#you convince yourself into thinking she has no power to make yourself feel better

[fairyofthehollow]

“i can’t think of anyone more deserving of person of the year than taylor”

think harder.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Can you do an Alastor x fem!reader where Alastor confesses his love to her, but she doesn't believe him, thinking it's some kind of sick joke? She just laughs nervously, saying something like “yeah, yeah, I got it, very good joke, Al, your humor is getting better,” expecting that it will actually turn out to be some kind of prank

However, Alastor doesn't stop and tries to convey to her that he really loves her, but she still doesn't believe him because she doesn't trust him completely. Like, he's the radio demon, one of the most dangerous and powerful overlords who seemingly despised the idea of ​​getting close to someone, what if he just wants to trick her so he can maybe make a deal with her or something?? That's why at first she tries to avoid him in order to get rid of this awkwardness due to his confessions, but gradually in the end she begins to meet him halfway and considers the idea of ​​​​starting to date him after all. Not official yet, but the chances are great

WELP-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None?? I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

You're used to expecting the worst-case scenario and protecting your heart first and foremost, it's just how you learned to survive

You've learned not to trust anyone, especially anybody down here in hell with you, everyone has an ulterior motive

Yet...by some weird twist of fate you found yourself a home at the hotel, Charlie somehow having convinced you to stay

Whether or not you believed in redemption, you couldn't deny that you didn't feel a sense of closeness with everyone there

Even Alastor was nice to hang around sometimes, though you didn't trust him in the slightest

How could you? The Radio Demon?? He's got plans for his plans and only sees people for their use, he doesn't care about anyone, especially not you

You're just amusing to him, which is fine, you can tolerate being amusing just not being used

You had a comfortable relationship with the overlord which was something that not many people could say

You two got along well enough, spent a good amount of time together and actually had decent conversations

He'a charming and handsome, a dangerous combination but you were far too addicted to his presence now to worry about it, you can still protect your heart

Or at least you did, until Alastor decided to toy with your feelings, how he found out about your budding crush was beyond you

You two were walking alone together at night, laughing at some couple you two had witnessed earlier, teasing them

"I just don't understand how any man could be that whipped for a woman! I can't wrap my head around it..!"

Instead of joining in your laughter, he hummed and looked over at you strangely before looking ahead

"Oh, I don't know... I find myself understanding men like that a little more these days."

It's like a bucket of ice water just fell on you, your laughter cutting off as you look at him in confusion

"What do you mean? Are you...seeing someone or something?"

He looks as uncomfortable as a man with a permanent smile can be, tapping his claws against his staff

"Heavens no, but that doesn't mean there isn't someone special in my life... someone I wouldn't mind courting."

He gives you a meaningful glance then looks away again, stopping suddenly and facing you

"Alastor-"

"I wouldn't mind being whipped for you."

Your stomach sours and you frown, pushing at his shoulder a little harder than you meant to

"Yeah, that's real funny, Alastor. Why don't you go try that joke on someone else next time?"

You walk off as quickly as you can, leaving a baffled looking Alastor in your dust

Do you have any idea how hard it was for him to confess!? He grits his teeth and rubs his hand over his face as he watches you run away from him

You don't talk to him the next day, or the day after that, in fact... Alastor is pretty sure you're avoiding him because any time he tries to talk to you-

You find an excuse to run off, your relationship with him awkward and nervously hanging on by a thread

He ruined it and all your walls came right back up

You should've known he would exploit your weakness like that, should've seen that he was only being so good to you because he wanted to use everything he learned against you

You don't know what he gets out of it or what his goal is, but you're sure he's got an angle

Even now, he's trying to mess with your feelings, bringing you flowers, pushing little notes under your door, one time he even tried to serenade you

He keeps trying to tell you that he cares about you, that he feels for you, that he wants you, and you just don't want to hear it

It hurts to be toyed with

Everyone else at the hotel can see what's happening between you two which makes everything that much more embarrassing

"Come on, Husk! I know you know something! Why is he targeting me!? What do I have that he wants?"

Husk looks visibly uncomfortable, looking over your body before looking away, suddenly interested in a smudge on a glass

"I don't know anything so quit asking me! Why don't you just sit down and talk with him, huh?"

Oh, he knows something

Angel smirks and nudges your leg with his own, invading your personal space to further tease you

"You're tellin' me that you ain't flattered by all this attention he's givin' you? I've seen the way he's been mooning over you lately, and let me tell you~ That shit ain't fake~"

You huff and shake your head, mostly to hide the blush on your face from them

"He has an angle, everyone always does."

"Look if you wanna be a blind bitch then be my guest but at least promise me you'll hit that and tell me the details~?"

"ANGEL!"

You can't avoid Alastor forever no matter how hard you try, eventually running into him late one night when everyone else is in bed

You should've known better than to get that late night snack, but you had skipped dinner earlier, and you were hungry

You're washing your plate off when you hear Alastor walk in, stiffening once you realize you have no real excuse to run away anymore

"Alastor-"

He sucks in a breath and stays still as if scared he'll chase you away, which he might actually be worried about due to your actions lately

"I know you think I confessed to you in order to get something from you but that's far from the truth. I do genuinely find myself attached to you."

You feel your lip wobble a little, hugging yourself as you look away from him

"Don't. Don't you dare mess with me like this or I'll never forgive you, Alastor."

He takes another step closer to you, cautious as if trying not to scare you away

"I'm being entirely honest with you, I've fallen for you in ways I can't even begin to understand or convey to you. These last few weeks have been torture for me."

He's gripping your arms gently to stop you from turning away, the simple touch spreading warmth throughout your body

You have missed him a lot...

"I'm not asking that you confess your love to me, I only want a chance to show you I'm being genuine with you..."

You glance up at him before taking a step back, blushing furiously at the pathetic puppy eyes he's giving you

You can't believe you're going to agree to this, he better not make you regret it later or you'll make him suffer for it

You sigh and point at him, doing your best to remain calm and not let your emotions show

"I'll think about it, okay? Just...give me time to think."

He visibly relaxes and sighs in relief, giving you a warm smile as if you had just said yes

"That's more than I could ask for, I'll wait hundreds of years for you if that's what you want."

You blush more and have to cover your mouth to stop an excited squeal from escaping your lips

"Q-quit flirting with me! I already said I'd think about it..!"

He chuckles softly and reaches out to rub your cheek before pulling away and turning to leave

"Okay okay~ I'll wait for you...~"

He leaves you there in the dark, blushing and fuming to yourself

Having a handsome overlord on your arm wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to you

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

[kpopfanfictrash]

Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,” you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That’ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. “My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 6: Begging

Pairing: (G)I-DLE Yuqi x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,223

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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“Yuqi, you can’t just buy everything you want—”

“But can’t you see? I have it all over me.” Yuqi brags about the plethora of shopping bags she’s carrying, knowing that it will slap you towards what she has mustered but you need to slap her back to reality. So, gripping her wrists and forcing herself to be in level with you, you glared at her, laced with venom as you’re not having this bratty attitude of hers.

“Listen here you little shit—you can’t buy anything of these without my money, so, you should be obedient about everything I say because my asshole doesn’t shit money and if it would, there’s a fucking limit, do you understand?”

It’s like Yuqi never knew about limitations as she will utilize what she can to get what she wants and you hate it yet there’s an optimistic side of this, is that, she’s doesn't force things out of your pocket because she rather begs for it until you agree and that’s your weakness—her, alone. Her charisma is off the roof, with even the people you pass by with her, some can’t help but get their attention stolen with Yuqi’s beauty as she’s glamorous as always and you can’t blame them with that.

Yet you know that enough is enough, and she should be taught a lesson even though it will fall deaf on her ears.

“But please—can I have at least shop for one more time, please??”

No matter how much she begs, or lures you in to play the game that definitely she’ll win, she won’t succeed with her current wants, leaving it only for her to imagine and not grasp it within her reach.

“I told you, Yuqi, we can’t—maybe someday—”

“Aish—you know what? It’s fine, I got what I needed anyway—can we just go home now?” Yuqi chides boredom as she doesn't get to succeed with her attempts, earning a faint smile on your face. She’s mildly irritated because of you—it’ll grow until it becomes unbearable to take—and you know she’s running out of options, so you took it as an advantage. 

“Why don’t we just go around the place and have some fun, Yuqi?”

“Shopping is damn tiring, you know that? I just want to go home…” You’re not falling for another trap just to fulfill and succumb to her possible needs, so you’re doing everything on your own power to convince her of your own wants instead of fulfilling hers—talk about being fair to each other which probably doesn’t exist in her dictionary. 

“But aren’t you feeling tired?”

Well, you've thought of enlightenment yourself—you're probably as tired as she is, as if walking for hours isn’t enough, then you don't know what is—and you’re afraid to agree with her. You don’t want to lie or make yourself a hypocrite towards her but it is the truth—you feel the enervation yourself and knowing you have the higher authority, you came up to a conclusion in order to close the continuous pleading and annoyance of Yuqi.

“You know what, let’s just go home since we’ve bought so many things today.”

“Ahh, yes! Thank god you agreed with me, daddy.”

Ah, the forbidden word has been used publicly and to think that someone may find it unorthodox, you quickly glared at her, wanting to shut her mouth up because of embarrassment.

“You better not call me that in public, Yuqi.”

“Or what? Are you gonna shut me up with your dick in my mouth—”

You grabbed her wrists and glared at her, this time, it’s much more intimidating and scarier, all laced with venom for her to stop. “God, be careful!”

You didn’t mind your reckless actions as you wanted to prove a point towards her.

“Shut your whore mouth or something’s going to happen to you, Yuqi.”

“Like what?” She confidently taunts you, knowing that you wouldn’t lay down a finger to her, let alone curse her with words full of lustful profanities in public.

“You know what—you’re going to get punished, Yuqi. Go to the car and let’s go home.” Your tone is demanding and stern, almost sending a chill down her spine but despite all of that, she hides a smile, knowing that she’ll soon be reaching that promised land she always wanted. Not wasting some time, she briskly walked towards the car, excited about what’s about to happen and little did she know, you have plans to truly teach her a lesson she won’t forget.

---

A bratty mind is hard to be penetrated with lessons as the iron wall defending is as strong as her ego, and you’re willing to break it yet, if it means for her to be deprived and on the urge of almost breaking that wall, then it’s going to be a successful attempt to teach her.

It’s not like it’s going to be hard—it would take some time because you know how Yuqi always loved you and your cock.

“You wanted to act tough, I’ll show you what’s tough.”

Without the profounded foreplay that she always liked and just being straight to the point, her helpless cries are ignored—bound to break her and truly submit into the abyss of the lowest points. With her wrists tied onto her back, herself in all fours and her clothing yanked off onto where it is—you didn’t where it was because it will be useless right now, no matter how she looked phenomenal with that outfit—her full, naked body is now display as you admire it and worship it, plating soft kisses onto her neck and the fondling of her small, perky mounds that makes Yuqi release such sounds that arouses both parties. 

“Can’t do anything, hm? This is what you get for acting such a bitch earlier.”

Yuqi whines uncontrollably within teases of your hands and lips, the sensitivity she feels now off the charts considering how she’s feeling deprived with her needs. You’d love to have her clothing on while teasing the living fuck out of her but this was probably way better than what you envisioned earlier. 

“But please, daddy—g-give me what I want…”

She’s straightforward and needy, you can see the desperation in her eyes yet you’ll let her know that everything should be earned and well-deserved. Well, asking her won’t give her anything but feed you information as she didn’t deserve anything, yet.

“What do you even want from me, Yuqi?” You ask her as she moans, struggling to answer back as the skillful display of talent was shown with the way you tease the labia of her wet cunt and the fondling of her small mounds. “You and y-your cock, daddy.”

You chuckled right after, feeling the lack of sincerity within her tone as her voice trembles, voicing her satisfaction as she lets you know that she wants you genuinely and nothing more.

“You don’t seem to be honest about that, Yuqi.”

“B-but I am, daddy! Please j-just please fuck me already. I didn’t strip a-and put on a show for—gahh—nothing, daddy.”

The audacity of this slut—it’s just mesmerizing that even with the utmost pleasure running down her veins, she manages to even retaliate back with disrespect and selfishness, and that further ignites the feeling of punishing her and teasing her. If she wants her needs to be fulfilled, she might have to be patient or beg for it.

“If you really want this cock—then beg for it, Yuqi.”

She looks at your eyes endearingly, her puppy-eyes really flicking the switch into you as she begs for everything that can make her reach her desired treasure. Her voice trembles as she feels nervous begging for you but it’s truly the ravishing essence—her full submission while being helpless to do anything is the hidden beauty and it’s such a beautiful sight.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do everything—” Her orbs glistens with lust and anticipation, wanting you to oblige on her needs as you can’t seem to pull the trigger;

“—I w-want your cock—to t-tastes it and savor it—please, daddy—” And she mutters up such profanities that further arouses you, an attempt to let yourself gave in to your own carnal needs;

“—Please, daddy—I’ll be your g-good girl just please, I w-want it…” And there she goes—her one, final advancement towards her own needs and for the sake of your pleasure—to pick the lock that you’ve been abstaining and depriving her for.

With the way she begs like she had lost everything, starting from her refulgent puppy-eyes up to her pleading tone, you can’t help but give in to the temptation of fulfilling her needs—most likely your needs since you want to teach her a lesson by fucking that bitchy attitude out of her but not all starts from the climax, it must start with one hell of an exordium.

“You really want it, huh, Yuqi?” Yuqi didn’t hesitate to nod, further encouraging you onto fulfilling her desires. “Then go on your knees, you can do it yourself.”

It was hard to maneuver in Yuqi’s end but you didn’t care. She immediately thrusted herself up, her knees crawling backwards and off the bed, in order to stand up and to get on her knees. The visible struggle was there but she did it nonetheless, her submissive demeanor all for you to admire as she looks helpless with her hands tied onto her back. You then quickly undressed your bottom half—you’d probably make Yuqi to strip it off on you but with her hands tied up, you didn’t bother to kill the essence of an occurring punishment—as you can see Yuqi’s eyes lighting up in awe and hunger, gazing into your erect length like it’s a long-lost treasure she’s always been wanting to obtain and now it’s just a step closer within her mouth’s reach. You then sit down onto the side of the bed, spreading out your legs as you relax yourself to be close for comfort and then command Yuqi to unleash her own masterclass of a show.

“I assume you know what to do, slut.”

Yuqi inches herself closer to you as her face indicates such an analytical approach to your cock, mesmerized and possibly adoring your length as her doe-eyes scan every inch possible. She didn’t bother to tease you as her hands are deemed useless, now her mouth is doing the job of pleasuring you instead of anything else. She swirls her tongue onto your leaking slit that’s already doused with the infamous colorless liquid as she alternates her tongue actions with kisses that peppered around your shaft. You wouldn’t mind her lipstick smudging onto the base of your shaft as she takes you balls-deep in her mouth if it means to give you the utmost pleasure and it’s like she wouldn’t oblige to it—she even want it rough, always taking your whole length until she’s a disheveled, gagged-up mess. With the mouthwork she’s been servicing onto your now saliva-sheathed shaft, you can’t help but moan as she’s doing a great job considering the lack of her hands that could probably make everything better—you know how skillful her hands are; and just by the dexterity of her fingers on her handjobs onto the fondling of your balls, you couldn’t ask for anything more and with that though, you almost regretted tying her hands up but the main mission here is to punish her, deprive her on her needs on your own accord.

“God—your mouth, Yuqi—keep sucking me j-just like that. This bratty mouth feels good—we should’ve done this sooner.”

Of course, she can’t respond with her mouth full of your cock and she won’t even bother to—it was evident, knowing how much effort she’s been exerting on sucking you off seals the deal. The way her head bobs frantically and then burying her mouth balls-deep, her lips being in contact onto the soft skin at the base of your shaft (also add the constant gags that has been resonating around the room) is truly a hypnotic and an arousing sight—this feels too good to be true and you love every second of it. With her current pace, drool inevitably seeps out of her mouth as she doesn't mind the filthiness she’s been luring into as she minds servicing you with her mouth as she seizes the opportunity on her utmost capabilities. Now pulling out of your shaft to give herself a leverage to breathe, she asked you something that she shouldn’t be bothering to ask for as the answer would be obvious.

“Can I p-please suck your balls, daddy?”

“No one’s stopping you, Yuqi—go on.”

Yuqi now averts her attention towards your sensitive balls as she tongues it with care, not wanting to hurt you. To further assist her and to gradually keep up the pleasure you’ve been experiencing, you took your raging length and stroked yourself with the arousing look of Yuqi’s naked, submissive body as she laps your balls in aims to further stimulate you. It is damn working and she’s good at it, considering how her hands can’t really influence or make anything better, she’s doing a great job as every gentle suck onto each testicle earns a ragged moan escaping your lips. She takes this as a compliment as she sucks onto each ball with care as you stroke yourself in tandem with that, further maintaining the stimulation you once gave yourself into.

“Now suck me off again, Yuqi. I wanna see that pretty dick-sucking mouth at work again.”

“Of course, daddy.”

Yuqi returns her mouth onto your whole length again, taking it all in like it was all nothing as a single, immediate deepthroat unlocks a series of gags from hers, which further stimulates you into oblivion. She’s in her own league when it comes to dick-sucking—who would’ve thought that such a cute, classy girl whose demeanor is peak-sophistication is a cockslut? Well, that wasn’t surprising considering how much you influenced her on being herself—being so goddamn hot in every outfit she wears and it’s just crazy thinking about that.

Well, you don’t need to think about it when it’s already within inches close to you—lucky you…

She continues her earlier rapid pace as she fucks her mouth onto your throbbing shaft like she wants to prove something—her worth to deserve you and you only. With her constant gags, fast pace, saliva messing up her beautiful visage and the tears adding up to the sullied mess on her face, you can’t hold the fact of abstaining yourself to your desired peak. Encouraging her for more, you praise her masterclass as you caress her gray-almost-hazelnut locks for stroking her ego.

“God fucking dammit, Yuqi—I’m so fucking close—put that t-tight mouth into good use and make daddy cum—fuck!”

She obviously responded with an incredible pace and mouthfucking, mouthing her satisfaction with constant muffles and gags as you could feel your blood rushing, your peak nearing to an end of its hot pursuit as at last, it was truly unbearable to hold it in anymore.

Yuqi, being the clever girl that she is, buries her mouth balls-deep onto your shaft as you hold a vice grip onto her head, a leverage to the constant pleasure you’re into. Thick shots of warm seed welcomes Yuqi’s slutty throat as every spurt receives a warm welcome from her, smiling as best as she can even with a mouthful of cock and the gags being the cherry on top. You let out fervor-filled moans and groans, voicing your satisfaction on your fifteen-second euphoric release inside her mouth.

“You probably deserved that, Yuqi—would have come onto your face but it is what it is.”

After pulling out and letting out exhausted breaths, Yuqi sticks out her tongue to show your incredible hard work all over it, and then quickly swallows your creamy, healthy load with two gulps, herself struggling a little because of such a marvelous volume of your load. Your load was so much to the point that some seeped out of her chin and onto her lips, you then aiding to help her clean it up as no food shall be wasted, wiping it with your fingers and then directing it onto her mouth and eagerly, Yuqi sucked onto it, not wasting a single drop.

“But I want you to paint my face, daddy—can you please cum on my face, daddy, please—”

“No—” You commanded her to get up as she immediately obliged, inching closer to her as you have a lot of plans in store with her today as her wants shouldn’t be attended first. “—I would want to cum on your face, yes, but girls like you—I don’t even know if you deserve it, let alone inside your tight, little pussy.”

A visible frown and pout is evident on her face, expressing her sadness with your proposition but an enlightenment snaps her back to her delighted self, knowing she’ll get her needs attended to by you and soon, you’ll give in but it won’t be that easy. 

“Then just fuck me senseless and cum in pussy, daddy—”

“You fucking slut—” You then grabbed her wrists in order to be dangerously closer to her as you smack her buttocks harshly, earning a sultry whine from Yuqi as the rage inside you is now emanating an aura of fear as she feels it too, eyebrows furrowing as she doesn’t know what to anticipate. “—you’re really that cockhungry, huh?”

Yuqi nods as she lets out a deep sigh of anxiety and anticipation, feeling such a roller-coaster of emotions as she doesn’t know how she could take this situation in a sense that she’ll be relieved knowing that everything is going to be smooth. She kneels down in front of you, and then makes contact with your eyes as those glistening orbs plead for your mercy, to fulfill her needs on your own accord.

“P-please, daddy—I n-need you in my cunt right n-now—fuck, please, daddy!”

It’s the way she begs that makes the difference amongst everything else—those endearing eyes that can get any man lost with its stare and her voice, her deep, sultry voice that’s just the cherry on top. You love seeing herself at her lowest, the point where she’ll beg for anything to sustain her needs and it’s just an arousing sight to see. You’ll note this and would definitely take advantage of her submissiveness just hear Yuqi begging for you.

“P-please, daddy—I’ll do anything just t-to be fucked silly.”

And god you can’t resist the temptation of depriving her needs when her verbal attempts to persuade you onto such sinful acts. You can’t really contain anything anymore as you just hope to ruin her and to fuck that bitchy attitude out of her. Not really going to abstain yourself from reaching your own carnal desires, you command her to get up as you’re about to give in to the abyss of no-return and full satisfaction.

“Get on all fours onto the bed, head down, ass up, and since you’re begging like a fucking cockhungry whore and don’t worry Yuqi—I’ll make sure you’re legs won’t work until tomorrow, or maybe even a week considering how you’ve made me this fucking horny.” Once she quickly obliged to be in position, you swiftly gave her bubble butt harsh spanks that almost left your handprint in it and you’re definitely marking it red because she’s yours and she loves it, so, you won’t even mind stopping even it’s on her own accord—you even vividly remember how she came hard with just your merciless spanks at her butt and your fingers fucking her pussy and god, it’s such a sight to remember. The rage inside you is brewing in such a potent quality that you’re willing to fuck her senseless, no matter what happens. Now getting up onto the bed with her, you kneel down as you spank her again, and then another, consistently giving her a barrage of harsh smacks that every clash resonates around the bedroom. Having enough of it as you successfully imprinted your palm onto her scrumptiously plump cheeks, you avert your attention onto her needy pussy, brushing your fingers off it just to tease her and immediately, she lets out series of muffled moans as her thighs quiver with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking hot, Yuqi—no wonder why people eye on you like they’re about to fuck you at any given time—shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

No one can blame you for that because with the insane hourglass waist she’ve worked hard to impress you—and sure she definitely did considering how you’re always in awe whenever taking a look of that tone midriff—you can’t help but utter such compliments not just to stroke her ego, but to make her wetter because she’s about to take such force that she’ll give into submission anytime. 

You didn’t really waste some time to finger her pussy further, but instead brushed your tip against her pussy and without any warning, you plunge inside her as the both of you moaned in unison, the tightness of her walls nigh-suffocating your shaft like it’s about to immediately milk out a load from you—it’s just pure insanity how her walls grip around your raging member everytime as it just voices her satisfaction whenever you’re having sex with her—and her moaning (almost whining) in delight because of the girth of your whole length that’s not easy to take—you could tell the hint of struggle within her as you can see her hands curling as well as her ragged, muffled moans. You took some time to be accustomed to the tightness of her cunt as not so long after, you thrust in her with a moderate pace that defies peak pleasure. You weren’t getting to harsh on her, yet, because you wanted her to give such time to prepare on what’s coming next and also, you wanted well-paced fucking with a rising action and not to the anticipated climax immediately, although, you want to really give her the thrusts of a lifetime, and it’s not gonna be long until such filthiness is about to happen.

“Mmfh—mfh!”

“What are you saying, Yuqi?” You pull her hair, arching her back, as she lets out sets of profanities that makes her succumb onto the intense pleasure that has been coursing down her veins since the start you’ve laid a finger on her heated core. 

“Can d-daddy f-fuck me harder, please?”

Still engrossed onto suckling the porcelain skin of her neck and peppering her nape and shoulders with kisses, it took you seconds to respond and with a hitch of anger. “You really have the audacity to think if I can—” You gave her butt a harsh spank in response to her bewildering audacity as she let out another sultry whimper that made your cock twitch. “—fuck you harder? Well—fuck, you’re tight, Yuqi—really fucking tight—so, you need to beg for it—beg then you may have a chance.”

Muttering up the green light, she didn’t hesitate to let out her wants as you still her head harshly and reduced the pace of your thrusts, wanting her to articulate and hear the best sinful profanities coming out of her slutty mouth.

“P-please, daddy—f-fuck your gi—girl like she deserves it—l-like a bitchy s-slut who a-always wants your cock at—gahh—any g-given time—fuck, please, daddy, fuck the l-living whore o-out of me—I k-know I’m a bitch—a fucking bitch when you teach m-me a l-lesson—ahh, fuck, daddy!”

You didn’t let her finish her sentence because even halfway with her lustful speech is the uncontainable sheer of will to fuck her senseless as it helped ignite the raging flame inside you, your hips oscillating such pace that like a man could never do. You rev your engines, or should I say, your hips in a merciless pace that Yuqi inevitably lets out the most erotic, lustful moans you’ve ever heard on your whole life, orchestrating such a masterpiece that should be composed as a symphony—it’s not like you’ve probably recorded multiple symphonies full of her moans onto your brain and you wish you could record it right now but your focus is now averted towards fucking her. Now, letting go of her gray-hazelnut locks, you grab her mounds as you fondle whilst maintaining such an incredible pace, further lighting up the flame of lust Yuqi’s been into as the stimulation is becoming too much.

“You’ve wanted t-this all along, huh? S-shit, you’re a crazy girl, Yuqi.”

“I c-could never help it whenever d-daddy’s cock fill up m-my tight cunt—fuck, so f-fucking good, daddy—so good!”

Voicing her satisfaction with your wild treatment on her, you continue fucking her like an animal as now, you continued on kissing her back, peppering it with your affection as now, you also added spanks at random intervals between your thrusts and god, it’s making Yuqi insane considering how stimulating all of these are. Every clash of your bodies and jiggles of her thighs sends you into an hypnotic trance, allowing yourself to lure yourself onto fucking her with ridiculous pace. 

It makes so much of a difference with her hands idle and just curling because of the intense pleasure, but, it allows you to have more leverage and control over her, considering how she always interrupts you with her hands being all over your back, scratching it while fucking in a mating press position and more, and it’s such an incredible experiment what you’ve laid upon to.

“D-daddy—ahh…”

“Yes, Yuqi?”

Even if you can’t see her expression of plea and submissiveness, you could spark an imaginative figure of it as you reduced the pace a little, giving her a breather to propose something.

“C-can I suck on your f-fingers while y-you’re fucking me, please, d-daddy—please?”

Not wasting time for anymore foreplay, you avert your other hand onto her mouth as she sucks onto your index finger whilst building up the pace again. The stream forming around of your cock signals her utmost satisfaction and pleasure, and with the combined techniques you’re doing to further make it run like a waterfall, it’s almost inevitable for her to hold it in as it drips onto the bed sheets, staining it—you’re gonna need a new set of bed sheets after you’re done with her, that’s for sure. With a harsh grip of her hips to further piston your hips onto euphoria, you continue your earlier wild pace as every clench of her cunt does wonders to your brain, sending you into overdrive as continuous erotic and muffled moans escape Yuqi’s lips. Speaking of clenching, you could tell how close she is to achieving her own orgasm as not so long after, she pulled out of your fingers after multiple gags as she’s now calling out her near high.

“Daddy—I’m g-gonna cum s-so soon!”

Not wanting to deny anything as you can’t stop yourself either, soon, the inevitable will come for her as you gave her the green light: “Then cum for me, baby—don’t hold back.”

To further aid onto reaching her high, you gave her an onslaught of wild thrusts as she screams in delight, announcing her euphoric release. With still your cock buried deep in her pussy, she came hard as streams of her juices flowed around your girth and dripped onto the bed sheets, some on her thighs and your balls. Not really wanting to break the euphoric essence of pleasure, you’re still fucking her slowly and yet, your carnal desires kick in and fucked her like it’s your last, not giving her time to recover from her earlier strong orgasm. With such an incredible session you’ve been into, you want to end this on a better note and with that in mind, an idea comes into your mind for utmost arousal.

“Where do you want me to cum, Yuqi? Inside your tight, little cunt, filling you up to the brim? Or, all over your body where I can paint possibly every inch to show how much of a slut you are?”

Such ways of a hell of a release is such a spectacular sight, no matter what the concluding act is an arousing sight. With your proposal, Yuqi will always want your thick semen to be released inside her cunt, filling her up to the hilt but of course, you would choose the opposite, wanting to hear her beg for one more time. 

“I w-want you to c-cum in my pussy, daddy—use me and f-fill your girl up!”

“But I’d rather paint you instead of filling you up, how about that, hm, Yuqi?”

“But, please—daddy, I w-want it inside me, please…”

Being satisfied upon her pleas, you’ve thought of a brilliant idea of seeing her face while cumming, so, you pull out of her which earned an upset whine from her as you commanded her to face you as the grand finale is within your hand’s reach.

“Turn around so I can cum in you in this position.”

“Yes, daddy—o-oh! You’re s-so deep in t-this position, daddy! Please, fuck me hard and c-cum inside my slut pussy!”

Without holding anything back, you immediately plunge your length inside her as the penetration is crazy, filling her up balls-deep in every thrust. You’re fucking her like you meant it and you absolutely did, each thrust earning the most hypnotic jiggles of her thighs as her face expresses numerous emotions containing lust and delight, and soon, it’s about to break loose—the contained damn for ages about to break out, again. With your wet balls slapping repeated against her puckered hole, it just represents the wild pace you’re exerting as you didn’t announce your orgasm anymore, wanting to catch Yuqi off-guard but it’s like she couldn’t tell you’re about to go off considering your constant throbbing inside her tight walls.

You buried your shaft, filling her up to the hilt and immediately, you came, shooting another thick load of your seed deep in her as she moans and in order to silence it, you capture her lips as she immediately reciprocates, sharing such an intimate kiss between your orgasmic trance. Having enough of the battle of dominance onto each other’s mouth, you pull out your mouth of her as you did the same on your cock, meeting a sight of her now-creampied pussy as the sight is just worthy to behold—her cunt mixed with your semen and her juices and some seeping out of her hole and onto the bed sheets. With now your softening cock, you didn’t even bother to let her clean it up; but instead, you opted to pull her into a deep, passionate kiss one more time to voice your satisfaction on today’s steamy session.

“God, daddy—you came s-so much, thank you—hah…”

“Just don’t act like a bitch and you’ll be rewarded like that, Yuqi.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“Don’t even start it—you felt great too, though.”

Yuqi blushes as the compliment makes her lower her guard, not just with the fact that her ego is stroked but with the fact of genuinity laces on each of your words.

“You fucked me great too—wanna clean up?”

“Sure—just please, I don’t wanna have sex in the bathroom.”

“Hah—who knows? Maybe it could be more than that…” God, this girl will never change and it’s like she’s about to take another with her wobbly legs, you doubt she can do anything sexual for now but you won’t mind it—who damn knows, right?

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [8]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 7 | Fic Masterlist | Part 9

"Sir, the dressmaker has arrived with the mistress' first batch of clothes. Should I send him directly to the House of Lotus?" Jongho asked tentatively from the entrance of his master's study.

Removing his hands from his head, Seonghwa looked up and shook his head miserably, "Lord, no. Send him to me first," The assistant bowed and went to do as he was told, "Right away, sir."

Hongjoong entered the study without bothering to knock, hands propped on his hip as he stared at your husband, unamused, "Would you mind explaining why I'm here instead of presenting the new clothes to your wife, Park Seonghwa?"

"I need advice, Hongjoong." The general croaked, feeling quite lost for once. He had rarely ever been in such a situation; who knew all it took was one woman to put him in such misery. Not even the most vicious enemies he had fought in war could have ever fazed him this much.

He returned from work the day before, enthusiastically sharing his plans for the grand wedding he wanted to give you. However, things went south when he dropped the bomb about the visit to your old home, foolishly believing you would express joy at the prospect of flaunting your newfound happiness to your wicked family. Instead, you were gripped with fear at the idea. You ended up retiring to your quarters early and refused to come out ever since.

Goddamnit, I'm the biggest moron ever.

The dressmaker raised an amused brow, having never seen Seonghwa like this before. He went over to sit down across from his friend, "Hmm, I didn't think you'd be having trouble in paradise this soon. Let's hear it; we'll see if there's anything I can do for you and that lovely wife of yours."

Taking a deep breath, your husband started from the beginning, recounting every single thing that happened from the start of your arranged marriage until the present.

"Wait, you're taking her back to that wretched place? No wonder she's upset, you idiot! You said it yourself; she suffered so badly being caged in there all her life. I mean, sure, your cause is very noble—wanting to make her family pay for what they've done with this plan of yours. But you'd been so focused on that, you forgot how traumatising it could be for her, huh? You really didn't think that one through, my friend."

Letting out a groan, the general pulled at his hair, "Yes, thank you for repeating it all to me like I didn't already know what I did wrong. Now, tell me what exactly it is that I can do to make it all better."

"You're welcome. Oh, I'll tell you what to do, all right. You best keep your dumbass seated here while I talk to her," instructed Hongjoong, watching expectantly as your husband frowned, "What? Why should you talk to her? It's my mess; I should be the one to clean it up."

Sighing, the dressmaker explained, "Look, we all know the only way for you to make things better is to not take her back to the damn house at all. But you do have a point, okay? You've come this far with your plan, and as much as it sucks, she must go there with you in order for this to work out. So, you stay put, and let me convince her to go willingly with you, got it?"

Seonghwa nodded reluctantly, realising his friend was right. As much as he hated how charming Hongjoong was and how persuasive he could be, he would have to rely on those skills to help you see things in the bigger picture. Sure, you were not privy to any details about the revenge, but hopefully, he will be able to make you at least want to stand up to your family for once.

"Lady Park, it's Hongjoong. I've brought your first batch of clothing. May I have permission to enter?" Blinking in surprise, you straightened up, not expecting to hear the dressmaker's voice, "O-okay, please come in."

Despite the anxious state you'd been in since the revelation your husband had dropped upon you the night before, you couldn't help but smile at the unusually colourful outfit of your visitor. Eunsook followed behind him with a group of servants filing in to deliver the precious cargo into your quarters.

The head maid felt relieved to see you smiling again, even if it was only a little. She had been concerned about you after witnessing your retreat into your old shell the previous night, as the fear you demonstrated reminded everyone of your initial arrival.

In an effort to distract you from your upsetting thoughts, the dressmaker quickly pulled out a few designs he thought you'd love, "Come, take a look at this! I made it the way you preferred and added a little touch of my magic. What do you think?"

Fortunately, his strategy worked like a charm, and you immediately moved over to him with sparkly eyes, marvelling at some of the most beautiful hanboks you'd ever seen, even prettier than the ones he had displayed in his shop.

As you admired the clothes in front of you, Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with the elderly woman. Nodding, she quietly exited your room along with the rest of the servants, leaving you alone with your husband's old friend.

But you weren't entirely alone, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was right outside, listening intently. He didn't spare any of his servants a glance as they all passed by him with a deep bow, waving his hand carelessly in a gesture to ask them to leave quickly.

"Hey, you haven't answered me. Do you like them, Lady Park?" The dressmaker asked, a teasing smile on his face as he found your endearing shyness adorable.

You nodded quickly, "Yes, I do. I love them. They're all perfect. I just... don't know if I deserve to wear any of these." The general felt his heart clench at your response, realising you were still far from being able to love yourself.

With a scoff, Hongjoong moved to stand beside you, "I'll have you know I only make dresses for people I deem worthy of them. Not just anyone can wear my designs, you know. And you, by far, are probably my favourite client. So that says a lot."

Your husband silently agreed with those words, resisting the urge to rush in there and hold you tight, to tell you that you deserved only the best, that you deserved everything good in the world.

Lowering your head, you fiddled with your fingers before replying in a small voice, "You're only saying that because I'm the general's wife..."

Sighing lightly, the dressmaker turned to face you, "You're not wrong... but that's exactly because not just anyone can be Lady Park. Many women before you tried to be in your position. Regardless of their efforts, he never would have given them the time of day. Yet, he wholeheartedly accepted you."

Recognising the doubt in your eyes, he further explained, "I understand if you think these are just words. But that's probably because you don't know the general like I do. We've known each other since joining the military in our teens. Back then, the Seonghwa I knew would never bat an eyelash at any woman."

As you slowly looked up to meet his kind eyes, intrigued to learn more about your husband's past, he continued, "Those rumours about him being the cold-blooded general were not lies. He really was as merciless as they say. He still is, just not to you. When I saw him again for the first time after years that day, I couldn't believe the man in front of me was the same friend I once knew. He's different around you; he's different because of you."

"It's evident that you're special to him, that you mean something to him. He cares so much about you; do you realise that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you hurriedly blinked them back. The thought of someone genuinely caring for you still seemed surreal despite the amount of care that had been shown to you since living here. However, you were starting to understand that he was right.

Hongjoong grinned, seeing the effectiveness of his words, "You're the first and only woman who can tame Park Seonghwa, so you are beyond worthy of my dresses."

Before you could even attempt to protest, he held up a hand, "And don't bother telling me I'm wrong because I'm never wrong."

You couldn't help but giggle at his sassy words, and he smiled sincerely at you, saying, "So don't you dare question whether you deserve these clothes. You're the only one who deserves them because these are made only for you, do you understand?"

This time, you nodded with a wide smile.

"I want you to wear my dresses proudly and show the world who you are: the great Lady Park, the only woman General Park wants as his wife. No one will dare disrespect or look down on you again."

Feeling as if he knew exactly what had been worrying you, you felt touched. He was right; you were not who you used to be. You had no reason to cower from your family, recalling their belittling assumptions about your survival in this marriage. Now was your chance to prove them wrong.

With newfound determination, you nodded firmly, "You're right, I will. Thank you, Hongjoong. You're a good friend; Seonghwa is lucky to have you."

He crossed his arms over his chest cheekily, "I sure am. That fool hasn't a clue how fortunate he is."

Mission accomplished.

Pumping his fists in victory, your husband silently cheered outside, brushing off the playful taunts from his friend. Just this once, he would forgive Kim Hongjoong.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

The general turned to you as your carriage came to a stop, marking your arrival at what you assumed to be the Jang estate, your former prison. With a resolute nod, you smiled up at him, "I am."

As you moved to exit the vehicle, your husband halted you. Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed reassuringly into your eyes, "Remember, whatever happens, I'm here with you. You're not alone from now on; I'll always be here to protect you."

"I know, Seonghwa. I believe in you."

His heart melted at those words, and he couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed, holding onto his wrists, cherishing the warmth he was providing.

"Alright, let's go." Leaving one final peck on your cheek, he got out of the carriage and swiftly helped you down, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. Eunsook stood there, mouth agape, that was initially meant to be her responsibility but she realised her assistance was no longer needed at the moment.

Jongho grinned, nudging the elderly woman on the shoulder as they followed their master and mistress into the minister's estate, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the familiar surroundings that once made you feel small. Feeling a reassuring squeeze on your hand, you found comfort in your husband's presence.

Yes, he's here with you now.

Nothing bad will happen.

His grip on your hand tightened, and his warm smile, reserved only for you, vanished when a few of your father's servants nervously stumbled out, bowing deeply before both of you, "Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Jang estate."

The brave front you had put on seemed to falter slightly as you realised the servants here remained the same, showing no acknowledgement despite you no longer being their prisoner. Seonghwa, glaring at the maids in front of him, growled in a low voice, "You've left out Lady Park. Will you not greet my wife?"

Gulping on behalf of the servants, you witnessed the return of the general's intimidating demeanour. Hongjoong was right; he was still terrifying, just not to you.

The maids bowed deeper, "B-but sir—"

"What is going on here?" That voice resonated across the courtyard, causing your heart to plummet to the lowest pit of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't ready to face them at all. Your father emerged from the main hall, wearing an expression that was far from pleased.

You pressed closer to your husband, and instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close. The minister's eyebrow raised in surprise at your refined appearance; he nearly did not recognise you. You were even more stunning than on the day you left this place, seemingly given a complete makeover.

Aside from that, he realised the general had meant his words when he had spoken so highly of you during assembly. Witnessing the intimacy between the two of you, there was undeniable evidence of shared affection. Your father began to question whether marrying you to his enemy was a mistake in the first place.

Seonghwa smirked, "Ahh, Minister Jang, it seems your servants do not know proper manners. They did not greet my wife, and that, to me, is punishable."

The old man felt his eye twitch at the general's satisfied grin before responding, "Well, I'm their master, so I decide what is punishable, General Park."

"Right, well, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want people to find out what rotten-mannered staff my father-in-law has in his estate, not knowing how to show respect to even the general's wife."

"You do realise that before she became your wife, she's my daughter first." Your father sneered, and you felt sick at that, to be called his daughter when you've never once been treated as such.

Remaining unfazed, your husband retorted, "All the more reasons for them to show respect to their eldest miss then, no?"

Jongho and Eunsook bowed their heads in an effort to hide their snickers at the minister's red face flushing in embarrassment. He should have known better than to think he could win the general in an argument, "R-right. What are you fools standing around for? Show Lady Park some bloody respect!"

The line of servants bowed all the way down pathetically, "Yes, master! Good morning, General Park and Lady Park! Welcome to the Jang estate!" They chanted loudly, enough to bring about the rest of your family, coming out to witness what all the fuss was about.

"Very well, let us head in then." With a bored expression, Seonghwa walked into the hall with you, moving right past your stepmother and stepsisters intentionally, paying them no mind as he helped you into a seat before settling down beside you.

All four of the women standing in the main hall were rooted to their spots, eyes bulging as they took in the sight of you and your husband. First of all, you were nearly unrecognisable. If they thought you looked pretty on the day you got married, you were now almost a hundred times more beautiful, though they would rather die than ever admit it out loud.

Beyond your enhanced appearance, they were more taken aback by the general's beauty. He was nothing like they had imagined; he must have been one of the most attractive men ever, or at least the most handsome one they had seen so far.

Suddenly, your stepsisters were even angrier than they were upon learning about your stupid grand wedding. They were now furious with their father for never having told them about how good-looking General Park truly was. If only they knew, they would have volunteered to marry him themselves.

But what if there was still hope for them?

What if they had a chance?

After all, you hadn't officially wed Seonghwa yet and were merely here to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony. Perhaps, with enough effort, they could still win him over. If a peasant like you could seduce the general, why couldn't any of them? With this determination in mind, the three stepsisters promptly began adjusting their appearances as you all gathered around the main hall.

You didn't appreciate the way your stepsisters were eyeing your husband, although you understood their motives. Sensing your discomfort, Seonghwa moved closer to you in his seat, whispering in your ear, "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"

Nodding lightly, you looked up with a small smile, "I am, as long as you're with me," He couldn't resist smiling at your words as he gave you a gentle peck on the head, "Good."

That should be me!

The three stepsisters clenched their fists, their fury intensifying as they witnessed the handsome general being affectionate with you. It should have been them; the title of the general's wife was more befitting a noblewoman like them, not a rat like you. How dare you sit there in their place as if you deserved it?

In an attempt to break the silence, Jinah cleared her throat and made her move, "Have you been well, unnie? I missed you so much! Did you know how worried I was about you? You must have had such a hard time, especially after you adamantly refused to marry General Park."

Seonghwa raised a brow in amusement, while you remained quiet, unsure how to respond to such a blatant lie. Jinjoo scoffed at your lack of response, "Unnie! Will you really not answer Jinah at all? You've always been like that, so ungrateful when we care so much about you!"

"Really? My wife being ungrateful? That's wild. I cannot imagine her like that at all." Your husband chuckled, holding you close when he felt you begin to tremble.

Jinhee's fists shook with envy as she nodded pitifully, "Yes, that's because you haven't known her well enough, my lord. She can be so scary when she's mad, you know how the eldest usually are."

Minister Jang rubbed a tired hand over his head when he realised what his stepdaughters were trying to do. Of course, these foolish girls would easily be blinded by the general's appearance. Even his own wife, seated beside him, found it difficult to take her eyes off the gorgeous young man.

Jongho and Eunsook, positioned behind you and their master, were making every effort to contain the irritation they felt. The audacity of these women to feign innocence after what they've put you through all these years. They were once again thankful not to have any of these conniving foxes as their mistress.

Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, Seonghwa laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. Are you sure you're not all talking about yourselves?" In an instant, his smile dropped, and he sent your stepsisters a death stare as if daring them to continue spouting more ridiculous lies about you.

Left in stunned silence, they blinked nervously and avoided his eyes, unprepared for his questioning. It was clear that they hadn't planned their silly little act thoroughly.

Damn it, how did that worthless thing manage to gain his favour?

"That's enough." The minister declared firmly, not wanting his stepdaughters to continue embarrassing themselves. All he wanted was to get the general out of his house as soon as possible. Every moment that Seonghwa remained felt like a threat; your father was walking on eggshells around him.

Pushing himself off his seat, the old man addressed your husband, "You mentioned wanting to see the environment your wife grew up in, right? Let's proceed with that before we delve into discussions about your wedding arrangements. I don't have all day."

"Sure, can't wait." Seonghwa responded smugly, standing up with your hand securely in his. A sense of unease washed over you as you wondered what kind of deception your father would employ. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal your actual room to the general. Dread filled you, and you longed to return home.

Your real home, not this nightmare.

« Preview of Part 9 »

As you all followed the minister around the estate while he showed the general what was supposed to be your old room, Jongho exchanged a glance with the private investigator who was still posing as a staff member in the estate.

"This is unnie's room; she has the biggest and nicest one out of all of us. She's so lucky and doesn't even know it. I'm the youngest and I have the smallest room; I'd honestly be happy to have anything at all." Jinjoo said innocently, playing with a strand of hair as she batted her eyelashes at Seonghwa.

You stared blankly at the room supposedly designated as yours. It was merely a guest room rearranged with some of your stepsisters' belongings to create the illusion of long-term habitation. Sensing Jinah and Jinhee's intense gazes on you, you turned to find them glaring daggers at you as if daring you to speak up and disclose the truth to your husband.

If you voiced your denial, who would believe you? It was your entire family against you alone. Would there even be a point in trying?

Just as doubt started to creep in, Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you, reminding you of his support, "Is that true, my dear? Is this your room? It doesn't really seem to be your style at all."

Everyone held their breath, awaiting your response, but you remained silent, fixing your gaze on the familiar space where you spent your entire life, now masquerading as a storeroom.

"What is it that you're staring at so intently, hm? Let's go take a look."

Oh, crap.

Shit will go down in the next part, I assure you. Patience, my dearest readers, patience HAHA this part was focused more on setting the stage for the main event.😈

Also, I've created a mood board for this fic. If you haven't already checked it out, go take a look! I might consider making another one that depicts Seonghwa's estate if I'm able to find the right images.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[murdrdocs]

RIDING DAVE LIZEWSKI'S THIGH!!!!!! 😧

okay so listen listen ; SMUT 16+

riding dave's thigh can go a couple of ways me thinks.

the first, it's to put on a show for him. in these moments, you're perched on his lap, trying to kiss, grind, and massage away his stress and the tension in his body. he's a fucking superhero without any powers, of course he's always stressed and sore and bruised. and there's not much you can do on your front. you know trying to convince him to give it up is fruitless, and you can't go out there and fight off crime. so you play the role of the doting girlfriend; there in the middle of the night to patch up injuries and kiss it better. tonight, luckily, you're doing more of the latter than the former. he's come in stressed, nothing but a few scrapes and bruises decorating his pretty face, but he's already changed out of the kick-ass suit and now he's just dave. your sweet dave who is holding onto your hips for dear life as you kiss him until he's dizzy and his glasses are skewed.

"tell me about your day," you're telling him, rubbing your lips together which makes dave aware of the sheer amount of lip gloss that he has on his lips now.

he tries to do as he's asked, but you've started to straddle one of his thighs and he watches you lower yourself. he starts from when he'd first talked to you this morning, and you're nodding your head, little "uh-huh"s leaving your lips in affirmation. but those noises of affirmation go from letting him know that you're listening, to letting him know how much pleasure you're feeling.

you're pushing your hips back and forth, letting the friction from your flimsy shorts and dave's jeans please you. your eyes screw shut, your head lolls back, but you're still saying, "uh-huh" and "yes". the noises are driving him crazy, a prominent pitch forming at his crotch. your hands are on his shoulders, pushing into the muscles, relieving them of their tension little by little. but its like with every push, dave's muscles relax, then tense tenfold. he can't relax when his pretty girlfriend is riding his thigh, listening to him rant about his suddenly-unimportant day while she gets off in front of him, evidently putting on a show.

whenever you push your shorts to the side, letting dave know that you weren't wearing any underwear, he flips you over and pushes his fingers inside instead, giving up on the whole run down on his day.

the second, is to deprive him of what he wants. similarly to the first, you're putting on a show. but you both knew that the ending would be slightly different. dave's been pissing you off; snarky remarks, avoiding you, treating you like you weren't that important. which, sure, you understood that he has other important things to do. but you're not asking to be treated like the fucking queen of england. you just want some basic respect that he was more than capable of giving you last week.

so when he comes into your bedroom late at night, beaten and bruised, on the verge of tears, you try to ignore the way your heart strings tug. "baby, i'm sorry, please, i just need your help."

you're upset, but you're not a sociopath. so you take him to your bathroom and clean him up, but when his hands try to reach for your skin, you're flinching away, or swatting his hand off. but if dave lizewski is anything, he's persistent. so he keeps doing it until you end up in his lap.

but you're not looking at him. you're looking at the cut on his forehead, at the cut at the corner of his lip, at the bruise that's forming on his eye and at his jaw.

"look at me. please," he's trying, his thumbs rubbing what he thinks is soothing circles at the exposed skin of your thighs. you're not caving though. even whenever he says, "let me kiss it better? let me fuck it better?" and maybe that would've worked when you weren't pissed at your boyfriend. maybe. but now all it does is rile you up.

"i don't need you to get off, dave." you spit his name out, reaching over to throw out the cotton balls that you'd just used. when you come back to face him, he has a slightly condescending smile on his face.

"sure, but you know it feels better when i do it."

he might be right, but you're not one to back down from a fight. you're not gonna let him win this sort of argument. so you situate to straddle one thigh, stare into his blue eyes, and watch as you start to slowly drag your hips along his quad, exaggerating your moans just to get a reaction out of him.

[jewish-vents]

I was adopted by Jewish people and converted to Judaism when I was a teenager. The morality Judaism offers has guided me through navigating my personality disorder, my severe alexithymia, my impaired judgment and my bouts of irrational paranoia. My original family lost custody of me because they beat me senseless, starved me, burned me, broke my bones and actually killed my sister by beating her to death. My girlfriend, a goy, texted me images of alleged victims of the IDF that a single reverse Google image search would have showed her are victims of US military intervention in Syria. And she honestly said, "Sometimes I think it would be better if you hadn't been adopted so you weren't technically sort of part of Israel."

I've never been to Israel but I have been up all night and now, as the dawn breaks, I've come to the conclusion I need to cut her out of my life. My whole life I've struggled with outbursts of anger, it's a part of most Cluster B personality disorders. When she said that I wasn't angry. I felt hollowed out. It feels like she ripped the personhood out of me. Because if you care about a person's well-being, you would never, EVER look at them and go, "I think it would be better if you had stayed with literal child murderers rather than be Jewish, which I am going to conflate not just with Israel but with the image of the IDF spread online". I can't be angry because it's so cruel I can't wrap my mind around it. It seems unreal. I kept checking for hours, convinced I must be having a break from reality because of the stress. I kept thinking it must be a visual hallucination. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and this is going to be a very strange dream.

I know breaking up with her is going to hurt her very badly no matter how nicely I do it. We've been dating a very long time. But I want to have kids someday and I can't do it with a woman who would rather I be dead than be Jewish. I'm not a guy who does the whole "my partner's beliefs have to match mine" thing but I can't raise Jewish children with her. I can't even trust her to see me clearly.

It's taking everything in my power not to say anything to her until I can calm down enough to approach this from a stable place. In my entire life, I don't think a single thing someone has said has ever messed me up so profoundly in my life.

I'm sorry I'm rambling. I can feel that I'm all over the place. Feel free not to publish this if it's too long. I can't imagine how much stress running this blog is. You probably get a bunch of hate and garbage on top of the already hard job of reading everyone's pain. I hope you're taking care of yourself. Thank you for running this blog.

I'm so sorry for all of that. I think you're making the right decision to cut her out. It's very reasonable to worry about how she might treat any children you have in the future, but that was also an indefensibly cruel thing to say to you.

Breaking up might hurt her, but that isn't your fault. You need to take care of yourself. -🐞

[linmeiwei]

Do you really think Darcy and Elizabeth would be happy together? It's one thing to not care if an insufferable aunt doesn't like your bride, but it's very different when friends and peers start treating him like an idiot for marrying an unimportant and "tolerable" country girl. Also when he realizes that Georgiana will not be getting the same suitors that he would expect.

That's why I think their marriage is not going to be all that. Don't get me wrong, I don't believe Darcy would start being cruel or disrespectful to Elizabeth like Mr Bennet was to his wife. But to continue happily married? I don't think so.

Oh I strongly disagree! I think Darcy and Elizabeth would be extremely happy in marriage.

As to the social consequences of his marrying a tolerable country girl, I'm not convinced that they would be so dire. The Bennets' ruin was averted through Lydia's marriage, I'm not sure it would be talked about much in the wider world. More to the point, he has a powerful family in whose interest it would be, once the Darcy/Elizabeth marriage happened, to make sure Elizabeth was accepted in all the right circles. They'd likely ensure that Lady C didn't do or say anything to spoil the family's standing. We know from some hints in the novel itself that, once push comes to shove, even those who don't like Elizabeth and may know something of the Wickham fiasco, are too afraid to lose the privilege of friendship with Darcy to continue being a nuisance about it (e.g. Caroline Bingley).

We also know that Elizabeth isn't really only tolerable. She's charming, attractive and clever. I genuinely think that she'd actually make quite a hit once let loose in Darcy's world.

Finally, there's Darcy himself. I'm conscious that people interpret his character very differently to me (e.g. they think he's shy or anxious or on the spectrum) so this is very much my interpretation but… going by some of the descriptions we have of his character, he just doesn't seem like the sort of guy to let himself be swayed much by popular opinion. E.g. in this bit, which takes place in Netherfield, when Darcy and Bingley discuss each other's character traits (paraphrasing):

Darcy: When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning, that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself […] but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, ‘Bingley, you had better stay till next week,’ you would probably do it—you would probably not go—and, at another word, might stay a month.

Elizabeth: You have only proved by this that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself.

Bingley: I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me if, under such a circumstance, I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could.

In another conversation, he says himself that "[his] feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them."

He's just not a volatile sort of guy. He knows his own mind, he knows Elizabeth's merits, and (for all his faults) he's the sort of strong type A that would see it as his responsibiltiy to captain his ship out of any storm rather than abandon it or feel annoyed with it for having got into a storm.

I honestly struggle trying to imagine any set of events that would be at all likely, in which these two were anything other than deeply in love, delighted in each other’s company and devoted to one another.

[lavender-romancer]

Winter

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader CW: suicide mentions, conflict

You wanted to be his again, not owned by him but a part of him. But it had been so long since you'd felt close to Ivar that it felt out of reach as he descended into rage filled madness

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

You were drifting apart more and more with every hastily made decision fueled by anger that Ivar made. He would curse you, berate you and you could do anything because you didn't trust that he wouldn't kill you himself. You knew something was deathly wrong when you kept finding yourself high on a hill looking over a rock face, moving closer to the edge every time and not feeling afraid. It was impossible to not feel that you were lost in the dark of Ivar's tyranny. But you still craved his adoration, his love and the affirmation that he only wanted you. All of these things would never happen now, you weren't good enough for him.

You needed him running through your veins like a sickness that couldn't be cured- a toxicity that fuelled your love and in turn, your hatred for him. You didn't want to need anyone, when you were younger your mother had always taught you to never need anyone more than yourself. To stay self-reliant and not let anyone control you but, it was impossible. When you met Ivar he was the son of Ragnar, a grumpy boy with no battle experience and a soft spot for you. Now, after 6 years of marriage you couldn't decide if you needed to try harder or just throw yourself on to that cliff face.

"It feels like he's trying to erase me, fade me out of his life and forget I was ever there." You told Helga as you sat descaling some fish with her.

"Ivar is… complicated, I'm sure I had this conversation with you when you started seeing him. He's a different type of person from us. Not as emotional," she tried to smile but could tell that her words weren't necessarily comforting.

"I was so convinced that he loved me then, that he would do anything for me. But he just wants power and money and meaningless sex, I just can't believe he deceived me into this marriage." Helga suddenly gripped your hand.

"This is not your fault. As you said, you were deceived by someone who claimed to love you. The boy has some kind of power. It pulls some people in and I don't know what it is but it captured you," She paused. "I think you should tell him."

"He wouldn't even see me, I can guarantee there's a thrall rooted to his lap right now." You clenched your teeth together and tried to hold in your rage.

"You need to let it out, your rage. Go to the top of a mountain and scream, allow yourself to feel it." Helga suggested and you nodded.

"What I really want is to have him, it's pathetic but I'm so in love with him it's hard to overcome." You placed down the fish and groaned.

"It will pass, and if it doesn't, meet someone else who will be more emotionally attentive. Ivar seems like the kind of man who needs other people's feelings laid out in front of him." Helga smiled and her dark rimmed eyes made contact with you as the two of you carried on with the fish.

Ivar was drunk out of his mind, two naked thralls sitting on his lap as he'd occasionally take their breasts into his mouth. Some days he would forget you were even his wife, you hardly saw each other. He wouldn't say it was an excuse for his behavior but it was definitely a promoting factor of it. You used to smother him, cover him in a blanket of affection and make him feel like no one could hurt him. Ivar didn't remember when that stopped but he also didn't remember when he began sleeping with other women. The crossover between the two was so seamless it made him feel less remorseful, as if your absence made his actions warranted.

When Ivar saw you walk into the Great hall he felt less than he thought he would. In some ways he was happy to see how miserable you looked, hopeful you'd come crawling back to him in pure adoration. Ivar couldn't think of a better way to gain a woman's affection than by making her jealous. Unaware of his ridiculous thought process, Ivar continued looking you up and down through his eyebrows. You could only glare back at him as you headed towards your room, but you annoyingly had to go past Ivar.

"You despise me, wife?" Ivar asked and you stopped in your tracks, sighing deeply.

"Yes." You said simply, even though you loved him you needed him to wake up.

"But… that's not. What?" He said confused, pushing the thralls to the floor, with a resounding yelp from both the women.

"What do you want, Ivar?" You looked at him with such disdain it genuinely surprised him.

"You cannot speak to me like that!" He yelled and you sighed again.

"Then kill me." You sounded defeated, you didn't care anymore. It would be easier for it to all be over so you didn't have to deal with the emotional turmoil of him.

"I'm not going-" he paused. "You are my wife! Why won't you respect me?" He yelled again and you almost winced at the level of noise he was making.

For a few moments all you could hear was the scrape of his crutch and the crackle of the fire, for a moment it felt surprisingly peaceful. You just wanted to exist in that scene, a beautiful fire with furs on the floor in front of it where the local children would sit and be told stories. There was such a serenity to watching children's faces as they listened to a story, they hadn't experienced the hurt or the pain. All they knew was that this was their favourite day because they could sit inside the great hall and feel important. Even Ivar couldn't take that sense of pride away from them.

"Are you going to say anything, wife?" Ivar broke the blissful silence and you couldn't quite believe how aggravating it all was.

"I hate you, I hate what you've done to me." Was all you said and he looked astonished.

"I won't have this bullshit!" He yelled even louder before calling for his guards. "Tie her to a tree in the forest." He swatted you away like you were a pest but, at this point you saw no reason to resist. Ivar would do whatever he wanted with his power and most of the time that would mean fucking you around.

Even the guards were uncomfortable as they threw a rope over a strong tree branch and tied you by your wrists so that your arms always had to be extended. It wasn't the worst punishment you could have got, you were surprised Ivar hadn't got a lust for blood when you disrespected him. He would continue to degrade you and debase you no matter what you did, even though you loved him it didn't matter anymore. Ivar was so consumed by greed or power or hatred for you that he couldn't focus on anything else.

Your heart felt cold and tight. There wasn't any room for any more love because you had given it all away to someone who didn't want it or didn't realise how much he needed it. In one breath you would hope that he would just come and kill you and in the other, you still hoped he would wait for you. That he would allow your coupling to at least attempt to survive. Sometimes when you were around Ivar, you would feel a tiny part of your body decompose. One part of you died because you couldn't hold on to someone who only wanted to break away from you. But all you wanted was to be taken back to when you were younger, you needed him, you wanted him and he would never be what he was again.

[emthimofnight]

Hello

So how would your fankids react to someone proclaiming their love to them? Asking for a friend🙏🏻

And for scientific purposes ofc

AIGHT HERE YOU GO:

Stellar: Very flustered and wondering if it is a joke. She's never been confessed to before and wouldn't know how to respond! She might make an excuse to leave to avoid embarrassing herself further. 😂

Camellia: Has been confessed to numerous times and knows how to deal with it with dignity. She is very aloof with men and is quick to nip any attraction to her in the bud. She would be far more flustered if a pretty girl confessed to her, though!

Thistle: His sister is the one always having suitors chase her around, so he would be DELIGHTED to have someone confess to him!! Being the young prince, he is often overlooked or overshadowed. He's quite the romantic at heart and often dreams of what his future partner might be like!

Jasper: He'd be very amused and would love the attention. He's a total playboy, so he eats shit like that up! If he found the person attractive, he might even entertain a date or two to see if they click. No promises for anything long-term, though!

Jade: Very chill. Would thank the confessor for the sentiment and would even go on a date with them if prompted. Kind of unintentionally a heartbreaker because she treats everyone with the same level of interest. It is very hard to tell if she likes someone more than the usual amount, or if that is just how she is!

Calico: Would be quite touched that someone had feelings for them, and would certainly try to reciprocate, if possible. They recognize how hard it is to put yourself out there and would do their best to give the person a chance!

Mirage: Oh, man. Good luck to anyone brave enough to confess to this jackass. He'd probably just say, "You have good taste," accept the flowers or chocolates and walk off. 💀 I think the only way someone would be successful in wooing Mirage is if they were someone that managed to get close to him first.

BONUS KIDS FROM OTHER AUS:

Serene: VERY FLUSTERED. Would turn red as a beet and try to hide her face. She might accidentally send the confessor flying with telekinesis, which would make her want to sink into the ground and disappear. 😂

Void: He would smirk and accept whatever offering of affection given, his eyes lacking any real light in them. He just assumes it is natural for someone to be attracted to him and cannot imagine any other specimen being able to compete with him. He believes it is logical to desire someone powerful as a mate, and who out there is better than he? That being said, whether he actually reciprocates is entirely determined by what he could get out of the person confessing.

Andromeda: Absolutely gobsmacked. She would have no idea how to react! She would be both happy to be receiving such attention, and horrified because she has no idea how to respond. She might end up sending the person confessing to her flying just to get out of the situation. That being said, she is a lesbian, and while she might enjoy having that kind of attention regardless of gender, she would only ever reciprocate those feelings to another woman.

Polarity: He would think that the person confessing to him was somehow put up to it or trying to prank him. If he was convinced the person was serious, he would be a floundering mess. Like, "Are you sure?" and "ME? You really want ME?". Once he got over the hurdle of his own self-esteem, he'd be really happy someone wanted him that way, regardless if he reciprocated those feelings or not.

[tumblingxelian]

@princess-of-the-corner

Thinking of Aware Lila being part of the group and how that probably pisses Marinette off and had this discussion in mind.

Marinette was practically pulling out her pig tails as Kagami watched on with a fond sort of bemusement at the girls expressive antics.

"I just don't get why she has to keep lying, its so frustrating listening to her just spew nonsense after nonsense like its nothing."

Kagami tilted her head, just a little, "It is quite obviously vexing you, and for that I am sorry."

Marinette waved her off, "You're not the one whose pants should be on fire. Though... I mean why do you hang out with her? Chloe & Adrien I kind of get, your parents are all vaguely aligned and you're in the same circles. Lila's not actually rich or famous-" Marinette gasped, "Has she tricked your parents!?"

Kagami actually let out a huff of amusement, despite its quiet nature, it ran through her whole body.

"That would be amusing to see, my mother hanging on Lila's every word, but no. That woman has no time for even sly boasting and the others parents are little different."

She held up her hand when Marinette looked ready to speak and added, "Lila's mother is genuinely a diplomat, and while not in our parents sphere of wealth she is connected enough that it behooves all of us to at least be polite."

Marinette sighed and flopped back down on the bed at Kagami's side.

"I suppose, though you'd think being able to attend events like you do and having a respected diplomat for a mother would be enough. Like its not even as if she's stupid or has no talents so she has to make things up to brag about even. What's the point? I just... I don't get why someone would lie when they don't have to."

Kagami stilled, and Marinette watched as her friends manner shifted, no longer angling towards her but instead stiff as she stared into space. Experience said to let Kagami think and after a minute of growing anxiety in the silence, Kagami spoke, her voice like tempered glass, strong but made of fragile things.

"I don't think you can understand, Marinette... Or perhaps it is not something I have the words to explain. Maybe if you experienced it... But I would never wish that on you, never."

She finally turned to Marinette, gaze intense, even as her eyes focused somewhere other than Marinette's own.

"It is love, it always comes back to love, or more, the absence of it and the quest to find it, to claim it. To let it fill that gaping chasm inside yourself that exists only because of something integrals absence."

Marinette took one of Kagami's hands and squeezed and saw the fencers breathing steady as she pressed on.

"You can't imagine what its like to never know it but always feel like its just out of reach. The depths someone might sink, the lengths they would go to finally have it."

"You might convince yourself if you just twist yourself a little more for them, tear another piece of yourself away, break yourself or someone else, that it will finally be granted to you. That you can let it sink deep into your bones and sinew and finally, oh finally, you can be happy without hurting."

Marinette shuffled closer, pressing herself at Kagami's side.

"If you can't do that, can't trick yourself into going down that path on a fruitless quest you do the next best thing. You lie. You lie to yourself, or to others. Because even false happiness is better than real despair. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself, even as you starve and wither on the inside..."

Kagami's entire body shuddered, it was somehow both the most powerful sensation Marinette had ever felt and the most subtle she'd ever seen. A reminder that even in her moments of deepest hurt Kagami could not show even a hint of weakness.

Her eyes were stinging now, and Marinette let out a sob.

Kagami's entirely frame pivoted to her, something like terror in her eyes. "Marinette, I- I don't now what I did, b-" She let out a surprised breath as Marinette practically flung herself into the taller girls embrace, pressing Kagami down on the mattress of her bed.

"You didn't make me cry... I'm crying... Because you can't, and you deserve to!" The other girl's powerful arms embraced her so tightly it was like she wanted them to stay locked together forever.

She buried her face in Kagami's neck and whispered, "You are loved, I love you Kagami."

Kagami couldn't speak, so she just held tighter, letting Marinette etch herself ever deeper inside her soul and sinew. She'd do anything for this moment to last.

[euphoricimagination]

First Interactions

Feat. Oikawa, Kuroo & Osamu

Oikawa

Your friend has been bugging you for what feels like forever for you to go to see the volleyball team practice with her, and you have been denying it for the same time. It’s not like you didn’t know that your school was one of the power houses in the whole Miyagi when it comes to volleyball, you did know that. You’ve seen them play, and you actually like them enough to go to support them in official matches.

It’s the amount of girls screaming what annoyed you.

You understand it, really, Oikawa IS handsome and has a flirty personality, it’s no wonder so many girls like him. But you’ve never been fan of loud places when it’s not in the appropriate place. On a real match? Sure, it makes sense to cheer loudly for them, but it was unnecessary on a practice match.

But still, your friend has tried so hard to convince you that you could at least accept once.

You were entering the gym, but since you didn’t come here often outside of PE classes, you enter the building through the normal doors instead of the ones leading to the viewing area. A big mistake from your part.

You could hear the sneakers running around, the loud sounds of the ball hitting the players arms. Seijoh versus a school named Karasuno. After a point passed to your team, you started looking for some stairs to get out of the floor, completely missing that the infamous Oikawa was about to serve.

A loud sound from his hand hitting the ball and a loud sound from the ball hitting the court was enough to make you look that way. Just on time to see the ball coming directly at you with an ungodly speed and force. You hear some screams your way, but couldn’t make up what they were saying to you, you were only able to lift up your arms right before the impact.

Before you realize it you were on the floor, your wrist hurting so much that you couldn’t even scream in pain. Your ears were ringing, your eyes were watery; yet you could hear sneakers getting closer and some shadows appearing in front of you. They were moving their mouths, but you couldn’t make up any sound until someone kneel in front of you, making you sit properly while holding one of you arms.

“Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?” you finally were able to process, your vision less blurry helping you make out the brown hair and worry eyes of the perpetrator of the serve. A bunch of the players looking at you with worry

“My…my wrist” you say. At that Oikawa takes your wrist on his hand carefully, making you gasp in pain

“She should go to the infirmary, Oikawa’s serves are too strong for a normal person to take” one of the coaches say as the players quickly start to disperse to resume the game

“I suggest Shittykawa to take her there. He hurt her, he should do it” said the spikey black hair dude, hitting the back of the Captain’s neck when he complained “or I could always punch you”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take her” Oikawa says, helping you up carefully “Let’s go”

The walk towards the infirmary wasn’t long, but it was awkward to the say the least. You knew he didn’t hit you on purpose, yet you didn’t know what to say to him. Once there, the nurse instructed him to hold an ice package on your wrist for a few minutes before bandaging it up, so you both stayed in silence sitting there, you in a horrible pain.

“I’m…I’m sorry” he finally says “I did saw you there, but I didn’t thought the ball will go directly at you. I’m still working on controlling that serve”

“It’s okay, I guess I shouldn’t have enter that way” you also say

“No, it’s totally my fault” he lifts up his head, looking at you with a small smirk on “if I didn’t knew better I would think that you did this just so I could hold your hand”

“You are full of yourself, not everyone likes you, you know?” you defended yourself, hearing him laugh

“And yet I’ve seen you in every match I’ve played” he smirks again, making you blush. He has noticed you multiple times, something about you always makes his eyes find you even in the largest of crowds. Maybe it was because you absolute indifference towards him in particular, maybe it was because you solely seem to focus on the sport, but that was enough to spark some interest in him.

“Me liking volleyball has nothing to do with you” you say blushing

“Sure…Let’s have a fresh start, okay? One that doesn’t involve me hurting your wrist?” he smiles at you, that smile that he gives whenever he wants something. And that something now was getting to know you.

After returning to the gym, this time entering through the right doors, your friends greets you excitedly, asking a bunch of questions about Oikawa. However now you’re with a hurt wrist and a promise to grab some coffee after the match finishes.

Kuroo

You were late.

You were on cleaning duty for your class today and were supposed to meet your classmate around 10 minutes ago to start arranging the tables and chairs, but something had happened in the subway and you had to go on a big detour just to be able to arrive on time.

You quickly took the school shoes out of your locker and put them on, getting it done on a record time in comparison of how you normally do it. However, is well known that speed can blind you from your surroundings, which was the case here.

Kuroo had arrived while you were getting ready to put your shoes on. On a normal morning he would say hi to you, after all his shoe locker was a mere few rows away from yours, but he saw how quickly you were doing your things. Honestly, he didn’t even knew that your locker was near his. He had see you around more than one more time, walking to your classrooms, on school events and such, and he honestly had thought more than one more time how pretty and elegant you were; however, since he has captain duties early in the morning and until late in the afternoon, he hadn’t found the time to properly greet you.

Until you bumped into him.

Once you were ready with your shoes on you immediately turn around to run towards the classroom; however, instead of finding a free corridor, you only found something sturdy in your way, crashing directly on it and almost falling if it wasn’t for some arms wrapping quickly around your waist. You look up to find out that you had bump into the chest of the one and only Kuroo Tetsurou, the captain of the volleyball team that was making noise not only for his handsome looks but also for how smart he was. When did he got here? How did you not noticed? Those were the questions running around your head.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you arrive” you say apologetic, only to receive a light laugh and a big smile

“No problem! Be careful though, speed is a curse, it narrows your view and makes it harder to breathe” he says, stabilizing you before letting you go “what are you even rushing for?”

“Eh... I’m late, I’m on cleaning duty today” you manage to mumble, still in shock

“Late? It’s 7.15 and classes start at 8.45, I would say that’s plenty of time to get your class ready” he smirks at you, which grows even wider once you realize the time.

“Ah” it’s the only thing you manage to say, it turns out you weren’t even late. This only makes him laugh louder

“Well” he starts saying as he stops laughing “since you’re here already and I could probably bet you didn’t even had breakfast, want to go and grab something from the convenience store with me?”

“Ehh…sure, why not” you say quite embarrassed, chuckling at your own mistake “I’m Yn by the way”

“Kuroo Tetsurou” he smiles at you widely “next time take things slowly, okay?” he says as he waits for you to change back your shoes. Sure, he had to be at the gym by now, but he could arrive late once in a while for occasions like this.

Osamu

Your day has been getting worse and worse by the second…or at least that’s what it feels like right now.

First thing in the morning you somehow managed to get your locker confused with someone else’s, almost getting into problems when a teacher find you there. Then you received a bad grade for a test that you actually did study for. And now that it’s lunch break you made one of the Miya’s fan girls mad by simply existing.

Well, being in the same class as Miya Atsumu has always been full of squeals of girls, random confessions throughout the day, and an unbearable amount of random gifts sparse through the floor; so in a way you were used to being around those type of girls. Today, however, your teacher decided to pair you up with the famous Miya.

It’s not like you didn’t like Atsumu, despite his cockiness he’s actually quite nice and even caring; which showed when he approached you during lunch break and sit with you when he saw you alone in there. It was a great gesture, you knew that he did it so you wouldn’t be left alone, and you knew that he didn’t know what the implications for that may be.

His fans were staring at you like you were the most disgusting person ever.

This lasted until Atsumu had to leave to some quick meet up with his team, when one of those girls decided to drop her water on you ‘accidentally’. This leads you here, outside of the school grounds and in front of the vending machine trying to buy a goddamn coffee to feel some comfort through this horrible day. But of course, the machine decided to not work this time, it didn’t even gave you your money back. Nothing could be going worse today.

“Fuck!” you cry in despair, kicking the vending machine to release some of your lock down emotions

“Hard day?” you hear from behind as you lay your forehead in the cold machine

“Horrible” you whisper without even looking back

“I saw my brother talking to ya through lunch, did some of those stupid girls did something to ya?” you hear, making you curious about who was talking to you. The other famous twin was looking at you in a mixture of confusion and empathy as you turn around and lay your back against the machine

“Yeah, but honestly the whole day has been awful” you admit to him “and now I can’t even drink coffee”

“Ha! That machine has some weird tricks on it” he says, moving closer to it and carefully moving you aside. He puts some coins on it and press the button hard, the sound of the drink going down as he puts more money to buy something else. Right after he hands you one of the drinks, the coffee you tried to buy, not before opening it up for you “Ye’re Yn, right? I’m Osamu, my idiot brothe r has said some things about ya, how ya were a good classmate and all”

“Yeah, that’s me” you drink a sip of the warm coffee, finally some comfort rushing through your veins. You didn’t know if it was for the coffee or Osamu though “Thank you for the drink”

“Well of course, if ye’re having a terrible day I can at least offer ya some coffee” he says with a small smile. He has heard some things about you from Atsumu, however he recently started to notice you himself whenever you both go to the nearest convenience store to buy some food or when you pass next to him in the halls, always exchanging a snarky remark with his brother and a polite smile to him

“I can’t wait to this day to be over” you sigh

“Ya know, our captain just told us we don’t have practice today…do ya wanna go grab some food after class?”

“Food? After class?” you say incredulous

“Yeah, that way ya have something better to look forward until the day is over. It’ll be my treat too”

You look at him surprised at the sudden invitation, and honestly, a little worried as well, he also had a lot of fans here. However he was right, this day has been one of the worst ones so far, so why not take this opportunity to go out with this boy?

“Sure” you smile

“Then look forward for that instead. See ya” he says leaving, a smile on his face too.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello, I noticed you did a yandere merman story before. Can I ask for a similar idea, but it's slightly different. Can I request a Yandere Merman x Female Pirate Captain Reader?

Female Pirate Captain reader finds a map in a bottle with a location for buried treasure. However, it says it’s supposed to be deep underwater, being impossible to reach. However, she comes upon a merman, and makes a deal with him; Use his powers to create a bubble for her to go underwater, and they’ll split the treasure.

So, the Merman agrees, and creates a large air bubble for the Female Pirate Captain reader to breathe in and pushes it deep underwater. Soon, they arrive at the supposed location: An empty underwater cave. The Female Pirate Reader questions her guide, who reveals the truth. HE was the one who made the map and has been secretly a Yandere for her, following her ship for years now. This was all a ploy to capture his darling in a bubble and bring his darling underwater for him to keep.

Yandere Merman x Female Pirate Captain Reader

“Wait, what do you mean? That was you? Did you seriously orchestrate this whole journey just so you could trap me, here?”

“Yup!” 

The merman giggles swimming in circles around your bubble, a psychotic grin on his scaly face. You glare at him as you piece it all together, cursing yourself as you fully feel the weight of the situation. 

Just hours before you had convinced your right-hand man that killing this merman was not the right call. Hours before you convinced your crew that this would have been the big haul…the last mission for many of them. That letter spoke of a treasure beyond measure with a diamond clinking within the dry confines of the floating wine bottle. You sat down with your aging and war-torn crewmates and brought them on this journey with promises of hope for their families, for their debts. All for it to be some elaborate scheme to capture you. Just you. Leaving your crew captainless and without a smidge of treasure.

“This is because you’re…in love with me..right?”

“That is what I said.” 

You ignored the tone in his voice as you made your plea. 

“Can you…tell them what happened?” 

The mermaid raised an eyebrow tilting his head to the side as he watched you fidget. Fighting tears and the crack in your voice you went further.  

“Like..can you tell them that there isn’t any treasure and that I’m not coming back.” 

The merman brought a hand to his chin, tail lightly swishing around your bubble. His eyes were closed as he looked to be in deep thought before blinking one yellow eye open. 

“Haha nope.” 

Crestfallen you swallowed your tears as the merman swam in circles rolling with delighted laughter. You waited until he was done to try pleading with him again. 

“You don’t have to say I survived I just want them to go home! Don’t you want that too!? For them to leave…us to our devices?”

“Hahaha, I do!” You lightened up. “But no.” Your frown returned.

He giggled twirling playfully as he spoke, “If I go back up there they’ll shoot me down without you. Plus if they despise you they’ll never come back! And that works so much better!” 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you glared harder. 

“So what?! Your plan is to keep me in this bubble until I starve to death!?”

The merman stopped taking note of your accusation, before putting his hands on his hips. 

“Do you think me so cruel, when I already told you I loved you?” He picked up a seashell harshly pulling out the creature living in it, before flinging it into your bubble. The shell rolls to touch your boot to which you sneer at the gooey residue of the poor animal, scooching away. 

“Don’t worry food can get in just fine. And eventually, when you’re ready we’re going to walk to an underwater cave, where we’ll live out the rest of our days.”

You let your mind wander turning away from the merman who was laughing to himself as he replayed the fantasy in his head. Smirking to yourself, you held a hand over your face as you made a decision. A decision to do what you do best as a pirate captain. 

“Well, merman you have me pegged…I guess I really don’t have a way to defy you.”

“That’s right! Might as well just accept your fate!”

“I mean maybe I should…but I have one more question if you would humor me.”

A look of interest appeared on his face as he swam closer, “I’m…listening.”

“Does the way things come in work on things coming out?”

Eyes dart to the right. 

“Yeah.”

“Oh?”

With no hesitation, you drew your sword aiming for the clear barrier. Stopping when the merman frantically waved his hands as he got as close as possible. 

“What are you doing?! That could kill you, by the pressure alone!” 

“I thought you said it would go out the same?”

The merman groaned, “Okay maybe not but are you really going to kill yourself just to spite me?!”

“Ha not without a price…” 

“...what do you want?”

“You’re going to go back up there, tell my crew what the deal is. You can stay out of range of the cannons and harpoons. Just tell them the truth. Can you do that?”

The merman pouted holding your gaze without blinking as if in hopes to deter you, only to fall short when you didn’t falter. Dragging his webbed hands across his face he groaned. 

“Fine. Wait here.”

You watched as he swam away pretending to sheath your sword. Pulling it out again when he was far out of sight. 

“Now the only decision left…is if I’m going to risk it.”

A captain always makes tough decisions ones that play with their life and others that prey on the enemy.

[msuchiha]

YANDERE ANIME CHARACTERS X Female!READER!

Auther note - my simp ass just had this thought of making a yandere headcanons hehe!(^～^;)ゞ

Warning:- Dark themes, Mention of abuse, Female Reader , Random anime characters!

Kisuke Urahara :-

• You two met when you and Rukia went to get Rukia's order.

• Since you and Rukia gave your power to Ichigo it makes easier for him to kidnap you.

• He usually calls you ‘Doll’ and ‘Baby girl’.

• He manages to convince you that he just wants the best for you.

• You eventually warmed up to him and started loving him back.

• He usually watches Disney movies with you, your favourite one is the lion king.

• He doesn't lock you up in room, but stalks you when he's even a little suspicious.

• When someone tries to flirt with you they ‘Mysteriously’ disappear next day.

Hisoka Morow:-

• I feel like hisoka would be a possesive and obsessive yandere.

• Also, i don't think he would hit his darling unless he just snapped or got too mad at her escape attempts.

• If he has you locked up, no one could ever save you even gon or killua can't save you.

• You'd have to eventually accept your fate.

• Once you accept his love, he would let you have some more freedom but will never let you out by yourself.

Kakashi Hatake:-

• Kakashi is a possesive yandere.

• Even after being so possesive, he would NEVER EVER hit his darling.

• Because he has lost so many people's in his life, he would do almost anything or everything to protect you.

• He'd definitely keep you locked up in your house because liks he said “It's for your own good” (ofcourse you're hokage's darling)

• He will never force his love on you (he's a sweet yandere afterall).

• You'll eventually fall in love with his sweetness.

Kai Chisaki (Overhoul):-

• Super possesive (You already know lol).

• He may even hit his S/o if she try to escape. She tried to climp the window? Well, she better run!

• She and Eri would also get close, like mother and daughter.

• When the hero's went to save Eri, they'd tried to save you as well.

• During the battle vs hero's, he'd try to save you more than he'd try to save Eri.

• During his stay in the tartus he'd only think about you and only you.

• If he escapes, you better run because he will do anything to find you.

Light Yagami (Kira):-

• He'd kidnap you after a week or two of knowing you.

• He'd do anything he can to make sure L and Misa don't find out who you are.

• When you first saw him, you thought there is no way in hell that he's kira, but after knowing him better you realised that he was the mastermind behind all the murders.

• He'll be most possesive of them all, trust me!

• He keeps you on his basement and checks on you every day.

• He says he is only doing it to keep you safe.

• He whispers words like “I love you Y/n” Or “You'll soon fall for me too”. (Well, he isn't wrong, is he?)

[thegreatestsandwich]

hello may i request real world reader gets sent to black panther universe she has the same ability like poison ivy and Aquaman or dream of the endless whichever power you want to give her. but instead of going to black panther universe it's an alternate universe of black panther where the characters are dark and obsessive over her. but in the end it's Namor that gets her. may i have smut as well, if you don't write smut i'll understand, sorry if this is allot.

thank you.

Darling I’m a nightmare dress like a daydream (Namor x Poison Ivy!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x Poison Ivy!reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: One moment you were in Arkaham Asylumm, the next one you were in a cave, underwated, with an almost naked man threatning you.

Warning: SMUT and a really obsessed Namor with your powers

A/N: So, I think I read this request wrong...I'm so so so sorry

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

You were carefully examining the walls that surrounded you, your hands touching the smooth yet harsh surface with intrigue. You tried your hardest to understand what was happening, just a few hours ago, you were in Arkaham Asylum, your home for some years, living the same routine day after day. The darkness surrounded you, cutting you away from photosynthesis, cutting away your life.

Your skin was pale and without life, the beautiful green that covered your skin was completely gone. You almost gave up if it wasn’t for Harley Quinn, who broke into that goddamned prison and destroy your captivity and help -dragged- you away from this hell. You couldn’t be more grateful for her. She helped you emerge from that darkness and as you fell to your knees, completely overwhelmed with the rawness that your adored babies gave you as a welcome didn’t even feel something exploded at your back.

You felt the pain and the blackness once again, but being reborn into this magnificent being, you were grateful that your body could adapt to any new situation. And when you woke up, completely confused and disoriented, you could feel the vibrations of something other that wasn’t your plants. This wasn’t your Earth. This Earth was colder and harsher. Your fingers could feel it as you dragged them across a few flowers you had found. They reacted to your touch, but it was colder. You huffed in annoyance at the insolence these plants were giving you.

 The following moments were key, you needed to figure out how to escape whatever this new hell was, to feel the sun once again, but your disappointment was clear as the only way out you manage to find was through some unknown kilometers of water.

“Ma' perteneces waye'.” A voice startled you, making you turn to the source. Your eyes became wary and the need to protect yourself and the plants that surrounded you on this cave. “Núukik, máax teech teech?”

“You speak of a language unknown to myself.” You half-smiled. Admiring how his tan skin was glowing, despite how dark it was. “And yet, I could still feel the harshness of your words.”

“You are trespassing, stranger.” He said, his shoulders tense. “Who are you.” His spear was pointing at you but you just arch your brow, not really scared of his actions.

“Strange, I had thought my name was widely known by now even after Batman stopped my spores to help Gotham.” You played with the ends of your hair, finally convincing these plants to aid you if a battle was about to happened. “But if not, Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).” You held out your hand, the stranger’s dark eyes stared at the greenish tint on them. “Better known as Poison Ivy, pleasure.” You took a step forward.

You were loving this, his body was releasing a few pheromones that made you want to touch him.

His spear raised, pointing between your eyes, you couldn’t help but grin at the audacity. “Do not step closer.” He spat.

“I gave you my name, gorgeous.” You smiled, shrugging. “You should give me yours.”

The man stared at you for a moment. “You may call me Namor.”

You frowned at the name, trying to located inside of your memories, you were sure you knew how many of those stupid Justice Leagues were out there and even the villains, you knew them, but who was he?

“Pleasure but I cannot seem to remember you from Gotham City, perhaps you are from Metropolis?”

“I do not know what those places are…how did you manage to dive to the bottom of the ocean? How did you enter?” He pressed those questions.

“I’m sorry, did you just said bottom of the ocean?” you emphasized the last word, Namor nodded wordlessly. “You are telling me that somehow I ended up here…not only on the ocean but in the bottom of it?!” Before he could get a word in, you turned around, your hands raising a little, forcing all the flowers, vines and apparently seaweed get closer to you. “Explain.” You demanded and stayed quiet as these babies told you everything you needed to know.

Namor gently put down his spear, watching you in confusion as you apparently were talking to the plants. “Do you…understand them?” He asked in amazement.  You turned around and examined him but didn’t answer his question. He stared at you before offering you his hand. You stared at it. “I apologize for the rude welcoming…We had some unpleasant visitors who threatened the safety of my people.”

“Threatened?” You questioned him. “In what way?”

Namor closed his eyes and you could see how his mouth began twitching in frustration. “The surface-dwellers are trying hard to find us, find our resources to use them with greed.”

You stared at him. Your hand softly caressing one of the flowers. “I know, they attacked your people…they told me.” You softly said. “They even destroyed a few of your plants. I can feel their pain.”

Namor took a step closer, his hand touching the same flower as you. “You are welcome to stay as long as you don’t hurt my people.”

With time you began noticing how his people became more accustom with you, some of the children even went as far as giving you a few of the plants their mothers cultivated underwater. But a part of yourself truly noticed how Namor warmed with your presence, often staying a bit with you when you ate or at night when you went to sleep.

Those actions became different when he began tracing the softness of your skin with his hands, often leaving you desired him each time.

But everything change when he came back after an expedition to the surface. He was angry and frustrated.

Your eyes watched his every move, you couldn’t help but to bit your lower lip as a few drops of water began trailing down his glorious, tanned chest. You were in heaven or well, you were practically somewhere down the fucking ocean. You didn’t care.

He was so warm beneath you, his hands molding perfectly against your tights, holding you in place but giving you the chance to do whatever you wanted to him, you smiled as you leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, Namor chasing yours when you didn’t give him a proper kiss. Your hands went to his hair, soft, wet, silky, perfection.

Namor sat down, his hands stroking your back until they reached your hips, moving them ‘til you were placed above his hardening cock. He could feel your arousal passing through the soft and delicate material of the dress he had given you. His hands skimmed over your hips, sliding down again towards the curve of your ass, pressing you against him once again, rolling your hips against his.

You began kissing alongside his jaw, stopping a few times to bit him gently making him grunt every time you did that, at every grunt he gave you, your cunt clenched with need. You became in love with his sounds, from the small hitches in his breath to the soft grunts and the occasional moan.

Namor’s hands quickly grabbed the bottom of your dress, tugging it upward. “My beautiful ivy.” He whispered against your breasts. “I want to see you, would you let me?”

You nodded wordlessly, quickly raising your hands, helping him take off your dress, you didn’t hesitate and his hungry gaze watched you, one of his fingers traced the softness of your skin.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, his hands gripping at your waist, flipping you easily so he could be on top, his lips traced your breast, your stomach, kissing it softly. “My beautiful, beautiful ivy, only mine.” His hands cup your breasts, sucking one of your nipples, rolling it between your lips.

“Namor…” You gasped, trying to push away the only piece of cloth that was covering him away from your eyes.

“No.” He whispered against your nipple, kissing it softly. “Call me in yakunaj.”

“In yakunak?” You moaned when he bit your nipple. “What does that mean?”

Namor chuckled as he scrambled off from you, making you groan in annoyance, trying to bring him back. He quickly stripped off his shorts, releasing his cock from its confinement, you couldn’t help but stare, it was long, thick and a few veins were pulsing from the thick base to the smooth head. You were so entranced by the sight of it that you didn’t even noticed the lopsided grin he was giving you.

He leaned forward, gripping your ankles, softly rubbing circles on them, he brought his lips to them, kissing them softly without breaking away your gaze, his lips moved towards your thighs but you didn’t stop him, anxious to know how far would he go. He nuzzled your thigh, working his way up your cunt. Your hand quickly went to his hair, as he kissed your skin. “My beautiful ivy like this?” He murmured closer to your cunt, his lips tickling it. “Would you let me taste you?”

You couldn’t help but muttered a quiet ‘dumb question’ and you felt him smile…And then he just opened his mouth on your cunt, licking your folds, slowly pushing his tongue inside you, his palms went under your hips, lifting you towards his hungry mouth, forcing your legs to spread open. He gently blow on your cunt, the cold air made you whimper. “You are making me insane.” He murmured against your clit before sucking on it.  “Sweet and only for my mouth to know.” Namor couldn’t help but groan at your taste before diving in once again like a starved man.

You closed your eyes when he began thrusting his thick fingers inside your cunt, waves of pleasure crashed over your body, specially when he sucked hard at your clit, humming with delight. You came, bucking against his mouth, he accepting it but refusing to separate from your cunt.

“In yakunaj…” You rasped breathlessly. “Too much.”

He kissed your clit one last time before making his way to your lips, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of yourself on his mouth, his tongue fought for dominance and you let him win. He paused for a moment, his lips above yours as he muttered. “I want to do so many things with you, I want to make you cum until you beg me to fill you with my seed, until you beg me to never stop.”

You swallowed. “Yeah? You promise?”

Namor grinned. “I swear it on my name.” His hand positioned his cock at your entrance and with a swift motion, he was inside of you. He force himself to go slow, to enjoy it, to enjoy you. Your eyes were close, your teeth biting your lips, the most beautiful blush covering your face. But fuck, you were tight, so fucking tight as he began thrusting. Each stroke was breaking his concentration but then he was finally and completely inside you, his balls rubbing against you. Your cunt squeezing his length greedily. He loved it.

He held himself above you so he could indulge on your expressions, to watch you respond at his thrust, to greedily see how his cock thrusted inside of your body.

“My ivy.” He groaned, kneeling and forcing your hips over his thighs. “You are swallowing me so beautifully, your cunt is not letting me leave, so greedy for my seed that its squeezing me so perfectly.” He slowed down, rolling his hips. His hand grabbed yours and guide it towards where both of you were joined. “Feel it, feel how greedy your cunt is for me.”

You moaned, God, how can he be so dirty? “In yakunakj, yes…yes.”

Your walls began contracting around him, you back arched and force your hips higher, trying to take him deeper. His control finally snapped. Namor began pounding into you and you couldn’t help but clench your thighs around his hips as you came, but he didn’t stop, he continued and the sound of skin slapping made him almost completely mad.

“So good.” He threw his head back, his teeth baring as he kept pounding into you. “You squeeze me so perfectly, but is not enough, you can give me another one.”

He pulled you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and you cling against him as he began thrusting upwards, the hot friction made you clench around him quickly and he groaned, moving even faster with urgency, like his life depended on making you cum as much as he could. You clung tighter to him and he bit you, his teeth latching on your shoulder, marking you as his. Pleasure shattered you as you felt him swell inside, his hot cum filling you, your cunt milking every drop greedily.

Namor sank against you, squishing you but you didn’t complained. After a few moments he gently slid of your cunt, you couldn’t help but wince at the loss of it. He rolled to the side, his hands tugging you so you could laid on his chest.

You finally noticed how a few vines were covering most of his things but you didn’t care at the moment as his fingers began pushing back his cum inside of your body.

“I will burn the world with you.” You whispered against his chest, trying your hardest not to trembled with how his finger was moving inside of you. “If you accept me.”

Namor kissed your temple without saying anything, but you could safely say he wanted it, but at the moment, he let you rest. In his mind, already planning new ways to make you cum before planning anything against the surface-dwellers.

[alyssaforevermore]

Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon season one, part three

Synopsis: Based on the events of The Walking Dead television series, Y/N Grimes, younger sister of Rick Grimes, attempts to survive in a world now inhabited by walkers. Family has always meant everything to her, but in this new world, can she keep her family safe and together?

Show: The Walking Dead (S1-S11)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, character deaths, drug and alcohol references, series spoilers and general The Walking Dead content warnings!

Tags: @1ivinqdeadqir1 @callmeyn @thegeorgiahuntsman @mellxander1993 @bigbaldheadname @cjmonsterwolf @abbi23323 @actuallyklee @lanxsee @livingdeadblondequeen @medeima @spectacular-skywalker (last two pls reach out to me if your names are incorrect so we can fix it)

Masterlist

You sat by Dale’s RV, silently stewing in your anger. No matter how much thought you gave it, you couldn’t think of a way to convince Rick to stay back at camp. Ultimately, you know it was fruitless. If Lori couldn’t convince him, you certainly couldn’t.

Rick exited the tent, now wearing his old Sheriff's uniform. As if on cue, Shane and Yourself matched over to him.

“So that’s it, huh?” Shane asked. “You’re just gonna walk off? To hell with everyone else?”

“I’m not saying to hell with anybody.” Rick sighed. “Not you, Shane. Least of all Lori, Carl and Y/N.”

Shane pointed to where Lori sat. “Tell her that.”

Rick turned around, tilting his head. “She knows.” He responded, turning back around and continuing towards the cars.

“Well, we don’t.” You argued. “Can you just explain it to us?”

“Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?” Shane questioned.

“Hey,” Daryl called out. “Choose your words more carefully.”

“No, I did. Douchebag is what I meant.”

“Shane-”

“Merle Dixon—” Shane continued. “The guy wouldn’t give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst.”

“What he would or wouldn’t do doesn’t interest me. I can’t let a man die of thirst—me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal in a trap. That’s no way for anything to die, let alone a human being.”

Lori joined the conversation, her hands folded across her chest. “So you and Daryl, that’s your big plan?”

Rick turned, looking at Glenn. “Oh, come on.” The man responded.

“You know the way.” Rick pleaded. “You’ve been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself. It’s not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I’d feel a lot better with you there. I know she would too.” His eyes landed on Lori.

Glenn eyed the woman for a moment, contemplating if he really even had a choice at this point.

“That’s just great,” Shane responded. “Now you’re gonna risk three men, huh?”

T-Dog raised his hand. “Four.”

You took a deep breath, raising your hand as well. “Make that five.”

Rick turned to you, his eyes narrowed. “I’d much rather you stay here.”

“If you think for a second that I’m letting you run off to the dead city without me, after we just got you back, then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

Rick eyed you for a moment, before finally letting out a sigh and nodding. He knew you were too stubborn to argue with; something that seemed to run in the family.

“My day just gets better and better, don’t it?” Daryl huffed.

“Do you see anyone else stepping up?” T-Dog asked.

“Why you?”

“You wouldn’t even begin to understand. You don’t speak my language.”

Dale let out a heavy sigh. “That’s five then.”

“It’s not just five. You’re putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick.” Shane responded. “Come on, you saw that walker. It was here. It was in camp. They’re moving out of the cities and if they come back, we need every able body we got.”

“Sounds to me like what you really need are more guns.”

Glenn smiled. “Right, the guns.”

“What guns?” You asked.

“Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns. I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left.” Rick explained. “I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It’s just sitting there on the street, waiting to be picked up.”

“If we don’t do this, then we’re just sitting ducks.” You pointed out. “I needs to be done, whether we like it or not.”

“How much ammo is in that bag?” Shane asked.

“Seven hundred rounds, assorted.”

“You went through Hell to find us.” Lori spoke. “You just got here and you’re gonna turn around and leave?”

Carl stepped forward, looking up at Rick. “Dad, I don’t want you to go.”

“To Hell with the guns, Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.” Lori stepped closer to her husband. “Tell me. Make me understand.”

“I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy.” Rick sighed. “Lori, if they hadn’t taken me in, I’d have died. It’s because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they’d follow me to Atlanta. They’ll walk into the same trap I did if I don’t warn him.”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked.

“The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped. He’s got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer.”

“Our walkie-talkies?” Shane inquired.

Rick nodded. 

“So use the C.B., what’s wrong with that?” Andrea joined the conversation.

Shane rubbed his head. “The C.B.’s fine. It’s the walkies that suck to crap. Date back to the seventies, don’t match any other bandwidth, not even the scanners in our cars.”

Rick nodded. “I need that bag.”

…

As the crew began loading the box van for the trip, you approached Lori who stared longingly at your brother.

“Are you really okay with this?” You asked quietly.

“If I’m being honest, not really.” Lori looked at you for a moment, before looking back at her husband. “The only solace I have is knowing you’ll be there to watch over him; to bring him back here.”

You smiled to yourself, appreciating Lori’s faith in you. The two of you had your issues in the past, not always seeing eye to eye, but the last few months had brought you together. If it wasn’t for her and Carl, you really doubted if you’d still be alive. If you’d have wanted to be.

Daryl began honking the horn of the van, Glenn sitting in the seat next to him. You headed on over, standing beside Rick and Shane.

“Last time we were on the gun range, I’m sure I wound up with a few loose rounds of yours.” Shane spoke, rummaging through his bag.

Rick smiled. “You and that bag—like the bottom of an old lady’s purse.”

Shane let out a sigh. “I hate that you’re doing this, man. I think that it’s foolish and reckless but if you’re gonna go, you’re taking bullets.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to fire a shot in the city. Not after what happened last time.”

“That’s up to you.” He spoke, finally pulling out some bullets from his bag. “Well…five people, five rounds. What are the odds, huh?”

You felt a chill run down your spine.

“Let’s just hope five is my lucky number.” Rick responded, taking the bullets and loading them into his gun. “Thank you.”

Shane nodded.

You looked back at Lori, giving her a reassuring nod. This was going to be the riskiest thing you’d done so far, and you just hoped it would be worth it.

…

The five of you had arrived just outside the city, parking the van near some railroad tracks before going on foot. When you finally arrived at the building Merle had been left at, Daryl wasted no time shoving T-Dog along to show him the way up to the roof. You followed close behind, barely having a moment to think about if the dead had seen you.

At the top of the stairs, T-Dog cut the chain to the door. Daryl pushed past him, throwing the door open and running onto the roof.

“Merle! Merle!” Daryl called out, looking around.

You followed the men who came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled, covering your mouth with your hand.

Daryl rushed over, finally seeing exactly what you all had. “No!”

He began pacing back and forth, tears welling in his eyes as he continued to scream out. Everyone remained silent, not knowing exactly what to say; if there was anything to say.

Your eyes lingered on the ground, Merle’s severed hand sitting next to a hacksaw. Semi-dried blood was pooled around it, droplets leading away from the scene. Yet, there was no sign of Merle at all.

That crazy son of a bitch.

----

AN: Thank you for reading this chapter!! I really hope you all enjoyed it. This one was a bit shorter as I wanted to line up the chapters and episodes. Next one should cover all of episode four. Also, a big thank you for all of the love I've gotten on this series so far; it's really inspired me to keep going! If you'd like to request to be tagged in future chapters, you can do so here. Please be sure to like and reblog <3