not wanting to argue first thing in the morning.

He huffed but stayed silent, glaring down at the pattern in the cold marble beneath his palms. He hadn't even realised you two were heading towards a fight. He'd been so on edge lately.

You carry the egg shells to the waste bin and halt, biting your lip at the sight before you.

"Oh dear,"

Jiyong lifted his head and hurried over, coming to a short stop beside you.

"Shit."

You both stared at the little plastic feet poking out of the waste bin. He exhaled sharply and snatched the doll from the bin. The poor toy was even missing an arm and you burst out laughing at the sight.

"I'm sorry, it's not funny."

"No, Jagi, it's really not. This is serious." He shook the broken, discarded doll before stomping to the sitting room.

You wash your hands and waited a moment before hesitantly following after him. But you lingered in the door way as he spoke to her quietly, she was now settled in his lap - her tantrum waning.

“If we have another baby… you’ll still be the princess, okay? You’ll still be Appa’s baby.”

His soft words made you retreat quietly. You feared this was becoming too much for all of you.

You didn't know how much longer it could last before something gave.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

You stared at the single pink line. Again.

Your heart sank.

For the fifth month in a row, the test stared back at you with that same stark disappointment. It was always the same: one lonely pink line mocking you with its singularity. No faint second line. No glimmer of hope. Just one.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you set the test down on the bathroom counter. For a brief moment, you considered hiding it - throwing it away before Jiyong could see. Maybe you could protect him from the letdown just this once.

But you knew he was waiting.

You stepped into the bedroom, test in hand. Jiyong was sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed in his stage clothes from that night’s concert. His hair was slightly damp from sweating under the lights, clinging to his forehead. The exhaustion was obvious in the dark circles under his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders.

Still, when he saw you, he gave you a tired but hopeful smile.

“Hey…” His voice was raspy, worn from performing. “Did you - ”

You silently held the test out.

The second he saw the single line, his face crumpled.

He didn’t say anything at first - he just stared at it. Then he exhaled shakily, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, running his hands over his face.

You could see the weight of it hitting him all at once.

This wasn’t just about the test.

It was everything.

The sleepless nights from touring. The constant travel. The strain of trying to be present for you and Diva despite his packed schedule. The nagging insecurities over his age. The creeping doubt in his own body. The guilt over how Diva still adamantly rejected the idea of a sibling.

It all came crashing down on him at once.

“y/n…” His voice cracked slightly, barely above a whisper. He didn’t look at you. His hands stayed pressed against his face, his shoulders trembling slightly. “Why… why isn’t it working this time?”

You felt your heart clench.

You knelt in front of him, gently prying his hands away from his face. When his tear-filled eyes met yours, you cupped his face, trying to hold him together.

“It’s okay…” you murmured softly, running your thumbs along his damp cheeks. “Hey… it’s okay.”

But he shook his head, blinking back the tears. His voice broke slightly, frustration and heartbreak tumbling out.

“No, it’s not. We didn’t even try the first time. It just… happened. But now? Now, it’s like - ” His breath hitched as he choked back a sob. “ - like my body’s too old or too tired or too - ”

“Stop.” Your voice was firm, cutting through his self-deprecation. You held his face more firmly, forcing him to look at you. “None of that. Do you hear me?”

His lips pressed into a trembling line, and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the weight in his chest.

You exhaled softly, brushing your lips against his damp temple, then his cheek.

“Maybe…” you whispered gently, “maybe we should just put this on hold for a bit. Let’s focus on other things for now.”

The moment the words left your mouth, he jerked back slightly, eyes wide and desperate.

“No.” He shook his head fiercely. “No, baby. Please. I - I don’t want to stop trying.” His voice was frantic, raw. His fingers dug into your wrists, holding on like you might slip away.

You stared at him for a long moment, feeling your throat tighten. You could see it in his eyes - the desperation, the exhaustion, the fear of giving up.

But you also saw how utterly worn down he was.

So, you exhaled softly, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

“I know, my love… I know.” You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, trying to soothe the storm in his chest. “But I think right now… you need to breathe.”

You stood, gently pulling him with you.

“Come on,” you whispered. “Let me run you a bath.”

But he immediately shook his head. “I can't. It’s bad for my sperm.” His voice cracked slightly in protest.

You let out a breathy laugh, despite yourself, and grabbed his face again, kissing him softly.

“I don’t care.” You smiled against his lips, brushing your nose against his. “You matter more right now.”

His hands slowly loosened their desperate grip on your wrists, falling to your waist instead. He let out a shaky breath, eyes searching yours. For a moment, he seemed like he might fight it - but he didn’t.

You walked into the bathroom, reaching for the faucet. As the water began to fill the tub, you moved to throw away the discarded test.

But when you glanced at it, you stilled.

Your breath caught in your throat.

There, next to the first line - the bold, mocking one that had been there moments ago - was a second line.

Faint. Barely visible. But unmistakably there.

You froze, staring at it.

The second line had appeared. The test was positive.

You blinked, trying to make sure you weren’t seeing things. You squinted, tilting it slightly under the light. The faint line remained - solid, unwavering.

It was real.

Your hand trembled slightly as you placed the test back on the counter. Your heart hammered violently in your chest, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping.

But you didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

Instead, you turned back to the tub, keeping your expression calm and steady. You adjusted the water temperature, watching the steam rise.

“Jagi?” Jiyong’s voice was soft behind you. When you turned around, he was leaning against the doorframe, watching you tiredly.

You smiled softly and held your hand out to him. “Come on, let’s get you in.”

He sighed heavily, walking toward you. He let you help him out of his shirt, then his pants, before stepping into the warm water. He released a long, shaky breath as he sank into the tub, his tense muscles slowly relaxing.

You rolled up your sleeves and sat on the edge of the bath, trailing your fingers through the water.

Jiyong leaned his head back against the tub, closing his eyes. “You’re getting in, right?” His voice was drowsy, his words slurring slightly from fatigue.

You smiled softly.

“Mm… scoot back.”

You undressed and slipped in front of him, leaning back against his chest. He relaxed immediately, exhaling heavily as his arms folded over you.

For a few moments, you stayed like that - until you turned and pressed a few kisses on his chin.

His voice came out soft and drowsy as he roused at your touch. “y/n… are we trying again?”

You smiled faintly, your lips grazing his damp skin.

“We don’t need to.”

He blinked slowly, tilting his head slightly. “Jagi… I told you, I don’t want to stop trying.”

You smiled softly up at him, your heart racing.

“No… we don’t need to.”

You felt his body still slightly, and his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.

“What?”

You reached over the side of the tub, grabbing the test. Without a word, you placed it in his hand.

His brows furrowed as he stared at it - perplexed.

Then his breath caught.

His eyes widened.

The second line.

“Jagi…” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking. “Wait… does this mean - ”

You laughed, your voice trembling slightly with emotion.

“I mean, I'll have to do a few more - just to confirm but - we did it, Ji.”

Your husband stared at the test for another beat as his hands trembled, and he turned his gaze back to you.

Then he crushed you against him, clinging to you desperately as tears soaked your neck.

“We did it…” he whispered again and again, voice trembling with disbelief and awe.

And you returned his embrace.

You held your tired, beautiful, loving husband - knowing your family was about to grow by one more.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

so we've learned a few things: diva is an ipad kid, the timeline of this series compared to real-life is severely skewed - my bad, and baby number 2 is ON THE WAY!!

this was very comforting gd focused but don't worry this will switch up a bit in the next one!

and i know five months isn't too long to wait to conceive but his frustrations is piled with his age (reader is implied younger) + his perfectionism + the fact it happened so quickly the last time so...

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford , @lariem-blog2 , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999

[wonbyyou]

hii I love ur work may I request something for jay? Maybe some angsty stuff like an argument and then him apologising or wtv you'd like in angst!

<3

Hope its not too much thank youu

hey anon, thank you for your ask and don't worry at all, it's never too much, you can send as many asks as you like, i'd love to write them all. it's such a great prompt plus, i haven't written angst before so it was very fun writing this piece. i hope you'll enjoy it.

for @onlyywwon

-

The muffled roar of the departing crowd outside was a dull counterpoint to the silence crackling between you and Jay. He slumped on a worn couch, damp hair plastered to his forehead from the encore, a half-empty bottle of water dangling from his fingers.

His stage clothes—black jeans and a threadbare band tee soaked with sweat incongruous against the cheap velvet. You stood near the door, your overnight bag already slung over your shoulder, the weight of disappointment heavier than the luggage.

"You cancelled again, Jay," you stated, your voice flat, devoid of the usual warmth reserved for him. It was the third time this month.

"Dinner. Reservations I made weeks ago. You said soundcheck ran late, then the promoter needed you, then…" You trailed off, the excuses tasting like ash. "You didn't even call. Just a text. 'Can't make it. Tour stuff.'"

Jay rubbed his eyes, exhaustion etching deep lines around them. "It was tour stuff, babe," he mumbled, his voice raspy from singing. "The label rep showed up unannounced. Had to schmooze. You know how it is." He gestured vaguely towards the door, towards the fading noise of his adoring fans. "This… it takes everything right now."

"Everything except me," you shot back, the dam breaking. The cool detachment vanished, replaced by a sharp, aching hurt. "That's what it feels like, Jay. Like I'm the last item on a checklist you never get to. You blow into town for 48 hours, sleep most of it, play the show, and then…" You swallowed hard. "You barely look at me. Barely talk to me."

He looked up, a flicker of defensiveness in his tired eyes. "That's not true. I'm just… wiped. You saw the show. That energy's gotta come from somewhere."

"And where does my energy go, Jay?" Your voice cracked. "Waiting? Hoping? Planning things you cancel? Feeling like a groupie you occasionally sleep with?" The accusation hung heavy. "I saw you tonight. After the set. Laughing with that photographer, Liv. Leaning in close, whispering jokes. You had plenty of energy for her."

Jay's head snapped up, his exhaustion momentarily replaced by indignation. "Liv? She's taking promo shots! It's work! Jesus, are you seriously jealous of work?"

"It's not jealousy!" you fired back, stepping closer, the air thick with unshed tears and frustration. "It's evidence! Evidence that you can engage, you can be present… just not with me. Not anymore. You give your best to the crowd, to the band, to the label reps, to the damn photographer… and I get the exhausted scraps."

You grabbed the strap of your bag tighter, knuckles white. "I feel invisible, Jay. Like I'm just… background noise to your main event."

He pushed himself off the couch, swaying slightly. "That's bull, you know what I'm building! This band… it's finally happening! It's for us!"

"For you, Jay!" you countered, your voice rising. "It's always been for you! Your dream, your schedule, your exhaustion! Where's us in that? Where's the us that existed before the tour bus became your whole world?" Tears finally spilled over, hot and humiliating. "I can't keep living on crumbs of your attention and then watch you light up for everyone else. I need more."

You turned towards the door, the cheap metal handle cold under your trembling fingers. The roar of the departing crowd was almost gone now, leaving an oppressive silence.

"Fine!" Jay's voice ripped through the quiet, raw and ragged, fueled by exhaustion, guilt, and a sudden, terrifying panic. "If I'm such a fucking burden, if my dream is such an inconvenience, then maybe you should walk! Go find someone whose life isn't so damn demanding!" The words were meant to wound, a desperate lash-out from someone cornered by their own neglect.

The cruelty of it stole your breath. You didn't hesitate. You yanked the door open, the cacophony of roadies breaking down equipment hitting you like a physical blow.

You stepped out into the chaotic backstage corridor, the harsh fluorescent lights stinging your wet eyes. You took one step, then another, heading towards the exit sign, the weight of his words a crushing stone in your chest. The sound of your own choked sob echoed in your ears.

Then, footsteps—frantic, heavy—pounding the concrete floor behind you. A hand, calloused from guitar strings, shot out and grabbed your arm, not to pull you back roughly, but to anchor you, to stop your retreat. You whirled, ready to shove him away, but the sight stopped you cold.

All the defensive anger, the tour-bus bravado, was gone. His face was pale beneath the stage makeup smudged with sweat, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and filled with a raw, undisguised terror. He looked utterly shattered, the rockstar persona evaporated.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, his voice a broken whisper, rough from singing and now thick with remorse. His grip on your arm tightened almost imperceptibly, a plea. "God, I'm so sorry. That was… vile. I didn't mean it. Not a word." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're right. I've been… gone. Even when I'm here, I'm gone. Lost in this… this fucking machine."

He gestured helplessly back towards the green room, the symbol of everything consuming him. "I see you waiting. I feel you pulling away… and I just get scared, so I bury myself deeper in the noise." His thumb brushed over your wrist, a tentative, desperate touch. "Don't go. Please. I'll… I'll cancel the damn acoustic tour next week. I'll make time. Real time. Just… please."

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the apology hanging fragile and absolute in the grimy, chaotic air, the roar of the departing crowd finally silenced, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing.

His hand on your arm felt like a brand, burning with the ghost of every missed dinner, every half-asleep conversation, every time you’d watched him laugh easily with someone else while you felt like a stranger in your own relationship.

His eyes, wide with raw panic and slick with tears mixed with stage sweat and rainwater, searched yours desperately. The offer hung there—I'll cancel the damn acoustic tour next week—but it landed like a stone in stagnant water.

It wasn't about next week. It wasn't about cancelling one thing. It was about the thousand little cancellations of you that had already happened. The way your shared dream had become solely his, leaving you standing on the periphery, waving from the shore as his tour bus pulled away, again and again.

You looked at his hand on your arm, then slowly, deliberately, you lifted your other hand. Not to touch him, but to gently, firmly, peel his fingers away. Your touch was cool, final. The warmth of his skin against yours, once your sanctuary, now felt like a painful reminder of what was slipping through your fingers.

"No, Jay," you said, your voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor deep in your chest. It wasn't loud, but it cut through the backstage clatter and his ragged breathing like a knife. It held no anger now, only a bone-deep weariness, a profound, aching sadness.

"Cancelling the tour won't fix this. It won't give us back the time that's already gone. It won't make me forget how it feels to be... an afterthought."

You saw the hope die in his eyes, replaced by a dawning horror as he truly understood you weren't bargaining, weren't waiting for a grand gesture. You were stating a fact.

"It's too late," you whispered, the words catching on the sob building in your throat. You took a deliberate step back, putting precious, irrevocable space between you. Your hand found the cold metal of the exit door push bar. "For us. It’s just… too late."

You didn't wait for another plea, another broken promise. You pushed the door open. The chaotic noise of load-out—the clang of equipment cases, the shouted instructions of roadies—surged in, a stark, indifferent counterpoint to the silent devastation in the corridor behind you. You didn't look back. You walked straight into the chaos, weaving through the cables and flight cases like a ghost, heading for the cool night air outside the venue's service entrance.

The moment the heavy metal door swung shut behind you, cutting off the noise and the sight of him standing broken in the corridor, the dam burst. A ragged sob tore from your throat, loud and ugly in the quiet alley.

Tears, hot and relentless, streamed down your face, blurring the harsh glare of the security lights. You fumbled for your phone, hands shaking violently, to call a ride. The cold night air bit through your thin jacket, but it was nothing compared to the icy void opening up inside your chest.

The taxi ride home was a blur of streaking city lights and stifled cries. You pressed your forehead against the cool window, shoulders shaking, trying to muffle the sounds escaping you. The driver glanced nervously in the rearview mirror but said nothing. Every red light felt like an eternity, each one a fresh wave of crushing grief.

You saw Jay’s shattered expression every time you closed your eyes—the panic, the tears, the desperate grasp on your arm. You heard his ragged apology, his offer to cancel… and your own quiet, devastating pronouncement: It’s too late.

Unlocking your apartment door felt like entering a tomb. The silence inside was oppressive, heavy with the absence of him. No discarded guitar picks on the coffee table. No familiar scent of his cologne lingering.

Just… emptiness. You dropped your bag, the sound echoing in the stillness, and sank to your knees right there in the entryway. The sobs came harder now, wracking your whole body, great heaving gasps that left you breathless and aching. You curled in on yourself, arms wrapped tight around your middle, as if you could physically hold the broken pieces together.

Too late. The words echoed in the hollow space, bouncing off the walls of your grief. It wasn't just about tonight's fight or the cancelled dinners. It was about the slow, insidious erosion of you within the relationship. The way you'd shrunk yourself to fit the margins of his demanding life.

The way the vibrant connection you'd once shared had faded into static, drowned out by the roar of the crowd and the relentless grind of the tour bus engine. You’d tried. God, how you’d tried to be understanding, supportive, patient.

But patience had curdled into resentment, understanding into invisibility. The love was still there, a raw, bleeding wound, but the foundation it was built on—mutual presence, shared attention, simple time—had crumbled to dust.

He’d seen you walking away. He’d chased you. He’d apologized. But the chasm was too wide, the neglect too deep. Fixing it would require a fundamental shift, a dismantling of the very thing driving him—the band, the success, the dream.

And you knew, with a certainty that felt like a death knell, that even if he tried, the resentment would fester. His dream had cost you yours—the dream of us. And that cost was simply too high. You cried until your throat was raw and your eyes burned, kneeling on the cold floor of your empty apartment, the silence broken only by your ragged breaths and the crushing, undeniable truth: it was over. The tour bus was moving on, and you were finally, irrevocably, left behind.

The deep, velvet blackness of night pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating. Sleep, when it finally came after hours of crying curled on the cold floor, was thin and haunted.

You drifted in a fog of exhaustion, the phantom ache in your chest a constant companion. Then, a shift in the air. The faintest creak of the bedroom door. Soft footsteps crossing the carpet. The mattress dipped beside you, the cool sheets rustling.

You didn’t startle. Didn’t panic. Some deep, instinctual part of you recognized the rhythm of his breathing, the familiar scent of him beneath the lingering traces of stale smoke and stage sweat—a scent woven into the very fabric of your memory.

Jay.

He slipped beneath the duvet silently, his movements hesitant, almost reverent.

Then, strong arms slid around you, pulling you back gently against the solid warmth of his chest. His forehead pressed against the nape of your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. The dam you’d barely managed to shore up crumbled instantly. A fresh wave of silent tears soaked your pillow.

Slowly, painfully, you turned in his embrace. The faint moonlight filtering through the blinds caught the tear tracks gleaming on his face. His eyes, usually so bright with charm or fierce with stage energy, were red-rimmed, swollen, and swimming in raw, liquid sorrow.

He looked utterly wrecked, the confident singer stripped bare, leaving only a man drowning in regret. Seeing him cry, really cry, tore at something deep inside you.

He lifted a trembling hand, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear trailing down your cheek. His touch was infinitely gentle, a stark contrast to the desperate grip backstage.

"I know… I know I don’t deserve to be here. Shouldn't have come in without…" He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly in the dim light. "But I couldn't… God, I couldn't stay away. Not after…" His voice hitched, breaking completely. He buried his face against your shoulder for a moment, his shoulders shaking with the effort of containing his own sobs. When he lifted his head, his eyes held yours with a desperate intensity.

"I was wrong," he whispered, the words heavy, carved from guilt. "So damn wrong. Every word I said… every accusation… it was poison. Lies I told myself because I was too chickenshit to face what I was doing to you."

His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline with aching tenderness. "I took you for granted. Like you were… something that'd always just be there. My anchor. My safe harbor. And I…" He choked, fresh tears welling and spilling over. "I treated you like background noise. Like something that could wait. While I chased something shiny and loud." He shook his head, the movement frantic.

"I missed dinners. I cancelled plans. And when I was here…" His voice dropped to a shattered whisper. "I wasn't here. My head was still on the bus, on the stage, on the next damn thing. I wasn't giving you me. Just… the tired leftovers."

He took a ragged breath, pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you as if afraid you'd vanish. "I saw it," he confessed, his voice thick with self-loathing.

"I saw you pulling away. Fading. And instead of fighting for you, I got defensive. Angry. Blamed you. Because it was easier than admitting I was failing you. Failing us." He pressed his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours on your cheeks.

"I let the best part of my whole damn world slip through my fingers because I was too blind, too selfish, to see what I had right in front of me until you were walking out that door."

He paused, the silence heavy with the weight of his confession. His dark eyes, still swimming, held yours with unwavering sincerity, stripped of all pretense, all rockstar bravado.

"I love you," he breathed, the words raw and profound. "More than the roar of any crowd. More than any stage. More than this whole damn dream. It ain't worth a thing without you beside me." His thumb brushed your lips softly.

"I swear to you, on everything I am, I won't do it again. I won't take a single second with you for granted. I'll be here. Present. Every damn time. I'll cancel whatever I gotta cancel. Rearrange whatever needs rearrangin'. The band…" He swallowed again, the words costing him, but he meant them.

"I'm nothing without you. Please…" His voice cracked, a broken plea. "Please give me a chance to prove it. To be the man you deserve. I can't… I can't lose you. Don't make me live in a world where I drove you away."

The raw vulnerability in his voice, the utter devastation on his tear-streaked face, the desperate sincerity in his promises—it shattered the last of your defenses. The love you thought was buried under layers of hurt and neglect surged forward, potent and undeniable.

You saw not the neglectful singer, but the man you’d fallen for, broken and pleading for redemption. You didn't want a world without him either.

Slowly, tremblingly, you lifted your hand, mirroring his gesture, cupping his stubbled cheek. His skin was warm, damp with tears beneath your palm. You leaned in, closing the scant distance between you.

Your lips met his—not with fiery passion, but with a profound tenderness, a desperate affirmation. A silent acceptance of his apology, a promise of your own. A mingling of salt from both your tears, a sealing of the fractured space between you.

His arms tightened convulsively around you, pulling you flush against him, a shuddering breath escaping him as he returned the kiss with equal parts desperation and reverence. It was a kiss born of shared grief, profound remorse, and the fierce, unyielding determination not to let go.

His body, warm and solid against yours, felt like both an anchor and a lifeline.

The desperate kiss sealing his apology had settled into a fragile truce, but a deeper hunger stirred—a need for tangible proof, for skin-on-skin absolution. You shifted, turning fully into the shelter of his arms. Moonlight caught the lingering dampness on his lashes, the profound remorse etched beside the fierce devotion in his dark eyes.

Your thumb traced the rough line of his jaw, feeling the tremor beneath your touch. "Jay," you breathed, your voice husky, thick with a yearning that went beyond mere desire. "Make love to me. Show me you're really here. All of you."

His breath hitched, a ragged intake of air. He searched your eyes, seeing the lingering shadows of hurt beneath the desperate hope.

"Sweetheart," he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. "Always. Only ever for you." He didn’t pounce; he approached you like sacred ground. His lips met yours in a kiss that was achingly soft, a slow exploration laced with reverence. His calloused hand, familiar and beloved, slid down your side with infinite care, pushing up the thin cotton of your sleep shirt.

Each inch of skin revealed was met with the brush of his lips—your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, the swell of your breast.

His hand journeyed lower, skimming your hip, coming to rest on the bare skin of your inner thigh. His touch was a question whispered against your pulse point. You arched silently, a sigh escaping as his fingers found the damp heat of you through your panties. He palmed you gently, a slow, circling pressure that made your hips lift. "So ready," he breathed, nuzzling your neck.

"Soaking for me already?" With agonizing tenderness, he hooked a finger under the elastic, easing the fabric down, his eyes holding yours captive. Cool air kissed your core, but his touch returned instantly, sliding through slick folds with a reverence that stole your breath. He groaned, gathering your wetness. "My sweet girl. Always so sweet for me."

He took infinite time opening you. One thick finger traced your entrance, circling maddeningly before sinking in with exquisite slowness. The stretch was profound, a deep filling ache that drew a gasp from your lips. He watched your face intently, his thumb finding your clit with feather-light precision.

"That's it," he soothed, his voice low and hypnotic. "Just let go, baby. Let me love you like you deserve." He worked you open with one finger, then two, each shallow thrust deeper, each twist deliberate, building the sweet tension strand by strand.

His whispers were a constant benediction: "Never rushing you again… gonna learn every inch… worship this perfect pussy every damn day… always present for you… always…" By the time he withdrew, you were trembling, open and slick, aching for the fullness only he could give.

Shedding his clothes was a quiet, focused act. His cock, heavy and hard, nudged against your thigh. He positioned himself between your legs, bracing on his forearms, cradling you.

The broad head pressed against your entrance, slick with your arousal. He pressed forward with infinite slowness, letting you feel every ridge, every thick inch as he stretched you, filled you, reclaimed the space that was uniquely his.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he commanded softly, his voice strained with restraint. "Look at me while I love you." You drowned in the depths of his gaze—love, remorse, adoration swirling in the moonlight.

He sank deeper, deeper, until fully seated with a groan that vibrated through both of you. "God… yes," he gasped, forehead dropping to yours. "This is home."

He began to move. Not fast, not hard, but with a deep, rolling cadence that felt like a vow written on your skin. Slow, deliberate thrusts dragged his length against every sensitive place inside you, each withdrawal an exquisite emptiness, each return a profound relief.

His hips moved with a gentle power, his body blanketing yours. He kissed you deeply, his tongue mirroring the languid push of his cock. His hands roamed—cupping a breast, thumb grazing a taut nipple, gripping your hip to anchor you closer. "Never taking this for granted," he whispered against your mouth. "Never making you feel second best… right here with you… feeling every tremble… every sigh… you're everything… everything…"

The pleasure built like dawn breaking—slow, golden warmth spreading from your core outward. You clung to him, legs locked around his waist, meeting each deep stroke with a roll of your hips.

The intimacy was staggering—shared breath, shared skin, shared heartbeat. As the coil inside you tightened unbearably, as the slow burn ignited into white-hot need, the words tore from you, raw and true, gasped against his lips: "I love you, Jay… Oh God… I love you…"

Hearing it, feeling your body clench fiercely around him as you confessed it, shattered his control. His rhythm faltered, then surged deeper. His eyes locked on yours, wide and burning with intense emotion as his own climax seized him.

"I love you!" he cried out, the words ripped from his soul, rough and fervent as his hips drove into you one final, deep time. "I love you so damn much… almost lost you… love you… love you…" His body shuddered violently against yours as he pulsed deep within you, spilling with a heat that felt like a molten seal on his desperate vow.

He collapsed onto you, his weight a grounding comfort, his face buried in your neck, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps against your damp skin.

He didn't pull away; he held you impossibly closer, still buried deep inside the warm clasp of your body. The silence was thick with the aftermath—the slowing thunder of hearts, the mingled scent of sex and salt tears, the profound sense of a rift finally bridged.

"I'm here," he whispered hoarsely against your ear after long moments, his voice thick with unshed tears and absolute conviction. "Not leavin'. Not ever again. You're my world." He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes glistening as they met yours. "I love you," he repeated, softer now, but no less fierce.

"I love you too," you murmured back, the truth of it settling deep into your bones. You kissed him softly, sealing the words, sealing the promise in the quiet aftermath. Tangled together, sweat-slicked and breathing as one, the ghost of neglect dissolved entirely.

Only this remained: the solid warmth of him inside and around you, the steady beat of his heart against yours, and the profound, unshakeable certainty echoed in their shared whispers—I love you. The tour bus was silent. The only destination that mattered was right here.

[smallestapplin]

the heats of a Dhampir

for those unaware, in castlevania SOTN Alucard has a monster form, much like his father, so pair that with vampire's having heats every 4 years and this was born.

Warning! : reader is enby afab, womb fucking, heats, Alucard being a little feral, established relationship, and shifting mid fuck.

minors do not interact!

-

-

Alucard's heat is worst than he thought, his mind cloudy, filling with more animalistic thoughts, his body reacting before he has a chance to process the situation. It made him want to avoid you, and trust he has tried, yet his feet move against him, taking him right back to you or to your home.

Your voice and presence like that of a siren calling to him, luring him in to his doom, your scent keeps him intoxicated and under your spell, though you know not of any of his struggles.

He's your loving and doting boyfriend, though you know something is up with his odd behaviors and getting fussy over your bed, filling your room with various food related items and drinks, while forming your blankets and pillows into a circle.

You awake surrounded, and with the blonde brining you yet another odd shiny item, and cuddling against you with low purrs. You jokingly tell him he must've been replace with a crow for a brain, but he doesn't seem to find it as assuming as you do.

You don't question it, just like you don't question him crawling into your now nest like bed, to leave kisses along your exposed neck. You don't question his needy whine as he slides a cold hand up your loose sleep shirt, cupping your tit in a loving squeeze, as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, licking up the collum of your throat.

Silently pleading for your approval.

He can smell your want before even touching your pussy, smell how you're soaking through your panties.

"Adrian...!!" You squeak, but he's moving so fast! It's like a switch flipped in his mind, and all he can think about is ravaging your body, marking you, scenting you, mounting you.

Your panties are gone in a flash with his head buried between your thighs. Your face goes bright red at the sound of him inhaling your heady scent, a smell mixed of your sweat and arousal, it leaves his mind spinning. You toss your head back with a whimper, feeling his inhumanly long tongue rubbing between your folds, licking your clit and then back down to your weeping hole.

It takes everything in him to eat you out first, a sane part of him wanting you at least prepped for the fucking he knows his going to give you. Your pussy twitches watching him hump the bed, just knowing he's so turned on from your own need gets your body hot, your eyes struggling to not roll back just to see how needy he is.

His tongue pushing into you, the pointed tip just brushing relentlessly against your cervix, easily filling you. You grab a hold of his long blonde hair, gripping onto him like a life line as you buck your hips up, trying to grind against his face. His nose pressing perfectly against your clit, letting him easily overwhelm your senses.

"Adrian, Adrian! M'gonna- gonna cum-!!"

You let out a pitiful cry as he rips himself away from you, denying you your orgasm. His face dripping slick and drool, yet he doesn't care, he doesn't even seem to notice. He tears his pants away, tossing the now scraped fabric aside, freeing his aching cock.

You don't get to admire the beautiful sight of him for long before hes already pushing himself into you.

He's usually so much slower, much more loving towards you, but you're excited to see this new feral side of him. It's like you're truly being taken by a monster, just what you've dreamed of.

Alucard's body shakes, his eyes rolling back as he bottoms out, fully sheathed into your warm wet cunt. He doesn't give you a moment to breathe, his hips seemingly having a mind of their own as he ruts into you. Your legs are over his shoulders, with him leaning over you, his hands on either side of your head letting his sharp claw like nails tear into your pillow.

You cling to his biceps, crying out about how good he's making you feel.

"Oohh fuck! Fuck fuck fuuuck! So good, mm, haa! God, you're...you're fucking me so good. Please more, more ruin me!"

The room echoes with the sound of his hips wetly slapping into yours. He can't bare it, you're pleading sends him spiraling, his head feels like it's filled with cotton, he doesn't feel his body twisting and shifting, his form growing larger and larger.

Leathery wings sprouting from his back, curling around you to hide you from the world, his form drawfs you in size. Hands turning more into scaly claws, ripping your pilllow and sheets beneath you. Your eyes widen as the monstrous sight before you as the horns twist on top his head.

But your attention mostly drawn to the pressure in your stomach, feeling his cock growing bigger inside you, matching the new size of him.

You squirm, but with how he has you pinned you can't move.

"Adrain, wait, h-hold on...hnnn! Fuck, t-too big, I can't take it, i-it's too much!"

He grumbles lowly, harshly slamming his cock further into you, his glowing eyes flickering between the new bulge in your stomach and watching how your pussy struggles to accept his new size.

His roar is deafening as you cum, your walls clenching around him desperate to milk him. Your eyes cross, tears streaming down your face. He's fucking your womb, he's so deep!

His long tongue falls frm his open maw, drool dripping onto your chest as he licks it and the sweat off your skin, purring deeply at the taste of you.

His heavy balls smack against your ass, the sheer weight fuck them telling your fucked out mind just how backed up he is, desperate to fill you to the brim.

Cum as many times as you want, he won't be stopping until you take every last drop of his spent.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it.  You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

 “I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

~

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

~

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

~

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

~

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

~

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

~

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment.  You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' ⟡ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟺

⟢ james potter x black!reader (fem)

⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. but you won't let regulus be left behind . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 4.6k

⟢ warnings: angst, past abuse from parents referenced/discussed, (spoiler) the reader has to hide from walburga briefly, please let me know if there are any other warnings i need to add

⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ part 4 ⟡ masterlist

note: apologies for the long wait! i love u all so much for being so patient with me

It was dark when you woke up, still curled up on the purple floral sheets where you had cried yourself to exhaustion.

As you stirred awake, there was a single moment of peace, where your mind was at ease, untethered from your burdens and heartache. But having that moment of serenity only made it harder when it all came crashing down on you.

All at once you remembered where you were, why you were there, why Regulus wasn't with you, and why— in a place filled with so much love— you had never felt more alone.

It made you want to scream. Or roll over and find solace in your dreams once more. It would be no use, you decided, because you'd have to face reality at some point. And the growing pit of dread in your stomach was getting harder to ignore anyway.

Still groggy from your accidental slumber, you pushed yourself up in the bed, your bones crackling under your weight.

It was hard to see anything in the little room. Someone had drawn your curtains closed while you slept. When you tried to find your way to the light switch, you nearly ended up falling flat on your face after tripping over something large obstructing your path.

Your trunk— which you could see once you switched the light on— had also been brought to your room while you were sleeping.

You looked down at yourself. Still engulfed in James' sweats, you decided a change of attire was in order and retrieved a pair of trousers and a Hogwarts sweater from your trunk.

As you took the sweater into your arms, something else from your trunk fell to the ground with a clang. You held your breath as you bent down to pick up the fallen item: your emerald bracelet. You handled the vintage jewelry with care as you plucked it from the floor.

You stepped backwards until the back of your legs touched the bed, where you sat as you cradled the bangle in your palms. The emerald-encrusted bracelet, a family heirloom, belonged to a set of three.

Along with your bracelet, there's a ring made up of a wide gold band etched with celestial carvings and a large emerald as its center stone. It belonged to Sirius, who often had his fingers decorated with rings, but never this one. You wouldn't be surprised if he had left it at Grimmauld Place, with how little he cared for it. To him, it's just another symbol of everything he stands against.

The third piece was a gold chain on which a large emerald pendant hung. It belonged to Regulus, who always wore it proudly. Not because it was an ancient heirloom that marked him as the second son of the house of Black. No, he wore it because it is one of three, just like him. He wore it because it's something he shared with you and Sirius.

You knew this because he told you himself. It was one of the many reasons that led you to believe he would never choose to stay behind when you and Sirius left that house. Not without a reason.

Finding the bracelet filled you with sharp determination. Sirius and James could doubt Regulus all they wanted, but you were not going to give up on him. And if they weren't going to help you, then you would just have to get to Regulus on your own.

You slid the bracelet onto your wrist, the cool metal settling against your skin as you rose from the bed. Restless, you began to pace around the small room. It felt reckless, maybe even insane, but the conviction gnawing at you wouldn’t let go. You had to get back to Grimmauld Place. No matter the danger, no matter the cost— you wouldn't give up on your twin.

But it's not like you could floo right into the drawing room or walk in through the front door. In a perfect world, you'd be able to talk to Regulus without alerting your parents of your return. You didn't know how you would manage that if you couldn't even come up with a way to get back into the house. You didn't even know the way back.

James or Sirius would probably come up with some creative— albeit convoluted— plan that would get you in and out safely and swiftly. You ignored the pang in your chest as you remembered that you couldn't ask them for help.

Hot with frustration, you moved to the window to let in some air. With your fingers on the latch, you paused. Looking through the glass at the back garden, an idea finally came to mind. A slightly insane, definitely convoluted, reckless idea that might just be crazy enough to work. It's not unlike one you'd have expected James to come up with. If you hadn't been actively going against his will, he might have even been proud.

You pretended to try to talk yourself out of it as you collected some stationery from your trunk. As you scribbled on the parchment, you thought to yourself about everything that could go wrong. What would James and Sirius tell you, you wondered, and you realized you're only pretending to consider not doing this for their sake. As if that would do them, or your relationships, any good.

Finished, you lifted the parchment to eye level. A letter to Regulus— dated, signed, and addressed, but otherwise blank. Now, you just needed to get it to Glory, and follow the owl across the countryside on James' broom. Nothing you couldn't handle, right?

With one hand gripping the doorknob and the other clutching both the letter and your wand, you drew a deep, steadying breath. Just as you began to turn the knob, a soft staccato of knocks on the wood stopped you cold.

On the other side of the door, James was calling your name in a hushed tone.

"Are you awake?" he asked when he was answered with nothing but silence.

He was muffled by the door that stood between you, but you could still hear the deep, burdened sigh that escaped his lips. You let your forehead rest against the cool wood in front of you, imagining him doing the same.

"Are you... are you listening? You don’t have to open the door. Just… just let me know you’re there. Please."

Despite the lack of response, James didn't leave. Instead, his voice softened, laced with a vulnerability you rarely heard.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything— I just need you to hear me." His voice wavered, but he pushed through. "I... Shit, I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make it better, and all I want is to make it better."

He paused, exhaling shakily. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip until it hurt, almost unable to bear hearing James speak with so much devastation in his voice.

"I know how much Regulus means to you, and I know there’s nothing I can say or do that will make this okay. Merlin, you deserve so much better than all of this. You all do."

His voice broke slightly as he continued. "And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I told Sirius everything. I was just scared for you. But I betrayed your trust. I can’t take it back, but I need you to know how deeply sorry I am."

There was another pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost pleading. "I’m so, so sorry."

"Stop," your voice hit your ears before your brain approved the dialogue. "Stop it, please. You don't have anything to be sorry for James."

James' breath hitched in his throat, your sudden reply coming unexpectedly.

You swallowed hard as you worked up the courage to continue. "I'm sorry, James. I'm so sorry. If you could ever forgive me–"

"Nothing," James interjected almost too quickly. "Nothing you could ever do could make me not be able to forgive you. Please, open the door."

You felt a pang in your chest. If only he knew.

"I'm not going to do that," you choked out, doing everything not to break down into tears again. "I just need to... I need some time. I need to be alone."

James released another shaky breath. "I understand," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice from cracking. After a beat, he adds, "I love you."

You screwed your eyes shut tight, fighting down a sob. Such soft-spoken words from James were usually a comfort, but something ugly was twisting deep inside you, telling you that you were undeserving of his affection.

"I love you too," you whispered, your words sincere.

After a few moments, you heard James' footsteps retreat softly down the hall. You backed away from the door, letting out a breath you've been straining to hold in as you drive the heel of your palms into your eyes, willing yourself not to cry.

You took a few deep breaths until your emotions were in check. Your mind was reeling, you still needed to get out of this house, but you didn’t want to risk running into James after that.

Your eyes settled on the window in your room, and you sighed. It was less than ideal, but it was an idea.

A burst of cool air hit you as you opened the window as far as it would go. Squinting, you could see that the shed’s window was still open. Perfect.

You raised your wand, “Accio James’ broom.”

A moment passed before James’ broom began flying out of the shed window, just barely fitting through the open space. The broom hovered outside your window when it arrived.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, then hoisted yourself out the window and onto the broomstick.

You allowed yourself a little laugh. There was a not-so-small chance you’d have slipped and gone tumbling to the ground, and probably broken a few bones in the process, so you were happy you survived your first hurdle. Although you expected that there would be many more to come.

The next part was the easy part. Get the letter to Glory.

You flew down slowly, crossing your fingers that no one was looking out a window right now. As far as you could tell, no faces could be seen in any of them.

Thankfully, the Potter’s owl was still on his perch. You hovered before him and held up your letter, “Hi again. You think you can get this to my brother? It’s not a terribly long flight to Grimmauld Place, is it?”

Once again, owls cannot talk. Yet, you find yourself speaking to Glory as if he’d answer. Still, something about the way the owl looked at you told you it shouldn’t be a very long flight indeed.

“Alright, then,” you handed the letter over, and the owl snatched it with his beak and immediately took off.

“Well, wait for me!” you whispered-yelled, and took off yourself.

You couldn’t believe you were actually following an owl to Grimmauld Place. From the way he glanced back at you, neither could he. Glory kept looking at you, and if an owl could look perplexed, they would look like this.

You didn’t know that a person could be so cold and sweat so profusely all at once. It was freezing this high in the sky, but the reason for your violent trembling was more likely your nerves as you tried to pretend a fall from this height wouldn’t ensure your untimely death. You were actually kind of thankful that the temperature was nearly freezing your fingers to the handle of the broom.

Eventually, your familial home was in your line of sight. You began to slow down to plan how you would sneak in when you realized the owl wasn’t being so careful.

“Wait, wait,” you called quietly after him, but he either didn’t hear you or he ignored you.

The bird flew straight to the window of Regulus’ room and began pecking at the glass. You followed slowly.

Your lips parted and eyes widened when Regulus appeared in the window. His eyebrows knit together as he opened the window for the owl. He retreated into his room, but he left the window open.

Your heart felt heavy at the sight of him. He looked worn out, and his eyes looked sunken, and it was as if the past few days had aged him by years.

You slowly flew over to his open window. He didn’t notice you hovering outside of his room, and you didn’t know how to alert him of your presence without scaring him.

You decided to knock on the window as if it were a door.

Regulus’ head snapped in your direction. He was half expecting another owl, so when he saw you, he gasped and crossed the room in two strides.

“What the hell!” he hissed. “Get in, get in.” Regulus ushered you through the window, broom and all, and you dismounted once you were inside.

“You can’t be here, are you mad?! How...?” Regulus looked between you and the Potter’s owl. “You followed a bird here!?” His tone was hushed, but filled with worry and perhaps a little anger.

“I had to see you,” you explained. “I- I don’t understand what happened, Regulus. Why didn’t you come with us?”

Regulus opened his mouth but just as quickly clamped it shut, trying his best not to snap at you. His eyes studied your frame. You were still shivering, and your forehead was slick with sweat, stray hairs glued down to your forehead.

And your eyes. The emotions swimming in your eyes— the confusion, the sadness, the helplessness— the sight of it made Regulus choke on his own breath.

Your brother set aside his anger at your foolishness to stop forward and wrap his arms around you, his hand finding the back of your head to cradle you close as his other arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

“You can’t be here,” Regulus repeated. “They can’t find you here.”

You pulled away from the embrace to look at him. “Then let’s go. We can follow the owl back to the Potter’s. We’ll both fit on the broom.”

Regulus’ expression was unreadable as he said, “I can’t leave, Y/N.”

Frustration pumped through your veins. You didn't come all this way just for him to refuse. “Well, neither can I. Not without an explanation.”

You sat yourself on Regulus’ bed with your arms crossed, determined not to move until you got what you wanted.

Regulus' nostrils flared at your stubbornness. "I know this isn't what you wanted, but you're going to have to accept it. I'm not leaving. But you are getting back on that broom before you are caught. It isn't safe."

“That means it’s not safe for you either."

“I can handle myself,” Regulus insisted.

You frowned. You were tired of your brothers thinking they could deal with everything on their own. “You wouldn't have to if you would just come with me!”

“I can’t!” he snapped, his fist closing on the empty letter from the owl. He balled it up in frustration and tossed it into the nearby bin.

“You can’t just say that and not explain,” you seethed. “Why!? Why can’t you leave? Why- why didn’t you help Sirius after-“

You bit your lip and focused on keeping tears from welling in your eyes.

Regulus was silent, so you continued, “He said you left him there on the floor. But you wouldn’t have done that. You wouldn’t have. Please, Regulus, help me understand.”

Your words hung in the air like a heavy weight on your chest as you waited for Regulus to respond— for him to explain it all so that you could finally understand what went wrong.

Instead, he didn't even flinch when he told you, "I did. I left him there."

You knew Regulus better than anyone, but sometimes even you couldn't see past his hard exterior.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely reaching above a whisper.

When Regulus didn't answer, you stood. Stepping up to him, you asked again, "Why? Why would you do that? He was alone, hurt, and you left him? Sirius thinks you've chosen them over us. Is that true? Is that why you did it? Is that why you're staying?"

Regulus stared at you, his face void of any emotion or reaction, even as your tears threatened to spill.

"Answer me!" you raised your voice.

Regulus' eyes went wide as he shushed you sharply. He stalked off towards the door, pressing his ear against it to listen for any movement. His body remained rigid until several seconds later, when he was sure you weren't heard.

He wouldn't be so concerned for you if he had really chosen your parents, you're sure of it.

"All you've ever done is try to protect me. Sirius too, even if he thinks he's the one who always protected us. So it just doesn't make sense..." You paused, the realization hitting you. "Unless you couldn't help Sirius, could you? Mother told you not to? She threatened you? She threatened him?"

You grabbed Regulus by the shoulder to spin him back around to face you. "If you helped Sirius she would have done worse, wouldn't she have? He would have paid for your disobedience."

His brow twitched, and that was all you needed to see.

"You need to leave," Regulus spoke clearly, but his voice was just above a whisper. There was a coldness in his tone, but you knew he only put it there to hide the truth.

"I'm right, tell me I'm right," you pleaded with him.

Regulus opened his mouth to respond, but it snapped closed in an instant. There were footsteps in the hall coming closer. Light clacking that could only belong to your mother.

Regulus wrenched you towards his bed by your arm. “Under the bed at once,” he hissed, as he slid James’ broom under there too. You managed to crawl beneath his bed as soon as his door swung open. Even Glory fled out the window before her arrival.

“Mother,” Regulus greeted her, folding his hands behind his back and straightening his spine.

Her eyes darted around the room, and his tense frame, trying to find something out of place but coming up short. “What are you doing? I heard voices.”

“Kreacher was just in, I was speaking to him," Regulus lied easily. It was one of his strongest skills.

“Kreacher!” Walburga shrieked, and you flinched at the sound. You pressed your palms flat against the hardwood beneath you, grounding yourself as the familiar fear and trepidation quickly settled in after just a few moments in her presence.

With a crack, Kreacher appeared in Regulus’ room, bowing to your mother and brother upon his arrival.

“Were you just in here? With Regulus?” she asked him, not tearing her gaze away from her son for even a second.

But Kreacher stood frozen in place where he bowed at Regulus, his height giving him a clear view of the space beneath Regulus’ bed. He was making eye contact with you.

You watched in horror as Kreacher opened his mouth, alarm in his eyes.

“Kreacher,” Regulus’ voice interrupted him in a low tone. To your mother, Regulus was scolding him for his late reply. But Kreacher knew it was an order more than anything else— Regulus was commanding his loyalty.

The house elf made eye contact with Regulus for a moment before finally giving an answer to Walburga.

“Kreacher was just in Master Regulus’ room,” the house-elf lied. He never did favor anyone like he favored Regulus, not even Walburga. “Master Regulus requested material for reading, he did. Kreacher is seeing to it, of course. Kreacher always serves the young master well, yes, always.”

“Very well, go on then,” Walburga dismissed him.

Kreacher looked at you one last time before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the room.

“Reading materials?” Walburga inquired.

“There are articles I’m looking to obtain. Articles referenced in the last issue of the Daily Prophet.”

Your mother considered the information for a moment before she finally decided she was satisfied with the answer. But before leaving, she stepped closer to Regulus. She gently laid a bony hand on the side of his face, patting his cheek.

“You’re a good boy, Regulus. My son. My heir.”

Her voice, the way she carried herself— it was as cold as ever. But there was something else, something somber. But her words struck you, and it felt like your heart stopped. That was perhaps the most tender thing she’s said to one of her children in years, and yet, hearing her speak to Regulus like that made your blood run cold.

After she left, you and Regulus remained frozen for several seconds. You had to be sure she was far away before making a move. Even a creak in the floorboards would have been too loud.

When you finally reemerged from under his bed, he hissed in a quiet whisper, “You need to go now.”

You ignored him. "She called you her heir."

"Y/N-"

"Sirius is the heir."

Regulus took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not anymore."

You stared at Regulus expectantly. It's a wonder why he still expected you to take things for what they were when you've never let him off the hook without an explanation before.

"She burned you off of the tapestry. Both of you," Regulus explained grimly.

You're not sure how to feel about getting disowned. You slumped against one of the posts of Regulus' bed. You were the one who ran away, you didn't want to be a part of this family anymore. So why does your mother's rejection still sting?

“Now she spends hours sitting in that room, staring at the holes in the wall. She almost seems... devastated." He wasn’t saying it to garner sympathy for her but rather to comment on the peculiarity of it.

You're reminded that beneath her cruelty and coldness, she’s still a mother, your mother, and you suddenly felt very sick.

"And now you're the sole heir. And that's why you have to stay. They need to have their heir," you said in a frail voice, finally understanding.

Regulus' clenched jaw gave you all the confirmation you needed. Your parents didn't care for much, but the legacy of your family was something they certainly did care a great deal about.

Regulus sighed. "We don't give you enough credit for how smart you are. I can never hide a thing from you."

You shook your head. "It has nothing to do with smarts. You're my twin. I'll always figure you out eventually." After a beat, you added, "It's not fair."

“But it's how it has to be.”

You opened your mouth again, willing yourself to make one final protest even though you were sure now how this would end.

A loud crack cut you off. Kreacher was back— and he was not alone.

“James?” you gaped at the tall boy who was violently swinging his head around, taking in his surroundings, until his gaze settled on you.

Regulus quickly cast a Muffliato charm on his room. You were one thing—James Potter was another entirely, and he absolutely couldn't be trusted to keep his voice down.

“You’re okay,” James said, rushing to you. His hands came to rest on your arms as he inspected you, making sure it was really true. “What were you thinking coming here?”

“How did you find me?” you asked him, standing up straighter.

“Kreacher found the intruder apparating into Miss. Y/N’s bedroom,” Kreacher drawled before promptly disapparating from the room.

“I checked everywhere at home and you weren’t there and I- I just knew. How did you-?” James’ eyes landed on his broom sticking out from under Regulus’ bed. “You flew here!? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” James fussed, cupping the side of your face.

James’ overwhelming concern for you made him forget where the two of you were— and the company you were in.

“You have to be kidding me,” Regulus muttered.

You slowly turned your head to face him, and James let his hands fall to his sides.

“Him?” Regulus asked, shooting a disdainful look at James.

“Reg-”

Regulus held a hand up, stopping you. His scrutinizing gaze settled on James. He wasn't going to argue against this, he knew it would be futile to try to tell you who was and wasn't good enough for you— even if he thought James Potter was definitely not good enough.

But at least James would be good for one thing: getting you out of here.

“You’ve seen the effects of my mother’s stinging jinx,” Regulus more so stated than asked.

“Yes,” James replied plainly, waiting to see where he was going with this.

“Mine is worse,” Regulus said— a very simple threat of what would happen if James were to hurt you.

James swallowed. “Noted. But trust me, mate, you won’t have to use it.”

Regulus squinted at him, but left the threats at that. “At least this explains your ridiculous attire,” he told you.

You looked down. You never did change out of James’ baggy clothes.

“Look, we have to get out of here. It’s not safe,” James pleaded with you.

“I know, I know,” you agreed, catching James completely off guard. He did not expect it to be that easy.

He turned to Regulus, thinking he might as well try his luck. “You’re more than welcome to come.”

You and Regulus shared a glance, but even before you saw the somber look in his eyes, you knew what his answer would be.

“He’s not coming,” you murmured, barely able to accept it even as you spoke it.

There was a flicker of something in Regulus' eyes, like something in him was more at peace with your understanding of his need to stay.

James nodded. “If you ever change your mind…” he offered, his words dying in the air as Regulus’ expression hardened.

James took hold of you and his broom, telling you to brace yourself, as he prepared to apparate you back to his house. You have never apparated yourself, you have yet to learn how, but have alongside others before. The idea of doing it again made you feel queasy.

“Wait.” Regulus’ voice halted you. He crossed the room in two strides while fishing something out of his pocket. “Don’t tell Sirius. Not any of it,” he instructed as he pressed something cold into your palm and closed your hand around it.

“What?” you asked, taken aback by the request.

“You can’t tell him why I have to stay. He'll never accept it.”

You shook your head violently. If Sirius only knew Regulus' true intentions, everything could be different.

“He hates you right now.”

“I know. And perhaps it’s better if he does.”

His words crushed you, but you couldn’t help but think he might be right. You lunged at Regulus, wrapping your arms around him one last time.

"I'll still see you at school," he reminded you, a fragile attempt at offering you comfort.

“I know,” you responded, but that did nothing to ease your sorrows.

Regulus was the first to pull away, knowing you wouldn’t be, and he handed you back over to James. “Take care of my sister, Potter,” Regulus said, even as he still looked at James with disdain.

James nodded, linking his arm with yours and clutching his broom in his other hand.

James disapparated the both of you, and you clung to the image of Regulus until your surroundings melted away.

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

My Lips Like Sugar

Summary: Yandere TEC! Juliet Starling! Reader

TW/CW: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, cyber stalking, trolling, real life stalking, animal bones, blood, f slur,

A/N: Request was made by @8-bit-tomb! So sorry for taking so long! This was still very cute to do!

Reblogs are appreciated!

- Bill absolutely collapsed in terror when he saw you working at the comic book shop

- Joe’s a scared place….for nerds like him. How DARE a normie, especially one dressed as a foid, waltz in and start working the counter

- FUCK! You stand out like a sore thumb. Your over cherry demeanor’s really bringing the morale down here (probably the only reason many nerds actually stay for longer), and your sharp tongue absolutely humiliated him in front of the club (any comeback would have Bill getting flustered and just yelling incoherently)

- GOD! You even invaded his dream world! No longer thinking about Tasha or Emma! Instead, it’s now just you leading him somewhere. Well…at least it kind of smells nice and you look so happy with him-WHAT THE FUCK IS HE SAYING!

- He didn’t even go to Joe’s everyday but now he HAS to! He watches you from the corner most times. You give everyone the same “femoid” demeanor and suck on your favorite strawberry lollipop (occasionally, you sometimes find an extra or two lying around….no reason)

- Even when you’re angry you’re so cute! Bill watching your sharp tongue shut down any and all rude customers got him more angry at you! These fine young gentleman (more like rats you see on the subway), just want to shop at this fine establishment (it’s really run down)

- Sometimes, you even see love letters in front of the store. You always read them, and kind of get a kick out of them. Here was this pathetic nerd who really thought he was some hotshot! HA! You would be more mean to him if you honestly didn’t find him cute (in a pathetic way)

- Eventually, it all becomes too much for Bill. He’s practically hounding on you every single day. It’s getting to the point where he’s even fighting with the club on who should go up there and pay for the items! Even new customers are being scared away by this greasy incel!

- …Would it stop if you did accept his confession? No

- He’s a jealous yandere! He doesn’t want anyone else looking at you. Will practically be holding your waist in public

- Calling him out will result in a harsh insult while he closes the gap between you two

- Also kind of a perv to you. Especially considering what Juliet Starling wears, his eyes will wonder around your figure like a piece of meat or something

- The moment he finds out others are doing the same thing? Immediate verbal lashing and probably even getting physical with them (he always looses)

- If he’s feeling soft, will bring you a whole box of lollies and other treats to Joe’s. Only when it’s just opening or closing

- Clingy when private. Absolutely has his hands around you. Be it hugging you close behind, cuddling next to you while watching a movie, or even simply holding his hand while you two sleep

- MAYBE will learn how to do our hair in cute styles. Maybe. He doesn’t want to feel like a “fag or something”

- What a weird guard dog you have

- Josh had a similar reaction when first you, except it all came back as being terrified of you

- Especially your snappy insults. The one time you caught him stealing a collectible had him spiraling for weeks

- Tries to actively avoid you whenever you’re at the store. Fuck, probably will even change his whole walk routine just to avoid you entirely

- One day, though, something snapped. Maybe the club was being extra rough on him, even after he explicitly told them no more fat jokes

- You, being annoyed how they were digging into him, decided to actually defend him and get them so shut up before going back to sucking on your lollipop

- Could be that you just were tired of their yapping or pitied Josh, but on that day, he was sold

- It’s now the full blown opposite. Constantly writes love letters to you. This time, they’re a little more romantic and can be sappy, but still creepy in their overall details about you and him

- He can’t stop dreaming about you, especially in a scifi setting. It’s like you were the Vixen of space….

- You sometimes could feel his heavy breathing as he checked out Joe’s shop. Sometimes it’s on the back of your neck…

- As a boyfriend, he would be pretty mixed

- This is someone you can’t go with your emotional issues with, but expects you to always be his therapist.

- However, will spoil you whenever he can. He’s a simp, after all. Loves taking you out on dates and just yap about his interests towards you

- The love letters and gifts still come, except they’re more in excess

- Isn’t a physical person. Not even indoors, though rubbing his cheeks and kissing that bulbous nose of this will cause this bag guy to melt

- Absolutely joyous to have a feminine partner. Mostly for bragging reasons, but also nice to know he can bag anyone, especially one with your spunk

- He needs to tased honestly

- Pete would be the only yandere who would actively search out for you

- He loves a darling that has a little spunk on them, so seeing you essentially make customers cry with your lashing out has him hooked

- However, he’s not stupid. He knows that he can’t bring animal bones and blood to the shop. That would mean getting banned from the holy land

- So, what does he do? Follows you home. Will keep a 20 feet distance away from you, and ducks under any bushes when he presumes you caught him

- Once he does find your address, expect to be bombarded with the grossest gifts imagine. Preserves animal fetuses, blood, bones, teeth, shock site merch, etc.

- All of them go into the trash, but that doesn’t matter to Pete. He’ll still bring them to you (he’ll never get the hint)

- You accepting him is so out of the blue and out of character, but maybe he be cute

- Will try watch “sissy” horror movies with you, but will show the creepiest and horror at one’s so you can jump in your seat and hold him close

- The absolute definition of a parasite. Whenever you go, he’ll be right there. Probably feels an even stronger urge to protect you because of your femininity

- Expect him to maul people who even look wrong at your direction (please get him a leash)

- On the bright side, probably will start dressing more proper for you! Considering you like keeping up appearances, he’ll do the same thing (to an extent). At least he learns what a body wash is!

- Love you and your nasty boyfriend…I’m so serious

- Jerry would be the most okay with you at the shop

- He’s more intimidated by your presence, but that’s really it. He’ll still go up to the cashier and pay for his items

- Will find your profile in a matter of days and start cyber stalking you though. He’s more depraved when there’s anonymity

- Stalks any social media you have and plans on different ways to harass you and your accounts

- However, you’re probably very sharp online as well, so it ends with him being in shock as he watches you deliver comeback after comeback

- You almost remind him of Xena a little, except real and more feminine. Unfortunately, that means he has to “go with his gut”

- Very stereotypical behavior for a teenager. Makes sappy love letters, will invite for one on one DnD sessions, absolutely whipped for your affections

- It doesn’t change if you get into a relationship with him, except he’s the perfect boyfriend (in real life)

- Absolutely melts if you sit on his lap while you two watch TV (bonus if you leave lipstick marks on him while doing so)

- Absolutely brags to you in the club, but gets flustered when they ask for more specific detail

- Still harasses you under pseudonyms, but prints out the insults you bring him. It…gets him going

- Absolutely will become a whipped yandere. Always as your beck in call in public.

- Even online, he will act like your white knight (while also harassing you)

- A creepy cutie

[loveesiren]

𝖢𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖯𝗍. 11)

Choi Seunghyun x fem!reader x Kwon Jiyong | CMH Masterlist

a/n: Can't believe my angsty baby is coming to an end </3 This is my first full length series I've finally actually finished and I'm so proud of myself. Thank you so very much to each and every one of you that enjoyed this series. I loved hearing all your opinions about it and all the love and support!! I hope you all enjoy this final chapter <3

As always, if you think these themes are too much for you, please feel free to DM me for a summary of the chapter! ❤️

warnings: angst, sedatives, mention of suicide, suicide note, Seungri

wc: 3.9k+

“Yo, hyung!” Seungri’s voice echoed through the lobby as he jogged toward the other three members who were waiting in a quiet, uneasy silence.

Seunghyun looked up immediately. “Where’s Y/n?” he asked, brows already furrowed, a nervous edge threading through his voice.

“Ran into her in the hallway,” Seungri replied casually, holding something out. “She asked me to give you this.”

Seunghyun’s stomach dropped the second he recognized the item—your purse. He took it slowly from Seungri’s hands, eyes scanning over it like it didn’t make sense. “She said she’d meet us in a minute,” Seungri added, already plopping down beside Taeyang and Daesung and pulling out his phone.

But Seunghyun didn’t move. He held your purse like it might detonate, his fingers tightening around the soft leather. Something felt wrong. Off. You never went anywhere without your purse. Ever.

He sat it down on a bench beside him, his hands digging through it with growing urgency. Usual things: wallet, lip balm, sunglasses. But then—something unfamiliar. A journal. New. Still smelled like the bookstore.

Sticking out from between its pages was an envelope.

His hands trembled as he slid it out, stomach twisting into knots.

Se & Ji

Each name was written in your handwriting—soft, delicate. Final.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“Ri?” he called out, voice hoarse. “Where did Y/n say she was going?”

Seungri didn’t look up. “Uh… didn’t say. Just that she’d meet us. She was heading toward the elevators, I think.”

“Up?” Seunghyun asked, more to himself than anyone else. His hands were white-knuckling the letter now. Every cell in his body screamed at him to run.

He turned to sprint—but before his foot even hit the ground, a scream tore through the air.

Sharp. Shattering. Blood-curdling.

The entire lobby fell still.

And Seunghyun? He froze. Envelope clutched to his chest. Breath stuck in his throat.

He already knew.

While the others ran toward the door where the scream had come from, Seunghyun couldn’t.

His legs moved, but sluggishly. Too slow. Like he was wading through a nightmare, one that wrapped around his ankles like wet cement.

He didn’t want to see what waited beyond those doors.

Didn’t want to believe that it was real. That you were real in this moment. That the envelope in his hand meant something.

With every shaky step, the dread carved deeper into his chest, eating away at the sliver of denial he was clinging to.

Please let this be a dream.

Please.

When he finally pushed through the glass doors, the scene before him shattered whatever hope he had left.

Daesung was doubled over on the sidewalk, one hand clamped over his mouth, the other shielding his eyes from the sight. His shoulders shook violently, silent sobs ripping through him. Seungri stood beside him, pale, eyes wide and unblinking, as if frozen in time.

Paramedics swarmed the street, voices sharp and urgent. Police were shouting, forming a barrier with their bodies to push back the growing crowd. Red and blue lights painted the building in pulsing waves, but Seunghyun could barely see any of it.

He took one more step—just one—before a pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Hyung…” Youngbae’s voice cracked as he grabbed him, holding tight. “Don’t go out there… please.”

But Seunghyun thrashed in his hold, desperate to break free. His feet scraped against the pavement as he shoved forward.

“No! Let me go! I need to see her—I need to—!”

Daesung and Seungri lunged to help, their arms closing in around him, trying to keep him grounded. But Seunghyun screamed. Loud and raw. The sound wasn’t just from his throat—it came from somewhere deeper, somewhere ancient and breaking and full of grief.

“Y/N!!!”

The name split the air like thunder. Louder than the sirens. Louder than his friends begging him to stop.

“Let me go!” he cried, voice shredded. “Please, let me go—Y/n!”

“You can’t see her like this!” Youngbae sobbed, locking his arms around him as tightly as he could. “You can’t!”

Two officers rushed over, forcing the group back. The paramedics were already moving—already rushing your body toward the hospital entrance, wrapped tightly in white sheets that told Seunghyun more than any doctor ever could.

Daesung saw it first and lunged forward, covering Seunghyun’s eyes with shaking hands. “No—don’t look,” he whispered. “Don’t look, hyung.”

But Seunghyun was still fighting, still kicking and clawing against them, tears spilling like a storm, heart pounding in his ears.

“I have to see her! Let me just see her!”

But you were already gone.

They all knew it.

The way the paramedics moved, the way the cops avoided their eyes—everything about it screamed finality.

And still, he clung to hope. To you.

“She’ll be okay, right?” Seunghyun gasped, voice barely holding together. “She’ll… she’ll be okay…”

None of them could answer.

All they could do was sink to the pavement with him, three friends holding him together as he fell apart.

“She’ll… she’ll be o—”

But the words wouldn’t come. They dissolved into sobs as he collapsed in their arms, letter still clenched in his trembling fists.

-

Seunghyun sat in absolute silence, his back hunched forward, elbows on his knees, your unopened letter still clutched in his hand like a lifeline he wasn’t ready to let go of. His eyes hadn’t moved in over an hour—fixed on the linoleum floor, as if staring hard enough might rewind time.

Daesung hadn’t left his side. Not even once. He sat beside him quietly, offering nothing but silent companionship and the occasional squeeze of the shoulder whenever Seunghyun's breath would hitch or his hand would start to shake.

Youngbae was across the hall, pacing the same five feet of space while making phone calls no one ever wanted to receive. His voice was low, cracking. Apologies layered between each explanation. Between each name spoken through the lump in his throat.

Seungri had been given the worst job of all.

“Don’t tell him,” Seunghyun had whispered, barely audible. It was the only thing he’d managed to say since you were taken away. “Not yet.”

So Seungri stayed in Jiyong’s hospital room, sitting at the small table with a deck of Uno cards scattered between them, pretending—desperately—that the world outside those walls hadn’t just fallen apart.

Thankfully, Jiyong was groggy from his pain meds, his body still recovering, his mind slow and gentle. He’d only asked about you twice. Both times, Seungri had managed to change the subject with a joke or a distraction, but the pressure was building in his chest.

“It’s your turn, hyung,” Seungri mumbled, nodding toward the cards in Jiyong’s hands.

But his voice was far away, his eyes glued to the door like he was silently begging someone—anyone—to walk through and take this responsibility off his shoulders.

Jiyong picked up a red five and glanced down at his hand, smiling faintly.

“Ya know,” he started, voice light, “Y/n and I always fought over everything, but when it came to Uno? We were weirdly peaceful. Like it was some sacred game we agreed not to ruin.”

He laughed softly at the memory. “Where is she anyway?” he asked again, absentmindedly searching the room like he expected you to walk in at any moment.

Seungri froze.

His mouth opened, but no words came. His throat burned. His chest felt too tight.

“I can’t do this,” he blurted, slamming his cards down onto the table as he stood abruptly, hands in his hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. “I can’t fucking do this.”

Jiyong blinked in confusion. “Do what? Lose to me?” he grinned. “You mad that I’m winning?” He gave a smug little smirk, holding up his hand of cards.

Seungri turned toward him, eyes glassy. “Jiyong…”

Something in his tone made Jiyong sit up straighter, wincing as the stitches in his side pulled tight.

“What?” he asked, smile fading. “What is it?”

Seungri’s mouth trembled. His voice cracked. “Something happened.”

Jiyong’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean something happened? What happened?”

“It’s… it’s bad. It’s really fucking bad, man. I’m so sorry.”

Jiyong’s smile was gone now. His whole body tensed.

“What happened?” he asked again, firmer this time, anxiety starting to seep into his voice. He glanced down at the cast on his arm, the bruises on his chest. “Dude, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than this—”

Seungri broke. “She’s dead.”

The words hit like a gunshot.

Jiyong just… stared.

For a moment, the room was silent. So quiet you could hear the monitor ticking behind him.

“No,” Jiyong said, shaking his head slowly. “No, that’s not—no, that’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Seungri whispered.

“No. Stop.” Jiyong’s voice rose. His hands were trembling now. “Stop lying, where is she?! She’s probably in the hallway or—”

“She’s gone, hyung.”

“NO!” Jiyong roared, the sound raw and broken as he shoved the cards off the table. They scattered like confetti—colorful, meaningless. “You’re lying! She was just here, she said she’d be back—!”

“She’s not coming back…” Seungri choked.

Jiyong’s face crumpled as the pain finally hit him. Not the bruises. Not the fractures. The real pain. The kind that cracks bone from the inside.

He folded in on himself, a wounded animal, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he broke.

And all Seungri could do was fall to his knees beside him and hold on.

Jiyong’s screams echoed down the sterile hallway like a siren—raw, guttural, unrelenting. It was the kind of sound that made nurses freeze and families in the waiting room go silent.

Seunghyun was on his feet before anyone could blink, heart in his throat, sprinting toward the source of the agony. Youngbae and Daesung followed close behind, their feet slamming against the tile floor in panicked rhythm.

When they reached the room, the door was wide open. Inside, Seungri was struggling to hold Jiyong down against the bed. Jiyong thrashed violently, his body too broken to fight the way he wanted to, but the desperation in him burned hotter than painkillers ever could.

“Let me go!” he cried, voice cracking under the weight of devastation. “She’s not dead! She’s not—you’re lying!”

“Jiyong!” Seunghyun gasped, rushing to his side and pushing Seungri out of the way, taking over.

Youngbae turned on Seungri instantly, fury in his eyes. “You told him?!” he yelled, shoving him back.

“He wouldn’t stop asking about her!” Seungri shouted, tears already streaming down his cheeks. “I couldn’t take it—I didn’t know what else to do!”

But Youngbae wasn’t listening anymore. The grief had taken the wheel. The blame needed somewhere to go. So his fist collided with Seungri’s face.

Chaos erupted in the room. Three nurses burst in, trying to assess the situation as Jiyong continued to scream, his voice ragged and full of anguish.

“She’s not fucking dead!” he roared, eyes wild, body trembling. “Where the fuck is she?!”

Seunghyun clung to him, his own face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over again, his voice cracking. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ji…”

He tried to hold him, tried to calm him, but it was too late—the nurses moved in swiftly. One nurse restrained Jiyong’s arm while another pressed a syringe to his vein, pushing the sedative in without hesitation.

Jiyong’s eyes fluttered, his head falling back against the pillow, limbs going limp. But just before the sedation fully took hold, his eyes met Seunghyun’s, wide and pleading.

“She’s not gone…” he murmured, barely audible, like a child begging for a bedtime story to end differently.

And then—silence.

His body stilled, breathing slow and shallow.

Seunghyun collapsed beside him, burying his face in the hospital pillow as a sob ripped through his throat. His entire body shook with it, grief flooding every inch of him. He clutched at the blanket like it could anchor him to the earth.

He could hear the machines. The footsteps outside. The quiet beeping that reminded him life was still happening around him.

He hated it.

For a fleeting second, he wondered if his own heart stopped—right there, right then—would the nurses save him too?

The thought made him cry harder.

-

Outside, the rest of the group had taken their pain into the cold night air.

The fight between Seungri and Youngbae hadn’t lasted long—just enough to leave bruises on their faces and guilt in their eyes. Now, they sat on the curb outside the hospital, bloodied knuckles resting on trembling knees.

Daesung was curled in on himself, hugging his legs to his chest. His voice was small, broken. “I just… I don’t understand why she would do this.”

Youngbae sat beside him, a cigarette trembling between his fingers. He passed it to Seungri, who took it without a word.

“She probably had demons,” Youngbae muttered. “More than we ever saw.”

Seungri stayed quiet, inhaling deeply, trying to numb the ache in his lungs. But nothing helped. Not the cigarette. Not the cold air. Not the night sky above them, quiet and indifferent.

“I-I just…” Daesung’s voice broke as he stared at the sidewalk, lips trembling. “I can’t believe this all happened. One second she was just here, and now…” His shoulders shook. “It all happened so fucking fast.”

Youngbae placed a steady hand on his knee, fingers gripping tightly—not for Daesung’s comfort, but for his own. Holding his brothers together felt like the only thing left he could do. Even when everything inside of him wanted to crumble too.

-

It wasn’t until the soft glow of early morning light spilled through the hospital window, casting a golden beam directly across his face, that Seunghyun stirred.

His body ached from sleeping upright. His limbs stiff. His heart heavier than ever.

At some point in the night, someone must’ve helped him into the chair beside Jiyong’s bed—probably a nurse, though he couldn’t remember. Everything after the sedation, after the screaming, after you, had blurred into a gray fog.

Jiyong was still asleep, head turned slightly toward the window, his face twisted in discomfort even in rest. Sweat clung to his temples. His brow was furrowed, like he was still fighting in his dreams.

Seunghyun stared at him, and something in his chest cracked open.

Tears burned behind his eyes.

He wanted to scream. To punch a wall until his knuckles split open. To cry until his throat gave out. To destroy something—anything. But none of it would matter.

It wouldn’t fix what happened.

It wouldn’t untangle the three of you.

And it wouldn’t bring you back.

So instead, he stood quietly, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and slipped out the door in search of caffeine.

-

The hospital café smelled like burnt beans and overworked baristas. A far cry from the cozy Sunday mornings the two of you used to share at that little corner shop downtown, the one with the mismatched mugs and the vinyl records always playing too loud.

But it would do.

“Coffee. Black, please,” Seunghyun said, eyes fixed on the counter.

He hesitated, the next words already leaving his mouth on instinct.

“And a car—”

His voice broke.

He swallowed hard, pain blooming in his chest as realization slammed into him like a freight train.

You’re not here.

“What was that?” the barista asked gently.

“Nothing,” Seunghyun whispered. “Just the one coffee. Thanks.” He slid a crumpled bill onto the counter with trembling fingers.

His eyes fell to the floor, and a memory swept over him like a tidal wave.

-

“Seunghyun! A black coffee? Really?” you teased, arms crossed as you leaned over the counter.

“I like it the way nature intended,” he grinned, taking a sip of the bitter drink.

“Add some flare, you grump.”

He arched his brow. “Alright, princess. What’ll it be?”

You turned to the barista with a dramatic flip of your hair. “Caramel macchiato. Two pumps vanilla. Extra caramel drizzle. And whipped cream.”

He’d laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not coffee, baby. That’s a dessert.”

“It’s called enjoying my beverage,” you smirked.

You took the first sip with a playful moan, tongue darting out to lick the whipped cream from the rim of the cup. “Mmmm. Try it.”

And without a word, he leaned down and kissed the caramel and cream from your lips, smiling as you giggled against him.

“Delicious,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours.

That smile—your smile—was etched into his soul forever.

-

“Sir?”

Seunghyun blinked, pulled violently back into the present. The barista held out the paper cup.

“Oh… yeah. Thanks.” He took the drink with numb fingers, tossing another bill into the tip jar before walking away.

As he turned the corner, a familiar voice called out to him.

“Hyung!”

Youngbae. He stood near a row of chairs, Daesung close behind him, both of them exhausted, grief lining their faces.

Seunghyun sipped the scalding coffee. It burned his tongue. His throat. But he didn’t care. The pain grounded him.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, even though he already knew. He just needed to hear it again.

Youngbae’s expression softened. “She… she was a donor.”

Seunghyun nodded slowly. “They’re harvesting her organs,” he said, his voice hollow.

Youngbae could only nod.

“Is Jiyong awake?” Daesung asked gently.

“Not yet.” Seunghyun glanced at the hallway behind him. “But I’m going to wake him. Tell him everything.”

“Do you want us with you?” Youngbae asked, cautiously.

Seunghyun shook his head. “No. I need to handle this on my own.”

And with that, he turned away, letting the too-hot coffee sear his palm as he walked back toward the room where grief still waited.

-

Jiyong was already awake.

He sat upright in bed, tray of untouched breakfast in front of him, eyes fixed blankly on the skyline. The bruises on his face had darkened, the swelling around his eyes had gone down—but the tears remained. Silent and steady. Tracks of grief painted on his battered skin.

Seunghyun stepped in quietly and sat in the chair beside him once more. Jiyong didn’t turn to look. He didn’t have to. He knew.

Seunghyun studied him—his broken friend, his brother—and the silence sat heavy between them.

Then Jiyong spoke.

“Tell me what happened.”

Seunghyun’s breath caught. “Jiyong…”

“I need to hear it,” Jiyong said, his voice barely holding together. “I need you to say it out loud. I need you to make it real.”

Seunghyun’s heart shattered all over again.

He lowered his gaze. “She jumped.”

Jiyong flinched. A tiny, involuntary reaction that spoke volumes.

“Are you… are you sure?”

“She left us a letter.”

Jiyong nodded, lips trembling as he bit down hard, trying to keep himself from falling apart again. “Let’s read it,” he whispered.

And Seunghyun reached into his coat pocket, the crumpled paper warm from his body heat, heavy with everything you left behind.

-

Seunghyun, Jiyong…

I’m sorry. I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how you feel right now—maybe you’re angry, maybe you hate me, maybe you’re numb. Maybe you’re relieved, and that’s okay too. I wouldn’t blame you.

But I want to believe… just a little part of you misses me.

I know what I’ve done feels unforgivable. I took the coward’s way out. I left without saying goodbye. And I know I’ve hurt you both more than I ever intended to.

But please, before you throw this letter away or tear it up in rage, just read it all the way through.

Because this one… this letter isn’t just a goodbye.

It’s a love letter.

To the two absolute loves of my life.

Seunghyun,

You were my calm. My safety. My home.

You loved me without asking me to change. You saw me when I didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror. You made the ugly parts of life feel bearable—and somehow, you made me feel beautiful. And I never knew that was possible before you.

When I was unraveling, you never once tried to fix me—you just stayed. Do you know how rare that is?

The long drives with no destination, the late-night art exhibits, the bookstore dates, the lazy Sundays that felt like something out of a movie… I’ll carry those with me. Forever. That was the closest I ever came to peace.

There were so many times I wanted to tell you the truth. To admit how much pain I was in. But I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t trust you—but because I did. Because I knew the moment I told you, you’d try to carry it for me. And I couldn’t let that weight touch your already-brilliant soul.

You gave me something I never thought I’d have in this life—a love that didn’t hurt. And I hope to God that someday, someone gives you the same.

Go to the museums. Lose yourself in brush strokes and empty space. Drink your bitter black coffee and pretend it tastes good. Laugh too loud at indie films. Keep being the man who makes the world gentler just by existing in it.

And if you ever feel me near you—it’s because I am.

I’ll always be watching you. Cheering for you.

Loving you.

Thank you for saving me so many times without even knowing it.

Jiyong,

It started messy, didn’t it? Screaming matches and eye rolls and hate-fueled hookups. But somewhere along the way, between the chaos and the chaos and the chaos—I fell for you.

God, I fell so hard.

You were the wildfire to Seunghyun’s ocean. You didn’t calm me—you lit me up. You pulled something alive out of me when I was already dimming. And even when we were at each other’s throats, I always knew… you cared.

You’re more than the mask you wear, Jiyong. You always have been.

You don’t have to be the leader every second of the day. You don’t always have to be perfect. You don’t always have to pretend you’re okay just to protect everyone else.

I saw you. The real you. The boy who loved too hard and never felt like he was enough. The boy who covered his sadness with charm and talent and glitter and eyeliner.

You were enough, Jiyong. You are enough. Even at your messiest. Even at your weakest.

And I wish I had the strength to stay long enough to prove that to you. To be the softness you tried to hide you needed. To kiss the bruises this world gave you and teach you that you’re worthy of gentleness too.

I’m sorry I didn’t stay.

But I’ll be watching. I’ll make sure this world gives you a break. And when you’re finally smiling again, when you're laughing and feeling like yourself... know I’m there. Cheering you on.

That’s me, loving you from wherever I am.

Thank you for setting me on fire.

Thank you for making me feel alive.

Thank you for being my beautiful disaster.

I hope the two of you take care of each other now.

There’s nothing to fight over. Nothing to prove.

The love I had for both of you was never a competition—it was infinite, in different ways. Two halves of one heart.

Let that bring you together, not tear you apart.

Take care of each other, please.

And when the nights get too heavy and you wonder if you could’ve saved me—just look up. I’ll be there. In the moonlight. In the lyrics. In the silence.

Always.

I love you both. With everything I had.I just ran out of ways to say it out loud.

Forever yours, Y/n ♡

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

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[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 36 Final

Previous [Series Masterlist] Content Warning: mentions of medical procedures

--------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t often that the ER staff collectively lost their minds.

Sure, they’d seen cardiac arrests and GSW's and defibrillator explosions (courtesy of that one intern who shall not be named). They'd survived hospital lockdowns and fire drills, a raccoon infestation in Radiology, and even a flash mob that went wrong in the cafeteria.

But nothing — nothing — compared to the arrival of baby Robinavitch-Williams.

Y/N and Robby entered through the ambulance bay doors, both in soft hoodies and jeans, looking like two very exhausted but very proud parents. You had your hair up in a bun that had clearly lost the war with gravity. Robby’s shirt was stained with something suspiciously baby-related.

Wrapped in a soft pink hat and double-layered onesie, baby Daisy slept under the fluorescent lights, perfectly unbothered.

“Oh my God, she’s here!” Dana squealed, bolting out from behind the desk. “Give me that child. I mean—congrats! But also—give me that child.”

You laughed, gently placing baby Daisy into Dana’s arms. “She’s been asleep for three hours, which means we’re due for a breakdown in t-minus ten minutes.”

A crowd was already forming. Nurses. Residents. Even Dr. Abbott from who usually avoided “squishy things” unless they were organs, wandered over with a cautious smile.

“She has Robby’s nose!” one nurse gushed.

“And Y/N’s eyebrows!”

“Lucky kid,” Dana said, cradling Daisy like a practiced aunt. “Born to two ridiculously attractive doctors. She’s gonna have cheekbones sharp enough to perform surgery.”

From across the ER, Mateo yelled, “Robby, your daughter just made finger guns in her sleep. You raising her to be a flirt like you?”

Robby, somehow both flushed and beaming, shrugged. “She came out with attitude. I’m just here to fund her college dreams.”

You leaned on the counter, watching them all dote on your daughter, heart swelling. It wasn’t just pride. It was something else, something deeper. This wasn’t just your job. These weren’t just colleagues.

This was your family.

—-------------------------------------

The apartment looked like a tornado had been in a head-on collision with a baby boutique.

There were burp cloths on the kitchen table. A pacifier under the TV. A bouncer chair in the hallway. You stepped over a bottle cap, muttering something about starting a museum dedicated to the items you’d found stuck to your socks.

In the center of the living room, Robby was rocking Daisy in his arms like she was made of glass and gold. His eyes were puffy. His hair? Catastrophic. But the way he looked at his daughter made your chest ache.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” you murmured, dropping beside him on the couch.

“I tried. But she made this face.” He turned the baby slightly so you could see — a perfect little pout, brows furrowed, the faintest hiccup threatening to rise.

“Oh, the Sad Potato Face,” you said, mock-grave. “Unbeatable.”

“I would give her a kidney if she asked,” Robby said solemnly.

“She just wants boob.”

“Fair. Same.”

You burst into laughter, burying your head in his shoulder. “God, we’re tired.”

“I think I hallucinated earlier. I tried to feed her the TV remote.”

“We’ve officially entered the twilight zone.”

But still, they sat there for an extra hour, watching her breathe, counting her little fingers again like they hadn’t already a thousand times.

And when she finally drifted off again, lips puckered, hands curled at her chin like a sleepy fighter, Robby turned and whispered, “We made a perfect tiny human.”

You kissed his cheek and whispered back, “We really did.”

The last thing you saw before falling asleep that night was Robby asleep in the nursery glider, baby Daisy curled on his chest.

A sight so good, you snapped a blurry picture in the dark. A picture that would end up printed, framed, and sitting on the ER walls for years to come.

Because some miracles come screaming into the world during storms.

And some miracles come sleeping, heartbeats wrapped in lullabies.

-------------------------------------------------------------------- I just wanna say thank to everyone who joined me in this adventure, thank you for the support and loving the story as much as I did writing it <3 There's still so many ideas in my head but we'll see if they make into Tumblr.

[dazedantics]

Meeting the Graysons

(Ha I don't remember where I was going with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for a while)

There isn't much to see working behind the register at your local grocery store. Mostly you just sit there picking at your nails till a customer comes up and you have to print that friendly smile on your face. But there are days where you get to see some interesting people.

Like the family of eight that comes in all rowdy and shrieking as their tired mother pushes the cart. Or the quiet old man with his pampered ol' bulldog who never says a word and has a look in his eye that you just know means he's committed something long ago and would hunt you down if you ever found out. Or the entitled old ladies who point their sharp maroon nails at you while they drone on about why they should be given some big discount that you don't particularly hear word for word. Or that clean cut older gentleman who smiles under his thick mustache and says something so out of date but his voice is just so deep and dreamy that can't even remember what your name even is anymore.

Your bubble pops abruptly as you notice his ocean blue eyes watching you for longer than necessary. I mean, really, what ever will you do if he's to keep his attention so dashingly on you like that? Oh, wait- he's handing you money.

Oops.

Let's just check what exactly it costs again on the screen. That shirt looks very tight around his chest. Did he buy a lot? Around his arms too. You didn't even notice you'd been scanning and bagging his items the whole time. He's very muscular isn't he? What did he buy? Not that you'd mind finding out just how strong he was. Was he the fresh only, organic, let's save the planet type of guy? That's a very nice ring on his left hand's finger. Or was he- wait. OH MY GOD HE'S MARRIED?!

Nooo! How are you supposed to get that fairy tale ending now? He's supposed to be that hot corporate type who'd fall in love with you and whisk you away from your job to live the posh life with him! Cause he'd say "you're much to gorgeous to be working in a place like this!" And honestly, who could argue with that logic? Then he'd- oh, wait he's leaving. Out the door annnnd ... gone.

Dang it.

Well, there go your chances of living your dreams. Back to the same old creepsters tweakin' out in the back of the store. You didn't even catch the guy's name.

Oh well.

At least you'd have some fantasy fuel to live on for a week.

And so, you sit there again. Sighing and dissociating as the days go on, customers coming and going, paying as much attention to you as you do to them. Counting the minutes till you can ditch this place once and for all. And ... oh look, some nerd is stammering trying to buy something.

He's ... actually kinda cute. In a "couldn't exactly sweep you off your feet but could still make you swoon" typa way.

You gave him the store's default greeting. Definitely nice to look at, boyish charm exuded from his button up/sweatshirt combo. You scanned his items steadily. Yeah ... you could see a sweet future with this guy. You smiled as he started going on about something you hoped you wouldn't need to give an answer to. A few small picnics in the park, bookstore and museum dates, listening to him rant about stuff you don't understand. You nodded politely as he kept going on, digging into his pockets. Ooh, or maybe you'd have to be the one whisking him away from from his mundane life, flustering him with those smooth lines you've heard and making him be the one to imagine all the scenarios that you'd do, staring into his chocolaty brown eyes all day. And also- wait. Oops ... there he goes too.

And without a name either.

Maybe you should start to introduce yourself first, so whatever dreamboat you meet next feels inclined to give theirs.

You end up doing that for a bit, but a few of the customers remind you why you're always hiding your name tag under your work vest. I mean, couldn't the weirdos who stalk you from beyond the sliding doors be good-looking? At least then it would be easier for you to develop stockholm syndrome if they decide to ever knock you out behind the dumpsters at night.

Oh, another customer.

You scan her items and ... dang it! Why have so many of your customers been much more charming than you lately? This woman was all sleek business on the outside but sweet and considerate as she speaks to you. She sifts through her purse, rambling on about her family. Figures. Of course she'd have a family. Oh, but that means she probably prides herself on being wise, so maybe she'd be willing to give you life advice? You smile and nod, not sure what exactly you could say to relate to her story. Yeah, cause then she'd invite you to her house so she could be thorough with her explanations. She laughs softly, coffee brown eyes accompanied by tired bags under them. Ooh, and then you could offer to help her out with her kids and stuff! Then she'd be all grateful for you and thennnn- there she goes too.

Aw man, you thought with all her chatting she'd be those types to stick around long after getting her things bagged.

And no name again too.

Are you always destined to drop the ball before you ever even picked it up?

Alas, till one of those three romancers of yours decided to visit this store again, you had to make due with the delicately memory of them, carefully preserved in your head.

And hey, maybe you'd go out one day and run into them again.

And you wouldn't be silenced by your corporate hospitality. No, this time, you'd get their names.

And then you'd be able further lay out the plot of your heavily detailed imagined future with them.

[mymoodwriting]

18.1k, yandere, ballerina!reader, dance institute, strict demeanor, harsh language, abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, electroshock, bullying, favoritism, manipulation, violence, broken bones, weapons, blades, batons, unintentional murder, hypnosis, amnesia, nightmares, blood, vomit, rage, assassination attempt, empty threats, submission

“Congratulations on your acceptance into the Ateez Institute of Arts.”

One would expect roaring applause to follow such a statement, but there was none. Everyone sat quietly as the welcome ceremony continued, Headmaster Kim giving the induction speech. You were still partially in awe that you had made it, pinching yourself a bit to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

“You’ve all shown that you have great potential, and now you must prove it. Good luck.”

This wasn’t the welcome speech you had envisioned, but being here was also a first. The Ateez Institute of Arts was incredibly prestigious, typically filled with elite individuals, so you truly felt like a fish out of water. Still, you had to remind yourself you went through the whole audition process just like everyone else, and got here on your own merit. After the ceremony a banquet was held to allow students to mingle, both new and returning. Once again you felt out of place, doing your best to make conversation and hopefully build friendships. You weren’t sure how that went, but afterwards all the new students were asked to proceed to the main hall for their schedules.

When you got there you were met with another surprise. You were given your schedule and a sleeping bag. For all incoming students, their first night at the institution was spent sleeping on the floor of the main hall. It was only at the end of the first day that you’d be assigned a room. Everyone seemed confused, but it really made sure you all started on equal footing. All the other students who attended the institution went through this as well, so it’s a good way to keep things grounded. Either way, complaining wasn’t gonna change anything so you just found a nice spot to lay out your sleeping bag. 

Your belongings were being stored elsewhere, and you got your items for the night. In the morning you could get what you’d need for class, and at the end of the day you could collect everything else. This would be your first time sleeping in such conditions, but you didn’t mind. It was a new experience, and a unique way to start the next chapter of your life. A lot of other students mingled with each other before bed, but you couldn’t really find the courage to talk, so you kept to yourself. That is until another girl set down her sleeping bag near yours. She introduced herself, Misu, and was very excited for her first day. You felt a little less awkward after making a friend. Although you were rather restless at night.

You were excited and nervous for your first day, but you needed to sleep. You kept your eyes closed, trying to count sheep or do anything to get some rest. To your own surprise you actually managed, but come morning your world would be different. A loud horn blared through the main hall at five am sharp, jolting everyone awake. Many were quickly on their feet and looking around in a panic until reality settled in. The doors to the main hall opened up moments later, signalling the start of the day. You could probably go back to sleep as your first class wasn’t until seven, but you weren’t gonna put yourself in a risky situation. Instead you got up and prepared for your day ahead.

Your first class was a dance class with Professor Kang. You had only seen pictures of the staff, but from what you’ve heard that doesn’t do them justice. After your first class you had a half hour grace period before your physical fitness class with Instructor Choi. From what you gathered it seemed your morning was to be very active. Then you’d get an hour for lunch before your next dance class with Professor Choi. You had to double check, but there were two Choi’s in the institution with different titles and professions, so it was best not to confuse them. Once that was done you’d wind down with a language course taught by Professor Park. 

The rest of the day afterwards was up to you until lights out at ten pm. There was an optional dinner served after the last class but a lot of students opted to skip out on it. They’d rather use one of the many practice rooms available. Some were open to share and others were private ones you had to book in advance, although priority went in order of seniority. You also heard there were some private lessons with certain professors, but you had to be invited to those, and only the best of the best participated. All you really wanted out of your first day was for things to go well. So once you were ready you made your way to your first class. Other students were already in the studio, warming up and chatting.

You set your things down along the wall like the others, finding a place to start your warm ups. There were still a couple of minutes before the class started, and you could hear your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. This wasn’t just your first class, but the beginning of your future. To graduate from this institution would be a great honor. It would open many doors for you and hopefully you could one day stand alongside some of the greatest dancers in history. You got a bit lost in your own head until you heard the door open. Everyone instinctively looked over, and then you all realized this was it.

“Line up.”

For a moment you were stunned as you watched Professor Kang enter the dance studio. You had heard the rumors, but seeing such divine beauty up close, you were mesmerized. Although your frozen demeanor didn’t last long. His voice commanded respect and obedience. So once he spoke all the other dancers in the room scrambled to get in line, ultimately snapping you out of your trance and pushing you to get into position as well. This being the first class of the day for you and those around you, it certainly put you all on edge.

Once lined up, your gaze returned to Professor Kang. One would expect a ballet instructor to be dressed similar to the students, but that wasn’t the case here. Professor Kang was dressed rather elegantly, walking with an umbrella as a cane. He took a seat at the small table against the center of the wall across from you. Since he walked in he hadn’t even glanced at the students. Although he wasn’t alone, another handsome gentleman dressed in black followed behind him, but you had no idea who he was. It seemed they were some kind of guard or escort as they poured Professor Kang a cup of tea.

The silence in the room created this serious and anxiety inducing tension. Sure this was the first class of the semester, but it was a dance class, nothing that had happened so far made sense. Then things got even more confusing. The gentleman in black grabbed a sac near the table, walking over to the line and handing the dancers something. Everyone received a black ski mask. Nobody dared to speak, but the looks shared among each other indicated we all had the same question. Professor Kang didn’t need to see the dancers to know what plagued their minds, and he answered with ease.

“I do not care for your looks. If you cannot dance with elegance and grace, then there’s no need for anyone to know your face.” Professor Kang put down his teacup, standing and gazing at the students for the first time since his arrival. “Put the masks on, and let us begin.”

There was a bit of hesitation among the dancers, but his words were not a request. Everyone put on the ski masks, and then the class seemed to start. Professor Kang wanted to see what everyone could do, having you all step up individually and perform a move before stepping aside. You all did this for what felt like an eternity. The professor did not speak besides informing the class of what he wanted to see next. His gaze merely watched and he stalked around the room like a predator, the umbrella in hand moving with him. There was not a sound in the room, the only noise coming from the steps the dancers took, and those subtly trying to keep their breath steady.

“Alright. I’ve seen what I wanted to see. Now I want you to perform for me, individually. Show me something, and then we can decide who will be staying.”

Those words put everyone on alert. You all glanced at each other, sharing the same confusion. Just like anyone else at this institution, you had applied and were accepted. It was a done deal, yet the professor swiftly destroyed that delusion.

“You’ve all been accepted here on paper, but you still have to prove you are worthy of remaining at this institution. I am your judge, jury, and executioner today. So who shall go first?”

Nobody moved, everyone still rightfully processing but that wasn’t a luxury you all had. The professor pointed at a student and they nervously stepped forward. The silence now burned everyone with dread and panic. The stench of fear seemed to fill the room, but the professor remained calm and collected, seeming uninterested as he summoned forward one student after the other. When his gaze finally fell to you the world seemed to slow down and come to a halt, yet you moved anyway. You had always enjoyed dancing from a young age, and ballet was just so beautiful and ethereal. Even when you weren’t practicing you loved to dance.

That core desire of yours took over, so your body moved on its own. Everyone else in the room seemed to fade away in your mind, and the world around you grew dim. You basically blacked out when you met Professor Kang’s gaze. Only returning to your senses as you bowed to him and then stepped back to where you started. Your heart was pounding in your chest, becoming the only sound you could pick up on. Somehow your breathing remained even, and you could remain on your feet, but you knew the moment this was all over you’d collapse. Then again, perhaps something else would get to you first.

Your vision was a bit hazy as you watched the rest of your peers perform, not even being able to compare their skills to yours as you didn’t remember what you had done. Although amongst the mess of your mind your attention was immediately snapped to the dancer that had collapsed mid-performance. The silence that fell was suffocating, and you could only imagine the terror that was running through their veins. The first sound heard was that of the umbrella hitting the floor, and it echoed in the room like thunder.

Professor Kang stepped forward, the tip of his umbrella moving under the chin of the fallen dancer, coaxing their gaze to rise. Nobody could read the look on the professor’s face, but he was exuding this calm aura that lured the room into a false sense of security. The umbrella moved to pull the mask off the dancer, revealing a shameful face. They tried to look away only to receive a rather stern tap on their cheek from the umbrella, making them swallow nervously and look up at the professor. They were like a deer in headlights, having yet to move a muscle.

“What a waste. Wooyoung, remove them.”

The other gentleman in the room stepped forward and dragged the dancer out, displaying incredible strength as they did just that despite the screams and begging and attempts to fight back. Once gone, silence fell again. You felt bad for the person who had to perform next, but there were still a few dancers to get through. Around the time when the last dancer finished, the gentlemen from before, Wooyoung, had returned.

“Line up.”

Once again all the dancers lined up, following the professors orders without hesitation, nervously waiting for what came next. Professor Kang walked over to one end of the line. He looked the dancer over and moved on to the next and then the next. That seemed to be all he would do, but then he jabbed the handle of the umbrella into a dancer’s stomach, making them double over, followed by a whack on the head making them collapse to the floor. The professor continued down the line repeating his actions a few more times, no one daring to get back up. You held your breath as the professor approached you, mentally preparing yourself for a possible hit, but he continued down the line. 

You slowly exhaled, keeping your gaze forward until the professor was done with his inspection. The door to the room opened and other men in ski masks came in. They weren’t given any direction, but it was clear they already had their orders. Two men lifted up the fallen dancers, another removing their ski mask and then dragging out the rejected students. Some tried to beg, some tried to fight back, but in the end the only ones left were the ones standing. The professor took a seat once more, grabbing his teacup and taking a sip.

“If you want to walk away with your dignity you may do so now.” A moment of silence, and nobody moved. “Congratulations on passing your first class. You will remain at our institution for the time being, but make no mistake. At any moment you could be dragged out. Dismissed.”

It took a moment before anyone moved, but they did so quietly. Dancers grabbed their things and scurried out, keeping the ski masks on for the time being. You were on your way out when you froze in place.

“Y/n. Stay.”

Hearing the professor call your name made panic run through your body. Anyone who was going to get kicked out today had already been removed, or at least that’s what you thought. You didn’t even think the professor knew your name. Still, you had no choice in the matter. You met the gazes of a few of your peers, seeing pity in their eyes, before you walked over to the professor. You merely stood before them in silence, not daring to speak. Then once the door had closed and you were alone, Wooyoung came over and forced you on your knees, removing your ski mask in the process. The professor set down his teacup, looking down on you with the same unreadable eyes.

“Aren’t you something special.”

“… thank you… Professor Kang…”

“How long have you been dancing?”

“I… uh…”

“Speak up.”

“Yes, professor, sorry.” You took a quick breath. “I’ve enjoyed dancing ever since I was a kid. I couldn’t tell you exactly when I started, but by the age of ten I was taking proper classes.”

“I see. And what do you intend to do with your talent?”

“Uh… well, as long as I can dance on a stage, I think that’d be enough for me.”

Professor Kang chuckled. “Really? You have no greater aspirations than to simply dance? Does the title of Prima not tempt you?”

“I believe there are greater talents here and out there that are better suited for such a title.”

“You will not last in this world if you don’t have higher ambitions. There’s nothing wrong with following your desires.”

Professor Kang set down his tea cup, grabbing a pen and notepad, writing something down then ripping a page out. He folded up the paper and handed it to you.

“Give this to Instructor Choi, and I trust you won’t peek.”

“Yes, professor.”

“Go on now, you don’t want to be late for your second class.”

You took the note and stood, bowing before making your exit. Although once out in the hall you had to stop and let your heart calm down. You were so terrified to speak to Professor Kang one-on-one like that, and it seemed he had taken an interest in you. There was no way to tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Once you had steadied yourself, you made your way over to Instructor Choi’s class. As soon as you walked in you could tell things would be different here. There was an indoor track, and a few pieces of gym equipment along the walls. Not to mention the windows were up high and tinted. It wouldn’t be surprising if that was actually some hidden viewing platform.

Just like before, the students already present were stretching and keeping their muscles warm. You set your things down, placing them against the wall alongside the others, then you found a place to stretch. As you waited you got a good look at your surroundings. You knew Instructor Choi was in charge of physical fitness and his classroom reflected that. The only thing you were really curious about now was how he conducted his classes. This surely wouldn’t be anything like gym class back in high school. Seconds before the bell rang the instructor walked in, a black duffle bag in hand. Everyone stopped what they were doing and waited for instructions. The instructor made it to the center of the room and dropped the duffle bag, glancing around at everyone for a quick moment.

“Masks on and line up before me.”

You hadn’t taken your mask off willingly, but a few others had. Once the instructor spoke, everyone, you included, rushed to put their mask on and get into line. You cautiously glanced over, seeing that the instructor was handing out some type of watch. Although he quickly began to explain.

“Once you have a watch, move over to one of the track lanes by the starting line. The watch will monitor your heartbeat and keep track of your time. I control it all remotely so you just have to run. Fifteen laps make a mile, you will be running thirty on my mark.”

This definitely sounded like high school gym class, just way more intense. As you were about to get your watch you realized you still had the note in your pocket that was meant for the instructor. It was best to hand it over now before the class started. Although you were rather nervous to speak to the instructor directly. His beauty was stunning, so you could only hope not to choke on your words.

“Excuse me, Instructor Choi.” You pulled out the note from your pocket and held it out. “Professor Kang asked me to give this to you.”

“Is that so?” The instructor took the note. “Thank you.”

To your surprise the instructor took a look at the note then and there. You couldn’t see anything, nor were you trying to. He smirked before folding up the note and then grabbing a watch. He seemed to fiddle with it for a moment before handing it to you.

“Get in line like the others.”

“Yes, instructor.”

There were only six lanes on the indoor track, and you got behind those on the outermost one. As soon as everyone was ready you noticed the instructor had a tablet in his hand. He didn’t even bother looking up as he spoke.

“On my mark… begin!”

One by one the students began to run, everyone maintaining a proper distance when they weren’t trying to pass each other.

“Your watch will vibrate when you have completed the thirty laps. Until then, keep running.”

Having high stamina was an important aspect of dancing, so it made sense to test that on your first day. Moreso after Professor Kang’s class. Your body was already tired, but technically warmed up. This was more about endurance than anything else. Some of your peers were trying to finish as fast as they could, while others were going at their own pace. You just ran as you always did, focused on making it to thirty laps than anything else. There was no clock in the room, and you didn’t want to look at your watch for the time either. A few students finished before you, and since you weren’t part of the back half you were content.

Once your watch vibrated you glanced down at it, seeing your time and doing the math. You maintained your average. Although you didn’t stop, instead moving towards the center and walking. It wasn’t good to just hard stop after running. You moved your arms around and tried to get your breathing back to normal. Then you heard the common sound of tumbling. Those who were still running glanced over for a second, and those that were done watched the scene unfold. A student had fallen to the ground, and that was the worst thing right now. To get back up and to start again, it would hurt like hell. You watched the student get on their knees as Instructor Choi approached them.

“Don’t bother. We both know you can’t get back up.”

“I can… I can… just-”

Instructor Choi placed their foot over one of the student’s legs. He applied just enough pressure to get a scream out of them. You were starting to get a sense of deja vu as you watched this all unfold. 

“You’re done.”

After doing something on the table the instructor reached down and removed the watch before walking away. The student tried to plead again, but they couldn’t do much but crawl. That is until the door opened. Unsurprisingly more masked individuals came in, dragging out the latest failure. You were relieved to be done, and that you had made it. For a moment you thought it was all over, then you heard a bunch of screaming followed by more thuds. You looked around to see those that were still running fall to the ground, grabbing their arm with the watch on. That’s when you realized the watch around your wrist was probably capable of doing more than monitor your heartbeat and time you.

“Those of you on the ground have taken longer than the average to complete the thirty laps. Either you don’t have the stamina, or you don’t care enough. Regardless, you will not be continuing at this institution.”

The instructor went over to each student writhing in pain, taking back the watch and letting those masked people drag out your former peers. Once those students were removed it fell silent again.

“As for the rest of you, the class isn’t over yet.”

You knew what the instructor was implying given that there were still masked people in the room. Although you noticed there was a familiar face among the, Wooyoung. You had no idea when he had entered, but it seemed that he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. For the rest of the class you followed the instructor’s command as he told you to do push-ups, jumping jacks, whatever exercise he deemed fit. A few other students failed to comply and were dragged out. When the bell finally rang to signify the end of class you were startled, and then relieved. You made it through your morning classes.

“The watches are for you to keep.” Instructor Choi said. “They are waterproof, and will not come off unless authorized personnel remove them. If you are caught breaking them, you will be removed from this institution. You’re all dismissed.”

A few of you glanced down at the watch, finding it a bit odd that this was part of your uniform now, but then again, so was the ski mask. You went over to grab your things, and then deja vu hit again.

“Y/n, please see me for a moment.”

You bit your lip and shut your eyes for a moment, wondering what the instructor wanted with you. Once again glances were thrown your way, but you just got your things and went over to the instructor. They were on the tablet, so you just quietly waited in front of them. After a moment they looked up, reaching over to take your mask off. It was clear they were eyeing you, but he made no comment. Then he grabbed something from his pocket.

“Give this to Professor Choi when you see him.” The instructor held out a folded up piece of paper to you. “No peeking.”

“Of course, instructor.”

“Go on now, it’s lunch.”

“Yes, instructor.”

You bowed and made your exit, once again needing a moment to steady your nerves. This was not how you envisioned your first day at all, but it was certainly giving you a taste of what you were in for. That is if you made it to tomorrow, or whatever the hell midterms entailed. At least for the moment you could relax a little as it was lunch. Most first years sat together but in relative silence. Those of you that had made it this far were certainly still processing everything that had happened. The upperclassmen were all chatty and in their own groups, but you did hear a few whispers about you newbies. It was to be expected. Anyone who wasn’t a first year knew exactly what they were going through, and likely very proud to have survived. Your goal right now was to be one of them.

After lunch you made your way to the next class. It was still pretty early, so you were the only one in the room. You set your things down where they wouldn’t be a bother and took it all in. Professor Choi was another dance instructor, so the room had plenty of open space, but also a few instruments present. The one that stood out the most was the piano. You didn’t really understand how this class would go, but you’d find out soon enough. While you waited you walked around the room over and over again, helping the food go down. When you heard the door open you didn’t pay it any attention until you heard a voice.

“You’re early.”

You turned around to see the professor himself walk in. You quickly bowed and apologized for the intrusion. Once again you found yourself rather amazed by the beauty of the educators here. Professor Choi was certainly elegant.

“No need for that. It’s good to show commitment.”

“Yes, of course.” You remembered the note. “Ah, Professor Choi, I was given a note to deliver to you from Instructor Choi.”

You stepped towards the professor, holding out the note. He took it from you with a thanks, examining it before putting it in his pocket.

“Class should begin shortly, you should warm up.”

“Of course, professor.”

You took the advice and did your stretches as other students began trickling in. When the bell rang the professor had you all line up.

“Good afternoon to you all, congratulations on making it this far. Now, I presume you all know the standard routines for ballet. Put your masks on and spread out, then get into starting positions, I’ll lead the music.”

At some point before the start of class another masked individual had come in, settling down on the piano. You all did as the professor said, getting into position. Professor Choi stood by the piano, holding a conductor’s wand. On his mark the piano player began. You immediately recognized the tune and began to dance accordingly. The steps were almost like second nature, but then the music stopped. Everyone looked over at the professor to see why.

“You, you, and you, out.”

The professor’s wand also seemed to double as a laser pointer. You had noticed out of the corner of your eye not every dancer moved, signifying they weren’t familiar with the piece. That was enough to get them kicked out. Although given the fact that Professor Choi wasn’t as aggressive as the others, the message didn’t quite hit. One student even tried to speak up before screaming and collapsing to the floor. You noticed they were grabbing their hand which had the watch on. Then you looked over and realized there was a tablet on the piano. The professor hit a few more buttons on the tablet and the rest of the students he had failed fell to the floor. This was going down just like your last class.

You nervously glanced at the watch on your wrist, terrified of what would happen to you if it ever went off. Just like before masked men came in and grabbed those that would not be staying. They were dragged to the front of the class where the professor took back the watch, then removed from the room entirely. Once that was finished the music continued. When that piece finished you were given a moment of rest before preparing for another one. That was how the rest of the class went, with only a few more students being kicked out. The bell ringing startled you again, but it was a welcomed reminder that you had made it. The professor dismissed the class, and you falsely thought you were free to go.

“Y/n, come see me before you leave.”

“Yes, professor?”

“Take your mask off.”

You did as you were told. “You wanted to see me, professor?”

“Please hand this note to Professor Park, thank you.”

“Of course, professor. Have a good evening.”

“Likewise.”

You felt so weird passing notes between classes like this, especially to your educators. At least now you were done with all the physical stuff. Your final class was a language class with Professor Park, so surely that would be normal. You made it to the classroom, seeing that it looked just as expected. A few other students were seated, and the professor was at his desk in the front. You took a breath and made your way over. With every step you got closer and closer to such an ethereal being. Strangely enough you felt so blessed to have this incredible individual as your professor.

“Professor Park, I was instructed to give you a note from Professor Choi.”

“I see, hand it over.” You did as you were told. “Thank you, have a seat wherever.”

You bowed and picked a desk near the front, settling in. You could see Professor Park looking at the note you handed him, but his face gave nothing away. Once the bell rang the professor got up and spoke to the class.

“Congratulations on making it through your first day. I have no reason to kick any of you out as long as you maintain a high grade in my class. We may have the coming year together, but to teach you all a new language will not be easy. Thus this is an accelerated course and I expect you all to keep up. Now, one by one, come up to collect your books and other class materials so we may begin.”

Textbooks as well as notebooks and writing utensils were all provided. That way every student had the same materials to work with. Professor Park soon began his lecture, telling the class they didn’t need to wear their masks here and introducing the language you’d be learning. He then explained how the class would be broken down. This felt normal, just like an institute of education should be. Time flew by as you listened to the professor, and his voice was really beautiful. When the bell rang it was rather disappointing, but also a huge relief, letting you know the day was officially done.

“Alright. Please get through the first chapter before tomorrow’s class. Since the day is done and you all made it this far, you’re to report to the main hall for your room assignment.” Professor Park explained. “Dismissed. Oh, and miss y/n, please see me after class.”

Of course you didn’t get to just walk away. Although you were curious as to what the professor wanted with you. Like he said, the day was over.

“You wanted to see me, professor?”

“Yes, could you be so kind as to give this note to Professor Jeong.” 

“Uh, I don’t have any more classes, and Professor Jeong isn’t one of my-”

“I’m aware. Professor Jeong is the dean of students, you do know where his office is, yes?”

“I believe so.”

“Good. Please deliver that for me before you go to the main hall. Thank you.”

“Yes, professor, have a good evening.”

“You as well.”

You bowed and made your way out. You honestly couldn’t believe you had actually made it through such a day. It was not at all what you had expected, but there was a sense of pride flowing through you. For now though you had a task to complete. You glanced down at the note in your hand, reminding yourself that you had to deliver this. All day you had been extremely curious as to what these notes were about, but it was ultimately none of your business. This was only the first day, you wanted to make a good impression. Even if it was something so small like this. When you got to the dean’s office you knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

“Come in.”

You cautiously stepped into the office, finding it as luxurious as the rest of the school. Then you saw the dean himself. You swear everyone at this institution was handsome, and so the nerves started creeping in.

“How can I help you?”

“Um… Professor Park had asked me to deliver a note to you…”

“Alright, may I have it?”

“Of course, professor.”

You stepped closer and handed over the note, but the professor was not interested in it. He was actually more interested in you.

“You’re a first year, correct?”

“Yes, professor.”

“How was your day, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all. It was good. I’ll work hard in order to be a student worthy of this institution.”

“That’s nice to hear. Have you gotten your room assignment yet?”

“No, not yet. Professor Park asked me to deliver the note first.”

“Job done, you should make your way to the main hall then. The sooner you get your room and settle in the better off you’ll be.”

“Thank you, professor. I’ll be going now. Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

  You bowed and excused yourself. That should be the end of it, so you made your way to the main hall. You got in line like the other students, giving your name when you reached the table, getting your room assignment. You went to collect your things and then headed to find your room. It hadn’t been mentioned but you soon discovered you had two roommates. To your surprise one of them you had met last night, Misu, and the other introduced themselves as Jemma. You help each other out as you moved your things around and unpacked. By the time the lights out bell rang you were practically done and ready for bed. Although given the day you had, it wasn’t easy to fall asleep. So instead you were all lying in bed and chatting.

“I had no idea this place was so harsh.” Misu mumbled. “The amount of students that were just… gone…”

“They have a prestigious image to maintain.” Jemma added. “So it makes sense they’re strict.”

“Yeah, but kicking you out for falling on your butt, or not knowing a practice routine, isn’t that a little too much?”

“I think it’s cause they care a lot.” You said. “They have high standards and want us to be great. If we don’t meet that energy, why bother keeping us here.”

“I guess that makes sense… it’s just scary. Like I’m glad I made it past the first day, but if the rest of the semester is like this, I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

“They’ve set the standard today.” Jemma mentioned. “We just have to maintain it and improve. With their guidance, it shouldn’t be that difficult. Besides, they might ease off a bit on us since they think we’re worth keeping.”

“For now at least.”

“Let’s just try to get some sleep.” You stated. “Tomorrow is likely gonna be just as tough.”

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

Hongjoong stared down at the file on his desk, as well as the four blank unfolded pieces of paper. The rest of his members had gathered in his office to discuss the new batch of students. One in particular was brought to his attention.

“So, she delivered all the notes without peeking… what a good girl. Tell me, Yeosang, what did you see in her?”

“She has potential unlike any other student we’ve had before.”

“Quite the first impression then. You were present as well, weren’t you, Wooyoung? What do you think of the girl?”

“She’s certainly more suited to be a dancer than a fighter. Although I suppose that can be rectified if she’s chosen for the role.”

“Hm… what do you have to add, San? You did give her a note of your own.”

“She knows her own body and limits well. If necessary she can be pushed beyond that.”

“Hm, Jongho?”

“She dances well. A few missteps here and there but nothing that can’t be fixed with practice. I’ll certainly be keeping an eye on her.”

“Alright. What about you Seonghwa? She seemed interesting to you as well, no?”

“Well, she wasn’t afraid of her educator. She also seemed very focused and eager to learn. She’s certainly someone to keep tabs on.”

“Noted. Then let’s see what she can do.”

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

There was a bit of leeway in class after the first day, so you weren’t worried about getting kicked out anytime soon. For the time being all of you that remained proved to be worthy of continuing your studies here, you just had to keep it that way. As the days went by you began to understand the purpose of each of your classes. Professor Kang focused on form and grace. There was no music in his classroom, so it was all about perfecting the dance moves. Instructor Choi built strength and endurance. As a dancer you’d be performing for hours at a time. If you were to make it through a show with perfection, your body needed to be capable of handling it.

Professor Choi on the other hand was strict on precision and performance. You had to be on beat and moving as the music dictated. Otherwise he’d call you out for missing a step by half a second. It wasn’t normal for an average dance class to be split in such a manner, but the end results would be impressive. Of course Professor Park didn’t teach a dance class, but he wasn’t lying when he said he’d be teaching an accelerated course. You did your homework and paid attention in class. There was no review or slowing down for anyone. Eventually you got used to the pacing of the school and it felt more natural than intense. Then came the mid-semester showcase, something that brought back those initial nerves.

“The mid-semester showcase is something all the first years participate in.” Professor Kang explained. “All your professors and instructors will be present to judge you on their area of expertise. If you pass the showcase then you will remain at this institution.”

At the end of class, instead of being dismissed Professor Kang had some news to share. No one seemed to know of this, and hearing what it entailed put everyone on edge.

“Of course, as first years, you’re not expected to pick your own performance piece, so one has been chosen for you. When I call your name, come collect your envelope, then you’re dismissed.”

The professor began calling names, and one by one your peers got up. It wasn’t all that surprising that you were the last one left. Although the professor didn’t call your name right away, instead he sat at the little table pouring himself a cup of tea. You didn’t want to believe you were in trouble, but you felt nervous being alone with him again, especially since there was no one else this time. You weren’t sure what the professor wanted to talk about this time, but you knew you were too far from him. The idea that came to mind was stupid, but probably the only appropriate way to approach.

You had been sitting on your thighs when class had ended, so now you swallowed the lump in your throat and crawled over to the professor. You kept your head down, feeling somewhat humiliated, but this was ultimately your own action. You didn’t see the content smile that adorned the professors lips for a moment. Once you were close enough you stopped and sat back down, removing your mask. You were certainly acting like you were in trouble, but you still dared to look up. You could see the envelope with your name on the table, so the professor just needed to hand it over. Clearly though, he had something to say beforehand.

“How are the rest of your classes?”

“I believe I am doing well, and will continue to improve.”

“What of your ambition? Is merely dancing on a stage enough for you?”

“At the moment I wish to do well and prove to be a great talent. I don’t feel like I’m at a point with my skills to have ambition.”

“Hm, interesting choice of words.” The professor took a sip of his tea. “Well, with the showcase coming up, I wanted to make a proposition of my own. If you pass, I want you to join my private lesson. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“I… yes, of course, professor. It would be an honor.”

“My private session takes place after classes. You’d lose some of your free time, is that alright?”

“It’s no problem at all.”

“Good.” The professor held out your envelope. “Now you just have to pass.”

“Thank you, professor, I won’t let you down.”

“We’ll see.”

You took the envelope and managed to keep your composure until you left the room. You were being honest about your lack of ambition stemming from the fact you didn’t feel like you were good enough, but this was such an ego boost. If Professor Kang thought you were worthy of joining his private lesson, then perhaps you were doing better than you thought. Of course you had to pass the mid-semester showcase first. You didn’t want to open the envelope just yet, wanting to make it through the rest of your classes without being distracted. So you waited until the final bell, retreating to your room for some privacy.

When you opened up the envelope you collapsed, feeling immense joy and relief. The piece that had been assigned to you was one you were familiar with, and not just that, it was a favorite of yours. It felt like the universe was on your side. You’d surely pass the showcase and get to join Professor Kang’s private lesson, but for now you had to focus on the task ahead of you. All the first years were focused on the showcase, so after the final bell you’d find yourself and many of your peers practicing. You didn’t care to have privacy given that everyone had something different. It was better to just focus on yourself.

You talked about being nervous and all that with your roommates, but did not mention the professor’s offer to you. It would likely cause drama and you didn’t want that distracting you. When it came time for the showcase you felt ready, but were still terrified. Upperclassmen were given the day off and encouraged to watch the showcase, but it wasn’t mandatory. Many would likely use the day to get in more practice or rest. Either way, it added to your nerves knowing that there would be way more eyes on you than you originally thought. Still, you couldn’t let that get to you. Upon entering the theater you were given a number and sent backstage. There you were to wait until your number was called. So in the meantime you just warmed up.

You felt bad for whoever would go first, as all the pressure was on them. The same could be said for the one who would go last given that they’d have to wait and watch everyone else. Off the top of your head you weren’t sure how many of you there were, but the number you had was forty six. That didn’t seem so bad. You listened as numbers got called, stretching and keeping your muscles warm. As your number approached you started to shake a bit. You were confident in your piece, you felt it was great, but you had to be perfect in the eyes of the judges. When your number was called you felt like the world slowed down. It was like an out of body experience, making your way to the stage and standing under the spotlight.

There was no need for words, so you just got into your starting position. With the lights on you the rest of the theater was dark, so you couldn’t see anyone. That was nice, but you couldn’t just pretend no one was there. You were being watched, judged, and you wanted to make a good impression. When the music began you moved, a familiar sensation taking over. You let the music flow through you, move you, as you danced a favorite piece of yours. Everything else faded away for you on that stage and your body practically moved on its own. You were just a passenger to your own desires and passion, making it through your performance without truly being present yourself.

Your world basically faded back in as you took your bow, keeping your breath steady. You didn’t say anything else, stepping on stage before letting out a shaky breath. Your limbs felt like jello and you made it to a wall so you could sit against it. You did it, you made it through your performance, even though you couldn’t believe it, or recall it. A smile adorned your face, but now the real nerves began. The professor never told you how you’d be informed whether you passed or failed. So all you could do was wait, and from where you sat you could watch the others perform. A whole day passed by, you didn’t eat, you really didn’t even move. For a moment you dozed off, only to hear a loud voice over the speakers.

“If your number is called, step out onto the stage.”

There was no telling if the numbers called were those who passed or failed, so everyone was nervous. The numbers weren’t called out in any order, just randomly, so there was no telling when the last person would be called. When you heard forty six your heart skipped a beat. You got up and made your way on stage, seeing the others, but still unable to see the audience. Your odds here were fifty-fifty. So either you were going home, or you made it past the mid-semester. The disembodied voice continued to announce numbers, and then it ended. This was the moment, and you held your breath.

“Congratulations. Those of you on stage may return to your rooms. Classes will resume tomorrow.”

There was no celebration on stage, or signs of relief. Everyone on stage merely rushed off, and you followed suit. Silence filled the halls and you all returned to your rooms. When you got to yours you collapsed to the floor, all your anxiety and relief overwhelming you at once. You had survived. That prompted you to start laughing, and you sounded hysterical. Moments later the door opened again and you saw Jemma walk in. You hadn’t even noticed her on stage, but she collapsed right next to you.

“Holy fuck, we made it.”

“I’m so fucken glad.”

You both laid on the ground as you came down from this adrenaline rush. Although as time went by you both became aware of one thing. Misu hadn’t come back. Your heart sank at the realization, looking around at all her things. It was unfortunate to lose someone you had grown to consider a friend.

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

After the showcase the atmosphere changed again. There were less students in your classes, and some switched rooms to even things out. While you were gone someone had come to clear out Misu’s things from your room, making her absence truly sink in. She was gone. You couldn’t feel bad though, not for long. Now that you had passed the showcase, you had other things to focus on. Just as Professor Kang had mentioned, he told you where he held his private sessions and what time to be there. The main building where classes were held had four floors. Your classes were held depending on what year you were, therefore you were only ever on the first floor. 

It seemed you’d be going up a floor more often as the room number you were given was on the second floor. You had only been up there once before to deliver a note to Professor Jeong. So you were rightfully a bit nervous, but you definitely didn’t want to be late. You went to the class a half hour early, seeing that others were present as well. Once you entered you had a few glances your way but nothing happened. You had honestly been nervous about being the only first year here, but you soon recognized a few faces. It seemed that you weren’t the only one Professor Kang had made the offer to. 

A part of you was upset over that realization, but you quickly told yourself that you shouldn’t think like that. Being here was an honor, and it was better than being completely alone. You stretched and got ready like everyone else. When the professor arrived everyone got into position. There wasn’t much talking here, but you could tell the professor paid more attention to those present. It really did feel like your usual class with Professor Kang, but more intense. He’d call out individuals when their form wasn’t perfect, and would criticize in front of everyone. His words could be harsh, but you figured that was something you had to accept in order to be here. The unexpected benefit was making friends with some upperclassmen.

“Can I ask something…?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“One my first day here, someone was with Professor Kang, I think his name was Wooyoung… do you know who he is?”

One of your new friends was a third year student, Ally. She was friendly from the start, and welcomed you to Professor Kang’s private lesson. Since she had been here longer than you it seemed best to ask her about some of the things on your mind.

“Oh, that’s Instructor Jung. I believe he works with upperclassmen, but you’ll rarely see him roaming around the halls. I don’t even know where his classroom is.”

“Hm. He seemed very intense.”

“From what I’ve heard, he is. Although I doubt you’d ever cross paths with him.”

“I hope so. What about the dean of students? Professor Jeong? I didn’t know he taught a class.”

“Yeah, he teaches something, but I honestly don’t know what. I think he only deals with fourth years, but who knows. He’s mostly in his office though.”

“You don’t seem to know as much as I thought.”

“Honestly, now that you mention it, yeah, I don’t. I never realized how mysterious some of the professors were.”

“It’s kinda weird though, isn’t it?”

“It is. I know Instructor Jung only really shows his face on the first day of class for first years.”

“Yeah, he drags some students out.”

“I’m lucky to still be here.”

“I hope to make it as far as you.”

“If you’re in Professor Kang’s private lessons, I’m sure you will. Although, you know who’s really mysterious?”

“Who?”

“Headmaster Kim.”

“The headmaster?”

“Yeah. I’ve only ever seen him like three times, and that’s at the welcome ceremony for new students. Other than that, he’s a ghost.”

“Isn’t that to be expected though? He’s not a professor, and he has to do other things to keep this place running.”

“I guess, but it’s just odd to think about. I’ve been here three years and only see him at the same event. He’s not around for anything else.”

“Where’s his office?”

“Fourth floor, but I doubt you ever want to go in there. He seems super scary.”

“I bet he is. The welcome speech was not what I expected.”

“In hindsight it makes sense. Many of the new students don’t make it past the first day. There’s really no need to say much.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Speaking of scary, there’s another professor here who fits that description.”

“Which one?”

“Professor Song.”

“Who’s that?”

“He’s in charge of the finances for the institution. You might see him sometimes heading to speak with Professor Jeong, but he’s very quiet and intimidating.”

“What does he teach?”

“… that’s a good question. Definitely something with fourth years, I think. I guess I’ll finally find out what Professor Jeong and Professor Song teach next year.”

“You let me know then.”

“Will do.”

It took you a few days to get used to the extra class. Your body was way more exhausted than before, but you’d eventually adjust to this new routine. Of course Jemma eventually found out you had an extra class, and thankfully she wasn’t salty about it but instead happy for you. As the end of the semester grew near you knew what was coming up. The mid-semester showcase had been a surprise, and an individual endeavor but for the end of the semester it was going to be a group performance. Every class was divided into two groups and once again a performance piece was chosen for you. 

You’d have to find some time after class to meet up with your group to practice, and you were a bit of a problem since you had an extra class you needed to attend. This was going to be more work on you, but you could manage. The days began to feel longer for you. Not to mention you also had to study for your final exam in Professor Park’s class. This type of stress felt normal, even if this place wasn’t. You did your best to manage your time, not feeling like you were falling behind or missing anything. Your goal was to sleep for a whole day once this was all over, so you had to end things on a good note. Thankfully your final exam was one day, and the next would be the performance.

You wound up staying up late to cram for your final exam, needing to make sure you passed. Even if Professor Park wasn’t kicking out students the first day, failing the exam was probably his chance to make cuts. You weren’t so nervous the day of the test, feeling confident in the materials and getting through it without any issue. Hopefully you weren’t just over confident, but with the actual exam out of the way you could practice for the performance. Your group had been doing well, so you felt ready for the big day. Just like last time, you were given a number and told to wait backstage until your number was called. 

You were glad that the theater was designed in a way so you couldn’t see the audience. You knew your professors and instructors were present, and a few upperclassmen, but you couldn’t see any of them. You all got into your starting positions and waited for your cue. You only focused on the dance, doing your part and wanting to do it well. Even if you had felt immense pressure beforehand, being on stage now and dancing put you at ease. Once it was all over you were just happy, as were the rest of your peers. Although after all the performances were done, no one was called out to the stage, you were just dismissed. Everyone was confused, but you didn’t get answers until the next day. The last day of classes for the semester. 

“I know you’re all wondering what the outcome is of your performance.” Professor Kang stated. “Even though you were placed into groups, you were being graded on your ability to work with others. You will all be informed whether you passed or failed privately. Enjoy your break, and I shall see some of you back for the second semester.”

There was a dreadful silence in the air. Despite the performance being a group effort, you were graded individually. If someone relied more on the others to look good, it probably showed. You think you did well both on your own and as part of the team, but you’d likely have to wait until the end of the day to find out if you’d be staying or not.

“Y/n, a word.”

Even on the last day of the semester you were still being held back after class. You should be used to it, but it always makes you nervous. By now you were certain others in your class were annoyed by you for this. You stayed where you were until everyone else was gone, then you went over to kneel by Professor Kang’s table, taking off your mask.

“Yes, professor?”

“For your information you did pass.”

“I… I did?”

“Yes. It’s always nice to see you on stage.”

“Oh… thank you, professor.”

“The reason I asked you to stay was because I was curious about your plans for winter break.”

“Ah, well, I don’t have anything in mind, so I’ll likely just go home for the holidays.”

“I see. Would you be interested in staying for some one-on-one lessons?”

“One-on-one? You mean with you?”

“Not just me. Professor Choi would be present as well, and I’m sure Instructor Choi would want to see you every other day. There’s nothing wrong with resting, but honing your skills is also important. The choice is yours of course.”

“I would like to stay and learn from you and the others.”

“I’m glad to hear. Do take some time to rest. I’ll see you in Professor Choi’s room starting next week. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, professor.”

The words kept ringing in your head, and you couldn’t believe it. You really didn’t have any plans for winter break, but getting real private lessons from two of your professors, that was insane. You still found it hard to accept that your skills were at the level to receive this type of attention, but you wanted to live up to their expectations. You made it through the rest of your classes with a subtle smile on your face, excited for what was to come.

“Y/n, may I speak with you for a moment.”

As the bell rang, ending Professor Park’s class, he asked to see you. This time you weren’t nervous, having received your final exam from his class and happy to see you had passed. Everything was working out for you right now.

“You wanted to see me, professor?”

“I wanted to congratulate you on your performance, both of them. You are a delight on stage.”

“Thank you very much, professor.”

“I presume Professor Kang already spoke to you about plans for winter break?”

“Yes he did, and I will be staying at the institution for extra lessons.”

“I’m glad to hear. I did want to add something of my own.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the next semester starts up I want you to join my private session.”

“Your… yes, yes, that would be a great honor, Professor Park.”

“Good. Professor Kang does know you won’t be in his private lessons anymore, so no need to inform him. I’ll give you more information when the semester starts, alright?”

“Yes, professor.”

“Very well then, enjoy your break.”

“Thank you, professor.”

Now your head was spinning again. You had been told Professor Park also held private lessons, but to actually be invited, you couldn’t believe it. Today felt like a dream and you pinched yourself to make sure it wasn’t. The semester was over, but you were far from done. You did take some time to rest, having the room to yourself as Jemma went home for the holidays. Then when Monday came around you made your way to Professor Choi’s room after breakfast. These one-on-one lessons would likely be an all day endeavor, and you were prepared to work hard. When you entered you saw Professor Kang sitting atop the piano while Professor Choi played the instrument.

“Good morning, y/n, did you sleep well?” Professor Kang asked.

“I did, and you professor?”

“Likewise. Since the institution is on break, we don’t need to keep the formalities. You may call me Yeosang, and this is Jongho.”

“Ah… I’ll do my best to remember that.”

“Now, you’ve worked hard during the semester, so let me see what Jongho does everyday. You know all the relevant pieces, so let’s start with something simple.”

You set your things down and got into a starting position. Once you were ready you signaled to Yeosang who then told Jongho to begin. To your own surprise Jongho began to play the piano and sing. There was only a moment to appreciate the professor’s talent before you focused on the music and danced. For the first lesson both of them just wanted to see where you were, from there the focus was on your precision and timing. This is what most would expect from dance classes, but this place was different, yet you were lucky to be given such attention. Of course dancing wasn’t the only thing you needed to focus on. If you weren’t practicing your dance then you were training with Instructor Choi. Although to your surprise it wouldn’t just be the two of you.

“Good morning, y/n, it’s nice to see you.” Instructor Choi stated. “I’m glad you chose to stay over break.”

“It’s an honor to train directly under you.” 

“If it’s no trouble, Instructor Jung will be joining us as well.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“That’s good.” You looked back just as Instructor Jung entered. “We don’t need formalities for now, so just call me Wooyoung.”

“And I’m San.”

“I’ll try, although it’d certainly be weird.”

“That’s alright. Let’s get started with some warm ups.”

When it came to San and Wooyoung, they focused more on strength training and stamina. All that together made you feel like you were receiving private tutoring. Your greatest worry was disappointing them and making them feel like they’ve wasted their time with you, so you always worked hard. They seemed to be happy with your performance, only providing helpful tips on how to improve and giving you compliments. One day out of the week was given to you so you could rest, and they told you to do so. Maybe just do a bit of dancing but not spend all day in the practice room.

“Hold that position.”

“Professor- I mean, Yeosang, may I ask, why practice with real props and not fakes?”

“The real thing holds actual weight. If you learn to dance with those you’ll have more strength in your movements, which will then translate to fluidity when you’re using weightless fakes. Of course that is something we’ll need to work on later.”

“Got it.”

Once Yeosang and Jongho felt you were doing better with your moves they added the props. You’d find yourself dancing with daggers or batons in hand, well aware they were real. It was an interesting approach, and one you understood you’d benefit from. Many times Yeosang would have you pose while holding out the weapon, making your arms grow tired, but you were terrified to move before he said so. While doing that Jongho would continue to sing for you, wanting you to get familiar with some newer pieces. In order to help with that they had compiled a playlist for you, telling you to listen during your free time or even while you slept as your subconscious was good at picking up things without you realizing.

“Keep going! You can give me another set!”

San and Wooyoung had quickly become your personal trainers, encouraging you and working out right alongside you. Their lessons were fun in a different way, and it was certainly nice to see San smile and laugh. Something that’s practically non-existent in his classes. This wasn’t how you originally envisioned your break, but you were grateful for it. When you weren’t dancing or training you’d use the time to rest or continue your language studies. Professor Park had given you all some materials to look over while on break, just to keep your minds active so you wouldn’t forget things easily.

There were a few cozy places around the institution to sit and study, so that’s where you went in your free time. The best places were by a window, so you could stare outside when you needed to give your mind a break. You’d also listen to the music Jongho had provided you, finding it very beautiful and soothing. While studying one evening you realized it had started snowing. You watched the snowfall for a while when you suddenly noticed people outside. It took a moment but you soon identified Wooyoung, and he seemed to be yelling. That’s when you figured out what was going on. He seemed to be in the middle of training, having a handful of masked people running around the grounds.

You knew a few others had also stayed at the institution for break, but you weren’t certain if anyone was partaking in private lessons. It seemed that they were, although the group made it seem more like a proper class than one-on-one. You had been told Wooyoung worked with upperclassmen, so to a degree this made sense. He probably did this during the semester too which is why you hardly see him. Either way, you didn’t want to intrude much so you moved elsewhere to continue your studying. The only real downside to staying here over break was that  you’d be spending the holidays alone. No one else you considered a friend was around, and it didn’t seem that anyone was interested in socializing with you. Although to your surprise that wouldn’t be the case.

“We won’t have any lessons for the next two days in observance of the holidays.” Yeosang informed. “So do use that time to rest.”

“Of course.”

“Also, Hongjoong would like to invite you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Hongjoong?”

“Headmaster Kim.”

“Wait, me? Dinner?”

“He doesn’t want you dining alone, and neither do we.”

“Oh… well, I’d be impolite to refuse.”

“It would be. Dinner will be held at the usual time. Please join us up on the fourth floor in the showcase room.”

“Of course.”

The dinner invitation was completely unexpected, and intimidating. To spend time with the headmaster, and some of the others, you were terrified as to how things would go. Your friend Ally told you one rarely sees the headmaster and here you were spending the holidays with them. Either way, you had to make a good impression. You found a nice outfit and put some effort into looking good. That evening the institution felt eerily quiet, as if you were the only one around. Your footsteps echoed as you went up the stairs and down the hall. You had never been on the fourth floor before and many other first years never will be up here until they’re upperclassmen. So this was quite the privilege.

Thankfully there were signs around that pointed in the direction of the showcase room. You wondered why such a room was up here, but you figured it was for the fourth year students. Surely their finals were something else. As you walked down the hall you could hear some music and some voices. The doors to the showcase room were ajar, so some of the light spilled out, as well as the smell of food. It was a divine scent that made your stomach growl, but you had to compose yourself first. Besides the headmaster you knew a few others who would be there, but no one else. You took a moment to steady your breathing, telling yourself everything was gonna be fine, then you carefully made your way inside.

“There she is, the guest of honor.”

Your eyes went wide as you saw the room was lavishly decorated. The main long table was at the center with lots of food present, eight seats on either side and one at the far end. You recognized everyone present except for one person, but you were polite regardless. As a formality for you everyone introduced themselves and you realized the stranger was Professor Song Mingi.

“It’s a pleasure to spend tonight with you all, my name is y/n, I’m a first year student.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Good things, I promise.”

“Thank you, Headmaster-”

“Just Hongjoong tonight. We’re all here as friends. Please, have a seat. I won’t ask you to drink as I’m sure you don’t want to end up intoxicated.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

“Of course. Since we’re all here, let us eat.”

You wound up sitting at one end of the table with Yeosang to your left, Seonghwa across from you, and Hongjoong to your right. They were all kind as they passed food around and Seonghwa even poured you a glass of non-alcoholic champagne. Some small friendly conversations began, but you certainly found it a bit awkward to speak. That is unless you were spoken too first.

“Your midterm and final performance were very elegant.” Mingi complimented. “You’re quite talented. Yeosang tells me you’ve been dancing since you were a child, what is it about dance that has drawn you in?”

“Well… I suppose it’s hard to articulate. My mother told me I was very active as a child and she tried to get me involved in stuff so I wouldn’t cause trouble. From there music just called to me. The beautiful melodies guiding one’s actions and moving to the beat to tell a story. I know pursuing this career will have its hardships, but I genuinely enjoy dancing and find it fun. It really would be a dream to live the rest of my life this way.”

“How touching. It’s not everyday you meet someone so filled with passion.”

“I hope the others haven’t been pushing you too hard.” Jeong commented.

“No, not at all. They’ve been helping me improve and I greatly appreciate that.”

A few more asked about your upbringing and about your life before coming to the institution. You gave rather short answers since you didn’t want to sound full of yourself, but they didn’t seem to mind, just curious about you. The hours seemed to pass by and before you knew it was dusk. Wooyoung and Yunho excused themselves first and then you politely asked to be excused as well.

“Thank you for the meal and the company, I had a wonderful time.”

“Of course. Thank you for coming.” Hongjoong smiled. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You as well.”

You stepped out and managed to make it back to your room in one piece, throwing yourself onto the bed. What a night. You were exhausted but still had the strength to undress and clean up before going to sleep. You didn’t need to be anywhere later so it was okay to sleep in. After the holiday was over you were back to your lessons and training until the break was over. You were both excited and nervous for the new semester to start, but you feltore confident in your skills now. Then you remembered that you would be attending Seonghwa’s private lessons and got giddy. It was only the first day back, but you had to keep your composure. Now wasn’t the time to slack off.

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

Your schedule this semester was the same but there were a few differences. For starters Yeosang began using props in his class, fake ones of course. Then you had Jongho who was now singing for everyone. Although if he stopped you knew someone had messed up. The only other change of note was that once a week the language spoken in the halls would change. On that day students were required to speak the language they were currently being taught, and only that language. The rule applied to the educators as well, and you were rather surprised to hear them speak fluently in a foreign language. Of course there was something new for you too.

At the end of Seonghwa’s class he had you stay a moment so he could give you the details for his private lessons. It would be replacing your previous lessons with Yeosang, so you didn’t have to adjust your routine drastically. This time you’d be making your way up to the third floor after your normal classes were done. You were pretty nervous about this given that you hadn’t had Seonghwa as your dance professor yet, so you had no idea what his style was like. Not to mention that he had only seen you dance twice, as far as you knew, and that was enough for him to invite you to his private lessons. You had to stay calm though and do well, you were about to meet new people too.

“I think you’re in the wrong room.”

“Uh… pardon?”

“Professor Park doesn’t teach first years, so you must be in the wrong room.”

“Oh… it’s that obvious, huh?”

“Just get out.”

“But this is the right room, I triple checked.”

“And I told you Professor Park doesn’t teach first years, so leave.”

“He… he invited me.”

You had barely set a foot in the room when someone was already calling you out. A bunch of the dancers, mostly female, were glaring at you. When they told you to get out they certainly meant it, but you weren’t sure how to proceed.

“Yeah right.”

“It’s true. Professor Park invited me here and-”

“I seriously recommend you leave before you embarrass yourself more.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m supposed to be here, and I’m not leaving until Professor Park kicks me out.”

“You’ve got some guts, I’ll give you that. Do you even know what this class is for?”

“To improve our-”

“Nope! You see, you claim you belong here, but you don’t even know what here is.”

“Then why don’t you enlighten me since you seem to know it all.”

“Sure, I can indulge you for a moment. I presume you are aware that Ateez isn’t just the name of this institute, but the name of the dance company Headmast Kim runs with a few of the other educators.”

“Uh… yes…”

“Hm. Then you’re aware that the company has yet to fill the role of Prima, and Professor Park is Headmaster Kim’s right hand. Therefore this isn’t just some private class to hone our skills, but an audition stage. Only the dancers here have a chance to join Ateez, and one of us girls here will likely be Prima. There’s no way some first year has a chance to hold that title.”

“I see…”

“Then you know you’re way out of your depth.”

“Perhaps… but that doesn’t change the fact Professor Park invited me here.”

“Are you stupid? Cause you’re-”

The door suddenly opened and everyone looked over to see the professor enter. You were going to quickly set your things down and get into position but the girl who had been verbally harassing you placed a hand on your chest to stop you, a sly smirk on her face.

“Professor Park, there’s a girl here who says-”

“We have a new student joining us. She’s a first year, so I hope you all welcome her. Now, everyone in position.”

You scoffed and pushed the girl’s hand off of you, giving her a satisfied look before doing as the professor asked. What you had been told just now certainly changed your expectations of this class, but it wasn’t all the different than Yeosang’s. Just like his, Seonghwa was dancing along with you, teaching you the moves and watching you perform. His criticism was certainly a bit harsher and you could tell he demanded perfection. There was fire in his eyes you wouldn’t see elsewhere, and he really knew his craft. At the end of the lesson you thanked Seonghwa for inviting you, and expressed your eagerness to see him tomorrow. He returned your kindness, and you could see the stunned look on the others faces on your way out. You shouldn’t be making enemies, but you really wanted to stick it to them after the way they treated you.

When you made it back to your dorm you collapsed to the floor, exhausted but feeling fulfilled. The first day of the new semester went well, and you felt good. Although that smile faltered when you realized you were alone. You hadn’t seen Jemma all day, and now you were realizing her things were gone too. She must have failed something last semester and was kicked out. That meant this whole dorm was now yours. You’d certainly miss the company, but you had to be happy about the fact you were still here. You got special dance lessons over break. Not to mention you had no idea what Seonghwa’s private session was truly about yet you were invited.

Potentially joining Ateez, possibly being their first Prima, that idea made you giddy. Honestly everything that had happened to you as of late was all helping to boost your confidence, but you couldn’t let it go to your head. You still needed to work hard and be worthy of all this extra attention. The next day you were glad to find Ally was still around, so you hadn’t lost all your friends. Of course you wound up talking about the break and you did tell her about how you had stayed and got some one-on-one lessons with a few of your educators. You thought she might have been jealous, but she was actually excited for you, and proud.

“They must see a lot in you.”

“I guess they do… although I don’t think I truly see it yet, but I do feel that I’ve gotten better.”

“You definitely have. You wouldn’t still be here and getting all those private lessons if you weren’t. Just be careful, despite everything, this place is dangerous.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

Since you were the only first year in Seonghwa’s private lesson, it made you a target. At first it was just some smack talk before the class began, but soon things started to step out of the practice room. The leader of this little bully group was Lyla. She was a fourth year who felt she was destined to be Ateez’s Prima and you threatened that goal. One way or another she wanted to tear you down.

“Hey, y/n, I have a question for you.” Lyla suddenly called you out in the halls. “You’re here on scholarship, aren’t you?”

“So?”

“That means you likely got accepted here for the institution’s image, you know, a charity case. That would explain a lot.”

“How so?” Yunho’s voice suddenly cut in. “Many students are actually here on scholarship.”

To everyone’s surprise Yunho and Mingi had overheard the conversation, rather curious about it too. The atmosphere quickly changed when they showed up.

“The criteria for being accepted here is merely whether or not one passes the audition. You all got into this institution based on your talent. It has nothing to do with money.”

“Lyla Monroe, correct?”

“Yes, Professor Song.”

“I thought it was you. I do recall your mother coming here unannounced to speak with Professor Jeong and I about you.”

“Huh?”

“She begged and groveled for you to be accepted. She even offered quite the sum of money. Of course we declined, that’s not how things work here.” Mingi explained. “Although it was quite sad to see that your own blood didn’t believe in your talents.”

“I-”

“If you want to start a fight, I recommend you do it in the practice room, or better yet on stage. Anything else is not tolerated.”

Regardless of the truth, this was a little embarrassing. It certainly felt like Yunho and Mingi had come to your rescue, but you were honestly just glad to have someone on your side. Not to mention they just destroyed some of Lyla’s credibility. Whether others believe it or not, the rumors are gonna spread like wildfire. Then again, this little attempt at help would only make things worse.

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

Another part about being in Seonghwa’s class was that you were allowed to use the locker room on the third floor. That way you could keep your stuff for his classes closer. It also meant you’d be sharing that space with the other dancers, with Lyla. You ignored her for the most part, but that would only work for so long, and she had a breaking point. One day after Seonghwa’s session she cornered you, pinning you to the wall.

“You know what, I finally figured you out. You’re sleeping with Professor Park, aren’t you?”

“What the fuck are you talking about!?”

“There’s no other way he’d allow some first year in his private session. In all my time here, the lowest he ever invites in is a third year in their second semester.”

“Or maybe I’m just that good and you refuse to acknowledge it.”

“As if.”

“I have every right to be in Seonghwa’s private session!”

“Did you just-?”

“I meant Professor-”

Your words were cut short with a sharp slap to the face. The sound echoed in the room, and you remained frozen for a moment. Your cheek began to burn and you reached up to touch your injury in disbelief. Your gaze met Lyla’s, and you began to feel this rage boiling up inside you. This was crossing a line, and you weren’t just gonna stand there and take it. You intend to hit her back when a loud voice startled you, startled everyone.

“That is enough!” All eyes turned to Seonghwa who had stepped into the locker room undetected. “You fight in the practice room, not here!”

“Professor Park, this is just some friendly competition. It’s nothing to-”

As Lyla spoke to defend herself Seonghwa suddenly stalked over, grabbing her and slamming her against the lockers. No one dared to move or speak. The impact had certainly caused her to hit her head, and afterwards Seonghwa let her go. Lyla slid to the floor, holding her head, but he wasn’t done with her. To everyone’s disbelief Seonghwa suddenly brought down his foot over her ankle, causing her to scream. He did it a few more times and you swear you heard something crack. Still, nobody did anything, and Seonghwa continued. After breaking her ankle he grabbed a fist full of her hair and dragged her out of the locker room.

By then Lyla was begging for mercy through painful mumbles, limping as she was brought out for the public to see. At this hour there weren’t many students around, but just enough to know that come morning the whole building would be aware of this. You and the others in the locker room stepped out a moment after Seonghwa, carefully following behind until he came to the stairs. You only had a second to process what would happen next before it came to pass. Seonghwa tossed Lyla down the steps, watching as she screamed and tumbled to the cold floor below. Everyone watching was in shock, but Seonghwa had all their attention too.

“You are all equal in these halls! In the practice room and on stage, that is where you are enemies! There you fight with your talent and skills, not your fists or your words.” Seonghwa took a moment to fix himself up, staring down at the girl silently crying. “What a waste.”

You weren’t sure what would happen next, but when Seonghwa’s gaze met yours you took a half step back. He made his way towards you, making you all the more nervous. Without saying a word he took your hand and led you down the hall to an empty classroom locking the door behind him.

“Are you alright?”

Seonghwa gently cupped your cheek, trying to see if there would be any lingering marks. You were still shaken up, unable to speak.

“I understand friendly competition is normal, but there’s no need for such aggression. I do apologize as I was aware of such tensions since day one.” Seonghwa explained. “I just did not foresee it escalating in such a manner. Just focus on your dance, alright?”

“… yes… yes, professor.”

“No need for titles when it’s just us.”

“Yes, Seonghwa.”

“Put some ice on your cheek to prevent any swelling.”

“I will.”

“Good. I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Seonghwa excused himself first, leaving you to ponder over everything. In a matter of moments he had destroyed a girl’s career, embarrassed her, and made an example of her. All without hesitation or a sliver of emotion. It was terrifying to see. From the beginning you knew this place was strict and one was held to high standards, but this type of behavior you couldn’t imagine. The same hands that had thrown someone down a flight of stairs had caressed your cheek with concern. This place truly was dangerous in a way you hadn’t realized until now.

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

Of course things settled down after that incident. Everyone understood that no type of bullying was tolerated and the consequences would be dire. You did feel a bit of awkwardness in the air around you. All the rumors did say a first year was the cause of it all, and some had already figured out it was you. Still, you held your head up high and continued on as if nothing happened. The institution waits for no one and you still had a lot of hard work to do in order to make it to graduation.

“Oh, y/n, may I speak with you for a moment.”

At the end of the day you were surprised to find Wooyoung waiting around for you. By now you had only ever seen him a handful of times, and for him to come seek you out was curious. Still, you wouldn’t deny his request.”

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask if you were up for some one-on-one lessons this weekend with me and Yunho.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. What would they entail?”

“Weapons training.”

“What?”

“With props of course. I figured you’d want a little extra help preparing for the year end show.”

“The year end show? What about the midterm performance?”

“There isn’t one in the second semester.”

“Oh, good to know.”

“Then I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Yeah.”

Wooyoung gave you the time and place to meet, which was actually a place outside the main building and dorms. You had always wondered what those other buildings were for, and now you could get some answers. It also made sense Wooyoung taught outside the main building since he’s never seen otherwise. When the weekend arrived you were up early to get breakfast and then made your way over. You thought you could just walk in but the door was locked. It was a bit awkward to knock, but you did so anyway and a moment later Yunho opened the door.

“Glad you could make it. Come in.”

Once you were inside you realized how clean and bland this place was. It wasn’t like the main building or dorms, but a step down. It was darker too given that all the windows were tinted and didn’t let in a lot of light. Still, you followed Yunho as he led you down some stairs and to a much bigger area. Now this made more sense. There was open space and mats on the floor. Although there were no mirrors on the wall, there were some what you’d assume to be very realistic props.

“Yeosang and Jongho let us know what pieces of music you had been working with, and provided them for this.”

“That’s good.”

“Let’s get ready.”

A bit to your surprise Yunho had grabbed some props to hand over, and then got some for himself. That’s when you noticed he was dressed in similar attire to yourself, meaning he intended to practice with you. It made sense, given that the props implied a performance partner, and previously Yeosang and Jongho were focused on you learning your parts. Now you get to put that into effect and improve from there. You had always been told dancing was like fighting, and with Yunho and Wooyoung teaching you, it certainly felt that way. You learned a few basic combat moves, and from there you focused on the dance. This was a new form of practice for you, one you found very fun. So it was easy for time to just fly by.

“You’re a natural.” Wooyoung complimented. “Do you think you’re down to do this every weekend?”

“I think I could manage.”

“Do let us know if you need to rest.” Yunho added. “You don’t need to push yourself.”

“I know, but I don’t feel exhausted. I’ll let you know if I need a break.”

“Good. We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yup.”

It was good to keep active every day. Even if you weren’t in a class you used your own free time to practice. Now those personal practices were turning into private ones. Even if you were being pushed to your limits no one was forcing you beyond them. It was a slow progression but there were improvements. The only thing you didn’t foresee were the nightmares. You weren’t just dancing in your dreams, but practically fighting for your life. You’d jolt awake in a cold sweat, your heart pounding in your chest and your breathing jagged. For your own sake you started sleeping with the lights on, needing to be able to quickly identify where you were after one of those intense dreams.

“I think you’re majorly stressed out.”

Despite the trouble sleeping, you were alright, to a degree. You didn’t see any decline in your dancing, and none of your educators mentioned it either. On the outside you were fine, but something else was going on with you. To at least get it off your chest you shared your troubles with Ally, hoping for some advice.

“I’m managing everything just fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re also spending a lot of alone time with your professors and instructors. They’re already pretty intense in their classes, so I can only imagine what they’re like one-on-one. Maybe you don’t realize it consciously, but subconsciously you know how stressful that is.”

“I suppose I just need to relax. All this work is to better my own skills and maybe… maybe be Prima one day.”

“Oh, is that something you want?”

“It’s the highest title there is for someone like me. It would show the world that I’m one of the greatest. Honestly, I never wanted to do anything but dance, yet being here and learning under all the others… I think I have a real shot at it.”

“If your mentality has changed to this, it might explain the dreams.”

“You think so?”

“To achieve the title of Prima, it’s basically a battlefield. You’re gonna have to fight others for that position, and it could get messy.”

“Hm, I suppose you’re right.”

“Just take it easy on yourself. Having a goal is good, but don’t let it consume you.”

Ally’s words did provide you with some peace of mine. In a matter of months you had truly developed your ambition, and it was to reach the stars. Given all you’ve been through and seen here, saying this would be a battle felt like selling it short. To a degree it could be life or death, and you were willing to step into such an arena. Although an explanation for the dreams did nothing to help you understand the cuts and bruises you’d randomly find on your body. Shortly after the nightmares had started you noticed the markings. You couldn’t recall off the top of your head what you could have done, but they weren’t severe, so you were thankful for that.

“Y/n, it’s good to see you.”

You were heading up to Seonghwa’s private lesson when you bumped into Mingi. He really did have a stone cold demeanor, but when he smiled he seemed like a ray of sunshine.

“Likewise, Professor Song.”

“How have you been lately? Training hard I presume.”

“Of course. I have many of the others helping me, and I’m only improving.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to your end of the year show.”

“I promise I won’t disappoint.”

“I doubt you could.”

⬥⬥⬥⬥♥⬥⬥⬥⬥

Nothing major happened during the midterm. Besides Seonghwa’s exam. The rest of your classes just continued as usual. For spring break you stayed on campus once more, following your previous routine from last break except your weekend practices were added to the mix. You were given a day to yourself which you used to rest and recover. Then it was back to normal.

“I know you’re all curious about the end of the year show since there was no midterm performance.” Yeosang explained. “Once again you will be performing a solo, and a piece has been chosen for you. More is expected of you this time, so best of luck. When I call your name, come collect your envelope and then you’re dismissed.”

You didn’t expect to hear your name called anytime soon so you merely gathered your things. Once all the other students had left you kneeled down before Yeosang, taking your mask off and waiting.

“You’ll be doing a private show for the headmaster as your end of the year performance.”

“What…? How come?”

“Hongjoong wants to have you perform for him and no one else.”

“Will he be grading me then?”

“I’ll still be there and a few of the others, so don’t worry about that.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Here’s your piece.” Yeosang handed you your envelope. “I look forward to your show.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.”

Just like before, you didn’t dare to look inside until the end of the day. You were fortunate enough to get a piece you were familiar with and had been practicing over break. You couldn’t believe the end of the semester, of your first year, was just around the corner. You were super nervous, yet excited and freaking out on the inside. Although you reminded yourself that there would be time for that later. Now you needed to prepare. When you weren’t in one of your private lessons you were in the practice room. You were fortunate that the piece you had been given was one Jongho had introduced you to between semesters, so you had his lovely voice to guide you. Then just as Yeosang mentioned, more was expected this time, which meant it was best you danced with props.

Of course you didn’t have your own to use and just put something together to make an imitation. Surely you’d be provided with what you needed, and if not you had your own to use. When you weren’t practicing you were studying for Seonghwa’s final as that needed to be dealt with before your show. You felt confident when exam day came around, hoping your academic abilities wouldn’t be your downfall. Then came the big day. All the other students would be performing first, and you’d be the last one to do so in the fourth floor showcase room. You could watch the others beforehand, but you felt that seeing anyone else dance might make you anxious, so you opted to spend your time keeping limber and working on the last minute details.

Once it was time you made the treacherous journey to the fourth floor. To a degree you felt numb, like you were on autopilot, blinking and finding yourself somewhere else along your journey. As you stood outside the entrance to the showcase room you steadied your breathing, telling yourself to remain calm and that you were going to do great. You had worked so hard, had so much guidance, and all your efforts were gonna pay off. You put a little smile on and walked in, greeted by a new sight. The room was no longer decorated, but appearing more appropriate for the occasion and what this area was meant to be.

You hadn’t really noticed it before, but on the opposite side of the room there was an elevated platform, like a balcony, with two sets of stairs on either side leading up. That’s where you saw Hongjoong and the others, seated at a table, halting their conversation as you entered. They all stood up, which you felt was unnecessary, and greeted you. In return you offered a bow, deciding to treat this like any solo performance and not a special one. So you gave your name, and also mentioned the piece you would be performing. You had your own props and asked if it was alright to use them as you saw no alternatives. Hongjoong agreed, matching your composure. They all soon took a seat and you noticed a record player at one end of the table.

You got into position and waited for your cue. Then the music started. A melody that you had grown very familiar with began to fill the air, and you let it consume you. It just took a few steps before your body took over, following what you had learned and practiced. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed in the moment except for you and the music. So you just danced with elegance and graze, feeling proud of all your work. If this was where you stood as a first year, you could only fantasize as to where you’d be next year and the year after that. A smile decorated your face as you danced, focused on the music and keeping up with it. You felt as light as a feather in your movements, moving so swiftly and precisely. Then in an instant it all came crashing down.

You were startled out of your performance by laughter. Coming to a sudden halt and taking a moment for yourself to return to reality. You glanced up at the balcony to find the source of your interrupting, and the answer was very clear. Hongjoong was on his feet, laughing maniacally and clapping. The others remained seated, but all appeared to have satisfied grins on their faces. To a degree it was a good sight, but you didn’t understand why given that you hadn’t actually finished your performance. Although you couldn’t dwell on it too long as Hongjoon’s laughter was drawing all your attention. Then he spoke and everything changed once more.

“There she is, my beautiful, perfect, Prima!”

You didn’t really understand what he meant. His words were confusing and your gaze finally shifted away from the balcony. That’s when you began to realize the truth. The props in your hands weren’t the ones you had made and brought along. You were now holding two very real blades, and they were covered in blood. Since you were looking down you finally took notice of the floor. Of all the bodies and blood that was scattered around you. In fact you were covered in blood as well. Seeing this all you screamed, dropping the blades and falling to the floor. You were paralyzed in fear and confusion, looking back to the balcony for answers.

“Relax, my dear, this is all part of your training.”

“… what… I… I don’t… I don’t understand…”

“It’s all quite simple, really.” Seonghwa began. “On your first day here Yeosang noticed how you lost yourself in your performance and moved as if possessed. Such a thing made us wonder if your actions could be guided in a different manner when you were in your little self-induced trance.”

“Of course we first had to make sure your actual talents were up to our standards.” Jongho added. “We did help you along the way, but you did not disappoint.”

“Then we really had to test the waters.” Yeosang continued. “So the extra lessons during break let us put our theory to the test. The results were quite promising.”

“I did love watching all the footage.” Hongjoong commented. “Seeing the progress, seeing you become my perfect Prima! My perfect weapon for Ateez.”

“… no… no… this can’t be real… this can’t be happening…”

You stared down at your bloody hands, not waiting to believe anything you were being told. Yet as their words rang in your head you started to get flashes of images. Your weekend sessions weren’t for dance, but your own mind made you believe so. Hiding the reality of you being trained to fight. Those basic moves you were taught weren’t for the sake of your dancing abilities. You always thought it was just the three of you, but that wasn’t the case. In your fragmented memories you found yourself sparring with masked individuals and wielding real weapons. You moved well, seeming to pick up on things fast, but your eyes were so cold and lifeless. Even as you stood over a body, covered in blood, it didn’t bother you at all.

Although things weren’t even that simple. Among the images you saw a familiar face. During one of your matches your opponent was rather aggressive, and while fighting you ended up removing their mask, seeing your old roommate Misu. She appeared thinner, a metal collar around her neck, and her eyes were full of rage. Of course in the moment you gave no response, no sign of recognition, and that only upset her more. In the end you took her down, but being aware of this all now, you couldn’t help but feel sick. So you threw up on the floor, slowly backing away afterwards and screaming when you bumped into a body. You jumped away and noticed this person had their mask cut up, and you saw Lyla’s dead eyes staring at the ceiling.

“… what… what did you do to her!?” You screamed. “What are you doing to the students!? What even is this place!?”

“It’s exactly what you believe it to be.” Yunho assured. “Ateez is an institute for the arts. We have many talents come through these halls, and Ateez is a real company as well. Although not all who make it here are talented enough, but they can be useful elsewhere.”

“… that’s not… not right…”

“We know how to make good use of the rejects.” Wooyoung added. “No need to worry about them or pity them.”

“… you’re… you’re all… monsters…”

“You’ve seen it first hand, y/n.” Mingi stated. “Not everyone is meant to be a star. Only those who are truly great will stand in the spotlight.”

“And you’re certainly one of a kind.” San remarked. “Incredible.”

They all spoke so nonchalantly about this, as if they had done nothing wrong. You were still shaking, still processing, but there was a slight shift in your demeanor. Even with pieces of your training at the forefront of your mind, your body still knew how to fight. You were starting to feel anger take hold. Anger over what had been done to you, and so many others. In the corner of your eye you saw the blades. You couldn’t just stay here and do nothing, you had to act, and so you did. You swiftly grabbed a blade and threw it up towards the balcony. Just barely missing Hongjoong’s head and seeing the blade wind up embedded in the wall. 

So you quickly grabbed the other and made your way up the balcony, running straight for Hongjoong and pinning him back down in his seat. You held the blade to his throat, pressing down without breaking skin, but all it would take was a little more force. Through all of this Hongjoong had been laughing that same demonic laugh. Even now he met your gaze, unwavering and unafraid. In fact he seemed pleased with you. Meanwhile the rest were assessing the situation and sharing glances. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed one reaching for a tablet, but you quickly shut that idea down.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The watch is on the arm that’s currently holding a blade to the headmaster’s throat. Any sudden move will end up killing him.”

Hongjoong couldn’t help but chuckle. “My sweet, sweet girl, you can’t hurt your masters.”

“Says the one with a knife to his throat!”

“And why is that? If you were truly going to kill me you should have done it by now, but you haven’t, because you can’t.”

“Shut up!”

“It’s true. We’ve trained you to be an excellent marksman, do you think you simply missed the first time? No, no, no, you hit your target perfectly. It’s just never going to be me. Even now, you may think you have me at your mercy, but you don’t. If you can prove me wrong, go on then, why not just draw a little blood to show me you’re in control.”

“I…”

You tried, my gosh did you try. All you had to do was put a little more pressure, break skin and make him bleed, but you couldn’t. You were putting in all the effort mentally, but your body refused to move an inch. As if you were merely a passenger in your own body. Your lack of inaction caused Hongjoong to laugh once more.

“See. You can’t hurt me even if you so desperately wanted to. Do you know why? Because you belong to me!” Hongjoong broke out into a fit of laughter and suddenly grabbed your arm with the weapon in hand. “You want to know something else?”

“…”

“Music is part of your performance, meaning sound can also put you into a trance. So it’s not too difficult to make you into an obedient girl simply by the sound of one’s voice. Isn’t that right, Jongho? You were so kind as to provide our Prima here with her music for her training sessions.”

“It was my pleasure.” Jongho stepped closer to you, coming into your field of view and holding his hand out. “Would you hand over the weapon, please.”

“I…”

Jongho’s words were suddenly very soothing and you felt yourself relax. Hongjoong released your arm and then you mindlessly handed Jongho the blade. You couldn’t believe your own actions, yet you could do nothing to stop yourself.

“Good girl. Thank you.”

Just then Hongjoong grabbed your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. Things were a bit hazy at the moment, but you were still aware enough to understand the satisfied look in his eyes.

“You still have a lot of training ahead of you, but tonight proves our theory. You should be rewarded for doing so well, and yet punished for your silly little actions just now. Tell me, do you have any ideas in mind?”

“I would refrain from such activities.” Seonghwa commented. “She doesn’t need to be trained with a reward and punishment system. Besides, in her current state you might break her fragile little mind.”

“Hm. I suppose you’re right. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my beautiful diamond.”

The one word seemed to echo in your mind, and you suddenly felt yourself slipping away. Panic took hold for a moment and you grabbed Hongjoong’s arm, but that was all you could do. Something was dragging you under. A fog rolling into your mind and causing you to lose yourself.

“… what…”

“Sh, sh, sh, just close your eyes and rest my dear. There’s no need to worry. You passed with flying colors, and we’ll continue your training when you wake.”

Despite your best efforts you ultimately sunk into the void, your body going limp and Hongjoong laying you down on the table. He quietly admired you for a moment, his fingers gliding over your body. Not at all bothered by the blood.

“She’ll be a great Prima. So perfect, so beautiful.”

“We should probably clean her up.” 

“Indeed. San, Mingi, take her and give her a nice bath. She should be in pristine condition. Go along with Jongho, just in case she wakes up early.”

The three did as they were told, Mingi picking up your body and carrying you out as the two others followed behind. Hongjoong stared out at the masterpiece displayed before him in the room. Such a beautiful night.

“This is an excellent start.”

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Jealousy always turns into teasing and banter between you and Steve with him seemingly always able to fluster you. You're finally able to get the best of him, catching him in a very compromising position.

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Pet names. Reader is a tease. Jealous reader. Sub-ish Steve. Semi-public sex. Oral(male receiving). Unprotected P in V. Creampie.

WC: 2.9K

It's a slow Saturday afternoon by Family Video standards.

You were glaring at Steve between one of the shelves instead of restocking.

He was shamelessly flirting with yet another customer instead of actually working as you looked on with annoyance.

Her blonde hair is pulled into a high ponytail, batting her eyelashes and twirling her bubble gum around her finger before placing it back between her glossed lips as his eyes watched her intently.

You grumbled as you turned back around, shoving the VHS tape clutched in your hand back to its place on the shelf as you heard her laughter followed by, “Oh Steve, you are so funny!”

“He's not that funny, Tiffany.” You mumbled under your breath. “He's used that same joke on at least ten other people this week.”

“What was that, Princess?” You jumped at the sound of his voice, as the rest of the tapes went flying out of your hands hitting the floor as you whirled around.

His elbow was propped against the shelf next to you, much closer than you anticipated when you turned.

“Fuck, Harrington.” You clutched your chest. “Warn someone next time.”

He chuckled as he bent down to pick up the fallen items.

“I thought you heard me walk up. It's not my fault.” He shrugged, standing back up to full height placing everything on the cart in front of him.

“All I heard was obnoxious laughter coming from that bimbo over there.” Looking away from him, missing the way his eyes lit up, chancing a glance at your ass before his tongue darted out licking his lips.

“Princess, if you're jealous just say so.” You scoffed, before he lowered his voice daring to step a little closer to you. “Then, maybe we could do something about it.”

Your breath hitched, but you couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing what his words did to you so, you decided instead to play along. Give him a little taste of his own teasing.

“Steve?” You turned, inching closer to him. A flash of shock passed over his face when you placed your hands on his chest moving up to toy with the collar of his polo before looking up at him through your lashes, giving him your best doe eyes. You watched him gulp, releasing a sharp breath before replying.

“Yeah, princess?” Voice coming out low and soft. No hint of teasing unlike the way he usually hissed the nickname, hesitantly he placed his hands on your hips. His touch sent a spark through you, but you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing.

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, as his eyes darted to your lips.

You stood on the tips of your toes, nose grazing his cheek, finally letting your lips ghost the shell of his ear as you spoke.

“In your dreams, big boy.” You grinned, pulling back and giggling as he released the hold he had on you. You didn't look back, pushing the cart down the aisle leaving him there to gawk after you.

You heard him groan and hiss under his breath before quickly darting toward the back into Keith's office.

You laughed again, finally getting the best of Steve Harrington.

You hummed, putting away the returns until you realized it had been at least ten minutes since he disappeared.

You smirked to yourself, steady steps leading to the back of the store stopping short when your hand landed on the knob, but it wouldn't budge.

“Steve, are you okay in there?” You sang, shit eating grin plastered across your face as you knocked.

“Give me a few, I'm fine.” It came muffled but his voice sounded a little strained.

“You sure about that?” You laughed out, suddenly getting a devious idea. You'd been pinning after him for months, though he was seemingly oblivious. Jealousy got the best of you, turning into anger fueled banter. Steve thought you hated him which was far from the truth.

Quickly jogging to the front, you locked the door, turning the closed sign around, and grabbing the spare key beside the register.

You didn't warn him, shoving the key into the lock as it clicked open. Pushing it slowly open, until he came into view sat behind the desk.

His head was thrown back, face flushed with his cheeks the prettiest shade of pink. He was panting, pouty lips parted into an “o”. Your eyes traveled down to where his pants and boxers were shoved down his thighs. His hand fisted around his thick cock, stroking furiously at his ample length.

He raised his head, locking eyes with you as the door slammed against the back wall catching his attention.

Shock overtook his features, as he sat up trying to hide himself under the desk, but it was far too late. You'd seen everything and the image of his massive dick would forever be seared into your brain.

“Fuck, what’re you doing back here?” He sputtered out, shoving his now aching cock down past your line of vision.

You didn't say anything, stepping further into the room, shutting the door behind you in case any customers tried to look through the front windows.

“Need some help with that, Stevie?” You smiled, devilish and sweet, cocking your head toward him.

“Wh-what?” He rushed out, brows furrowed. His chestnut locks stuck to his forehead from the thin sheen of sweat he'd accumulated.

“Do you need some help with that?” Enunciating each word more slowly, as if that would help his comprehension.

His mouth parted slightly, before snapping it shut. You'd managed to render him speechless.

You threw the key on the desk, as his eyes followed your movements.

Slowly, you shucked the family video vest off your shoulders, letting it hit the ground.

Your hands slowly drifting to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head suddenly glad you had opted for your soft pink, lacy bra that morning.

When your eyes drift back to his, he's slack jawed eyes roving over any exposed skin he can find.

“You ok, Stevie?” Coming out a little snarky, knowing you finally have the upper hand, shaking your hips a little as you rounded the desk.

You planted your foot on the desk chair beside his thigh, pushing in until his lap slowly rolled back into view.

His cock was long, and thick with a ruddy tip making your mouth water at the sight. You'd heard the rumors but seeing it in person was altogether a different experience.

You didn't give him time to think, placing your hands on either side of the chair arms caging him in.

He sucks in a sharp breath when you close in, face to face. Noses barely grazing.

“You've got a really pretty cock, Stevie. Anyone ever tell you that?” You say, lips barely grazing his as he releases a soft whimper.

He shakes his head no, as your hand trails across his exposed abdomen. Fingertips carding through the sparse hair from his belly button leading down.

He took in a shuddered breath as you got closer to his aching need, kicking up at the very thought of you touching him.

“That's a real shame because you have a really pretty cock.” You said, wrapping your hand around as much of him that you could, eliciting another whimper from his parted lips.

“Oh fuck, you don't have to… shit…” he hissed, his eyes closing at the sensation.

“What if I want to? That, ok?” You breathed out.

He nodded furiously, as you moved your hand up his length, thumb collecting the precum at the top of his cock as you slid it effortlessly at the head back down.

“Think Tiffany would do this for you, Steve?” You asked, lowering yourself down, laying your head on his lap just inches from where he wanted you the most. You turned, planting a kiss to his thigh as he bucked upward.

You decided to take a little mercy on him, flattening your tongue running it up the underside of his shaft.

“Oh fuck…” He moaned out, taking him completely by surprise wrapping your soft, supple lips around his head sucking softly before taking him fully into your mouth.

You hum around his taste, taking the time to look up through your lashes at his fucked-out expression. He's never looked so beautifully wrecked as you begin to bob your head, stroking with your hand what you couldn't fit down your throat.

He reaches for the back of your head, fingers raking up, grasping the loose hair at the nape of your neck.

“Hey, hey” he coos. “You don't have to do all that, princess.” That cocky, Harrington demeanor breaking through, pulling off with a slight pop.

“Too much for you, big boy?” Flashing him a grin, flicking your tongue across his head. His hips suddenly canting upward, chasing your mouth.

“No, shit. It's great… I just thought…” He stuttered out.

“Use your words, Stevie.” You chuckled, rising over him, deftly reaching behind undoing your bra.

The straps began to slide down your arms as your bare chest comes into view. He sucked in a sharp breath, as he looks you over.

“Fuck Princess, you're perfect.” Licking his lips as he let his eyes trail over your breasts.

“Mmmm, yeah Stevie?” Your hands roamed over them making eye contact with him as you do; your nipples stiffen with the touch.

“I have an idea. I'll let you fuck me if you're a good boy. But you have to follow directions.”

He swallows again, nodding, “Yeah, I can do that. I like that idea.”

“Stay right there.” You tell him, as you begin to shimmy your underwear down your legs, leaving your skirt on. They pool at your feet as you step to the side leaving them behind.

No regard for Keith's stuff scattered across the desk, you push it out of the way, as some things scatter to the floor.

Steve has a perfect view of your ass from his position behind you making him groan.

You quickly turn around, hopping up on the desk, spreading your legs slowly for him to see your bare pussy already dripping with arousal.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, wrapping his hand back around his cock searching for a little relief.

“Nuh uh. Keep your hands off. Eyes on me.” You instruct. He does as he's told as your hand travels down. Your fingertips glide through your folds, gathering some slick before circling your clit and releasing a little exaggerated moan.

“Oh, Steve, it feels so good.” You watch through hooded eyes as his cock bobs on its own. He's gripping the chair arms so tight, his knuckles are turning white, and you've barely just started. You knew he wasn't going to last, now it was just a game to see how long it would take before he decides to fuck you senseless.

You toy with your clit a few more moments before dropping to your entrance. Having him watch you was sending your body into overdrive. You quickly inserted a finger, as he leaned forward trying to gain a better look.

“I bet your fingers would feel so much better than mine.” Arching your back, as you insert another. “Yours are so long, and thick. Mmmm… fuck.”

“Yeah? Want me to use my fingers?” Finally finding his voice, eyes trained to where yours keep disappearing inside your tight cunt.

You nod, continuing to fuck yourself, trying to remain in control but you were on the verge of being pushed over the edge already. You threw your head back, your lower belly tightening with each pass and brush of your hand.

You suddenly felt his hand wrap around your ankle, as your eyes shot open. He had made his way over to you, standing between your parted thighs. You were losing your resolve.

“I'm so close, Steve.” You breathed out. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Come on, Princess. You've got it. Keep fucking your fingers, come f’me.” He urged you on, as his hands took up residency on your thighs pushing them further apart.

“Mmmm, fuck Steve.” You whined out, that coil tightening. He eased his thumb up, suddenly grazing your clit. The sensation has your hips bucking upwards as you chase your high.

“Yeah? Keep going.” He sang out, trying not to think about the way his dick was aching, longing to be where your fingers are but he wanted to see you come undone.

Your legs start to tremble, as he begins drawing circles against your puffy clit. He ducks his head down to your chest, drawing a pert nipple into his mouth sucking harshly.

“Shit, Steve! I'm gonna cum.” You huffed out as that coil within you finally snapped, your back hitting the desk, legs closing around your hands as your cunt spasmed around your fingers.

“Fuck, Princess. That was so fucking hot.” He said, as you were trying to catch your breath. You grinned, raising your head slightly to look back at him.

He was lazily stroking his cock, as your thighs parted, beckoning him forward. Coming to slot himself back between your thighs he eased his ministrations momentarily.

“Let me grab a condom,” saying as he reached down into his pants. You gripped his shirt, pulling him forward as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

His cock nestled itself against your core as you both moaned out in unison.

“You don't have to. Fuck me, Steve!” You carded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You watched his eyes go wide; pretty sure his brain was short circuiting at the thought.

“Fuck, are you sure?” Asking, as his hands drift down the plush of your thighs, dragging you more toward the edge of the desk.

“I'm sure, Stevie.” You nod, as he brings his hand between you, gripping himself to line up with your dripping entrance. You were aching, your first orgasm doing nothing to quell the need to be filled.

His head caught, causing your back to arch into him as he pushes ever so slowly into you. He was big, the stretch was already overwhelming you causing you to close your eyes, as your fingertips dig into his shoulders.

He watches the way he slowly disappears into you, the way your walls were sucking him could almost push him over the edge.

“Fuck, honey. So, tight.” He hisses out, as he finally pushes all the way in, gripping your hips with a bruising force.

The pinch of him filling you to the brim began to gradually subside into a dull ache.

You looked up at him through your lashes, gaining his attention from where the two of you were now connected.

“Steve, please move.” He nodded, nearly removing himself entirely before snapping his hips back into yours with ease.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss out, as he begins to set a pace that has you both moaning out.

The desk starts to move with each thrust, as papers, pens and loose items begin to fall from the edges.

The small office echoing with the sounds of skin slapping skin as his thrusts become harsher, faster trying to get you both there.

“Think you got one more, honey?” He asked, voice sugary sweet.

You nod, as he once again moves to toy with your clit.

“Come on honey, I wanna see ya’ fall apart on my cock.” He grunts out, trying to stave off his own release.

The pressure had been building, but his words sent you careening over the edge. It was a shock to you both as your cunt clamped down around him. You came with a scream of his name, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him further into you.

He had no choice, the way your pussy was pulsing around him. He felt his balls tighten, thrusting once more harshly before he began painting your inner walls with his sticky spend.

“Fuck, honey.” He hissed, looking up at your blissed out expression. He moved his hand, tucking a piece of hair from your face before smashing his lips to yours. It was sweet, and slow. So different from the way he fucked you moments ago.

You kissed each other until you had to break apart for air, panting in each other's space as he spoke.

“Does this mean you don't hate me anymore?”

You giggled, lightly batting his shoulder.

“You're an idiot, Steve Harrington. I never hated you.”

“Well, I…” His train of thought was quickly interrupted when someone started banging on the door.

“Hey dinguses! You better not be doing what I think you're doing. I eat my lunch in there!” Robin blurted out as you two let out stifled giggles.

“Uh, sorry Rob. We'll clean up.” You sang out.

“Ewww! You're both lucky I love you so much!” You heard her groan, as she marched off.

He slid himself from you, as you released a small hiss. He softly rubbed your thigh before mumbling a quick apology.

You quickly gathered your clothes, putting them on as he straightened himself and the desk up.

“Hey, you want to go out after work? Grab a bite to eat? Movie at my place?” He asked, hand gravitating toward the back of his head, smoothing his hair down. A habit he had when he was nervous. “I mean, I know we may have done this a little backwards, but I like you. A lot.”

“So, Steve Harrington is asking me out on a date? I’ll think about it.” You teased, opening the door leaving him to once again gawk after you for the second time today.

[mochinomnoms]

Gremlin ass yuu who has one of those realistic ass dreams that them and jade actually got together and they still believe when they wake up, so naturally, like a normal person, they see jade and go up to hug him and give him a little kiss on the neck only to get body slammed with J-Brain and everyone else around them is horrified as they realize that they and jade are not in fact, dating

🦩

(screaming and pounding on the floor THAT'S CUTE)

You woke up with a dry mouth and a sore back. Trying to stretch your legs out made a sharp pain run up your leg and lower back.

Ugh, Jade. You were too rough last night…

Turning around to confront said man, you were surprised to see the empty bedside next to you. Like no one had slept there in the first place.

Even more surprising, you were in your room at Ramshackle instead of Jade's dorm room in Octavinelle. He'd been having you stay over more often since he didn't need to share a room with Floyd anymore.

“What the fu…Did he take me back?” You groaned, getting up and out of bed, wincing at the ache in your legs and lower waist. “Why the hell? Ugh, Jaaaade.”

You were still weary eyed as you finally made your way down the steps into the main hallway, turning into the kitchen to get something to drink.

Mmm, maybe an energy drink, that tastes good with lavender right?

You blinked in surprise at Azul, Jade, and Floyd, along with a few other Octavinelle students, were in the hallway entrance and kitchen area. They were carrying some bags of food and paperwork.

It was then you remembered that you agreed to let Azul sell snacks and drink from Mostro Lounge for your carvinal themed haunted house. They were bringing the items to have them ready to go before the gates open this week for the Halloween festivities.

Oh yeah, that must be why Jade brought me back. He's always thoughtful, isn't he.

You were still half asleep when the trio noticed you, waving politely. Though Jade was having his usual excitable thoughts. Something about your pajamas and sleepy face being cute.

Don't you see me in pjs all the time? Silly.

“Good morning, Prefect, how are you?” Azul starting gesturing to the students putting the food products away. “As you see, we've come to help you and your dorm get set up, as agreed.”

“Mm, Shrimpy looks real tired, don't they Jade?” Floyd nudged his brother with his elbow, watching as you walked up to them.

“They do, perhaps they went to bed rather la—”

Jade stopped mid-sentence, shocked into silence as you wrapped your arms around his back, nuzzling into his neck.

“Mmh, sounds good…just put the stuff…wherever.” You tilted your head up to press a kiss against his neck, feeling the way he swallowed as you did.

“Mornin' Jade…you left me…” You tightened your hold on him, though he didn't return your embrace. “…Jade?”

You were just now noticing just how quiet everything had gotten. There was no movement, no sounds, you couldn't even hear anyone's thoughts.

You moved a bit away from Jade to look at everyone with confusion. They were all staring at you, some with mild horror, some with confusion like yours, and Floyd in particular looked ecstatic, eyes darting between you and Jade like he was waiting for sometime to happen.

Azul just gave you a questioning stare as he raised his eyebrow.

“Should we...know something?”

“Whaddya mean?” you mumbled, resting your head against Jade's chest. His heartbeat was going fast, like it was trying to burst out his case.

“When did you two become a thing?” Floyd cooed, giggling as he rocked on his heels.

“You rubbed your eyes again, more alert now as you started answering, We've been together for a ye—”

The sudden feeling of Jade's arms tightly wrapping around your back, and the sudden influx of his thoughts hitting you like a train, brought you back to reality.

DARLING! MY SWEET PEARL! I JUST KNEW THAT YOU LOVED ME BACK!

His grip on you tightened as the sleep suddenly vanished from your body.

“We're together? News to me, my dear.”

Kiss me again, my pearl! You'll let me, won't you? After all, you did it first~

The feeling of Jade's body moving, leaning down to return the favor you gave him, sent the dear of God in you.

“Wait, wait WAIT WAIT!” You shrieked as you shoved Jade away, collapsing backwards as you crawled away. “DREAM! IT WAS A DREAM I HAD A DREAM!”

You felt your entire body go hot, as Floyd started cackling his lungs out. Azul was still in the kitchen, holding his hand to his mouth, hiding his own laughter.

Even Jade looked mildly amused, though you could hear the disappointment in his thoughts.

Ah, I see. How tragic. Though…

Jade's smile grew slightly, as he gave you a sly wink.

Might as well make use of this.

“A dream? Was it a pleasant one?” Jade tilted his head as he watched you grow more flustered with glee. “It must have been, if you were so ready to be affectionate with me. Would you like to recall it for me?”

The contents of your dream were coming back to you like a tidal wave, hot breaths and clothes flying off flashing through your mind as you remembered just how pleasant that dream was.

“NO!” You scrambled up the staircase again on your hands and knees, like a spooked cat, ignoring the cackles coming from behind you.

Oh goood, I'm never living this down.

[vshiftsss]

SOLANA’S MOODBOARD AND ABILITIES - (CAMP HALF BLOOD DR)

𝓢olana’s 𝓐bilities…

APOLLO

health regeneration: self-explanatory. i can both heal myself and heal others, though i have a faster rate of healing since the internal regeneration is innate. this, along with all my abilities in this section, are strengthened while the sun is shining down on me.

pain transfer: along with healing, i can transfer wounds to my own body or to someone else. this is used offensively — i transfer my wounds or my allies’ wounds to the enemies who inflicted them.

photokinesis: the ability to create and manipulate light. i can use this for an array of things, such as lighting up dark areas and blinding enemies. i can also create weapons out of pure light, or any object i would need in the moment. the item i create will be hot to the touch and will weigh the same as the item would normally.

solar energy transfer: i can use the energy from the sun and convert it into energy for myself. the solar energy can be converted into strength, speed, stamina, defense, or additional power for any attacks i would execute with the abilities i inherited from apollo.

master of melody: i have a perfect pitch, and i can automatically hear and play the tune of something just from reading a note sheet. playing instruments comes easily to me, even if i haven’t seen it before.

natural archer: i have an innate talent for archery and anything that requires aim.

prophecies: i can decipher prophecies naturally. this is how i knew immediately that i would be working with malakai on the next quest.

way with words: i’m a walking thesaurus. the perfect words come to mind when i need to use them, and i can create the most beautiful metaphors to put into my songs or my writing.

SOTERIA

danger sense: i have a sixth sense for danger. five seconds before anything dangerous happens to me or a loved one, there’s a hot flash behind my eyes. not necessarily painful, but definitely noticeable.

telekinesis: i can control any items with my mind to create a shield or a protective cover. i can control all safety equipment with my mind and i can sense all sharp/potentially dangerous objects through walls.

impromptu protector: if there are any animals or humans nearby, i can convince them to protect me or an ally from what i deem evil. it is up to the individual what they do to protect. they could attack, distract, or hide us.

shield generation: i can create force fields around myself and my allies. people inside/behind the force field cannot hear whatever is outside it, and vice versa. the bigger the shield is, the more energy it takes up. everything something hits the force field, more energy is consumed.

MORPHEUS

reflection of the gods: as i stated in my introduction post, this ability allows me to channel any god or goddess and “reflect” them, therefore giving me some of their powers and natural skills. sometimes i think of a specific deity, and other times the best deity for the situation reflects automatically.

dream travel and communication: while i am sleeping, i can travel into other people’s dreams and watch them, although this is an extreme invasion of privacy and only used when necessary. i can also send people messages through their dreams, in case i need to warn them of something.

minor hypnokinesis: if i want to see someone’s dreams or make them dream something specific, i can send them to sleep for a short period of time so they can experience the dream.

note: i got some of these ideas from a camp half blood roleplay server’s document on different ideas for characters! i’m not sure who exactly wrote it but creds to them!

END OF POST - HAPPY SHIFTING!

tags… @avelineshifts @julianasversee @visualcve @miaojune

[initforthethrill]

sticking to the overcompensating theme.

i was thinking, cate (not the super confident one anymore but still determined to have an experience lmao) has a threesome with user and user’s girlfriend

the gf is very much like this is just sex, very detached emotionally from it whatever whatever, rolls over and falls asleep after.

meanwhile cate careful, unsure and a little scared attempts to cuddle up to user. this was her first time after all and she needs some reassurance and comfort and care. and surprisingly cate actually gets it from her.

they talk quietly for a while and fall asleep with user holding cate. and then it starts.

they grow closer than they should and user’s gf agrees to have like one or two two more hookups but like she is not as into Cate as user is and so user can’t keep pushing for it to not be weird (also she isn’t admitting to herself she has feelings for cate).

anyway, when gf is gone - at work or visiting home or whatever it might be. Cate very deliberately comes to user’s dorm oh she isn’t here? and they hang out watch a movie or whateveerr and things just continue developing from there

i lost juice writing this lmao it was a lot more thought out when it first came to me -_-

anyway im done now <3

this might as well be canon for like...any version of college!cate imaginable tbh. this is giving the end of overcompensating ep1 (but better, duh) and i am alllllll here for it.

not a hetero cate truther in any way shape or form and i do not think she truly loved either of those boys thank god they're both officially dead in show canon so cate can finally experience real love aka dating a butch lesbian but the way this could basically be the whole threesome sitch with luke and andre is kind of hilarious. like cate baby you deserve so much better...so i will give it to her!<3

(also dream team anon this is for you specifically so if you are not dream team anon please disregard and keep scrolling ok ok...anyways, i just want you to know i have your requests. i am cherishing them. stewing in them so i can cook up only the best for you...like this one. you have not been forgotten or ignored i pinky promise okay bye love u<3 also yes you got your own tag hehehehehehehehe)

freshman!cate and the dreaded relationship ending threesome

Cate had never done anything like this before. Not the sex part—well, yes, that too—but more than that. She had never climbed into a bed already occupied, never undressed in someone else’s room with the distinct feeling that she was being watched like prey.

Cate had never felt more out of place in her life.

There was a mirror across from the bed—of course there was—and she caught sight of herself in it just as she was shimmying out of her jeans, heart pounding loud enough that she was sure both of you could hear it. Her knees were a little wobbly, her mouth dry. This wasn’t how she thought it would be—losing it, that is.

There was no music. No wine. No carefully curated playlist of breathy indie girls crooning about tenderness. Just the rhythmic hum of your mini-fridge and the sharp, quiet way your girlfriend undressed her like she was checking items off a list. Eyes that had been cool. Curious. Detached. Unwrapping Cate like she was a gift someone else had picked out. Polite appreciation, but nothing close to desire.

It hadn’t been bad exactly. Just…clinical. Efficient.

You were different.

You kept looking at her. Not at her body, not like a conquest—but at her. Your gaze never wandered from her face. Like you were waiting to see if she wanted to run. Like she could say stop at any moment and you would.

When you touched her, it was with patience. When she kissed you, it was with every trembling, stammering part of her soul, slow and gentle—your palm coaxing a shaky breath from her ribs. She remembered that most of all. The warmth of your mouth. The quiet hum in your throat when you tasted her tongue. You made her feel real. She clung to that.

So after, when your girlfriend rolled over with a sleepy “that was fun” and tugged the blanket to her side like a wall, Cate just lay there in the dim light, blinking up at the ceiling like it might have answers. Her heart wouldn’t slow down. Her limbs felt raw. Used? No. Not quite. But something close. Cate curled into herself like maybe if she stayed small enough, she wouldn’t have to feel the hollow inside her chest.

She hesitated only a moment before inching closer to your side of the bed. Her fingers hovered. Not brave enough to touch yet.

As if you could sense her hesitance, you turned toward her, already propped up on an elbow. Your voice was soft, a secret just for her. “You okay?”

Cate looked down, cheeks burning. “I just…I’ve never done this before.”

You blinked. “Like, this this?”

She nodded. “All of it.” Her voice cracked. “Can I…can I just...stay here with you?”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just reached out and tugged her gently into your arms. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she hadn’t just fumbled her way through the most awkward, overwhelming night of her life. You tucked her into your chest and rubbed her back until her breathing slowed.

And she cracked open like a diary page.

She told you about growing up in a town where sex was either a secret or a scandal. You told her about the first time you slept with someone and how you thought you'd feel different afterward but didn’t—until you met her.

Cate fell asleep that night with your fingers laced between hers and your breath warm on her neck, thinking maybe this was what she’d been waiting for. Not just the act—but the after. The knowing someone would still be there when the lights turned off.

It should have ended there.

But it didn’t.

A week later, the three of you hooked up again. Your girlfriend started calling Cate “sweetheart” in this breezy, distant way that made Cate feel like a pet you were both fostering.

Cate showed up to study—an honest-to-god invitation to cram for your midterm—and found herself pulled into another round of tangled sheets and indifferent kisses. Your girlfriend kissed her with the affection of a vending machine. Quick. Exact. Transactional.

You kissed her like you were starving.

Afterward, she stayed a little longer.

It became something quiet. A rhythm. Cate didn’t know what she was to you, but you laughed at her jokes and remembered she didn’t like peppermint. You held her hand under the blanket. You drew lazy circles on her wrist when your girlfriend wasn’t looking. You looked at her like she was the first star in a black sky. Like you couldn’t believe she was still choosing to orbit you. And god, she was.

Your girlfriend didn’t seem to care. She was always distracted. On her phone. Talking about her weekend plans. She never asked Cate how her day was. She never called her by her name.

You did. Always.

Cate knew it couldn’t last. But that didn’t stop her from lingering in your room just a little too long. Or sneaking a photo of your hoodie sleeve peeking out from under her pillow. Or biting back a smile when you texted her just because.

The third time was the last time with your girlfriend. She made some excuse after and didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Cate didn’t care.

Because you whispered, “Stay,” when she stood to go.

And she did.

Then your girlfriend went home for the weekend. Some family thing.

Cate knew exactly what she was doing when she knocked on your door.

“Oh,” she said, eyes wide in feigned surprise when you opened it in a tank top and low-hung sweatpants. “She’s not here?”

You grinned, already stepping aside. “Guess you’re stuck with just me.”

You curled up together on the futon under the glow of your laptop screen. A movie played—something indie and hard to follow—but neither of you paid much attention. Cate curled into your side like she belonged there, and you let her. Of course you let her.

Cate tried to act casual, tried to be casual. But when you tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said, “You always smell like vanilla,” she almost broke apart right there.

“I like being near you,” she said, like it was a confession.

You didn’t respond right away. You just cupped her jaw, traced her cheek with your thumb, and leaned in until the only thing Cate could think about was the air between you.

Then you kissed.

And it was not like before.

It was slow. Dangerous.

It didn’t feel like cheating. It felt...inevitable.

You stopped yourself three times before going all the way—three sharp gulps of breath like you were drowning in the weight of it—but Cate was so gentle. So quiet when she asked, “Do you want this?”

And you did. So badly it hurt.

You pulled her into your lap and she straddled you, mouths locked like you were afraid of falling back into real life. Every sigh, every soft moan, every careful grind of hips told a story Cate was terrified to finish.

After, she lay on your chest and whispered, “Do you think she knows?”

And you just said, “It’s better if she doesn’t.”

Cate wanted to feel guilty. But your arms were around her, your fingers tracing her spine, and it felt like the safest place in the world.

It spiraled from there.

Cate became the exception to your rules. The one you never texted just for sex, because it never was just sex. With Cate, it was fingers brushing under desks, slow kisses when no one was looking, the soft clench of your hand around hers when you parted ways in the hallway.

You shared inside jokes. Your knees knocked under library tables. You’d text her late at night when your girlfriend was snoring beside you: “can’t sleep. still thinking about how you curl your toes when i kiss your neck.”

Cate would stare at her screen, clutching her phone like it might catch fire.

Your girlfriend noticed. Of course she did.

She started pulling away.

“I’m not jealous,” she snapped once, slamming her toothbrush down on the sink. “I just don’t get why you’re so into her. She’s just a fucking freshman.”

You didn’t answer. Because you did get it.

You got it when Cate cried during a dumb horror movie and clutched your hand like it was the only real thing in the room.

You got it when she came over with chocolate milk and that soft hoodie you liked “just because.”

You got it when she smiled at you like you were the only person who had ever looked at her and seen something worth loving.

Eventually, your girlfriend left.

Cate stayed.

You never officially asked her to. She just…kept showing up.

She brought books. You bought her snacks and told yourself this wasn’t a relationship. That it wasn’t like that. You weren’t dating.

Except you stopped sleeping with anyone else.

Except Cate knew your coffee order.

Except you dreamed about her mouth when you were supposed to be studying for midterms.

One night, months later, she whispered it against your skin.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You froze.

Not because you didn’t feel it—

But because you did.

And you hadn’t even realized it until right then.

♡ | get you alone