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#who deserves to be alone. but then her powers are out of control AND she kisses zane and it's like. what were they even going for here

kpopfanfictrash · 7 months

Text

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.

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

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts au #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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lakesbian · 3 months

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nobody move. i've just successfully articulated the sentiment that taylor's power turns her into a panopticon because she was living in one & explained her trigger in a way i feel satisfied with for the first time in my life

the concept of the panopticon is not just about surveillance, but about creating an environment where people cannot be sure whether or not they are being surveilled, and thus must constantly act under the assumption that they are. which is exactly what happened to taylor--we see from when we first meet her in the school that she's anticipating attack from every possible direction to avoid it, and the one time she lets her guard down a fraction and assumes she's found a safe spot to hide from abuse, she's targeted with the juice spills. and this is after her trigger event, but it's clear she behaves this way because it was beaten into her over the entire course of the bullying. it's what she describes when she recounts the trigger:

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I made a friend, one of the girls who had sometimes joined in on the taunting came to me and apologized. ... Her approaching me and befriending me was one of the big reasons I could think the harassment was ending. I never really let my guard down around her, but she was pretty cool about it. “And for most of November and the two weeks of classes before Christmas break, nothing. They were leaving me alone. I was able to relax.” I sighed, “That ended the day I came back from the winter break. I knew, instinctually, that they were playing me, that they were waiting before they pulled their next stunt, so it had more impact. I didn’t think they’d be so patient about it. I went to my locker, and well, they’d obviously raided the bins from the girls bathrooms or something, because they’d piled used pads and tampons into my locker. Almost filled it.”

the precise moment when she stopped consciously anticipating and preparing to react to abuse--when she relaxed, when she stopped acting as if the lack of danger didn't mean that she couldn't still be hurt at any time--is when she was brutally reminded that she's never safe. she's still in the panopticon. she isn't literally being watched every second, she isn't literally in lifelong danger of having her vulnerabilities exploited, but it feels like she is. she can never ever be sure she's safe.

so she triggers, and she gets a power that turns her into a panopticon, and lets her watch everyone right back. it lets her regain control by turning her into a source of danger that could attack anywhere, from any direction, any time, fully unexpected.

& the reason her power enables her to watch Everyone--not just a single person, or a few people--but Everyone, is that the other major aspect of her trigger is the trauma of facts like this:

“It was pretty obvious that they had done it before the school closed for Christmas, by the smell alone. I bent over to throw up, right there in a crowded hallway, everyone watching. Before I could recover or stop losing my breakfast, someone grabbed me by the hair, hard enough it hurt, and shoved me into the locker.”

"All I could think was that someone had been willing to get their hands that dirty to fuck with me, but of all the students that had seen me get shoved in the locker, nobody was getting a janitor or teacher to let me out."

for months, for years, she was in a community where everyone regularly witnessed her humiliation and abuse, and everyone, dozens and dozens of kids and teachers, either contributed to it or was knowingly, silently complacent. this is what sticks with her: the idea that she is so universally reviled, so deserving of revile, that any crowd of witnesses would, without hesitation, consign her to the filth of the locker.

what else is she supposed to conclude, but that everyone she interacts with is a threat? that she can't drop her guard ever again, because no one will be coming to help her if she does? of course she has to become the panopticon. of course she has to watch everyone, all of the time, if she wants to stop it from happening again. of course she has to live among the teeming lowly and crawling things she has been taught via one firm shove that she is worth less than, and of course she has to use them to watch everyone back. and it would be inaccurate to say that doing this--monitoring everything with her bugs--makes her feel safe. all it does is allow her to remain in a constant state of paranoia and traumatized hyper-vigilance more efficiently.

#wormblr #parahumans #ive connected the dots. ive connected them #REREAD WIN: OFFHAND LINE ABOUT TAYLOR COMPARING PEOPLE TO BUGS #MADE ME DO MENTAL PARKOUR TO POWER ANALYSIS #read my post boy

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huiyi07 · 8 months

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GENSHIN MANGA SPOILERS! but honestly if you haven’t read it by now it’s your fault alone

So why did Kaeya initially try to hurt Collei?

The obvious answer- he was trying to defend Mondstadt, Collei was a very suspicious figure at the time, and he knew that being aggressive towards her would probably draw out her hidden powers and reveal herself as the culprit of the Black Fire incident.

But there’s more to it than that.

Kaeya canonically loves, LOVES kids. He adores them- there’s lots of times in the game where he talks about how precious childhood is and how he wants to protect the purity of childhood dreams for as long as possible before kids have to grow up and face the real world (kinda similar to Childe). In 3.8, it shows how he is literally willing to do anything to protect a child- Klee, when he literally throws aside his own sibling issues in order to shield Klee from being exposed to the same thing and scolds a couple of bickering brothers for upsetting her.

Additionally, there’s his whole thing with Mika and how he’s basically a big brother figure to the entirety of Mondstadt’s population under 17. The highly implied bond between Bennett, Razor, Fischl and him, even.

Anyway this whole aspect of his character obviously stems from his own childhood and how tainted it was by his hidden identity, so like he probably doesn’t want any other kids to have to go through such hardship especially while they’re still young.

So if he loves kids so much, and wants to protect them so badly, why did he not hesitate to become a full blown villain against Collei, literally wounding an innocent 12-year old girl?

Because he sees himself in her.

Collei hates herself (or at least she used to LOL). She hates the burden (her powers) that was forced upon her from a young age, and those powers inevitably label her as a bad person, one who can harness evil powers to kill And hurt and whatever. It makes her feel like she has no real control over herself, and that she has no self-identity- she doesn’t think of herself as a regular person, instead a monster. And she hates, hates, hates herself for it, but she shoves all of it down under a mask.

Sound familiar to a certain cavalry captain?

That’s why Kaeya didnt hesitate to Go after her. He knows her too well, knows that she’s hiding her true identity under a well-crafted face, that there’s something evil and dark in her- because that’s exactly who he was as a kid.

But then this panel happens.

Collei, evidently so tired of living such a torn life, gives up and offers her life to Kaeya just so that the torment can end, which stops Kaeya in his tracks, because that’s when she reminds him off himself just a little too much.

Kaeya, so caught up in her uncontrollable evil, forgets that she’s just a child, one who never should’ve been forced to deal with such a thing, and certainly not want to die because of it.

That’s exactly what happens internally to him, as well. Over the years, Kaeya internalized being a traitor so much, that often he convinces himself that he’s truly not a good person. Yes, he acknowledges that it’s really not his fault, but that still gets lost and it shows through when Kaeya shows us how willing he is to get himself harmed- because of his self hatred, he places so little value in his own wellbeing and his own life, because he thinks that all harm that comes to him is deserved and that it’s better off if he’s dead anyway so that he doesn’t have to deal with being torn apart every day.

No I’m not making this up, it’s in how he literally covers for Diluc all the time and risks himself in the process, and how Adelinde told us about that one time Kaeya literally took Diluc’s punishment for himself when they snuck into the wine cellars. There’s lots of times, even throughout in the game where Kaeya tries to convince us he’s not a good person- he quite literally says that, at some point.

Only when Collei shows that she’s in the exact same position does Kaeya realize what he’s doing and stops himself. Only then does he remember how painful and hard it really is, and he ends up helping to save Collei and removing her powers, because that’s one burden he can help take off, unlike his own.

Idk man for me the Kaeya vs Collei fight (I like to call it the chapter where collei gave us the hottest panel of Kaeya choking ever) told a story about Kaeya’s internalizations, too, and his own-self hatred and how deep it really goes. BRB CRYING

#kaeya #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #kaeya genshin impact #ragbros #khaenri'ah #gi #I’m going to Kermit #diluc genshin impact #diluc #collei #also idk the fact he says - I’ll rip that deceptive mask right BACK off you??#as if he also has his own??#like I’m dead

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icyg4l · 1 month

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Pick-A-Girl Group: What Purpose Do the Women In Your Life Serve?

Continuing on with my Women’s History Month series, I am going to do a reading on how the women in your life feel about you and the effect of these feelings. I am going to be using the True Heart Tarot Deck and the Archetype Oracle Deck. These readings are supposed to uplift, relate to and inspire women so I hope they serve their purpose. I Without further ado, please pick your pile. 🫶

***Disclaimer: Regardless of your gender identity, the women that are in your life deserve to be celebrated as long as they have pure intentions. Much love. 🩷

Left-to-Right (1-4):

Pile One: If you resonate with the image of FLO, then you deserve the whole fucking world. Pile One, the women in your life absolutely adore you. You probably resonate with the song’s theme: recognizing beauty in yourself when everyone is against you, specifically as a black woman. You have come such a long way. The women that are currently in your life have seen you make mistakes and allowed you to do so. They recognize your evolution. A lot of you have a best friend who you’ve been friends with for a long time and she is so proud of you. She is proud of the person that you have become. This pile has some cheerleaders around them. I feel like the women in your life are meant to take inspiration from what you are going through right now. I think that you may be going through your redemption arc.You’re forgiving yourself for a lot of things that you’ve done in the past. The women in your life see that and are following suit. After all, living life does mean not being a robot. These women who are around you are all ears, very receptive to what it is that you are doing with your life. You’re like their Oprah, lol. If you have a story to tell, share it with her. She may need to hear it. I channeled the show: Beyond Scared Straight; specifically the parts where the prisoners talk to the kids about their life stories and the reasoning for why they should not end up in jail. I feel like you could be someone’s mentor, whether they’re younger or the same age as you, perhaps even older. You are someone’s Reesa Teesa too, lol. I get the feeling that you need to be talking about yourself, Pile One. There is an audience full of women who are willing to hear you out and listen. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards:

God: Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others/Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people

Mother: Nurturance, patience, unconditional love. Joy in giving birth to life/Smothering or abandoning children. Instilling guilt in children for becoming independent.

Poet: Expresses soul insights in symbolic language/Turns a lyric gift to negative or destructive effect.

Cards Used: 2 of Swords, 4 of Discs, 9 of Cups, Prince of Wands (RX), King of Discs, Four of Cups, Temperance.

Pile Two: If you resonate with the photo of Destiny’s Child, you got some ride or dies around you for real. I think that you’ve been through hell and back with the women in your life and they do not play about you. I think the women in your life want you to know that you are so worth it. I’m not going to lie Pile Two, it sounds like you’re in a toxic love situation and your girls want you out of it. Your friends, cousin or little sister could have told you that you need to exit stage left multiple times. They absolutely believe you deserve better. Hypothetically speaking, If y’all fell out today and an emergency happened tomorrow, they would be on the way to the hospital. I feel like family is so important to you. They feel like you’ve forgot about them but I don’t think that you have. Circumstances make it difficult for you all to see eye-to-eye. The women in your life want you to know that you are not alone. They will forever be there for you no matter what, even if you have lost your damn mind. These challenging times will make the bond between you and these women stronger. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards:

Artist: Expressing a dimension of life that is beyond the five senses. Inspiring others to see life symbolically / Using talent as an excuse to mistreat others. Posing as the Starving Artist to elicit pity.

God: Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others / Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people

Goddess: The feminine expressed through wisdom. Nature, life force, and sensuality / Exploitation of the female nature and form

Cards Used: Ace of Discs, 9 of Swords, Princess of Cups (RX), Prince of Discs, The Hierophant, Princess of Discs, 4 of Cups (RX), The Devil (RX), 10 of Cups.

Pile Three: If you resonate with the photo of TWICE, you got the grandmother spirit around you. Did you grow up in the church? Or at least with a god-fearing grandmother? I feel like the women in your life hate to see you unhappy and this is what you’re feeling right now. I think that you may be uninspired/unfulfilled with what life is giving you right now. It’s not an uncommon feeling. But smiling can make all the difference. The women in your life want to see you smile, make you smile and laugh. They want to be there for you like how your grandmother was. No one will ever replace Granny but her presence is always there. You may be questioning God/your higher powers because of something that deeply affected you. But the women around you want you to not feel ashamed or want you to feel like they are judging you. They have been in the same predicament. They only want to see you get better. They hate to see you like this. It may be hard to do this but look at the glass half full, rather than half empty. They want you to get back to yourself, the version of you that isn’t defeated. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards:

Child: Nature: Friendships with animals. Communication with nature spirits / Tendency to abuse animals, people and the environment.

Destroyer: Releasing what is potentially destructive. Preparing for new life / Intoxication with destructive power. Destroying others’ dreams or potential.

Child: Magical: Seeing the potential for sacred beauty in all things. The belief that everything is possible / Pessimism, depression and disbelief in miracles. Believing that energy and action are not required for growth.

Cards Used: The Devil, Princess of Cups, The Star, Judgment, The Moon, Temperance, Seven of Swords.

Pile Four: And lastly, if you resonated with the photo of the Spice Girls, you seem very sensual. Are you a SWer? Do you attend pole dancing classes for fun? Do you know someone who does either of these things? I feel like the women in your life appreciate how physical you are. You’re probably an artist and you're sensitive about your shit too. The women in your life feel as though you have a lot of talents. You’re very multifaceted and they love to brag about it, especially the older women. You could been the cousin who had to show off the latest dance move. So as a result, you became the leader of the pack. You can be naturally nurturing but it can drain you. The women around you feel like you need to put up some boundaries so that you can still worry about you. They respect your quality of being a giver, but do you even respect yours-[GUNSHOT]. There is a woman that you are close to that admires a quality that you hate. She compliments it any chance she can get because she wants to uplift you. I feel like people always try to touch you, whether it’s your hair, your arms, or even your butt. The women around you could immediately shut it down or call them out or defend it. They want to protect your innocence. Even though you are grown, you have that ingenue within you. They know how you can get (especially while under the influence) so they refuse to let you get that way. When I pulled from my oracle deck, I got the following cards:

Servant: Delight in serving others with a free and loving heart / Using the lack of money as an excuse not to move forward with life

Bully: Highlights your tendency to intimidate others. Helps you confront the inner fears that bully you / Conceals deep fears behind verbal or physical abuse.

Hedonist: Inspires creative energy to embrace the good things in life. Celebrates the beauty in yourself / Pursues pleasure to the detriment of health. Indulges at the expense of others.

Cards Used: The Star, The Lovers, Judgment, The Emperor, 7 of Cups, 10 of Swords, Ace of Cups, The Moon, 8 of Cups (RX).

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simplyavatrice · 1 year

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I think it's easy to forget just exactly what Ava went through. She was SEVEN years old and woke up in strange place, with cranky old nuns, only to find out she was paralyzed and that her mom had died. Not only that, but no other member of her family ever came for her. Nobody was looking for her, nobody wanted her and suddenly she's all alone and dealing with the loss of her mothre and her independence.

You'd think, oh well maybe she has a support system in the orphanage? Nope, they treat her like shit, like the burden she believes she is. As someone who has been in a wheelchair their whole life, let me tell you, feeling like a burden is an everyday thing. You’re not, and having people who remind you that you’re not and make you understand that you’re not is beautiful, but Ava didn’t have that. She had Sister Frances, who went out of her way to tell Ava she was worthless and I doubt anyone else there was much better.

So it's no wonder Ava was a sarcastic, snarky little shit to the nuns in the orphanage - they made her that way. Being bratty to them was the only thing she could do to feel some semblance of control.

Flash forward to Ava's death, where she was literally murdered because nobody cared and there was nowhere for her to go. Ava spent twelve years in a personal hell of being trapped in her own body, was then killed like someone taking out the garbage. Empty, alone and tossed aside.

So when she was revived by the halo, with her legs suddenly working and freedom to do whatever she wanted, of COURSE she wanted to be free.

That's the entirety of Ava's character arc - SHE WANTS TO LIVE! She hasn't been able to for so long she barely remembers how to do it.

It's not that easy, of course, the halo carries a ton of weight and Ava fights it and runs from it and resists it as much as she can, and who can blame her? She finally gets the chance to be alive, to be free and enjoy life and all these strangers (who are everywhere becuase Ava is completely alone in the world) are pushing and pulling her in every direction. She's constantly told that she doesn't deserve the halo. Doesn't deserve this chance.

Despite ALL of that, Ava's heart is strong and her passion for life overshadows all the darkness she's been dealt. She isn't just full of life, but love. She's spent years not having anyone to love her, but more than that, she's never been able to give anyone her love and I think that's very important to her. We see it so much as the show goes on. Her softness with Mother Superion when she finds her halo scar, and the way she connects with Mary, Camila being sweet to her, little things like that.

Then of course there's Bea.

Beatrice, who never sees Ava as someone that needs to be replaced, but as someone who can be taught, trained and shaped into what they need. Who sees that Ava, the human being, has value and that she's worth protecting. They connect and share and for the first time, Ava has someone who actually accepts her as a person. Not a burden or a vessel for the halo, but Ava Silva, the girl inside that's been so alone for so long.

I think that's why Ava is so bouncy with Bea, falls for her so easily, because Beatrice saw Ava's zest for life and her need for love and embraced it. Saw it as something worth fighting for, beyond the halo or duty, Beatrice liked HER. Probably the first person who felt that way since her mother was taken from her (outside of Diego, but he was so young it couldn't have been the same).

Anyway, this long winded post that probably doesn't make any sense is just my way of saying that I love Ava. I love her joy and her humor. I love that she has had so much pain dumped on her and still chooses to smile. Given the way she was treated and the power she was given, Ava could have been a villain. She could have carried a hatred for god or the world and everyone in it who forgot about her but she didn't. Instead, she found the life and love she desperately wanted and gave up everything to protect it.

#ava silva #avatrice #warrior nun #this is my long overdue ava silva appreciation post #sometimes you just find characters that hit different and she's that for me #i'm not sure i'll find one i enjoy more than her #save warrior nun #alba baptista #she deserves all the awards for her performance of ava #she's INCREDIBLE

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misseviehyde · 4 months

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CORROSION

Alanah was home alone and looking forward to watching her favourite TV shows without any distractions. Her boyfriend, who usually criticised her TV choices, was currently away on a work trip and so she'd fired up the pop-corn maker, snuggled into one of her favourite sweaters and stretched out on the sofa. She could watch whatever she wanted tonight and no-one was going to stop her.

Alanah definitely deserved a little bit of TLC. Work was a killer at the moment. She worked for a charity that supported homeless people and some of the things she'd had to see recently were pretty harrowing. Her boyfriend always said she should get a better job that paid more, but Alanah liked to contribute to society and help others more than selfishly earn lots for herself.

As it went, Alanah was pretty humble and selfless most of the time so the job suited her. Unlike her boyfriend Max, she didn't like to be the centre of attention. She looked reasonably attractive, dressed nicely and lived a good life - but she was hardly going to make an impact on the world.

Such weighty thoughts were hardly on her mind as she picked up the remote and prepared to turn on the TV. A little bit of harmless distraction and fantasy would suit her perfectly tonight.

She pushed the buttons.

Nothing happened. The remote was dead.

Cursing, Alanah dragged herself to her feet and went into the kitchen to the drawer where they kept all the batteries. Rummaging inside she cursed again. There didn't seem to be any in the drawer.

No... wait. There in the corner of the drawer. Two corroded, rusted batteries with a pink shell casing were lurking at the back. As she touched them, the hairs on the back of Alanah's hands rose up and she felt a strange magnetic jolt pulse through her body, making her nipples harden in pleasure. She cradled the strange batteries in her hands feeling a compulsion to use them that overode her every sense.

Where had these strange batteries even come from? Why had they bothered to keep hold of two such obvious duds? It didn't make any sense.

The batteries were clearly of no use, but the sudden urge to try them was overwhelming. It was like the batteries WANTED to be used. Pulling out the old ones from the remote, she slowly slotted the corroded, pink batteries into the remote and clicked them into place.

Pink lightning engulfed the plastic remote and Alanah gasped in amazement. Luscious pink light crawled and sparked over the cheap plastic and it seemed to blur and transform before her eyes. She watched in amazement as the remote changed shape and colour, transformed by the batteries.

In moments a shiny silver chrome remote lay before her, with an entirely new set of buttons. How... how was this possible? Was this a trick?

Reaching out, she picked up the strange new remote and felt the same erotic jolt and throb of pleasure course through her body as when she had just held the batteries. She peered at the buttons in amazement.

They were now labelled with strange titles such as 'Age Control', 'Time-Freeze' and 'Rewind'.

Walking over to the mirror, Alanah shook her head gently. "I must be having a hallucination or something. This... this can't be real."

Pushing the age control button, she aimed the remote at a banana hanging from a hook on the cupboard next to her. Instantly it began to ripen and mature... then turn to black sludge and rot away. Pushing the button down in reverse, she watched as the processs reversed and then went further - the banana turning green and beginning to shrink back to a seed.

The remote now appeared to have powers over time. This was like something out of a science fiction program!

With this remote, she seemed able to control time. Seeing her 31 year old face reflected in the mirror, she suddenly paused and then hesitantly pointed the remote towards herself. What if...?

"Ohhhh fuck," groaned Alanah as she hit the de-aging button and she felt the power of the remote blast into her. Her skin tightened, her slightly saggy breasts firmed up, her buttocks tightened. Youth and vitality flowed into her and it felt so good. As she stopped pushing the button, the effect finally ended and an eighteen year old version of herself looked back in delight.

"This is incredible," she breathed. "I'm young again!"

Turning the remote over, Alanah popped open the battery panel and pulled out the corroded batteries. There was a flash of pink light and now once again she held the normal plastic TV remote in her hands.

She deserved to be young again. This was a gift that she was never going to reverse. Why shouldn't she have some extra life and vitality and be young and free again?

The remote was back to normal, but she wasn't. She was still young and full of vitality. The de-aging effect was obviously permanent until she used the remote again.

For a moment, she pondered putting the batteries back in and changing back immediately.

As she did so, she barely noticed that crackle of pink energy that briefly flared over her own body as she thought of reversing the effect and immediately decided not to.

The uncharacteristic feeling of selfishness felt good. She groaned and her nipples got even harder than they had earlier. She felt... good. Being selfish felt great!

"Hmmmm, these batteries are incredible. They changed the remote into an upgraded version of itself. I wonder what happens if I put them into other objects?"

Enjoying the feeling of her tight young body, Alanah whistled happily as she picked up one of Max's Xbox controllers. Sliding the batteries inside - she gasped as the same pink lightning engulfed that too and in moments the controller had changed.

It still had the same basic shape, but it was no longer for controlling video games. As she switched it on, Alanah saw the TV flicker into life. She was now looking at a birds eye view of her neighbourhood. Fascinated, she pushed the control sticks and flew over to Max's hotel where he was staying for his work conference.

Inside his room, Max was lying on the bed watching TV. Alanah giggled as she saw that she could select him like he was a character in a game. Menu's and options appeared and she saw that she could now adjust and change Max's mental attributes as well as pilot him remotely.

Pushing start, she grinned as she now realised she was in control of her arrogant boyfriend's mind.

A whisper in the back of her head seemed to tell her that she should get her revenge on her boyfriend for the way he always treated her. She hesitated. That seemed wrong.

On the bed Max groaned as the changes took place and his body posture changed. He now looked anxious and worried, no longer the confident business man but a scared little loser. Alanah liked seeing him squirm - this was fun... and horny.

Pink lightning crackled un-noticed over Alanah's body and she relaxed. No... it would be fun to manipulate and control her dumb boyfriend for a change.

An uncharacteristically bitchy grin spread over her lips as she began to decrease Max's confidence and intelligence. She could always put them back later, but let's how he liked being a dumb, subservient little simp.

Wait...

Alanah's panties were wet as she pushed the control up to make Max totally devoted and enslaved to her will. His obsession to please her and serve her would now be unstoppable.

When Max came back from his trip, he would be her subservient little toy. Her grin grew wider. What else could she make him do? Or who else could she transform?

Oh fuck, why did this feel so good?

What the fuck was she doing?

"Noooo what did I just do?" she sobbed, disgusted at herself. "Those batteries... they're... they're doing something to me. Something bad. I... I felt so fucking turned on when I began to dominate Max's mind. This isn't me, I'm not a bad person."

Her grin fading, Alanah felt a rising panic. She loved Max, he was her boyfriend and she'd just violated his mind and fucked up his personality. Looking down she saw a flash of pink electricity run across her hands and into her body and she suddenly realised she was being affected.

With a sudden sobbing gasp she turned over the controller and ripped out the batteries. Pink lightining flashed as she threw them across the room and they hit the wall.

Alanah took a deep breath to steady herself. "I have to destroy those batteries - but... but I need to reverse these changes first. Ohhh shit, why am I so horny?"

Looking down Alanah could see her pussy was soaking. She had been so turned on manipulating Max and her new eighteen year old body felt so good, she had never felt this turned on. Even now - disgusted by her actions - she also couldn't stop thinking how hot it had felt to control Max and have such Godlike power. Part of her wanted more.

Her nipples were errect and her body ached with desire. She had never felt so fucking turned on. Pink lightning crackled over her skin. She needed... mmmmmh... she needed release. No... she needed to deal with these evil batteries.

Crawling over to the batteries she carefully picked them up in her sweater, trying not to touch them. She had meant to go over to the Xbox controller with them, but instead she found her feet carrying herself up to her bedroom.

Alanah could barely think straight. The urgent heat in her loins needed to be dealt with. She could turn Max and herself back later. First - she needed to let off some steam. Urgently.

Ripping down her panties, she urgently slid her fingers into her wetness and began to hump herself like a nympho. It felt good... but not good enough. For some reason she needed more.

Opening her drawer, she pulled out her bullet vibrator and pushed the button. This would do it.

Nothing happened.

"Nooooo I need... I need it," groaned Alanah as she shook with lust. She had never needed anything so badly. Her fingers pumped in and out of her pussy, but the release she needed was lacking.

Her horny mind craved the vibrator. She needed to feel it pulsing against her clit. She NEEDED it.

Wrenching open the battery case she tossed the duds aside. Strange, she'd only changed them recently. She needed power and rapidly her eyes fell on the pink corroded batteries nestled in her sweater.

Yesssssss.

She knew this was a terrible idea, but it seemed so hot. The batteries had already made her do bad things, putting them in her vibrator was surely asking for trouble. Mmmmh but it was also such a deliciously naughty idea. She wanted to be good, but now she also wanted to be bad. The evil side of her was becoming stronger and she wanted to know how it felt to get even worse. She giggled as she wondered what the batteries would do to her tiny vibrator.

Picking them up, Alanah moaned as she pushed them in and let the pink lightning crackle over both her and the vibrator. Giving into the batteries, to the corrosion... it felt GOOD.

"Yessssssss," she hissed as her tiny vibrator began to swell and grow. In moments it had become a sleek chrome wand, with a new row of buttons on.

Slut mode. Bitch mode. Goddess mode.

Intrigued and desperate for release, Alanah pushed slut mode and the vibrator buzzed into life. Large and powerful, it hummed with obscene power as she brought it down between her legs and screamed in ecstasy.

"Yessssss!" she hissed as pink lightning crackled around her body and she humped the vibrator with a wild grin on her face. She could feel the corrosive power of the batteries throbbing into her body, changing her and corrupting her.

"YESSSS I LOVE IT!"

She screamed, quivering and shaking as pleasure stronger than anything she'd ever felt before pulsed through her.

Alanah's small breasts began to swell and grow and she moaned as she pushed the vibrator hard against her pussy. "Yessss make them BIGGER," she cried. She had always been jealous of girls with big breasts, now she would be the one to make others jealous.

Lightning crackled over her body, each surge bringing her closer to orgasm. Each throb and buzz of pink power was corrupting her, improving her, making her better.

"Yessss give it to meeeeeee!"

Her face became sluttier and prettier, her once innocent features now those of a porn star as her hair grew even blonder and her skin became softer. Her ass was now bigger and rounder, her waist slimmer but her hips wider. She had the body of a fuckdoll now and she liked it.

Being an 18 year old blonde slut felt good.

Alanah grabbed one of her now impressively large breasts and squeezed it in pleasure as she rode her vibrator. She felt so good, but she needed more.

She didn't want to be a slut. She wanted to be a bitch.

The vibrator had given her the perfect body but her mind didn't quite match. She was still a goody goody in part. She needed to go deeper.

Her thumb slid up the vibrator to the next setting.

"Noooo, I can't. If I push it... I'll become evil. This fucking thing will destroy my mind and turn me into a total bitch. Ohhh shit why does that sound so hot?"

If she could just cum, she could fight this terrible temptation, but she couldn't. The only way she could cum was if she became a bitch.

She thought about Max... how much she loved him, even if he often was an asshole. She thought about her job, about the homeless people who relied on her. She tried to fight it.

Mmmmmh but why fight it?

A slutty smiled spread over Alanah's face. Wouldn't it feel good to become a selfish, wicked bitch who never had to care about anyone but herself? It's not like she would ever regret this decision once she transformed.

This was her chance to have everything.

"Yesssss, make me into a fucking bitch," she groaned pushing the button for Bitch Mode.

The vibrator intensfied and throbbed even harder against her pussy and Alanah's eyes rolled up into her head as the orgasmic pleasure took her to a new plateau.

The pink lightning intensified around her body and she moaned and gurgled as it crackled into her brain.

She was being rewired... corroded and corrupted. All her decency and kindness was being rewired to cruel-ambiton, selfishness and pleasure.

"YESSSSSSSSS. Ughhhh make me mean, make me fucking evil! Turn me into a bitch!"

Alanah shook and moans came out of her mouth as her head rolled in pleasure. It felt so good to have her entire personality rewired.

She no longer felt any guilt about controlling Max and making him a simp. She loved dominating others and manipulating men. Lying, cheating, seducing, corrupting... these were the things that brought her pleasure. Along with expensive clothes, fine wines and hard nasty sex of course.

Her lips twisted into a cruel smile... a permanent resting bitch face. Cold blue eyes flickered with pleasure as the new bitch luxuriated in her superior personality and looked back at her old life with contempt.

Alanah... such a weak pathetic girl. Her lips curved into a malicious grin as she thought of all those pathetic homeless people who would no longer have any help now that stupid goody goody Alanah was no more. She was a new bitch now - she was Lana.

Lana stretched her body, pushing the vibrator harder against her pussy and sighing in contentment. She was all that mattered. Her tight perfect pussy couldn't take much more. Only one thing remained to do.

Lana pushed the button for Goddess Mode.

"Ohhhh fuck yesss, give it to me," she hissed. "Make me fucking cum and destroy every last ounce of goodness in this body. Finish my transformation into Goddess Lana.

The vibrator throbbed with unholy power and Lana arched her perfect body into the air. She screamed in lust, her angelic, yet evil features a mask of ecstasy as her pussy began to cum.

She squirted hard, juices blasting out as she screamed like a banshee. "OHHHH MY FUCKING GAWDDDD. YESSSSSSS!"

The batteries throbbed with power as they pumped energy into Lana... bolstering her narcissim, increasing her libido and her desire to dominate. She was now the ultimate bitch and the most powerful Goddess.

With a bang the vibrator overloaded and the evil batteries melted in a flare of pink energy. Lana screamed as the last of the unholy energy surged into her body and her corruption was completed.

She orgasmed one last time, another spray erupting from her pussy as she collapsed onto the bed and panted and moaned in satisfaction.

"Mmmmmhhhhhh oh yessssss," she groaned as she removed the ruined vibrator from between her legs and giggled at the drenched bed underneath her.

Standing up, she walked to her mirror and admired her new body. "Mmmmh I truly AM a Goddess now."

But what about her batteries? Her wonderful batteries were ruined.

Walking to the bed, Lana picked up one of the drained batteries that had orginally been in the vibrator. As she held it between her fingers, pink sparks arched between them and she watched with interest as the battery corroded and turned a bright vibrant pink.

"Looks like I have the power now," purred Lana as she charged the other battery and laughed evily.

"I can now corrupt as many devices as I like. Mind control, time control... who knows what else I will be able to do when I try other devices? I truly AM a fucking Goddeas now. This world will be my plaything and I'll do whatever the fuck I want."

Her soul, body and mind corroded - the new Uber-Bitch walked off with a clop of high heels to go find the Xbox controller.

She had even more changes to make to Max... and then the rest of the town would follow.

The whole world was her toy now. It was easy, when you had the power...

THE END

#evie hyde #bitchification #f2f transformation #f2f corruption #corruption #evil bitch #corroded #magic batteries #devices #self-corruption #good to evil #kind to cruel #Goddess

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sirensplayhouse · 1 year

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It Is A Fact Challenge💫 •self concept challenge🦋•

the long awaited post has finally been made🥱

ok so the first thing y’all have probably noticed is this isn’t the standard challenge where it’s for a certain amount of days and that’s for a reason✋🏾the time frame in which you get results are up to you . you decide how long it takes you to get results . you decide how well this challenge works for you . you decide when you get results , because you hold all the power .

during this challenge you’re going to be focused on two things: vaunting and affirming

now since a lot of y’all wanted to know the specific vaunt I used to manifest my dream life who am I to deny y’all of it😌so boom here y’all go:

A sirens vaunt:

I am literally living my dream life. I mean it’s ridiculous how things can change at the blink of an eye. it’s to be expected though , since I am a master manifestor of course . I am in complete control of my reality . and there’s not a thing that could ever change that. when I walk in the room I command everyone’s attention . it’s amazing how my life changed overnight and now I’m living the life I’ve always imagined . but it’s to be expected since I am the goddess of all things in my life .

now you can either keep it like this or change it to fit you and your liking . you also can use other vaunts that other bloggers have made:

@rayjane //here

@cinnamonitgirl // boom

@remcycl333 // bam

@itsravenbitch // slap

and ofc check out the queen of vaunting herself the goddess Hera @sexydreamgirl / @sexyandhedonistic

now how often you vaunt is up to you , I listened to it before I went to sleep (including naps) and whenever I woke up. but it’s completely up to you if you want to vaunt during the day or even do mirror work 🤍

now onto the affirmations, just like the vaunt I’ll give you the single affirmation I used but it is not necessary to use it and yea😂

“ I always manifest instantly”

more sc affirmations because why not ?✨

“I am the goddess of all things in my life”

“everything always goes my way”

“it is a fact I always manifest instantly”

“I manifest at the speed of light”

“everything always works out in my favor”

“I always deserve good things”

“people are always trying to please me”

“everyone adores me”

now for more self concept knowledge y’all should definitely go check out the queen @cinefairy list of affirmations and her success stories about self concept are just *chefs kiss😚🤌🏾* and the other queen is none other than @sexyandhedonistic not only does she have a list of affirmations that’ll boost your sc sky high since y’all are so obsessed with time crunches and motivational posts (see what I did there 😂😭yea click the link🙂)

again how often you affirm is up to you, I affirmed throughout the day 80x every hour (specifically because 8 is my favorite number and I said go big or go home😂). but if you want to affirm randomly throughout the day, just once or however many times it’s completely ok and completely up to you .

now y’all are officially all set to start this challenge 🤝🏾I cannot stress this enough this challenge is about you and you alone . don’t let other bloggers or other peoples success dictate your results or beliefs . if you don’t agree with something move on and know that it holds absolute zero power unless you give it power. AND STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM TUMBLR AND ANY OTHER LOA COMMUNITY WHILE YOURE DOING THIS CHALLENGE😂

persistence + consistency + discipline is 🔑( wise words from @kaayxshay )

I look forward to seeing each and everyone of y’all’s success 🫶🏾now have fun and create your own rules ! drive out those limiting beliefs and manifest your dream life and live it to the fullest 🦋

some Neville to send y’all off with 🥰

“I AM is a feeling of permanent awareness. The very center of consciousness is the feeling of I AM. I may forget who I am, where I am, what I am but I cannot forget that I AM. The awareness of being remains, regardless of the degree of forgetfulness of who, where, and what I am.”

“man is actually the arbiter of his own fate, and that it is his concept of himself that determines the world in which he lives [and his concept of himself is his reactions to life].”

“There is only one I AM and you are that I AM. And while I AM is infinite, you, by your concept of yourself, are displaying only a limited aspect of the infinite I AM.”

“Just as the moth in his desire to know the flame was willing to destroy himself, so must you in becoming a new person be willing to die to your present self.”

“However, the only fate governing your life is the fate determined by your own concepts, your own assumptions; for an assumption, though false, if persisted in will harden into fact.”

“The ideal you seek and hope to attain will not manifest itself, will not be realized by you, until you have imagined that you are al ready that ideal.”

“All transformation is based upon suggestion, and this can work only where you lay yourself completely open to an influence. You must abandon yourself to your ideal as a woman abandons her self to love, for complete abandonment of self to it is the way to union with your ideal.”

#loassumption #law of assumption #manifesation #loa blog #loa #law of assumption blog #it is a fact challenge #sc challenge #self concept #self concept challenge #sirens untouchable hits 🕺🏾

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rafesgoldrings · 11 months

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Rafe x trophy wife where an employee talks down to the reader (not knowing who she is or how much power she holds) and she goes along with it, pretending to not know anything about Rafe’s business until the man himself, aka her husband walks in at just the right time where the employee is calling the reader a dumb bitch for not knowing anything 👀

The guy had to be new because there’s no way one of the employees that had been there for awhile would even think about speaking to you that way, let alone actually say it to your face. It was subtle at first, each time he saw you grabbing the papers from your desk he’d offer to help you out. You thought he was just being nice after seeing the large stack of paper you had, but then he started saying snarky remarks to you. Any meeting you had with him was always full of something along the lines of ‘the adults are speaking sweetheart, why don’t you go get us some coffee and let us do our jobs’ and it took everything in you to not slap him. But you were smarter than that, smarter than him, and knew that if you planned it out, Rafe would catch him and the guy would quickly learn why he shouldn’t talk down to his fellow co workers. You sent Rafe a quick text asking him to come to your desk so you could give him something, and that wasn’t necessarily a lie…it was just a very early birthday gift that you conveniently decided to give him when you saw the asshole co worker approaching. You purposely sent him an email containing the wrong information about one of the sales Rafe made knowing it would set him off. The perfect plan to get this asshole caught. You’d gotten a reply saying he was on his way and smirked, setting your phone down and watching as the guy walked closer and closer. “Do you realize what you the hell you just did?” his face red and voice slightly raised. “No, did I do something wrong?” your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, a total look of absolute innocence on your face. You bit back a smile watching his nostrils flare, jaw clenching and chest rising with every increasing breath. “God you’re such a dumb bitch. You don’t know anything about this company. The only thing you’re good for is being the young hot thing in the office with good tits and a good ass who’s cu-“ a loud booming voice cutting him short. A smug look on your face as the guys face paled and eyes widened. Nobody wants their boss to address them in that way. That means they did something they shouldn’t have and are about to be fired. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to my wife like that?” he looked down at your hand, noticing the giant diamond ring on your finger and name tag on your desk. ‘Y/N Cameron’ oh fuck. He tried to stammer his way through an explanation, he didn’t know who you were and he was sorry. But Rafe didn’t care, nobody disrespected his wife. You worked your ass off to help him and worked your ass off before he’d even married you to help his company. You were his equal, you deserved the same respect. “I-I’m sorry sir I don’t fucking care. Say you’re sorry and then get the hell out” apparently he didn’t move quick enough because Rafe grabbed him by the back of the neck and harshly pinned him against your desk. He cried out apologies before Rafe threw him to the ground, telling him to get the hell out of his building before he had him thrown out. He wasted no time scrambling to his feet and running out the doors, not even bothering to grab his stuff. You could only bite your lip and smirk, clenching your thighs together. There was something so hot about Rafe protecting you, he walked over to you and grabbed your hand. He’d place a gentle kiss to it and apologize for the employees behavior to which you promised him it was okay, it wasn’t his fault. The gift you wanted to give him? The very same gift you used to lure him in? A remote control to your new vibrating panties. “You’re going to kill me princess, but not before I have you on your knees in front of me. Crying, begging me to stop after about your 20th orgasm”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #trophy wife! reader x rafe #asks <3

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lizziesblueberries · 2 years

Text

Now she has your heart

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,428

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Mommy!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, dark!wanda, possessive Wanda, soft Wanda, Wanda magic g!p, it’s fake though, breeding kink, yandere Wanda?, magic tattoos, slight hurt/comfort, smut, Wanda Maximoff needs a hug, so I gave her one, praise, multiverse of madness spoilers, minors DNI, 18+

Summary: a continuation of She’s in Your Mind I would recommend reading that first, but you don’t have too. It starts after Wanda sacrifices herself. Though we don’t really talk about that. You wake up in an unknown location with Wanda, and she needs you now more than ever.

You slowly woke to soft fingers gently combing through your hair, digits caressing the outline of your face, dragging along your lips. You didn’t open your eyes, still drowsy from sleep, and the soft touches were soothing, you felt safe and warm. You were content to just lay like that, and you did, for a few minutes, until an amused raspy voice spoke to you, snapping you out of your daze and alerting you to the fact that you were not alone.

“Hello Little one, I know you’re awake.”

You slowly opened your eyes to the figure of the Scarlet- no, of Wanda sitting to the side of you, looking down at you and softly smiling. You were in a bed, you noticed, in a room you didn’t recognize, and with a witch who appeared to have changed quite a bit in the last time you saw her. Which you weren’t sure when that was, but the events started to come back to you regardless. The temple- Kamar Taj, Wanda invading the temple, Wanda invading you. Her successfully taking over your mind and making you give in, and letting go of your magic. The people at the temple must be dead now, and you didn’t even try that hard to resist her, to help them. You felt slightly upset at Wanda for choosing you, of all people, she choose your mind to attack, but mostly, you felt upset at yourself. Upset at how weak you were and how easily you let her take control of you, you’d never let anyone come that close, and you let the supposed enemy at that time, be the one to take you. At your thoughts, You noticed Impossibly pink lips pout at you.

“Aww, don’t be upset detka. No one would have been able to resist my magic, and from what I saw in your mind, you certainly wouldn’t have been able to resist me.” You were going to nod your head no and deny what she said, but Wanda was already reading your thoughts and stopped you. “Yes, you know its true, you may want to be in denial, but I know you more than you know about yourself. And that’s ok, that’s why I’m here. You let me in, all the way, and I’m not going to take that for granted. You saw something in me, just as I saw in you. We’re meant for each other.”

Wanda had so much love and resolve in her eyes while she said this, making you want to believe her and not argue. There was so much passion in the way she was looking at you, it was bordering on unhinged and possessive. You also noticed she looked a little sad, her crown and armor was removed, and in its place was a soft blue sweater and grey leggings, along with red curls softly falling down her head. You wondered what had happened to make her look so sad, and why she was here and not with her kids, which you assumed she had found, considering how powerful and determined she was to get them.

“I found them.” She whispered. And you seriously needed to get used to her reading your mind. She continued, “But I became something they were afraid of, I had them, right there in front of me. And instead of getting to hold them and tell them how much I loved them, and them love me back, they screamed in fear and ran away from me. As if I was going to hurt my boys. I would never hurt them, but I hurt others, and I wish I could bring myself to regret the pain that I caused, to feel guilt over the lives I took, but I don’t. I was doing it for a good reason, for my happiness and to love and have my boys back. My boys don’t deserve that though, to have so much pain be the cause of me having them back, to have that suffering behind their names. They deserve happy, simple, and peaceful lives, so I left, even though it kills me, I wont go after them again.”

She had tears quietly running down her cheeks while saying this, immense pain was shown on her face, and the depths that you saw in her eyes had you taking her in your arms without a second thought. You were stunned when you did this, stunned from her confession, shocked that so much had happened and you had just woken up. But mostly you couldn’t deny the strong feelings that overtook you for this women. She was in pain, grieving for the loss of her family, struggling to cope with the never ending events of trauma that has been continuously happening in her life. And like Wanda, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about the others, about the pain she caused, or feel guilty for letting her attack Kamar Taj and taking you with her. Wanda was the most beautiful person you had ever seen, with all the love in the multiverse to give. And you weren’t going to let that go to waste, or let her suffer alone anymore. The way she was curled into you, seeming so much smaller than you remembered, her face pressed into the crook of your neck, hands holding tightly to your waist, and what felt like shaky breaths coming out of her, only solidified that. Wanda pulled away then, still with her arms around you, she looked at you, her tears had stopped and now she had a surprised expression on her face.

“Do you really feel that way?” She asked cautiously. You nodded yes. At this point, you were fine with her reading your mind now, especially if your thoughts brought about the look of amazement and wonder in her eyes. Her hands were holding your waist now, and she rubbed her thumbs back and forth on your hips without her realizing. “I knew you were perfect for me. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were going to be my sweet girl. And when I read your mind, it only confirmed that I was right. My sweet, pretty, baby girl, I am so glad I found you.” Her hands took a hold of yours, and brought them to her lips, she placed gentle kisses against your knuckles and looked at you with so much joy, you shivered. You were a little surprised with her words, but even more so, happy. You shouldn’t feel so content with how she basically took you, or how in most relationships, this behavior was very concerning, but like your guilt, that concern couldn’t be found, only, reciprocation.

“I’m glad too.” You spoke softly. And that only seemed to heighten her joy. She was practically beaming like the sun at you, and while you had thought she was the most stunning women in the world, when she scrunched her nose a little, letting out a giggle, she was now the most adorable.

“I’ll give you anything your heart desires; all I want is for you to stay with me forever. I’ll do anything for you, anything. Just be mine.” The look in her eyes swiftly changed to unhinged desperation, which was odd, cause you were pretty sure you had just confirmed your feelings to her, and after that little speech, you were in no way going to deny her, you were also pretty sure you couldn’t even if you wanted to. But her eyes said another story, and you guess you couldn’t blame her considering how much she had lost. So you placed your hand on her cheek, and brought your lips together. The sigh she let out when your lips touched, was all worth the bold move, and you knew you had alleviated her doubts.

“You’re all I have.” She said as she gently pushed you down onto the bed. She then mounted your waist and leaned down to kiss you more forcefully, her tongue skillfully slid in and took home in your mouth. Once she was satisfied she had explored every inch of your mouth, she moved her lips down to your throat, hands heavily moving up your body slowly. “And you’re all I need.” She growled, and sank her teeth into your neck. And fuck. If that wasn’t one of hottest things to happen to you. You let out a moan, and moved your head to the side to give her more access. Your hands moved to hold her arms, squeezing them, because damn, she was toned. God you just wanted her to devour you right there, however she wanted. Soft hands took a hold of yours, connecting your hands together and moving them above your head, holding you there.

“Is that what you want babygirl? You want Mommy to take over and devour you? To have you any way I want?” She said with a red tint in her eyes. You nodded your head again, and a hand swiftly grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, scarlet wisps held your hands above you as her other hand closed around your throat. She growled again, “Has my pretty girl already forgotten her manners? What did I tell you to do last time, when I ask you a question?” You whimpered from how tight she was holding you in place, she was looking at you with blown pupils, an expectant look on her face, and you didn’t want to disappoint her, so you tried your best to remember what she told you. A brief recollection of her claiming you and making you speak to her flashed in your mind. Her telling you that good girls get a treat when they answer her.

“Y-yes I want you to take me. Please Mommy you make me feel so good, I just want to be yours.” Wanda groans at your words, head dropping down a little as she moves her hips against you.

“Such a good girl.” You hear her mutter, almost to herself. Her hands move to the hem of your shirt, which you’re now realizing is probably one of her’s that she changed you into, and slowly starts to pull it up. Kisses are placed against your stomach as she goes, her eyes locked on your face as she slides her tongue up your stomach and stops at your chest. She takes the shirt off you, and you realize that you had nothing else on under that. You blush, trying to move your hands to cover yourself, but her magic holds you still.

“Oh? Is my little one shy? You don’t need to be, Mommy loves everything about you. You’re a beautiful work of art, and no one should get to even look at you except for me.” She attaches her lips to one of your breasts after her assurances. All you can do is whimper and delight in how good she makes you feel, her tongue licking a long stripe across your breast before taking your nipple into her mouth. She’s so hot, her mouth, her words, her voice, her body that lays fully on you. You arch your back into her and she hums, the vibrations going into your chest, making you feel oddly safe and content, but it also sends a pulse of heat straight to your core. You’re obviously soaking at this point, and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable with how much your aching.

Wanda, sensing this, starts to move her mouth back down your body, swirling her tongue at every dip and curve, leaving a trail of spit behind. Your chest is moving rapidly the closer she gets to your core, and she watches with greedy eyes how you react to her. She’s finally right above your dripping pussy, and you cant your hips up, needing to feel her on you. But she pulls back, and moves her hands to hold your hips down, smirking knowingly at your desperation.

“There’s my needy girl.” She says proudly. And you groan at her, either at her words, or as a confirmation, that yes, you are indeed needy, and you need her now. She then proceeds to put you into shock, when her mouth suddenly envelopes your entire pussy. White, hot, pleasure bursts through you, her mouth covering your clit and her tongue sticking out to cover your hole. She groans at finally tasting you, eyes snapping open in hunger, almost in shock herself with how much she loves your flavor. You watch as the green in her eyes nearly disappears as her pupils grow into black holes, she’s not even really looking at you, too lost in her hunger to focus on anything else, but lapping up more of your arousal. You almost cum just from the sight alone of how starved she looks, desperate to take in more of you. She has her hands wrapped around your thighs in a vice like grip, afraid you’ll move out of her reach, which will not likely fucking happen.

Wanda starts to then move her head slightly from side to side, hardening her tongue a little to create better friction against you, she does this quickly, damn near making you lose your mind, because what the hell, she’s aggressively and unashamedly slurping your essence up. And you would’ve blushed if you could at the wet sloshing noises she was making, but at the moment, you were uncontrollably moaning- no screaming at how good she was eating you out. You were reaching your release way too soon, but you couldn’t properly get your brain to work to warn her.

You didn’t need to worry though, Wanda watched as you threw your head against the pillows, back coming off the bed as you squeezed your eyes shut, she watched with scarlet eyes, as you grew closer to coming for her. When you were finally at your breaking point, Wanda spoke to you inside your head, too greedy for your taste to take her mouth off you for even a second.

“Cum now my little slut, you’re doing so well, give me more of you. You taste so good, cum right in my mouth, that’s it, give mommy all your cum.” With Wanda giving you permission, and the words she spoke only heightening your pleasure, you finally hit your peak. Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out as all your energy went into bracing yourself against the orgasmic waves of pleasure that hit you. Wanda sucked hard against your clit, and then hummed, low and loud against you, satisfied in your release filling her mouth as she drank all of you. She continued to lap you up, as you came down from literally heaven. You noticed her magic releasing you, and you brought your hands to her head, you lightly pushed her away from your over sensitive core, and she reluctantly pulled away, not without giving your clit a quick kiss goodbye though. You both looked at each other, taking the other in, you- with mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and chest still heaving a little from the air you lost earlier. And Wanda, with her smug grin, with your arousal covering her entire bottom of her face as she wore it proudly. She licked her lips and moved up to your mouth, and kissed you. You moaned at the taste of you both combined, and she smiled against your lips, biting your bottom lip as she pulled away again.

“You were amazing and so delicious to taste my love. I hope your ready for more, because I have plans for my sweet little pussy.” She waved her hand, and you watched her eyes flash red, then she moved her fingers hypnotically, you watched the long digits move, really loving the way they looked. Then she looked down, and held a proud smirk on her face. Curious as to what she was so happy about, you looked down as well, and boy did you see how happy she was, or in this case the new member suddenly appearing at her waist was happy. Oh and she was finally naked. You’re eyes widened, you didn’t know where to start, her body was magnificent, soft and toned and smooth, her breasts rested right in front of your face, begging to be worshipped, and you also wanted to worship her other body part, well, all of her body parts to be honest.

“Do you like it? It’s a spell I learned from reading the Darkhold, its not a real cock, but I can feel it, and more importantly so can you. Mommy is going to fill you up, nice and full, and your going to take all of me. I’ve been wanting to use this on you ever since I read about it, and now you’re finally mine to completely have and use however I want.” You swallowed hard, it was a bright red color, matching her magic almost, which was fitting, and it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken. You looked back up at her, slight panic in your eyes, and she softened the look she was giving you. She moved her hand to your face and lightly caressed your cheek. “Don’t worry my sweet girl, mommy knows what she’s doing, trust me, I’ll make you feel so good, all you need to do is lay there and be my good girl. You want that right? To be my good girl and trust me?” The soft and devoted look in her eyes removed all hesitation from your mind and you nodded. “Such a good girl for me. God I love how desperate you are to please me.”

And with that she moved her hips to rest against yours, she moved her hand down to position the tip of the fake cock against your entrance and you felt her part your folds. She rubbed the tip against your pussy and you both moaned at the feeling, her cock was surprisingly warm, almost vibrating with her magic, and you were once again dripping for her. With one hand still holding her cock against you, she leaned down over you, placing her other hand beside your head to hold herself up.

“Look at me.”She whispered, bringing her face right above yours, striking emerald eyes held all your attention. Her eyes remained focused on your face as she moved her hips into yours slowly. You felt her spread you apart, and she was sinking into you inch by inch, slowly, watching as you winced and gasped from her stretching you so thoroughly. While it was a little painful at first, you kept your eyes locked with hers, she was splitting you apart and yet you felt completely safe and warm in the way she looked at you, taking you in like an addict would a drug. And you weren’t the only one reacting, she bit her lip as she pulled out, groaning when she moved back inside you, you could tell she was holding so much back, but that just made her all the more sexy to you. She was still caring for your needs and how you felt and it made you all the more turned on. Finally, adjusting to her length and wanting to make her feel good, you moved your legs and wrapped them around her waist, pulling her into you all the way and locking your legs. She gasped at this, fully inside you know, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her hand gripped your waist with a bruising force to keep you were you were. You moaned at how full you felt, and how beautiful she looked in a blissful state. Interesting enough, as you both remained unmoving, you felt her pulsing inside you, and you knew it was her magic becoming excited. Your mind completely stopped working after that, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You whined, high pitched and needy, pulling her closer, her eyes snapped open, and she looked down at you.

“Fuck me.” You said while panting. “Fuck me mommy, I want you to destroy me, completely ruin this pussy for no one else. I want you so bad, just fill me up until I can’t take anymore, please mommy.” It was like a switched flipped, soft eyes turned feral and dark, her body tensed and she quickly moved her hands to grip your waist. She pulled her hips back and began to roughly pound into you, your body moved against the sheets with such force that the bed hit the wall. Your legs lost their hold around her waist from her movements and fell to the sides, so she grabbed your legs and pushed them into your chest. You moaned as you felt her go even deeper, and she grunted from how hard she was pounding into you.

“Fuck baby, is this what you want? Mommy pounding this pussy, ruining you for anyone else? You can never be anyone else’s, your mine, you belong to me and me alone. Gonna fill this pretty little pussy until your full of me. Would you like that? Mommy filling you up to the brim with her cum, maybe I’ll do just that, get you pregnant and breed you like the little bitch you are. Then you won’t ever leave me, even if you wanted to. I fill you up over and over again till this house is full of our children, and then some.” Wanda spoke with such a deep voice, nearly growling out her words. You were delirious, you weren’t sure if she was serious about getting you pregnant, but you were so consumed with pleasure, by her words, and possessiveness, that you didn’t really care. She was moving inside you at an alarming speed, and then she grabbed you by the throat, using her hold on you as leverage to move harder into you, cutting off a bit of your breathing, and that felt even better.

Your hands were on her back, pushing her closer to you, scratching red lines down her back that had you proud for finally marking her. She moaned at the pain and thoughts you had of claiming her, and moved her face into the crook of your neck, sucking on it harshly to leave her own mark on you. You both were getting closer, she could feel you squeezing her cock tightly, gripping around her like a wet glove, all you could hear was your slapping bodies, and sloshing noises you both made. She pressed herself fully against you, needing to feel more of you, your breasts connecting to rub against each other, her arms wrapped around you, holding you closer to her. You noticed her hips moving erratically, getting sloppier with her rhythm against you, she was getting close to her release as well.

What you didn’t notice though, was the wisps of scarlet leaving Wanda, coming from her chest and heading towards yours, right to your heart. As you both moved against each other, feeling absolutely euphoric and in love, you both reached your release. Wanda came inside you, hot spurts of cum filling you completely, moaning your name and whispering praises into your ear. You came with her, your pussy clenched hard around her, increasing both your pleasure as she pulsed inside you, she felt even warmer inside you. And as you both held one another, her magic worked its way around your heart, wrapping it in a protective hold, just like how she was holding you now, and solidifying her claim over you, leaving behind a red tattoo in the symbol of her crown over your heart.

You both eventually calmed down, Wanda’s magic disappeared and you whimpered from the sudden emptiness. Wanda shushed you, moving her head back a little to kiss your lips softly. She then waved her hand and used her magic to clean you both up. She moved you both so that she was now under you and you laid your head against her chest, she once again wrapped her arms around you, and pulled you closer, practically purring with you being content and safe within her arms. You noticed something different though, about yourself. You felt a warmth on your chest, and their was a new feeling inside you, in your heart. You looked down and gasped at the red crown over your heart.

“Wanda what is this?” Oddly enough, you weren’t asking out of concern, it was more out of curiosity. Wanda looked down at you and to where you were pointing and hummed, her lips tilted up into an appreciative and proud smile.

“Oh, that? It’s nothing to worry about. Think of it as a sign of my love. And know that because of this, I can always protect you. Now go to sleep my lovely girl, you did a lot today and mommy is so proud for how well you behaved. I love you so much, Mommy will be right here when you wake up.” You listened to her words, knowing she would never hurt you, and would always keep you safe. Wanda felt like home as you pressed further into her chest, and you were perfectly happy with being hers forever.

Wanda watched you fall to sleep, smiling at how adorable and sweet you were. She moved her hand down to the glowing crown over your heart and traced it lightly with her finger, her smile turned unhinged as she watched it pulse along with your heart. What Wanda didn’t tell you, was that you were now connected to her, a spell in the Darkhold allowing her to bind your hearts together, and forever keep you as hers. She would be able to know where you were at all times, sense if you were ever in danger, and most importantly it would keep you immortal, allowing her to love and be with you till the end of time. Of course there were a few other things that the tattoo did; like make your love for her remain permanent, and you would be more susceptible to her commands, and, Wanda’s favorite part, she would always be on your mind, you would never not think about her, even if you tried. Just like how she always thought of you. Besides, what else would you need to think about other than just being her good girl. But you didn’t really need to know any of that. She pressed her nose into your hair, relaxing further into you at your smell, and whispered, “ You’re mine, all mine.”

Part 3

@cthulhus-curse @inluvwithfictionalwomen @chelleztjs18 @heartsforlee @mjlfluvr

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #yandere wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #mommy! wanda maximoff #wandavision #wanda smut #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda marvel #multiverse of madness #dark!wanda maximoff

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gingersnap-17 · 6 months

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Flames (Choso x Fem Reader)

Authors note: In honor of today's episode, I am going to write another Choso x Reader! I literally love this man so much, he deserves so much love and appreciation. Also, this chapter kinda goes hand in hand with the manga and kinda goes a little off track with the manga. So it is half and half with the events in the manga. You will see when you read it.

Synopsis: Y/N and Choso have been together for quite some time. When the fight between Sukuna and Jogo takes place, fire is spread everywhere. Y/N tries to save as many people as she can out of burning buildings. But after Choso realizes Y/N is late to the spot they were supposed to meet at, he just knows something is wrong.

Word count: 1411

The Shibuya Incident had erupted into an inferno of chaos and devastation. Flames raged throughout the streets, buildings crumbled, and the air was thick with despair. Amidst this chaos, Choso Kamo and Y/N found themselves on opposite sides of the battle. Choso, who is one of the Cursed Wombs, was born into the world of curses and was brought up to fight against humans and sorcerers. Choso had just fought against Yuji not long ago, and learned that Yuji was his younger brother after having a vivid memory that never happened. He thought long and hard on this newfound discovery. After coming to a conclusion, he was questioning his loyalty after Kenjaku lied to him about his younger brother. Which only meant his allegiance could possibly align with Y/N’s. Y/N, on the other hand, was a dedicated sorcerer, determined to protect innocent lives from the curses that threatened to consume them.

Despite their opposing allegiances, Choso and Y/N shared a love that transcended the boundaries of their roles. It was a love they kept hidden, their stolen moments together a precious secret in a world torn apart by violence.

The fight between Sukuna and Jogo had unleashed a wave of destructive flames that engulfed the city. Y/N, with her innate sense of duty, had taken it upon herself to help save as many human lives as she could. She dashed into buildings, guiding terrified citizens to safety, and doing her best to extinguish the fires. But the situation grew increasingly perilous, and Choso couldn't help but worry for her safety as he was contemplating his allegiance to Kenjaku.

After what felt like an eternity, Choso noticed that Y/N had been gone for a long time. They were supposed to meet at a dedicated spot at a certain time. A gnawing sense of dread gripped his heart. His instincts told him something was wrong. Without a second thought, he decided to search for her. Amidst the chaos, he couldn't let her face this danger alone.

Choso's search led him to a partially collapsed building, smoke billowing from its windows. He sensed her presence inside, and the urgency to find her grew even more intense. He rushed in, the heat and smoke threatening to choke him.

Amidst the wreckage, he finally found Y/N. She had helped the last of the trapped humans escape, but the flames had her cornered, leaving her with no way out. Her protective barrier from her technique flickered, struggling to hold back the searing fire. Y/N coughed, her vision blurred by smoke and exhaustion before she passed out.

Choso's heart sank as he saw Y/N's vulnerable form amidst the fiery chaos. Without a second thought, he charged towards her. Using his cursed energy, he created a protective barrier around himself, shielding his body from the scorching heat and smoke. His unique ability, the Blood Manipulation Cursed Technique, allowed him to control his own blood and solidify it into powerful weapons. He clenched his fists, summoning blood-formed weapons that cleared a path through the flames, creating a safe zone around Y/N.

Gently, Choso scooped Y/N into his arms, her limp body feeling delicate against his curse-enhanced strength. He quickly carried her out of the burning building, his barrier protecting them both.

As Choso emerged from the wreckage, the raging flames lapped at the edges of his protective barrier, but he held firm, determined to get Y/N to safety. He could feel her faint breath against his chest, a sign that she was still alive, though unconscious.

Outside, the battlefield had only intensified. The clash between Sukuna and Jogo had reached its peak, and the consequences of their titanic battle were devastating.

Desperation gripped Choso as he scanned the burning cityscape for a safe haven. He spotted a nearby park, relatively untouched by the chaos, and made his way there. Once he reached the park, he gently laid Y/N on a bench, her form still shielded by his barrier.

Choso's eyes were filled with worry as he watched Y/N's unconscious form. Her face was smeared with soot, her hair disheveled, but she still looked as beautiful as ever. He knew he had to wake her up, to make sure she was okay. But as he tried to rouse her, the magnitude of the situation bore down on him.

The park, though a momentary refuge, wouldn't remain safe for long. The battle between Sukuna and Jogo was escalating, and the unleashed curses threatened to spread, even reaching the park's boundaries. Choso needed to make a decision, and fast.

He glanced down at Y/N, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she began to stir. Choso felt a glimmer of hope, but he also knew that she was in no condition to fight or protect herself. The battle between sorcerers and curses was a relentless one, and she needed to be kept out of harm's way.

Choso gently brushed a strand of soot-covered hair from Y/N's face and leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. "Y/N, you need to wake up." he whispered, his voice filled with urgency. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open, and she gazed up at him, disoriented.

"Choso? What... what happened?" Y/N mumbled, still groggy from her ordeal.

"We're in the middle of a battlefield." Choso explained, his eyes filled with concern. "You passed out due to the smoke and exhaustion. I got you out of there, but we're not safe yet."

As the realization of their dire situation dawned on her, Y/N pushed herself into a sitting position. She winced as she felt the lingering effects of smoke inhalation. She coughed harshly, but determination burned in her eyes. "We have to help. There are people out there who need us."

Choso reached out, gently cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing a soot mark on her skin. "I know you want to help, but you're not in any condition to fight. You need to stay safe, Y/N."

Y/N looked at Choso with a mixture of gratitude and determination. She knew he was right. Though her heart ached to be out there helping, she also understood that her safety was crucial for the long-term battle against the curses.

Choso continued, his voice gentle yet firm. "I promise I'll go back out there and do everything I can to protect the innocent. But you, you need to stay here, away from the chaos, and rest. I'll come back for you as soon as it's safe."

Y/N nodded, reluctantly accepting Choso's advice. She knew that, despite their forbidden love and differing allegiances, Choso cared for her deeply. And now, he was willing to put himself back into the fray, risking his life for the greater good.

Choso leaned in and kissed her forehead once more, his lips lingering for a moment. "I'll be back for you, Y/N. Please stay safe."

With that, he got up, looking at her lovingly before he left. Y/N watched him go, her heart heavy with worry for his safety. She knew that this battle in Shibuya was far from over, and she could only hope that Choso would return to her, just as he promised.

As Choso ventured back into the heart of the chaos, his thoughts were consumed by a sense of duty and responsibility. He needed to protect not only Y/N but also Yuji and the countless innocent lives at stake. The battle between sorcerers and curses was a brutal one, and the lines between right and wrong were often blurred. Choso found himself questioning his loyalty to Kenjaku, more than ever.

The Shibuya Incident had brought to light the true cost of this war. The city lay in ruins, countless lives were at risk, and the chaos showed no signs of abating. Choso's journey to protect Y/N was not just a testament to his love for her; it was also a search for his own identity and purpose in this tumultuous world.

As Choso faced the raging battle once more, he held onto the hope that he could make a difference, not only for Y/N but for all those in need. And, in time, perhaps the forbidden love between a cursed being and a sorcerer could find a way to transcend the boundaries of their roles, bringing a glimmer of light to a world steeped in darkness.

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nightgoodomens · 6 months

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I’ve had this idea to use in fanfiction but I’ve been kind of thinking about it in a way it could work in the show too (not that I think it will but hey want some angst?)

Bentley is everything to Crowley right. The only thing he has left at this stage and it’s his home too.

Metatron clearly wants Aziraphale and Crowley separated, he clearly has something against Crowley because of the right ugly look he gives him and worries if he remembers him.

Imagine Aziraphale who keeps on talking about Crowley because he misses him so badly and it’s driving Metatron insane. He needs Crowley to disappear for good, otherwise Aziraphale will not let him go.

Imagine Maggie is actually an angel helping Metatron.

So Metatron comes up with a plan. Now, he thinks the worst of Crowley (because he’s behind his fall and he needs to believe he deserved it, but actually he’s simply a bastard who hated someone better than him) so the plan, in his mind, will either have the result of Crowley dying or going full evil. Either way, Aziraphale will fully reject him.

Maggie’s job is to invite Crowley for a coffee. Crowley drives over, parks further away because he doesn’t want it close to the bookshop, starts walking away.

The idea is that someone drops a holy water bomb under the Bentley. It explodes, Crowley loses his beloved Bentley and home, knows it’s Heaven because of the Holy Water that hopefully will hurt him too, and in Metatron’s mind he loses his shit and joins Hell against Heaven. Result = Aziraphale’s heart breaks and he lets him go.

Or even better, Metatron hopes, that he will notice they’re putting something under the car and goes back close enough that it kills him. Aziraphale loses him and hopefully his own mind so he’s easy to control.

But it’s not what happens.

When Maggie smiles brightly to welcome him, as he’s making his way from where he parked over the road, it’s Nina who walks out too and waves to him - and notices someone running to put something under his car so she shouts for that person to leave the car alone.

Crowley turns immediately and makes his way back, Nina following him. The car explodes, Crowley is luckily not close enough to be killed, but he gets hit by the power of the explosion, gets thrown right against the building. Nina who was farther away just gets pushed away.

She and other people rush to Crowley, and to Maggie’s surprise, while he is clearly in shock and needs a moment of them to sit him up and Nina to talk to him until he finally focuses on her and his mind clears… Maggie can see that he’s soaked in Holy Water which is doing absolutely nothing to him.

Crowley doesn’t realise it’s Holy Water, his eyes are on his Bentley, his home, and he chokes no… and Nina with others need to hold him down because he tries to run to it.

Someone shouts to call an ambulance, Maggie clearly wipes those ideas from their heads, Crowley is in too much shock to think clearly and do it himself. Muriel runs over shocked, her and Nina drag Crowley to the bookshop where they try to calm him down because he’s shaking and they wipe the dirt from his face, try to dry him up with towels, and actually hold him tightly until he stops shaking.

Maggie reports what happened to Metatron. Crowley has nothing now. Metatron hopes the next step is Crowley losing it. He doesn’t understand why Holy Water didn’t work but then it didn’t before so clearly that wasn’t a fabricated story.

What Metatron doesn’t know is that Crowley is now really immune because… he kissed an Angel. A certain angel who’s in love with him and without knowing gave him such protection.

What Metatron doesn’t know either is that Aziraphale has kept in touch with Muriel to hear about the Bookshop and most of all about Crowley.

He also doesn’t know that Crowley and Aziraphale are so close that Aziraphale would feel if something terrible happened to Crowley. And he definitely felt the pain of Crowley getting hurt and losing his Bentley. It nearly tore Aziraphale’s heart apart.

He doesn’t know that Aziraphale gets in touch with Muriel immediately and she tells him about the bomb. Of course Aziraphale is still foolish enough to think that it was Hell’s work. Muriel didn’t know about the Holy Water.

But Aziraphale, in rage, goes to see it happening as Heaven records everything. He finds the video. He recognises the angel who puts the bomb under Crowley’s Bentley. He can’t believe it. He digs deeper and finds out that Metatron ordered the Holy Water Bomb.

He holds the picture of Bentley on fire, and Crowley, devastated, held to the ground by humans, protected by humans, so he doesn’t end up hurt even more.

And this is how Metatron loses Aziraphale completely.

#good omens #crowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #aziracrow

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antvmnos · 7 months

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karasu

bi-han x female character x kuai liang

summary: In another era, a powerful elder god with bravery to command and win battles, but devised a cruel plan by Shinnok motivated by his cruel intentions, she was betrayed and killed for not accepting his deal. Now, returned by the dead and with a new perspective to start following Lord Liu Kang, she was trying to begin again and forget the painful past but her heart had other plans.

1K WORDS. elder goddess, female gender, afab — mild language, violence, slow burn, mentions of death/blood, injuries.

You are surrounded by this decrepit place. Limbo seemed less worse in the legends you used to hear, until the day you were confined to remain there and could see it with your own eyes. Time does not seem to pass as it should, always returning to a repetitive starting point from his ancestry to his cruel death. You are forced to watch these events beyond your control over and over again, until you remember every detail, every line, every action, finally coming to terms, long ago, that it's not Raiden's fault — he was protecting the plans, just like You would do it too, you would give up your own life if it meant peace on the earthrealm.

Just as he also abdicated yours… right?

He wouldn't make it in time.

If he had been there, could things have been different?

He couldn't. Cause you deserve to die.

It is these questions that force her to resent her unfair punishment, fueled by this feeling of hatred. Indeed, there are fates worse than death. And you are aware of this by being here.

"I can help you free yourself from this place." A distant voice speaks to you. You are scared at first, but somehow it brings you comfort.

"I know what I did."

"It was never your fault. Shinnok's vile intentions doomed you, I saw."

"Yes it was. If I had fought him, I could have avoided all of this, I was foolish and ignorant to believe that Shinnok could simply… change."

He doesn't respond or agree with what you said. The male figure materializes in front of you, and in all your existence as a goddess you have never seen him before. But he couldn't be just any deity, he wouldn't be able to get to this place if he were.

If you could blush, you certainly would have.

"If you follow me I can't rid you of your memories, but I can give you a new purpose to move forward."

At first, you looked at him with palpable disbelief, deeply intrigued. You were afraid. Fear of everything happening again, of being used, of returning to this damned place. However, something remained there. He didn't seem to be bluffing or lying.

He didn't look like Shinnok who in every measly word spat out a variety of lies to usurp power.

Something inside you tells you to believe him.

You look around you, there is no life beyond this. You were alone. Each deity, when he died, acquired the punishment he deserved inherent to his actions.

"If I accept your proposal, will I have the peace I seek?"

"Maybe… much more than that. You must walk the path for the answers you want."

He extends his hand towards her, offering a tender look that moves her, for the first time, in centuries or decades, perhaps? You don't know how to discern how much time has passed since your death. Hesitantly, you touched his hand and that place you had been confined in for so long dissolved into a distant mist.

A misty memory of a dream.

You shield your eyes from the brightness as you are greeted by the gentle wind of a morning, somewhere whose location is unknown. The world you once walked in prostrates itself before you again, this time a little different from that period but somehow familiar and welcoming. The birds chirp in a happy and infectious song while the soft sunlight touches their face warmly. You closed your eyes to taste the liberating taste of the usurped life, and for a brief moment you feel immeasurable relief at the sight of the vast rice fields and the village.

This world has changed during his absence, but at the same time, he feels that there is still a certain grace in it. Mortals have always captivated their attention in the little things, their appreciation for that land and its skills both in combat and its uniqueness.

Your walk continues for a while longer, he takes you to an establishment. At the time of his entry, it was empty with just a few workers organizing the place. You don't understand at first his motivations for being here, but a middle-aged lady, upon noticing you, heads towards you.

"Liu Kang!" She greets excitedly. "I haven't seen him in a long time!"

He respectfully bows to her. You imitate the gesture, not wanting to appear rude.

"It's always a pleasure to see you again, Mistress Bo."

"So what brings you here?"

"Sorry to ask for one more favor out of the many I've already asked, but my guest needs to spend some time with you, if it's not inconvenient."

Her gaze flicks to you momentarily, looking you up and down, you flinch. Your clothes were not in the best condition, the kimono that once carried grace and subtlety was full of tears and blood marks, you immediately remember that infamous moment when your life was taken — the deep cut that marks your stomach. Instinctively, you bring your hand to the scar that extends from your lower back.

She was cauterized.

"Oh no, you know it doesn't bother her, on the contrary I will be very happy to help her. Gods, what happened to her? Poor thing, she looks horrible, covered in dirt and that is... Blood?"

"She… went through some difficult situations. I also hope to share your description."

You watch him without understanding why reality is blatantly omitted, he just shrugs and offers you a look as a silent request not to utter a single word.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your stomach makes a noise, as if a dark beast is living inside it.

The lady laughs.

You blush embarrassed.

"Don't worry Liu Kang, she is in good hands. Come young lady, let's prepare a nice bath and something for you to eat."

Without many options, you follow the woman into her affectionate grip. Turning to say goodbye, the god offers you a soft smile before disappearing.

#liu kang #mk1 2023 #mk1 #kuai liang #bi han #sub zero #scorpion mk #sub zero mk #sub zero x reader #scorpion x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader

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starlightshadowsworld · 8 months

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I don't think we talk enough about how traumatising the memory erased stuff is.

Like how hard must it have been for everyone to suddenly realise years of their lives were missing.

To just come to the chilling realisation someone up until an hour ago was your friend.

Has caused the apocalypse.

You think your a first year high school student but nope.

Turns out you've already graduated.

Do they even know how old they are?

You don't know what's changed in your life, what hasn't.

Byakuya's whole family company is gone.

Makoto won't know if Komaru is alive for a long time.

... Are they the only ones left?

Food's suddenly an issue.

They have nowhere else to go.

Makoto has to carry on like his friends didn't just try and kill him.

Everyone else is gone.

They won but... Did they?

And that's just the first game, the Remnants are on a whole other level.

They've caused genocide.

Killed family, friends.

And don't know who or if anyone's left.

Hajime basically lost himself and his own identity for who knows how many years and he's just supposed to just... Exist like nothing happened.

It's like waking up from a nightmare and realising it was all true.

And they don't know what their forgetting or even if they want to remember.

All of them are alive but... Is that good?

They all know who killed them, and have to go on like they didn't.

And their alive...

Nagito's back in a body that's still sick.

Does Nekomaru have a body?

Hell, Sonia's country doesn't exist anymore.

And if I'm remembering correctly, Chiaki's still gone...

... Fucking glad Makoto was here at the end to do damage control because holyshit.

He's already gone through all of this and now is helping them get through it.

Which is great but also means he went through it alone.

Komaru has all her memories in tact but has to constantly choose her words.

Lest she sends Makoto or anyone of the other survivors into a crisis.

And than you have what may be the worse case, V3.

Because Shuichi doesn't even know if anythings real anymore.

Is he real?

Is his name Shuichi Saihara?

How many times has he died?

Is this the real world? What even is the real world?

Am I even a detective? Is all of my personality fake? Who am I? What was made for the show and what's real?

Does it even matter?

Do I have a family? How old am I? How long is 53 seasons? Are my friends still my friends, are they the same?

Is any of this real? Am I real?

If V3 ends like Danganronpa 2 did, is Kaede alive?

Do they remember each other? Is Kaito still sick?

Was Tsumugi ever a friend?

And again, knowing exactly who killed who.

..... You know people give Junko a lot of credit for causing despair.

As she deserves.

But her boyfriend deserves just as much because... Holyshit my dude this is sick.

Her boyfriend was, Yasuke Matsuda the Ultimate Neurologist.

Aka the dude responsibile for all the memory wipes.

Shame she killed him because talk about a power couple.

Causing the end of the world and lasting trauma to everyone involved.

Makoto gonna have to go give everuone therapy while also desperately needing therapy.

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demeterdefence · 2 months

Text

i want so badly to like this scene because on the surface it has so many elements that could have and might have worked if they were implemented any differently but god it's still such a surface level display of a plot that's been hanging around since season one.

like yeah, she would be! persephone has not seen her rapist since he threatened to expose the photos he took of her during the assault, and it caused her to break down and run away. she knows he's manipulative, she's seen first hand how apollo has warped and twisted so many people to hide his crime, she knows he's powerful and dangerous. even surrounded by so many other people, the nineteen year old girl who was asleep in her bed is still terrified of apollo.

i have zero issue with this part - in fact, i really sympathized with persephone here. the idea of not only having to play nice with your abuser, to pretend to give them an ounce of respect or kindness they do not deserve, but knowing they are not sorry for what they did, knowing they want still to hurt you in some way? you can be queen of the underworld or the mortal realm or of all the gods, and that is still a horrifying prospect.

but then we run into this:

and it's not a bad sequence, or a problematic one; the issue is that persephone has not done any of the work to get to this point.

and by work, i'm talking about therapy, about sitting down and talking to someone about this on her own terms. she had one therapy session where her assault was tacked into the last five to ten minutes of the session; there is no indication she's ever gone back. she's been confronted on her assault - hades, hera, artemis, eros, and hermes have all found out about it without persephone telling them, or wanting to tell them, and hephaestus is aware (which it seems persephone does not know) because he deleted the photos of her assault. hera and hephaestus literally saw her assault in those photos. all of those people and instances are outside of persephone's control; she has never, not once, told any of her friends or her husband of what happened to her of her own choice. in at least three of those instances, she had to comfort the other person who is finding out about her trauma.

and that leads to another issue, which is that persephone has categorically refused to bring apollo to justice. in the past, when apollo had leverage over her, and she was still coming to terms with what happened to her, it was understandable that persephone didn't want anyone to know what happened. the problem is that in the time between her rape and current time, apollo has tried to kill one of her close friends, brought demeter to zeus in exchange for persephone's hand, attempted to kill the king of the gods, and is now weaponizing the deadly winter to become king. at least three members of the olympians know persephone was assaulted, including the queen of the gods. persephone has witnesses and backup and power, and she is still not using it to put apollo away.

so this promise to protect herself, to protect the nineteen year old girl who was alone with a monster - it rings a little too hollow for me. because persephone isn't protecting herself, she's running from herself. she's running from who she used to be and what she once was and what led her to that point. and as so many abuse victims can attest to, running often feels like the easiest thing, and the most protective thing. but at some point, you have to stop running, because it isn't protecting you - it's wearing you down.

persephone doesn't need to run anymore, and as much as i like to trounce this comic and all the narrative choices, i say this with a lot of compassion and remorse: this isn't protecting herself, and i want better for her.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #abuse ment /#assault ment /#i recognize this issue hits differently for everyone #and there are likely people who do not agree and i fully 1000% understand #this is arguably a more personal take than most of my other posts so i ask respectfully that comments / tags show kindness to everyone #this plot obviously has a LOT of elements and issues i hate and scream problematic #but honestly this scene just made me really sad #like girl ... why are you alone when you call him :(#and to depict apollo as half dressed in some kind of weird sultry vibe #like they're on equal flirtatious ground #man ...

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theragathas · 4 months

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WELCOME TO THE RAGAVERSE!!

WE SPEND TOO MUCH TIME ON THIS BLOG, PLZ ASK OUR RAGATHAS ANYTHING (as long as it is not nsfw, question that is suggestive or sfw are fine)

Amanda (From Mafia x Coffee Shop AU)

One has to be cold and brash in a job like hers, however that doesn't mean they can't be nice as well! Amanda's the type to switch from calm and collected and harsh and deadly at the drop of a hate. Who says hopeless romantics can't make it look like an accidental?

Cleric!Ragatha (From Dungeons of Dragons AU)

As a follower of the god of justice Tyr, she knows the right path no matter what rules one has to break to give proper punishments for those who deserve it. But that doesn't mean she's the BEST at giving advice. Of course, when you're forced with necromancy powers, who would be?

Ragavamp (From Supernatural AU)

She is THE most unhinged out of all of the Ragathas. This half abstracted vampire like variation of the ragdoll has a very inconsistent personality. She goes from conscious, to rambling, to cryptic, to even acting similar to Kinger. Although she tries to be presentable, her need for blood as to stop abstracting isn't exactly the most likable thing

Sinful!Ragatha (From Sinful Circus AU)

One word to describe Sinful! is: Depressed wet dog. She's clumsy, accident prone, and easily harmed. She pretends that everything's fine but it's REALLY NOT FINE. It's actually really sad sometimes to see her just take the brunt of anything and everything that she endures, and there's a reason she has a satchel of needle and thread in a bag where ever she goes

Swap!Ragatha (From Swap AU)

Chubby and mean, Swap is basically the Jax in the room. She constantly plays pranks, bullies, and torments anyone around her. She uses her looks to control the AI jester of her world so she could get away with all of it too. Having a bit of a surperiority complex, there's nothing she won't do just for any sort of reaction- inlcuding things that end with her getting harmed

BlossomCloud (From Warriors Cat AU)

She was once a clan cat but now she live comfortably with her wife and her other friends in a human house, proud mother of six kits. She is one of the most friendly Ragatha, maybe a bit too much.

LC (From The Literal Circus AU)

An acrobatic and a trapeze artist in the circus, she is the Ragatha that worries a lot while pretending everything is fine. She is a great listener but she didn’t get paid enough for listening people’s trauma.

Red (From Red Riding Hood AU)

Quiet huntress, Red with her trusty shotgun roamed the nearby forest. She was never the type to socialize, hence why she lived alone with her wolf.

Gluttony (From Circus of Hell AU)

One of the seven deadly sin but was surprisingly a people pleaser. Her nice attitude didn’t quite match up with her status, neither does her looks.

Hades (From the Goddess AU)

Goddess of the underworld, despite being a god, she is quite close to morals. Hades is a calm and gentle goddess who loved her wife deeply.

Mafia (From Mafia x Pimp AU)

Mafia is a brutal and selfish person but she often mask it with sickly sweet words or tones as to not scare others away from her. She is the only one that haven’t get together with their AU’s Pomni.

Agatha (From Country City Girl AU)

Farmer girl in the country side, butcher in the small village, she was a bit dense when it comes to love. Trying to court Pamela with a wheel of cheese…

Ragamaster(From Ragatha Ringmaster AU)

The ringmaster of her AU, she is a con-artist scamming others online. Never trust her words unless it had details. Ragamaster is much of a carefree AI that likes to sit back and see the chaos unfold while taking notes. Also she said she is the only one without a Pomni?

AI!Ragatha [Cyber AU]

The only remaining AI of her line, AI Ragatha's entire existence is dangerous. Other AI Ragatha's had a habit of acting on their own an doing what they believe is best, which is why they were recalled and destroyed in the first place.

Apocalypse!Ragatha [Apocalypse AU]

In a world where literally any day you could die and join the undead, Apocalypse Ragatha is here to keep everyone's head on their shoulders. A fierce leader who protects her crew of survivors. Howver one day she went mad when her precious Pomni was bitten, now strike with madness and denial Apocalypse Ragatha will do anything to bring her Pomni back.

Giantess!Ragatha [Songbird AU]

A lone giantess on an island by herself. Giantess Ragatha has picked up quite the hobbies in order to keep herself busy, she just loves animals and talkin about her Pomni. (**Never ask her about her Pomni**)

Cyber AU, Songbird AU and Apocalypse AU belong @fenrirfoxxer

Warriors Cat AU, The Literal Circus AU, Red Riding Hood AU, The Circus of Hell, The Goddess AU, Mafia x Pimp AU Country City Girl AU and Ragatha Ringmaster AU belongs to @inkyprism

Mafia x Coffee Shop AU, Dungeon of Dragons AU, Supernatural AU, Sinful Circus AU and Swap AU belongs to @nobody-nexus

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