#she is so pretty with her pouty glossy lips and shiny hair i love her

[userslayer]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER

5.05 | “No Place Like Home”

[sehodreams]

Sohee is so fucking cute omg he's the type who'd pull the baddest bitch and no one know how he did that. He'd be here looking all cute and his girl would look intimidating and dressed like she could kill you. I just think the dynamic would be so cute and I can imagine them making out and his hair is all fluffy from her hands and his lips are all shiny while his face is covered in red or dark lipstick. And everyone would expect her to be the dom in the relationship but they don't know how pouty and submissive she is in his hands and how much he's the one with the upper hand.

I just think that this cute little bean deserves the baddest bitch in town.

OMG I LOVE THATTTT

TW and tags: oral sex, Sohee is a simp.

I think it'd be such a pretty couple, I know people would expect him to be with a cute girl that always wore flowy dresses (almost a church girl look) but come on, this man needs, and likes, a little spice.

I'm sure he'd be the one who started to make his interest obvious, those eyes following your every move while you did your own thing with your sexy/intimidating outfit and your sharp eyeliner with dark eyeshadow, complimenting your hair and how you styled it that day, he would let lots of praises and wouldn't be afraid to show how much he thinks of you, trying to talk to you as much as he could every time he saw you, begging for your number at one point and sending you texts every morning telling you to have the best day.

Everyone that saw you together would be wondering how the hell did the two of you started, thinking it was probably you who made him accept you (as if you were the one approaching him), but he's the one who had to practically grovel until you said yes to a date with him (not that you didn't like him from the start, just that you had your doubts).

Every time he introduced you to his friends they would look at Sohee surprised, not believing the bad bitch that little thing pulled, admiring how in front of everyone he always had a hand on your waist and gave you his whole attention, and let's not talk about how when you have to say goodbye Sohee would walk you to your car and would come back with unfocused eyes and your red lipstick all over his mouth and cheeks, making everyone laugh at how funny and unique the image is.

If just they knew that behind doors Sohee wasn't the one who always ended with his mind a mess. Sohee would drop to his knees in public to clean the dust off your high heels if he had to, but in the coziness of his room you're the one who is almost always on their knees, gladly sucking his cock and leaving a trail of lipstick stains all over his abdomen and thighs, apart from the base of his cock when you deep throated him.

"you love my cock that much uh?" He'd say with a smirk when you moved your head up and down his shaft. You'd pull out and, looking up to him, you'd smile with drunk glossy eyes and rests of red color smudged to your chin, widening your grin when he grabbed his length and slapped your cheek with it, "such a pretty sight" he'd say before he grabbed your neck and made you open your mouth to receive his cum over your tongue.

[hisunshiine]

—𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥  |pjm|

⟢ pairing: Tattoo Artist!Jimin x First Time Tatoo!reader

⟢ genre: strangers2lovers | smut, fluff | oneshot | tattoo shop au

⟢ rating: 18+, nsfw

⟢ summary: You decided to get a tattoo when the $13 dollar deal is happening and find out it’s because your tattoo artist is celebrating his birthday, which falls on the 13th. His needle penetrates you, then he penetrates you. Happy Birthday indeed. 

⟢ warnings: minimal blood and pain (she’s getting a tattoo)

⟢ kinks: pain kink (from the tattoo) teasing, semi-public sex, thigh kissing, oral f.receiving, fingering, cum eating, unprotected sex, breast play, is there a term for fucking the cum into someone?

⟢ word count: 2.2k

⟢ author’s note: the way they looked at the MOTS ON:E concert really fucked me. Happy Birthday to our cutie sexy lovely Jimin.

“I’m excited and scared at the same time.” You said, bouncing nervously on your toes. Your best friend eyed the display in front of her.

“I think this one is really pretty… Maybe I should get a piercing. I really like this one, YN.” She points out a shiny gemstone embedded in surgical grade silver, and you nod.

“I am so torn. I want to get a tattoo really badly, and today is the 13th, so they’re doing 13 dollar tattoos. But I also want to pierce my cartilage.”

“You ladies need some help?” 

You looked up at the figure that had approached you from the other side of the counter. His smirk as he eyed you up and down left you feeling warm.

“Yes, ” your best friend began without looking up, “she’s looking to get a 13 dollar tattoo, and I’m debating on this piercing.”

Once she finally was done ogling the jewelry, she made eye contact with the man and almost gasped. He was taller than the both of you, roughly 5 foot 8, and lean. His grey/platinum blond hair was loose around his face, showcasing the cut of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. Dressed in black and silver, you couldn’t deny how hot he was. He quirked an eyebrow up, turning back to you.

“Do you know what tattoo you want?”

“I do,” you answered shyly. “I want a simple one, just the outline of a heart, but, um.. Do you have any… female tattoo artists?”

He smirked again, and you felt embarrassed for asking.

“Bangtan Tattoo Shop doesn’t have any female artists or piercers currently… but I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

Your best friend inhaled again watching the exchange between you and the worker, nearly choking on the sexual aura he was exuding.

“Oh, are you the tattoo artist?”

“The one and only Park Jimin, at your service. We have a couple artists, but they’re all already working on someone and I just finished, so once you fill out the online consents, I’ll take you back.” He passes you a tablet that’s open to a consent form.

“Um, what about piercings?” Your best friend had finally found her voice again.

“I’ll send Hobi over, he’s the best we’ve got.” 

Jimin hands another tablet to your best friends and disappears behind the curtain behind him.

“Please tell me that you saw what I saw.”

“That fine ass man? I definitely did.”

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let him touch you there...” Your best friend hit submit on her tablet and set it back down on the glass display case. 

“It’s not like it’s that risque… it’s small anyways so it’ll be done in no time.”

The sound of the curtain opening ends your conversation.

“Ready, little lady?”

You nod and he motions you around the counter and through the black curtain. As you walk past him, you see a man with several piercings and multiple tattoos on his arms walking towards you.

“She’s right out there, boss. Had her fill out the waiver and everything.”

“Thanks Chim. Happy Birthday again!”

The man, despite all of his jewelry and tattoos, had a cheerful disposition, and radiated a fun energy. He looked tough and menacing, but when he smiled, all of that melted away. You felt confident he would do a good job on your friend.

“Andddd.. Right through here.” Jimin pointed you towards a doorway and you headed inside, eyeing the bed and tattoo equipment laid out. As he followed you inside and shut the door, you turned to ask him where you should sit.

“Alright, before I have you climb up on the table, where do you want this small tattoo?”

“I want it right here.” You pointed at a spot below your hip, right at the apex of where your bikini line meets your leg. You thought it was the perfect place for a dainty tattoo that would only be seen by the men who would be lucky enough to get your panties off of you.

“Ah, I see why you asked for a female artist.. Well, I will have you know that I have tattooed many a half naked woman. No worries. I’ll treat you right.” He winked, and it went straight to your core.

“Let me see the design you want, so I can get that drafted up and ready to draw onto you.”

You showed him a beautiful image of detailed line work that created a flower. 

“This will look so good on you, send this to the email posted above the door.” Jimin pointed at a plaque on the wall above the closed door that listed the wifi information and an email to the shop.

“I’m just gonna have you strip from the waist down, and wrap this towel around you as best as you can to cover all the bits you're worried about, just make sure to leave the area you want done exposed. I’ll print out the design and I’m gonna grab the correct size gloves, they put the wrong ones in here again.”

Jimin left the room with a box of gloves in hand, and you quickly stripped down, winding the towel around your waist and climbing onto the table. Laying back, you tug at the towel, creating enough slack to cover your mound while still keeping the right side exposed for the tattoo. Getting comfortable, you logged into the wifi network and sent the image to the email address as requested. Waiting for Jimin to return felt like it took forever, but you knew that it was just your nerves talking. This would be your first tattoo.

“Ready, baby girl?” Jimin popped back into the room and you jumped, nerves getting the best of you. He adjusted the table so that you were slightly leaned back and your legs dangled at the knee.

“Let me wash my hands and glove up, then we can get started.”

You took the opportunity to eye Jimin as his back was turned to you. The way the black leather pants hugged his ass, showcasing his lean legs that were toned. 

“It’s, uh, it’s your birthday today?” You asked, voice cracking just slightly.

“Yup! The big 2-5. That’s actually why we do the 13 dollar tattoos in October. I offer this rate to celebrate so I can spend the day doing something that I love.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Happy Birthday!”

“Thank you. Alright, if you’re ready, I’m gonna use this wipe to remove any hair and then place this and you let me know if it’s where you want it or we can adjust.”

You could feel his gentle touch as he wiped the hair removal cloth along your skin before placing the trace of the flower there. Handing you a mirror, you eyeball the location and nod, letting him know that you approve of it.

You take deep breaths as you wait for him to start, trying to ease your nerves. Once the gun makes contact with your skin, you let out an indecent moan. You were expecting it to hurt, and while there definitely is some pain, there is also no mistaking the arousal that leaks from your core. The buzz of the gun is loud, but you’re sure that Jimin noticed the way you formed your mouth into an ‘O’ and closed your eyes. If you hadn’t been instructed to stay still, you might have arched into it, enjoying the way his other hand was braced along your hip, gripping you as he leaned over your lower half to follow the outline. 

Sitting on a rolling chair and positioned between your knees, Jimin was very aware of the way you were reacting to the tattoo. It excited him, finding someone who looked as good as you did who reacted the same way to being tattooed as he had his first time. He tried to ignore the slight hard-on he got from hearing you moan from him decorating your virgin skin.

About 15 minutes later, Jimin had finished the delicate lines of the flower, and wiped away the residual ink. You sat back with your eyes closed, breathing heavily as you calmed down from the rush of endorphins. Jimin looked up at you, admiring the way your lashes highlight your cheekbones.

“Well done, baby girl.”

His breath tickles your inner thigh as he inspects his work, and you look down at him, perfectly positioned to fulfill your wildest dreams.

“It actually didn’t hurt like I thought it would.”

“Seemed like you enjoyed yourself through it.”

“Oh, you noticed that did you?” you ask sheepishly, failing to close your thighs to soothe the ache forming. 

“I noticed quite a bit… This tattoo is gorgeous here by the way. The perfect surprise.” Jimin looks up at you, eye fucking you slowly. “I can see it now, the lucky bastard running his hands like this along your thighs,” Jimin had removed his gloves and placed his soft palms against your thighs. He slides them up, eyes daring you to stop him. You don’t.

“I can see him spreading your thighs apart, kissing up your leg...” He dips his head down and you shiver as his pouty lips make contact with your thigh, soft wet kisses dragging themselves higher and higher.

“Him removing all the clothing blocking you from sight...” Jimin grips the towel and you watch as it glides off of you, revealing your wet folds to him. “Baby girl, I’d really like something sweet for my birthday...”

You nod consenting to his statement, knowing he’s asking to taste you. He wastes no time, tongue tracing your folds as he sucks and licks you, tongue dancing across your clit as your hands bury themselves into his hair. His hands grip your hips, careful not to touch your tattoo. You can’t help the sounds you make, moans rolling from your lips as he pushes your legs farther open before guiding his fingers inside of you. His lips latch onto your clit, paying it special attention as he finger fucks you, but it’s not enough.

“Please, Jimin...”

He pulls away from you, chin glossy with your arousal, but continues to pump his fingers in you slowly.

“I want to feel you, all of you.”

You buck your hips suggestively, and he grins.

“Fuck, baby girl, I’d love to feel you grip me the way you’re gripping my fingers.”

With a lewd, slick sound, he pulls his fingers free, enjoying the way your wetness coats them. He spreads the two fingers that were inside of you and you can see the way the juices cling together, sticky between his digits. He brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

The sight along caused you to clench, a small mewl from your throat catching his attention.

“Such a dirty girl… That turned you on?”

Eyes hooded, you nod, biting your lip.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

His lips meet yours, and they’re as soft as they looked. You can taste yourself in his mouth, and you tense when you feel the flared tip of his cock sliding against your leaking cunt. He teases your opening before he pushes past, stretching your walls to fit his girth. The angle of the chair allows you to feel him well, the tip of his cock teasing at your g-spot. 

His hands travel up your torso, pushing up your shirt until his hands are cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing your sensitive nipples through the lace bra you wore. He eases his face down until his tongue is lined up with your breast, the wet muscle laving the peak through the material. His hips move steadily, plunging him deeper and deeper with each thrust, and you can feel yourself building closer to climax. 

“Shit, Jimin, you feel so good...”

He giggles, and it’s a beautiful sound, melodic and soothing, and you feel him speed up. A free hand rubs at your swollen nub, infinity symbols drawn against your pink clit. His teeth graze your neck and when you feel him bite you, you let go.

Legs trembling, it’s earth shattering the way Jimin takes you through the crests. He can feel each wave of the multiple orgasms he produced, and he takes advantage of the pulsing walls to join you in this euphoric state. 

He wasn’t planning to fill you, so he pulled out and allowed his cum to pool on your mound. Due to the angle, it began to leak down across your clit and towards your opening, which he watched with desire. He really wasn’t planning to fill you, but he couldn’t resist fucking his seed back into you, allowing your satin core to milk the rest of him into you.

You had fully intended to only get ink on your skin today. Expected a little pain with every puncture. The pleasure of your tattoo artist's cock penetrating your pussy walls was just an added bonus, one you’re pretty sure the birthday boy enjoyed as well.

-

ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕁𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕟, 𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕖, 𝕤𝕖𝕩𝕪, 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪

[dodgeahex]

Seulgi's love of dance is prematurely halted by the unpredictable. What kind of twisted reality made her true love the thing that could kill her?

Wattpad | AO3 | Tumblr (under cut)

Poise.

Grace.

Sweat.

Artistry.

Strength.

At the age of three, most children have their own take of the world. Pure minds and extraordinary imaginations lead these wonderful bundles of joy with no limitations or expectations. Dreaming of becoming a professional singer, astronaut, or even president every day and night is not seen as absurd; it’s encouraged.

After these rambunctious dreamers begin attending grade school, the heartbreaking truth embeds itself in their little minds. It is very unrealistic, and flat-out impossible, for all their dreams to become reality. Not everyone can be the president or make it big in the music business. Hope becomes discouragement and dreams stay dreams, locked away, and forgotten.

It seems as though parents encourage the corruption of innocent minds by directing the youth in paths that make great amounts of money instead of what they’re really passionate about. Others do not direct at all, leaving them clueless and helpless. Time progresses even more, and eventually, the motivation these innocent children once had is replaced with shiny electronic devices, solitude, or multiple red cups at parties. All have the same mindset: get out of school and venture through the rest of life in a career that is expected.

Dreams are long gone. Reality has taken its toll.

At the age of three, Seulgi was lucky enough that her dream was along the path her parents wanted her to travel. It took one bad visit to the babysitter’s, in which this cheerful toddler and her younger sister Sooyoung voraciously downed numerous boxes of sweets, to drive the tired old woman to the point of quitting. The two had always been particularly hyper without the help of jellybeans and pixie sticks. Seulgi always wondered if the poor lady used the incident as an excuse to finally get her well-deserved time off.

The girls’ mother took this opportunity to introduce the two to her former dream; ballet. Prior to marrying and starting a family, she was known as Bravura Bonhwa for her intricately graceful performances and solos, though a torn tendon quickly ended her career before it could really kick-off. Seulgi eagerly slipped her pastel flats onto her always cold feet and fluffy tutu over her pale frame just to see the glow in her mother’s eyes. The thick air of summer was setting up to bid its farewell for the season, its radiant heat fleeting. Seulgi and Sooyoung each held one of their mother’s hands, skipping across the crosswalk and kicking pebbles, on the way to the nearest ballet studio in downtown Seoul.

At three, one twenty-minute class was all it took for Seulgi to find her passion. Every week, she would insist on rolling her reluctant black hair into a bun by herself before class (which her mom would soon come behind and fix). Mastering the barre and basic routines took no time at all. Once Seulgi turned six, one class a week quickly became three with her begrudging sister trudging along behind her. She didn’t care if the short hour left her with headaches and leg cramps. Twirling, leaping, and being on her toes was all Seulgi was interested in anymore.

She dreamed of becoming a professional ballerina.

Her advancement never seemed to cease. The instructor saw so much potential in the determined, charismatic child that she placed her in a class with the older students. Constellations of red cascaded onto her cheeks, burning hot to the touch, once she first entered. Everyone was taller and more advanced than she had thought them out to be. The brave now ten-year-old bit her lip, sucked her stomach into her back, pushed her chest forward, held her head straight, and persevered.

Catching up was hardly a challenge at all. Fall was in full swing; the cool weather signaled the annual tryouts for The Nutcracker at the studio. Younger students were automatically cast as secondary characters, such as snowflakes, mice, and soldiers. The upper classes, Seulgi included, had the opportunity to dance in lead roles or dance in the very front. Seulgi wasn’t entirely too sure what The Nutcracker was about, but she knew she wanted to be the lead, Clara. She knew this was highly unlikely, seeing as there were still many classes ahead of her, so she set her mind on being a dancer in the front of the line.

Rotating, galloping, and entrechat-ing her way, she found herself becoming a lead soldier for the production.

Now, Seulgi was practicing every chance she got. She wanted to become the best she could be. The passion heating her entire body was evident; against his best wishes, her father uprooted the family from their small home into one slightly bigger so his beloved daughters could have a room to practice in when the studio downtown was closed. Naturally, Seulgi spent all of her free time stretching on the barre or doing pas de chats and delicate pirouettes. Her parents had a hard time coercing her out of the practice room for meals and family time. Even when they were finally able to get the youngsters ready for bed, Seulgi would still use the footboard of her bed as a barre, much to her sister’s annoyance.

“I want to sleep,” Sooyoung would whine, silky hair toppling out of her ponytail and framing her pouty face. “Could you turn off the lights and go to bed?”

“I’ll never get better by sleeping,” Seulgi would smile and continue standing on pointe with her chilled toes.

The price for Seulgi’s love was rapidly adding up. Blisters blotched the entirety of her feet. Her muscles were extremely worn and needed to be deeply rolled. Pointe shoes definitely did not come cheap; with Seulgi’s constant practice, she was wearing through a pair and a half every two weeks. She even started having nosebleeds - something that never used to happen but became pretty regular. Seulgi found it odd that her constant dancing was irritating her nose like that. Nevertheless, the eloquent little soldier would stuff tissue inside her nose, wrap her tender toes in gauze, lace-up her worn-down flats, and continue practicing.

Two weeks before the production, Seulgi’s dream fell like snow over Seoul.

Winter had kissed the skies and allowed its soft snowflakes to blanket the city that never stops. A week before Seulgi and Sooyoung’s tech week, Seulgi was becoming increasingly anxious. The ten-year-old was wearing herself to the bone in an attempt to perfect her solo before the big performance. No matter how high she jumped or how perfectly she stuck her landings, nothing was good enough in her eyes. Exhaustion was slowly consuming her. The only time the lifeless girl slept was when the sleep deprivation took over and she found it too difficult to stand.

On one sluggish walk to the studio with Sooyoung, Seulgi realized she’d forgotten her water bottle. After reassuring her sister that she’d catch up, Seulgi branched off of their normal route to stop in a convenience store. Yawning and furiously rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands in a poor attempt at staying awake, the not-so poised soldier shuffled into the drink aisle. Her dark, glossy eyes scanned the shelves for the water when they caught sight of something else instead.

A week before the production, Seulgi collapsed during dress rehearsal.

Winter hissed and let its frigid winds rustle the city, chilling it to the core. To counteract her fatigue, Seulgi decided to spend her week’s allowance on energy drinks. She had tucked multiple cans into her duffel to sneak into her room after rehearsal. Deciding she was too tired to go to class without one, she popped open a can and started chugging before her sister could get suspicious. The sickening, syrupy-sweet liquid coating her throat was absolutely revolting, but she knew it would give her the energy to continue practicing throughout the week.

Seulgi found herself drowning in her own solace, leading up to her fall. She shut her family out to continue practicing. On the first day of tech week, Seulgi and Sooyoung had set out to go to rehearsal where their parents would pick them up to take them out for a special lunch. Once it came time for class, Seulgi worked herself too hard. The dangerous drinks had her heart beating so rapidly, she could feel it vibrating her chest. Choosing to ignore it, she continued leaping with the rest of the dancers. The rapid beating intensified, adding a dull pain to the mixture. Seulgi tried her hardest to ignore it until it became absolutely unbearable.

Seulgi thought her heart was exploding.

***

At nineteen, Seulgi still didn’t understand her condition, nor did she want to. Waking up to blinding fluorescent lights beating down on your face and different wires attached to your bare chest was not something a normal ten year-old would like to endure. She never expected the thick smell of heavy chemicals clinging to the air to become part of her routine. The feeling of a rough blanket scratching at the back of her arms after the first time she passed out gave her goosebumps while a machine’s excessive beeping droned in her ear.

As Seulgi laced up her, now useless, flats, she thought about when she first learned of her disease. “Stay still sweetheart,” the doctor had rested her hand on top of Seulgi’s. “We’re just finishing up some tests. Once we get you settled into your room, you’ll be able to see your family. How does that sound?”

Seulgi remembered blinking and trying to swallow away the dryness from her mouth. “Tests?”

“Yes, darling,” the older woman had plastered on a smile as hopeful as any hospital could allow. “For your heart condition.”

The doctors said it wasn’t necessarily the fault of the energy drinks, but they did play a part in making her chest hurt and alerting the rest of her body. Seulgi had aortic coarctation—a narrowing of her aorta. Because of this, her heart had to work harder to deliver blood to her body. To Seulgi’s dismay, her mom had always blamed herself for not piecing together the symptoms sooner, but they were easily masked. The headaches, weak muscles, and leg cramps could have easily been attributed to Seulgi always practicing, while the nosebleeds never seemed like a big deal. Unfortunately, the disease wasn’t exactly the problem. The issue was that it had gone undetected for so many years, while Seulgi overexerted herself. The exhaustion, shortness of breath, cough, and lack of appetite were indicators of something much bigger.

It wasn’t just heart disease. It was heart failure.

Had she undergone treatment sooner, and not overworked herself, there was a chance she wouldn’t be sitting on the bench of her old practice room, large woolen sweater concealing her heart monitor and small frame, pining to be able to give her all on the wooden floors once more. Maybe she’d be able to dance, but not as well. Or maybe she’d still be in the same boat with a tattletale piece of equipment taped to her chest letting everyone know what her heart was doing. Due to her most recent chest pains returning, she had to wear the damned thing for two weeks to determine what needed to happen next.

To her right were her daily slew of medications—diuretics, pain relievers, and aids—with a large jug of water and a bowl of fresh fruit, courtesy of her mom. She poked the pills around the bench with her index finger, forming a smiley face. Were they actually helping her anymore? Her chest pains were hardly numbing, and her appetite was replaced by a constant state of nausea. The weakening girl choked down her pills nonetheless and followed up with a few large gulps of water. Reaching under the bench, she grabbed the familiar worn-down flats and began lacing them up her tender feet, because acceptance is the hardest pill to swallow.

Sooyoung had gone onto Seoul’s most elite ballet school while Seulgi was homeschooled. She even got initiated into a ballet company. How was this fair? Sooyoung didn’t even like to dance. What higher power had her sister living her dreams while she was forced to watch from the sidelines anticipating a transplant? Cheeks heating, Seulgi crept to the studio’s door and carefully turned the lock. This was going to be her space until the end.

Seulgi knew she wouldn’t have the strength to do a full routine. Truthfully, she was advised against ballet altogether. All the leaps and twists she craved to experience once more were now too extreme for her failing organ. She was advised to go on short walks instead. How was walking around the block anywhere close to the beautiful feeling of being the lightest person in the room? The stubborn girl pulled out her phone and began queueing up songs. After pressing play on a slow-tempo ballad, Seulgi slowly stood and made her way to the barr.

Seulgi started with small pliés, starting with small squats until her legs were completely bent at her sides. As the song picked up slightly, she moved to stretch her achy legs on the barr. Bending her body to simply touch her toes felt foreign now. Worse, it felt unnatural. How could something she deemed so important become a stranger?

Waiting for the next song to start, Seulgi begged her heart to give her this one moment. Please, she closed her eyes and placed her hand on her monitor. Please just let me feel like me again. When the song finally ended, Seulgi could hear her uneasy breaths counting down to the next. When the song began, she immediately leaped back into her world.

Panting as she twirled, Seulgi bounded through the practice room bringing the old space back to life. She let the melody guide her through the first verse before her chest began to protest. Refusing to give up so soon, she closed her eyes and danced harder. Seulgi danced like it was life or death because it was. She could sit through the rest of her short life yearning for a single chance to dance again, or she could dance and risk her heart giving out. She couldn’t live without dance, yet she couldn’t dance without living… what kind of twisted reality made the only thing worth living for the thing that could take her out?

Closing her eyes, Seulgi began to pirouette. If she could just get through this song unscathed, she’d go back to pouting for weeks before trying again. But this moment was what her body needed all along. This was the kind of medicine fake-friendly doctors couldn’t prescribe. Arabesque. Had her monitor alerted her parents? If they were trying to force the door open, she couldn’t hear over the music. Développé. As Seulgi lifts her leg behind her, she lets out a sharp cry. Her heart was overworked, and she knew she should stop. Clenching her jaw, she ignores her pleading organ to make it through the other half of the song.

Assemblé. Seulgi felt her nose beginning to drip. She knew the familiar crimson would wreak havoc on her clothes, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was finally free. She was no longer strapped down to earth. She was flying. When Seulgi heard her monitor beeping, her reality slowly came crashing down once more. The beeping was quickly followed by banging on the door, followed by screams begging the fairy to give up her wings. Blood was no longer dripping from her nose; it was pouring. The dam was broken, drenching the front of her sweater.

Before she could get to the second chorus, Seulgi let out a shriek. Once she started crying out in pain, she couldn’t stop. Her body had finally had enough. Every part of her felt like it was on fire, and her vision was practically nonexistent. “Mommy,” the devastated teen screamed, blood dripping from the sides of her mouth. “Daddy!” Slipping on a few drops of blood, Seulgi’s thin frame met the floor with a thud.

Seulgi went up in flames.