#i based post so often so how can i blame him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forhappysake · 2 months ago

Text

Never Forget a Face

A/N - Why is titling fics so hard? I used a Hunger Games quote because it fit so well so lmk if you can pick it out. Nearly 5K words, not proofread.

Summary - After the end of a bloody case, Emily tasks a begrudging Spencer with checking in on the newbie. Warnings - Spencer x fem!reader, typical BAU-level violence, murder, kn!ves, season 12/13 spoilers, extensive handwashing (?), a bitter post-prison reid with a grumpy x sunshine plot

My hands are stained red.

That was your first coherent thought as you stared in the bathroom mirror. The fluorescent lighting cast a pale glow over your face, making you look more ghostly than you already did. Your once blue shirt was covered in splotches. Your hands, dangling over the sink, were the color of burnt rust.

As you turned on the faucet and applied soap to your hands, your brain replayed the events that brought you here.

This was only your second case with the team. Hell, it was only your fourth case with the bureau. All you wanted to do was fit in. You’d heard great things about the BAU: the highly decorated Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, the face of the FBI - Jennifer Jareau, and the sought-after genius of Dr. Spencer Reid.

The first case with the BAU had gone well. You’d done a lot of the grunt work, putting in an intense number of hours in a dingy police precinct pouring over paperwork with Dr. Reid, who kept telling you to call him Spencer. Despite this faux friendliness, you couldn’t help but get the feeling he was tired of working with you.

Not that you could blame him. You were, by all definitions, a newbie. He had over a decade of experience and a serious reputation. A genius to boot, his sighs and looks often made you feel like you were in his way more than you were actually helping. Hence why, when Emily had asked for two volunteers to tail a suspect for the day, you’d quickly volunteered to go with the charming Luke Alvez.

Six hours later, Luke, along with yourself, had tracked an unsub while he was taking his latest victim back to his home in a rural area. Back-up, which was supposed to be on the way, wouldn’t be there for at least twenty minutes. When the first blood-curdling scream rang out from the house, the two of you knew you had no choice but to act alone.

Luke went in through the front door, making his presence known as you tiptoed around the side of the house to enter undetected. When you found a cracked window, you were able to slip inside without much issue.

In that moment, you remembered hearing Luke attempting to talk down the unsub. You approached their voices, careful not to let anyone know you were inside.

“How do you think this is going to end?” Luke asked the unsub, his voice firm.

The unsub had laughed and the muffled cries of his victim could be heard from your spot. You tucked yourself quietly behind a hallway entrance into the room Luke was in. You peeked around the corner to let him know you were there. His only acknowledgment of you was a brief glance, but that was all you needed to know that he wanted you to stay in place.

“I think,” the unsub started, with more cries coming from his captive, “that she’ll probably die before this is all over.”

You tried to recall the profile. Emily’s voice replayed in your mind.

“He kills with a knife and dumps the body in a secondary location, meaning he gets the women alone and gets close to them before he kills them. Based on the demographics of this region, he’s probably a white man. Likely in his 30s. Attractive but single, most definitely living alone. That’s his selling point. That’s how he’s managed to lure all these women into his vehicle.”

Nothing stuck out to you about him. There was nothing you could think to do to help in this situation besides hide behind the wall. You were waiting for a signal from Luke or the sound of backup approaching.

Luke cleared his throat and you could picture him shaking his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this, man. Let her go and I can help you.”

The unsub laughed again and you cringed. There was something so unsettling about his voice and his laughter.

The unsub started to speak, but his voice was cut off by the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. This was your moment.

You whirled around the corner, gun drawn. “FBI, don’t move,” you warned. The unsub turned to look at you. His cold blue eyes bore a hole in your head. A shiver ran through your spine. “Drop the knife.”

He appeared irritated, rolling his neck as if trying to work out a kink. He glanced down at his victim. Her eyes were wide and frantic, tears streaming down her face. She was bound and a piece of cloth was tied around her face as a makeshift gag. He pulled her up to his height by her hair, eliciting more cries.

“Well sweetheart, this isn’t how I pictured this ending for us. I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said as he raised the knife to her throat.

“Wait!” Luke shouted.

It was too late. What followed next was nothing short of chaos.

Luke let off two shots, both of which connected with the unsub. His body cascaded to the floor. You lunged forward at the poor victim. Her throat, now cut, was bleeding at an alarming rate. However, her eyes remained open and the gasps coming from her mouth told you she was still breathing.

You threw yourself on the floor next to her, removing the gag from her mouth and placing it over her neck as a makeshift tourniquet.

“Do you hear that?” you asked, the sirens were right outside the house. “Help is almost here, okay? You have to keep your eyes on me.” Her glassy eyes were locked on yours, but the panic was fading from them with the little life she had left. The cloth in your hands was soaked with blood and your hands were turning a deep shade of crimson.

You shook your head. “No, no. Come on. Look at me,” you tried to encourage her to hold on just for another moment.

In the midst of your mumbling, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around to see Luke crouched behind you.

“She’s gone, Y/N,” he said gently. His eyes were locked on her lifeless body. You furrowed your brow, denial coursing through your veins.

Just as you were about to protest, the EMTs burst through the door with Emily and Dr. Reid in tow. Luke pulled you out of the way as they tended to both the victim and the unsub.

The four of you watched helplessly from the corner of the room. You felt your body shake gently, adrenaline getting the best of you. You could feel Reid’s eyes on you. His judgement making you more anxious.

You watched as one of the EMTs working on the victim turned to look at you. He shook his head gently, a sign that she really was gone.

You'd never forget her face.

A sigh of defeat left your lips and tears welled up in your eyes. In a moment driven by pure emotion, you shot out of the house and back towards the SUV.

Luke sprinted out the front door after you. “Where are you going?” he shouted, clearly confused by your sudden burst of determination.

“Back to the hotel,” you said matter-of-factly, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car. He rushed over to the driver’s door, holding it open so you couldn’t slam it shut.

He looked incredulous. “And who am I supposed to ride with?”

You rolled your eyes. “Luke, two people just died and you’re worried about who your chauffeur is going to be.”

Luke seemed to get the message he pulled back from the door, allowing you to shut it. You started the SUV, cracking the window just enough to shout, “Catch a ride with Reid and Emily.”

You pulled out onto the highway, foot heavy on the pedal as adrenaline still run through you.

Nearly half an hour later and still covered in blood, you stumbled into the hotel lobby. The desk lady, panicked, quickly rushed in front of you. The lady, presumably Linda based on her nametag, asked you if she needed to call the police. You’d shown her your badge with a bitter laugh, explaining that you were the police. The smell of her floral perfume was making your head spin more than it already was. Thankfully, with a sympathetic smile, she’d moved out of your way and allowed you to proceed to your room.

Which was how you ended up here, trying to scrub blood off of your still-shaky hands. You weren’t sure how long you’d been at this, but you couldn’t quit now. The dark evidence was still embedded deep beneath your fingernails.

-SPENCER’S POV-

Walking into the house behind Emily, I could already see the mess that had unraveled. There was blood on the wall, where the unsub lay propped up but clearly dead as if he’d landed sitting up. There was blood on the floor, covering the lifeless body of the last victim.

And there was blood all over her, the new girl, who was standing in the corner. Her eyes stared off into the distance, and she looked like she could faint at any moment.

She was nice. Too innocent for the job, clearly. If I hadn’t been sure about that from the other case we worked together, it was evident now.

Emily and I walked over to the corner, standing beside Y/N and Luke as the EMTs worked on both the unsub and the victim on the other side of the room. Despite the gory scene before us, I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off Y/N yet. Thoughts laced with sympathy crept into my mind and I resisted the urge to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder.

Just as I was about to do just that, the closest EMT turned to her and shook his head. The victim, as the unsub, was dead. She let out a sound that I could only describe as a shudder before she raced out the front door.

“What the hell?” Luke asked, following her out.

Emily sighed, staring at the two bodies before us as the EMTs packed up their things. “Kind of a harsh second case for the kid, huh?” she asked.

I thought for a moment and shrugged, pushing sympathy away. “It’s not like it gets any easier from here on out, she might as well get used to it now.” I turned and started to walk out of the house, just in time to watch the new girl whip the SUV out of the driveway and hightail it back towards town. Though I wasn’t looking at her, I felt Emily shoot me a look.

“You’d have never said a thing like that before you went away, Spencer,” she scolded.

I took a deep breath. She was probably right. “No, I wouldn’t have, but things are different now,” I said plainly.

I walked down the front porch steps and out on to the lawn where Luke was waiting for us, impatiently resting a hand on the handle of the SUV’s door.

“Where’s your ride?” I quipped sarcastically.

He shook his head. “Don’t start. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

Emily caught up to me, pulling the SUV keys out of her pocket and unlocking the door so Luke could climb inside. As he did, she turned to me.

“When we get back to the hotel, I want you to go check on Y/N.”

I felt my face contort in a scoff. “Why would I be the one to do that?”

“Because,” Emily said, staring at the SUV before us, “someone needs to.”

“So why don’t you?” I challenged, growing more exasperated by the second.

Emily snapped her head to the side, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “Spencer,” she said sharply. I looked at her, trying to read her microexpressions. “I worry about you. Do you get that?”

That wasn’t the reply I was expecting.

I averted my eyes to the ground, somewhat ashamed of my previous attitude. “Yeah, I know.”

“I want you to check on her because she needs someone who has seen bad things to explain to her that those bad things are survivable,” she started, eyes still locked on my face. I glanced up at her as she continued.

“And, I want you to check on her because I think it would be good for you,” she finished.

“Good for me?” I asked, with less attitude and more curiosity this time.

Emily sensed the shift in my demeanor and I could see her shoulders relax. “Yes, good for you. Ever since you came back, you never stay out after cases anymore. Remember how we all used to go out together? Have a couple drinks? Relax?”

I nodded because I did remember. Those were some of the best memories of my life.

“All you do anymore is go home or back to the hotels and hide in your room until the next morning, reading Vigotsky or Tarkovsky or whatever you do.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was reading the works of Dostoyevsky, so I let her continue uninterrupted.

“It’s time for you to do some socializing. I think talking about yourself might do you some good for once. Besides, Y/N really is a ray of sunshine once you get to know her. I think her company will be good for you.”

I thought about what she said for a moment. She wasn’t entirely wrong. “Alright,” I said, “I’ll stop by her room before I go to bed for the night.”

Satisfied with my answer, Emily proceeded to the SUV.

Soon enough, we were back at the hotel. I thought about how to proceed. Should I go to her room immediately? Should I wait and change out of my work clothes first?

Absolutely not. Talking is one thing. Wearing my pajamas in front of her? That’s too personal.

I decided to head straight to her room. Ripping the bandaid off seemed like the best option.

I strolled down the hall and stopped in front of her door. I placed three quick knocks on the door and waited. And waited. I knocked again. Nothing.

Maybe she’d gone out for the evening, I reasoned. Or, maybe she was asleep. Regardless, I was ready to turn and go back to my room when I heard the faintest sound of running water coming from inside.

My mind raced. She was surely just in the shower, right? Or maybe running a bath? The FBI agent in me freaked out. What if she’d went off the deep end and was trying to drown herself? Or what if-

I tried to run through my options, the first obvious one being to try the door handle, which was miraculously unlocked. Who the hell leaves their door unlocked in a cheap hotel like this?

“Y/N?” I called out as I stepped into the room. The bathroom door was wide open to the left of the main door I just entered, and I peered around the corner.

She stood before the sink, eyes locked on her hands which appeared to be scrubbed nearly raw. I walked inside, concern building by the moment. “What are you doing?” I asked.

She didn’t hear me - or she ignored me if she did. She continued scrubbing her hands diligently. I leaned forward to get a better look. A few red streaks ran off her hand and down the sink, but I wasn’t so sure what she was washing off was the victim’s blood anymore.

“Y/N, stop. You’re hurting yourself,” I scolded. Her motions continued. She seemed dazed and unaware of my presence. She was surely in some kind of shock.

As I stood behind her, I felt as though the scrubbing intensified. I made a snap decision. Stepping forward, I placed my arms on either side of her body, caging her in around the sink as I firmly grabbed her forearms and separated her hands.

She jumped violently, enough for me to release her arms from my grip and back away quickly.

“My god, Dr. Reid. How long have you been here?” she asked as her voice shook. She looked exhausted and her hands were bright red. Red lines where she’d repeatedly used her nails to scrape at the skin caught my eye. I pulled my gaze away from her hands, making eye contact with her for the first time. “I came to check on you, after everything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

She looked down at her hands, the realization of what she had done became apparent as she flexed her fingers and winced.

“Looks like I came at the right time,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her.

She shook her head incredulously before she began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Reid. I have no idea why I was doing that. You shouldn’t have had to-”

I shrugged. “It happens.”

Silence filled the room as I noticed she was still in her blood-soaked clothes. Thoughts whirled through my mind, but I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Words were pouring out of my mouth without my approval.

“Here’s what I purpose,” I said before I could stop myself. “Take a shower, get changed, and meet me in my room for a few minutes. I just want to talk to you about a some things.”

She stared at the floor. I almost thought she was going to say no.

“Okay,” she whispered.

I nodded, heading for the bathroom door. “Room 91A. And please, call me Spencer,” I stated. Not waiting for her response, I shut the bathroom door behind me and locked her hotel door on my way out.

-READER POV-

You felt like you were in trouble.

You know when you’re merely a child and you get in trouble in the middle of class? You know the feeling of your stomach sinking as you walk to the principal’s office?

That was the only way you could describe walking to Dr. Reid’s - Spencer’s - room.

After a shower that stung your hands and brought tears to your eyes, you slipped into some comfy clothes and wrapped gauze around the rawest parts of your palms, before heading to his room.

Room 91A. You tapped your knuckles on the door twice. You heard shuffling from inside the room. Spencer stood before you, also showered, also in his pajamas.

This caught you by surprise. He could tell by the way your eyebrows shot up at his appearance. “I figured we might as well be comfortable with one another,” he said before stepping out of the way. “Come in.”

You brushed past him as you walked inside. Though it was just a hotel room, something about the stack of books on the side table and paperwork scattered on the desk brought a small smile to your face.

One book in particular laid face up on the edge of the bed. “Dostoyevsky?” you asked.

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your question. “Yes. Have you read his work?”

You nodded, glancing up at him as you ran your hand over the cover of the book, tracing the engraving on the cover of the antique copy. “Everybody knows Crime and Punishment, but I prefer White Nights.”

You’d caught him off guard. “I didn’t know you were interested in Russian literature,” he said, walking to the other side of the room and taking a seat in one of the two armchairs positioned in the corner, “or any literature, for that matter.”

You shrugged. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks. I’m not sure why you’d have any idea.”

His stare faltered, and you caught him averting his eyes to the floor as he leaned back in the chair. “I should have asked. I haven’t been very kind to you. I haven’t done a very good job of making you feel welcome here,” he started cautiously.

That caught your attention. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but your first response was to reassure him. “It’s no problem, Spencer. It’s been so busy that I haven’t had time to get to know anyone very well.” You perched yourself on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully.

“That isn’t true,” he said matter of factly.

“Excuse me?” you asked, genuinely confused as to if you heard him right.

Spencer cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the tops of his thighs. His hands folded and he used them as a rest for his chin. You could see the gears turning in his head.

“I said that it isn’t true. You have gotten to know everyone quite well, from what I gather,” Spencer said.

Before you could respond, he started in again. “I’ve seen pictures of you with Luke and Penelope at the club after the last case. I know you went to lunch with Will and JJ. She says you’re fantastic with Henry and Michael. Tara told me you helped Rossi finish the thousand piece puzzle he’s had splayed out on his office table for two months. All this while Emily claims you’re a ray of sunshine.”

Your mouth had fallen open a bit in the midst of his confession. You tried to think of an appropriate response. “Well, yes. That’s all true. But I don’t expect you to go out of your way to get to know me. I’m a people person.” You pointed to the books on his side table. “You, on the other hand, seem to prefer quiet time alone. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The room was silent for a moment. The sound of Spencer’s foot tapping quietly against the floor kept the time. One, two, three…

“I didn’t used to be this way,” he said frankly.

You glanced at him, trying to read his expression. His face was stoic. He didn’t look particularly upset, though he surely wasn’t happy either. He ran a lone hand through his hair and brushed a few solitary curls from his eyes.

“I know,” you responded.

He furrowed his brow at you, confusion written all over his face. You rose from the bed and approached him before plopping down in the armchair next to his.

“You know how, for us normal people, we spend a few years in training before we actually get a real assignment?” you asked.

He nodded.

“I’ve been with the Bureau in that capacity going on four years,” you started, eyes locked on the wall across from you. “My third year, there were rumors about an FBI agent spending time in prison for some high-level crime. People theorized it was connected to drug running, treason, even murder.”

Spencer cringed.

“For the longest time, I thought it was a rumor. I forgot about it and I got an internship in Internal Affairs,” you continued. “One day, my boss handed me this huge file, full of reports going back over a decade.”

He was curious now, staring at you intensely as you did your best not to melt under his gaze.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, that was your file. One section was full of every report you’d ever written. The other section was what the Department of Justice had collected in an attempt to convict you in the fall.”

This was new information to Spencer, who felt himself let out a bitter laugh. You paused to look at him.

“I’m not sure why I’m surprised by that,” he said sourly. “I knew then they would want to be as far away from the case as possible. No wonder it was easier for them to try to keep me in there.”

You shrugged, continuing. “I guess Emily had called in a favor with Internal Affairs. I was tasked with finding proof of innocence.”

“And?” Spencer asked.

“I couldn’t find any,” you stated simply. He nodded. “But I never forgot the file, especially the pictures inside. I never forget a face. Reading through your life with the Bureau, seeing the sequence of ID images each year as you got older, maybe even colder. That stuck with me for some reason.”

He appeared intrigued and was clearly doing his best not to interrupt.

“When I woke up one morning and saw this huge CBS headline about the DOJ dropping the charges against a wrongly accused agent, I felt a strange kind of vindication,” you admitted. “Nine months later I got a call from Emily, asking me to come in for an interview. Two months later, now we’re here.”

“Now we’re here,” he repeated.

You cleared your throat. “What I didn’t bank on when I joined the BAU, was the same face from that file would be across from me at the table every day.”

You turned to him to find he was already looking at you, and you offered him a small smile. “All this to say,” you whispered, “I think you have every reason not to be friendly with the new hire.”

The room was silent once more, the two of you sneaking glances at each other. Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“Emily sent me to check on you because she thought it would be good for both of us,” he confessed. “She said you should see me as an example that people can get through bad things, and that I needed to get out of my head and into the real world.”

You were quiet for a moment before shifting in the chair. You thought of everything you’d seen over the last twelve hours.

“I never forget a face,” you whispered again, thinking back to the victim on the floor. Her glassy eyes staring up at your own.

Spencer nodded. “Me either.”

“So how do you do it?” you asked him.

He turned to you. You swore you could see tears forming in his eyes.

“I find that there's always that little moment right when you wake up in the morning, when everything's good, because your mind has temporarily forgotten the bad stuff.”

You smiled as he continued. “At night, when I can’t sleep, I make a list in my head of all the good things I've seen someone do. Every little thing I can remember. It's like a game.”

You tried to think about every good thing you’d ever seen someone do and tears welled in your eyes. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you said.

“It works sometimes,” Spencer smiled. He moved forward, placing a hand on your knee. You looked up at him. The two of you stared at each other.

“You have to know that you’ll never fully forget these things, but we get through it as a team,” he finished.

The tears welled up in your eyes spilled over, and you noticed that a few of his own had to. The hand on your knee moved up, wiping the fallen tears from your cheeks.

After a moment of letting the tears dry, you rose from the chair. “I really appreciate this, Spencer. I’m sorry that you had to go out of your way to help me, but I am very grateful.”

He stood, towering over you. “It’s not a problem. I enjoyed talking to you.”

“I enjoyed talking to you too,” you said with a smile. You stood next to him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his close proximity before you snapped out of it. “Well, I should probably go back to my room and let you get back to your work.”

You turned from him and walked towards the door, pausing only when you heard his voice call after you.

“Y/N,” he said, taking a few steps in your direction to where you’d crossed the room.

“Yeah, Spencer?” you said, turning to face him.

He faltered, his eyes finding the floor again. “I just,” Spencer stuttered for a moment, trying to regain his cool. “I was wondering if you wanted to stay. Stay and talk, of course. I-” he paused a moment more. Spencer took a deep breath. “I think Emily was right. I do enjoy your company and I’d like you to stay for a while,” he said firmly.

You couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. Spencer saw it, too, quickly rushing to give you an out.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he rushed. His cheeks burned red.

“No, I don’t have to,” you said. “But I’d like to.”

You saw his shoulders relax as the tension left his body.

“Great,” Spencer nodded. He sounded relieved.

You walked over to the armchair, plopping back down next to him. “Right, so,” you started, “What’s your topic of choice, Spence?”

The use of his nickname brought the blush back to his cheeks as he scurried back into the chair next to you.

He glanced at the books on the side table, the topic of conversation coming to him quickly. “Tell me,” Spencer started, “What resonates with you about the White Lady?”

You smiled before diving into a summary that not only analyzed the text but connected it to your own life. You thought your heart skipped a beat when you caught a glimpse of Spencer smiling warmly at you as you rambled.

It was a long, interesting, conversation-filled night.

589 notes · View notes

haedalkoo · 4 months ago

Text

The car conversation and grammar: "When I was busy, you were free but you never called me."

After rewatching the episodes a few times (I just couldn't get enough of them) and reading the opinions floating around, I wanted to add my two cents to the car conversation discourse. This post is mostly about language and interpretations. Keep in mind I'm not 100% fluent in Korean, but I understand the language to a significant degree.

Let's get started!

It's time to put on my Korean-is-an-awfully-ambiguous-language cap. Buckle up.

The conversation starts with Jimin saying they haven't gone somewhere in a long time. I would say it's not that they haven't hung out, but that they haven't traveled together or gone out like that. This is just my interpretation, though. JK tells him, "we were supposed to get a drink" (as in, meet up and go for a drink 만나서 (meet and) 술 한잔 하자 (go get a drink)). Then, Jimin says "원래 그런 거 아니겠니" which loosely translates to "isn't that how it's supposed to be originally?" as in, that's what happens, you talk about doing this or that together and it never ends up happening. Like the travel show, if JM hadn't flown to JK. Like the times he tells Tae to meet up but never happens. Life gets in the way.

But this is the interesting part. Jimin's reply to me comes off a little defensive (in a joking manner), as if saying, "don't blame me for not meeting up (it's not like I didn't want to, I couldn't)." but JK keeps pushing him. He says:

"형 바쁠 땐 / 내가 겁나 한가한데 / 안 찾고. 나 바쁠 땐 / 형 한가한데 / 안 찾고."

This sentence is a grammatical nightmare. He isn't using any particles, which help indicate who's the subject or object of the sentence. So you can only guess based in context. I've marked Jimin (hyung) in orange, JK refering to himself ("me") in purple, and "didn't come looking for" in pink. 찾다 (jatda) means to search for, look for.

Many K-armys have been pointing the same thing out, and I agree. The repetition of 안 찾고, to me, feels like he's making the same point in different situations.

When you were busy, I was so freaking (겁나) free

When I was busy, you were free

And in neither of these cases you came looking for me.

That's why Jimin jumps in immediately to defend himself in a whiny tone.

아니지 찾았지! That's not true, I did go looking for you! (The ending 지 indicates a reiteration, something both the speaker and recipient know as true.)

He took that personally LOL. But this makes so much sense in retrospective, think of all of those 2023 lives were JK was asking JM to come over, to do a live together, and JM's response was always "I'm busy" "Hyung needs to go" "You/I have a schedule." Jungkook was lonely without him. Jimin probably felt bad and did as much as he could to see him ("I did reach out!") - to the point he flew fourteen hours to spend quality time with JK. HOWEVER, this is just an interpretation. The lack of clear pronouns and particles makes this really hard to translate, which is why the show translator interpreted it as "when you were busy and I was free, I didn't call you." Both interpretations are valid, but giving their reactions and context, I feel like this one makes the most sense to me.

If we go with my interpretation, after that, I feel like Jimin tries to ease the conversation/justify himself by saying how him and Tae don't meet up either even if they videocall often. As if saying "I'm not pushing you aside, I'm really not meeting up with anyone else either". This makes Jungkook laugh, but he still wonders lightly "I don't think we would be seeing each other (either) if it weren't for this (trip/shoot)." I want to reiterate how lighthearted this comment is, he's simply wondering (but still teasing a little.)

But again, Jimin feels the need to defend himself "yah, that's why I (hyung) came here!" (again, he uses a grammar that highlights the information being said is something the two of them know, something obvious.) To me this felt very whiny/cute, like, "stop saying I didn't make time to see you! I'm literally right here!!" and I think JK gets the hint that if he keeps pushing JM might get upset, so he smoothes things over by repeating over and over again, "that's right, you came, you came."

It's a response to the previous "you weren't looking for me." You did come looking for me. You found me. We're okay now.

Finally.

#jikook #kookmin #elatalks #jikook travel show #are you sure?!#jikook and korean #이게맞아 #they missed each other so much and it makes me feel crazy #if anyone has screenshots of the entire conversation with korean subtitles i could really use them btw jikook talk too fast sometimes RIP

540 notes · View notes

kpopfanfictrash · 1 year ago

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

2K notes · View notes

andy-wm · 3 months ago

Text

The Tarot of VMINKOOK

Their dynamic as I see it, and the absolute validation that Jimin and JK are together.

I really enjoyed the 3rd episode of Are You Sure, partly because I love the VMin dynamic, and partly becuse I was relieved to see that JK and Tae got along.

I also enjoyed watching just the three of them together without the rest of the members because I could really focus on the way they interacted.

This post is entirely my own opinion, and based on my observations. Feel free to politely disagree.

What we had was:

The Siblings - JK & KTH

The Cousins - JM & KTH

The Lovers - JM &JK

The Siblings

JK and Tae have peak adolescent sibling energy Pre-adolescent maybe....

It's typical of the petty rivalry of siblings close in age where the younger is the dominant personality and the older is slightly mistified by the audacity of their little brother.

Tae's eye-roll here 🤣

They will argue over nothing, but they will also readily unite when they have a common goal or foe. In this episode, they ganged up on Jimin for the sake of amusing the viewers (I get that they had a mandate to be entertaining but seriously, poor Jimin 🤣.)

At least it gave JK and Tae a reason to cooperate, because we know JK wasn't thrilled about him joining them. And who can blame him... how often do the two of them get away together?

Tae and JK probably have that "I can talk shit about my brother but nobody else can" thing going on, and I am 100% sure either of them would jump to defend the other if someone outside Bangtan gave them reason to.

I'm sure JK sees Tae as a genuine brother, but that doesn't mean Tae doesn't irritate the hell out of him sometimes. We've seen Tae take liberties, and we've seen JK snipe at him.

What is clear to me, seeing the three of them together, is that competitive-natured JK has to curb his desire to compete with Tae for Jimin's attention - to steal Jimin from Tae - and we've seen him do it, so it's not unheard of. The bottom line is, JK doesn't love sharing Jimin. And that being true, having to totally relinquish Jimin must have been... challenging let's say.

Even giving him a Harley to ride wasn't enough compensation for JK's FOMO when VMin were having fun in the car without him. And that grimace he wore when he was enjoying his solo gokart ride was absolutely hilarious too.

The other thing that comes between them, based on what I've seen, is JK's impatience with Tae's quirkiness. JK does not seem to have the gentle fondness or the endless patience Jimin does with Tae, which brings me to...

The Cousins

Tae and Jimin are like those cousins. You know the ones I mean? The cousins who have that magical bond. They connect on some ultraviolet wavelength nobody else can see, and it's both delightful and annoying for everyone around them (especially for the ultra-competitive boyfriend of one of the cousins, who feels like he's the third wheel when the those two get together).

Jimin and Tae are 친구 - same age friends - and this automatically puts them together - they are peers. It creates an instant friendship bond. But their connection seems like more than that, because Jimin and Tae seem to be so at ease together that neither of them has to mask, and that means they trust one another. That type of deep connection between two people can only come from unconditional acceptance.

Tae doesnt know how to use a drive-thru, and Jimin patiently helps him.

I believe that even if they grow apart, their unique connection will always remain... Because you never forget your first, right?

I'm talking about the first person who really sees you.

Maybe they're the first person you come out to and who comforts you when you're afraid of what that might mean for you. Maybe they're the person who never teases you when you miss social cues, and who will quietly explain the joke you didn't get. Whatever your situation, that person is the one who you trust with your real self. You know you're safe with them.

Both Tae and Jimin have characteristics that set them apart. I'm not in the habit of diagnosing people but Tae does make me wonder, the way he lacks social awareness and sometimes goes off on bizzare tangents, and his very individual fashion sense... not to mention his hatred of shoes. Jimin's gender and sexual identity would have been equally challenging for him, trying as he was to fit in and be a strong man.

They would both have felt like outsiders and struggled with connection and belonging, and I think their genuine support of each other is what makes their friendship so special.

I think that's what the soulmates thing is all about.

And who could possibly compete with a soulmate? Only one person...

In this social game of cards, JK holds the trump.

The Lovers

There's only one reason JK would rank higher in Jimin's books than Tae, when Tae automatically has higher standing on both a personal level with Jimin, and a broader social level.

Jimin and Tae are 친구 - they have a bond unique to people born in their year. That bond means younger or older friends are always going to be more distant, because even with close friendships across age groups, honorifics will still apply. Only with chingus can the honorifics completely fall away.

In addition, Tae is older than JK, so automatically holds a higher social standing. Even though Tae and JK are friends, JK should still defer to him, especially where his chingu is concerned. But JK does not.

This can only mean one thing:

Jimin and JK are in a relationship.

JK's status as Jimin's partner outweighs any other relationships Jimin has. Therefore JK stands as an equal next to Jimin, and that shuffles everyone else down a notch.

That's why we see JK squeezing in next to Jimin (sometimes pushing the older members out) so he can get where he needs wants to be.

That's also why, in episode 3, JK could take the bed next to Jimin and leave Tae to sleep on the floor.

Aside from JK's position as Jimin's equal, we can clearly see that he takes care of Jimin in ways he wouldn't if they were not together. He may not defer to Jimin, but he is visibly devoted to him.

I have never had any doubt that Jimin and JK were lovers, and I never for a moment thought they broke up. It's no surprise to me that this is confirned when we see them on this trip.

But I'm still dying to see the next episode with Tae.

Bring on Thursday!!

#jikook are you sure #vminkook #side eye #black and white couple kookmin #park jimin #jeon jungguk #jikook #kookmin #국민 #true love #jungkook #bts jimin #tae bts #bts taehyung

301 notes · View notes

avocad1s · 1 year ago

Text

Pen and Paper

Requested By: Multiple anonymous users.

CW: Slightly suggestive. It mentions authors writing nsfw fanfic

Note: You all are crazy 💀 I got like seven requests for a part two ever since I posted about character’s writing fanfic about the creator. Most of them were the same so I decided to combine them.

Based off this post, but can be read as a standalone post

As established in the first part, people enjoy reading fanfics about you. However what we didn’t talk about are the authors of these books.

I think you already know but there are three known authors who write books about you, Yae Miko, Xingqiu, and Albedo.

All of them have their own way of making their writings unique.

Xingqiu writes platonic Creator fan-fiction, some people want to imagine you as their best friend or even as their parent. Having a familial connection to you is what some readers strive to have.

Albedo is the only one including art in his books, kinda like the pov fanarts you’ll see. Only problem with this is Albedo doesn’t make many copies of his books so getting your hand on one is a feat in itself. They go for lots of mora, very few people can afford it and they people who can, hoard them. (Ehem, Ninnguang, Ayato and Pantalone 💀)

Yae runs a publishing house and is the editor for many people’s work. So if anyone has an original idea for a story, it would be her. She is also the one everyone sends their work to so it can be published.

The Archons are a different case. They don’t have to read self-insert stories about you because there are definitely people writing Creator x Archon stories. Some of them are horribly out of character since not many people have interacted with their Archon and only have other writings to go off of. But that doesn’t stop them from getting the books. Ei, Zhongli, and Venti like reading romantic books about you. Nahida doesn’t read fanfics about you often, but when she wants to know more about human nature, she’ll read some about you being her parent.

Now onto what everyone requested. You reading these fanfics.

Like I mention before, once you arrive to Teyvat there not going to try and hide these fanfics from you. They just doesn’t expect you to see them.

But you do. In fact, you read them.

To make matters worse you read them in public. Out loud.

Once the acolytes notice what you’re reading out loud they’re mortified. We’re you punishing them? Or do you find humor in reading these? Many characters are ready to get on their knees and apologize for reading these books, they don’t want you to be disgusted with them or get on your bad side. They’d be so sad!

If the authors of these books caught wind that you’ve read their books, they’ll be slightly embarrassed as well. It feels sacrilegious to think of you in such a manner but can you really blame them?

If you ask them to stop writing, they’ll stop publishing the fanfics… what you don’t know won’t hurt you :)

If you don’t care or even encourage it, then many more people will begin writing fanfics. Mostly with the hopes that you’ll read it. Perhaps if they pour their feelings onto paper you’ll notice how they feel for you?

Albedo would ask if you would model for one of his books. He’s drawn you multiple times but if you’re right in front of him, he knows he can make it more accurate. (Please let him, he’s begging with his eyes)

Slight nsfw behind this point, if that’s not your cup of tea, you may take your leave.

Of course if fanfics exist, so does nsfw fanfics.

You know how in the bookstores they have adult books wrapped in plastic? Yeah, the nations would also put their own barrier so the wrong audience don’t end up grabbing it.

These are the books they do not want you finding. Just imagine the look on their faces if they see you with one of those books.

Before you descended finding these books were almost impossible, many people weren’t sure what you looked like. All they had were scriptures of what your heavenly form looked like and ancient drawings of you that was hard to get your hands on unless you had some kind of power in the nations.

However once they get to see you with their own eyes…

Yeah they’re horknee 💀🙏

Having you in such a provocative way is something for their wildest imagination, so they will use these books to fill that void.

Dom Creator, Sub Creator… you name it. You can find it.

These books cannot be checked out at any library. No one wants a sticky book returned, have some mercy on your librarian.

I apologize for that sentence above 😭

Anyways, could you imagine finding your favorite of age character reading one of these books? They’ll try to quickly hide it a dark blush on their face as they apologize to you for reading such content.

But what makes them blush even darker is when you offer to recreate whatever they’re reading in real life. They’re stuttering and their bodies are trembling, but they aren’t going to deny such an offer from their dearest Creator.

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader

1K notes · View notes

solangelotus · 2 months ago

Text

she's thunderstorms

luke castellan x reader (MDNI!)

and sit a little closer

summary: expressing your frustrations to silena and clarisse after a fling leads someone to your bed

word count: 4k

warnings: zeus!reader, implied smut with a different character, making out scene, clarisse x silena, plus size reader, teensy bit of angst from loser luke

author’s note: we’re back! this is a prequel post to my original post here <3 if you take a peek at the masterlist, it will have a list of parts and when everything should be published!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

masterlist | series masterlist

skipping stones across the camp lake wasn’t how you imagined spending your friday evening. your stomach growls but it’s dull compared to the empty ache that fills your chest.

“why are you here alone?” you hear someone question. the voice was light, full of warmth, and melodic, and all signs pointed to it belonging to your best friend, silena beauregard. her rosy, cherub cheeks widen with a smile as you turn to look at her. her hand is enveloped by her girlfriend, clarisse la rue. you give them a half-hearted smile, and sit down on the edge of the dock, waiting for them to join them. “you skipped dinner. luke figured we would find you here.”

“i’m shocked he didn’t come with the both of you.”

“so, why are you out here alone?” clarisse questions, grabbing a stone from your hand and throwing it into the water. you give her an exasperated look and she grins in a way you can only describe as shit-eating. she always steals your rocks from you and purposefully fails at skipping them.

you look at them, their joined hands, and think of all their sneaked touches. of their love that everyone can see. it’s something that isn’t for you, something just as forbidden as your existence. you shrug and break your silence, “bad hookup.”

“again? seriously? you should really let me pick them out.”

“silena!” you scold, “the sex wasn’t the worst i have ever had. i just don’t want a relationship, and i thought i made that clear. that’s why i’m upset.”

“yeah, yeah,” she lets go of her girlfriend’s hand to wave you off. clarisse grabs her hand and pulls it down in between them. the daughter of aphrodite is always nothing but supportive, however, she does fail to understand your motivations. her whole existence is based on love, she was created out of the purest love and is full of it. she is full of beauty and often misses out on understanding that the less beautiful parts of life, like how intimacy without love, can be just as wonderful.

“lena, don’t be mean.”

“i’m not! i just don’t understand not wanting romance.”

“it was sherman yang,” you confess and stand to your feet. they both look horrified as you slowly walk backward from them, but you’re not sure you can blame them.

“my brother?!”

“sorry, clarisse,” you laugh and turn to go towards the campfire. you enjoyed your alone time, but you knew the two girls would enjoy it far more together on the dock. “i’ll see you both at the campfire?”

clarisse still looks as though she’s processing the information you dumped on her, meanwhile, silena bites her lip to hide a sheepish grin. “i think we might stay here for a bit.”

“i figured as much,” you say with a wink. clarisse wraps her arm around her girlfriend and leans in closer, but you begin your walk towards the campfire. voices bounce around the woods when you near it, and a grin plays at your lips as you see the campers dancing around and belting at the top of their lungs.

chris drones on about something clarisse did to him during combat lessons as luke stares at the tree line. your two friends went to talk to you, but deep down he hopes you will come join him at the fire. an uneaten s’more rests on a napkin in his hand. just as he decides that he could take it to your cabin later, he notices an outline at the base of the forest. chris punches his arm hard enough to throw the dessert from his palm to the dirt. “dude, you’re not even listening.”

“sorry,” luke mutters and rubs his arm. chris’s eyes search for what his brother had been staring at and when they land on you, he almost feels bad for the sweet food now on the ground. almost.

“i heard something about y/n today.”

“what?!”

“sherman was going on and on about how they hooked up and how he’s in love with them. it was annoying,” chris explains and luke’s sure he misheard. that or he was about to lose his own eaten s’more to the dirt in front of him too. “i just know you like them so i wanted you to hear about it.”

“i do not!”

“yes, you do.”

“no way,” luke tries to convince his brother but it’s a lost cause. chris knows all about the feelings he harbors for you, and his knowledge is only proven further when you approach luke from behind. you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to rest your face beside his. “h-hi.”

“hey,” you whisper, and he feels his whole face heat up. your lips were so close they were practically brushing against his ear. a smirk plays on your lips as you turn your head to look at the other son of hermes. “hey, chris.”

“hey, y/n. luke had a s’more for you but i punched him and it ended up on the ground.”

“what?” you question in disbelief as you squeeze between the two boys. a grassy, charred marshmallow beside two chocolate-covered graham crackers catches your eyes and you glare at chris. “go make me a new one.”

“why?”

“i swear to the gods that i will interrupt lee’s beautiful song right now just to ask him to put a rhyming curse on you. again.”

“no, you won’t,” chris scoffs, but you stand and kick the pieces of the discarded s’more into the fire before making your way toward lee. when you open your mouth – presumably to yell – chris shoots up and yanks your arm back so you can’t keep walking. “i’ll make you one now!”

other campers take notice of chris’s yells and his sulking on his way to the table where the supplies lay. a chorus of giggles sounds throughout the large group, and you even catch a wide smile on lee’s face as he puts the pieces together. you return to your spot on the fallen tree log and rest your head on luke’s shoulder. “you feeling better, stormy?”

“i was fine, just a little off all day. i will be better once chris replaces my one chance at food for tonight.”

“why did you skip dinner?”

“just needed space to think,” you answer him in full honesty. hookups were fun for you. control was something you lacked in your life thanks to your divinity and parentage; control within yourself was so easy when it came to sex. your body was your own, your actions were calculated, and you could choose who and how someone could make you feel. pleasure was something entirely you, something mortals could attain too. it was something out of the fates and prophecies' control, which only made you love it more.

something you couldn’t control was the other person though. you tried your hardest to be open and honest about it; relationships aren't for you. they never would be. they never could be. yet, much like sherman, the other person always wanted more than you could give. you lift your head from luke’s shoulder and give him a small smile. the firelight dances beautifully on his deep, brown eyes. there was something about the color that you found easy to get lost in. a color that reminded you of the earth, of something so simple and yet vital to existing. you were sure luke was something vital to your existence. “i’ll be okay.”

he inspects your face and slowly rakes his eyes down your form. you put him in a trance. the curve of your jaw, your smaller hands, your thighs that press against him while you sit side by side, and the crinkles beside your eyes as you laugh at the song lee chooses to sing next – he fails to find something about you to focus on. dwindling you down to a singular feature feels pointless; you are anything but simple. he swears there’s nothing more ethereal than you, but especially today.

you had driven him crazy since he caught his first glimpse of you earlier in the day. your baggy, low-rise shorts, and cropped paramore tour shirt left little of your body to his imagination. he had seen you in bikinis many times before, even in less clothing than what you had on at the moment. but the shirt was from the first concert you went together to, and it ended just above your belly button. your belly hung slightly over the waist of your denim shorts as you sat; he thought he might start drooling. “do you want to talk about it?”

millions of thoughts run through your mind as you notice the way he blatantly stares at your chest. you look down at your chest to make sure there isn’t a stain on your shirt, and your brows furrow in confusion as you realize there’s not. what was he staring at? you look up at him and his eyes are looking directly into yours now, “are you okay?”

“peachy,” he says, turning his head to look at the fire. his mouth feels dry and he feels stupid. thoughts of sherman being able to press his lips and hands wherever he wanted on your body plague him. “sleepover tonight?”

“my place?” you question, even though that’s always where you host your secret sleepovers. you were the only one in cabin one, zeus’s cabin, and he was one of many in his own.

“of course.”

chris finally returns to the both of you and hands you a fresh s’more that you immediately indulge in. you did need time alone to think earlier, but you were heavily regretting losing track of time and missing dinner.

chocolate takes residence on the corner of your mouth while you eat and remains there well after you clean your hands on the napkin. luke notices it and nudges you to point it out. “you have chocolate there.”

“here?”

“no,” he shakes his head as you wipe at the opposite corner. you miss it again, wiping too close to your lip. he uses his thumb and wipes it off for you. “there.”

the melted goo rests on the pad of his thumb, and you retrieve the napkin to hand it to him. before he can take the cloth square, he dips his thumb into his mouth and sucks lightly on it. your mind swirls before you can even comprehend exactly what he’s done. a blush reaches your cheeks. he smirks to himself and thinks that that singular act is more than sherman ever could have given you.

when luke walks into your cabin after making sure all of his little siblings are tucked in, he certainly is not expecting to see you in a tank top and thin linen shorts. he feels like you are testing him, which he realizes is ridiculous when he sees the layer of sweat across your chest. there’s an active heatwave, of course, you’re wearing as little as possible. “hey, stormy.”

“hey, sorry, the heatwave came out of nowhere earlier and i forgot to turn on my air conditioning. it’s going to be hot for at least another hour.”

“it’s okay,” he says and his eyes drift to your bed. he feels insecure, and inadequate, as he thinks of anyone else sleeping in your bed. you had been best friends since your arrival, many sleepovers had occurred in both of your cabins and they had all truly been innocent. at least on your part.

he looks at the sheets and back at you, your full chest rising and falling as you take in deep breaths from the air of the fan. you turn your gaze to him and concern fills you. you notice the distant look in his eyes. “what’s going on, luke?”

“can i ask you a question?”

“of course, anything,” you say and pat the ground beside you. he sits in the spot beside you on the carpeted floor and fidgets with his fingers as you look at him. he’s nervous, that much you can tell.

“did he stay here last night?”

“he?”

“sherman,” luke states, and you think your heart stops at those two syllables. no one was supposed to know aside from silena and clarisse. the two boys never talked, which meant that sherman had told someone else who subsequently mentioned it to the boy in front of you. fear fills you; your sex life was supposed to be something no one knew, something that stays personal. the last thing you need is someone saying you have the same reputation as your father.

“how do you know about that?”

“chris told me,” he pauses and sighs, realizing the panic in your face, “apparently sherman said he was falling in love with you. i didn’t know you were dating.”

a cackle escapes your throat, “dating? absolutely not. he knows that.”

luke can’t help but grin at your distaste for the son of ares. “so, you two?”

“just hooked up,” you shrug, feeling bashful suddenly, “it was why i was weird all day.”

“he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“no, slow your roll,” you rub your eyes with your palms, trying to think of what to say to your best friend. the two of you had never strayed to this topic before. “he just…”

“didn’t finish you off?” luke questions and your eyes go wide. this was the boy who had never been in a relationship, had his last kiss when he was sixteen, and had never had sex because he was too focused on running camp. you didn’t expect him to be so blunt. you feel the flush all over your body.

“luke!” you chastise, even though he wasn’t entirely wrong. “no! i mean, i was close but i guess you’re right. my complaint is that i told him i didn’t want to date him – don’t want to date anybody, actually – and he blatantly ignored that. he’s been bothering me all day, trying to ask me on a date. at least the others always understand.”

others. the only word luke finds himself focusing on. now that he knows sherman is out of the picture, all he can think about is who is in the picture still. “others?”

“um,” you pause, the heat in your body is from embarrassment now despite the cold air blowing heavily throughout your cabin now, “there’s no one else, now. there’s only been a few.”

“few.”

“i’m not naming them, luke,” you say, sternly. you dislike his interest in the topic. usually, your fear surrounding your sexuality stems from not wanting to seem promiscuous, and not wanting to be shamed. luke shows no interest in making you feel guilt or shame but instead seems hurt. “no one’s even supposed to know.”

“can i ask you one more personal question?” you sigh and nod at his request. you prepare yourself for the worst, most invasive thing that could have come to his mind. he surprised you just a few moments ago with his bluntness, but now you can see the pink at the tips of his cheeks and the purse of his lips. whatever he’s thinking of is making him bashful, and it’s almost a relief until he finally speaks again. “why have you never asked me?”

“what?!” you squeak in surprise.

“is sherman more attractive? or the others?”

“what? no! luke, this is crazy,” you tell him and reach for one of his hands in reassurance. “that’s not- i mean, ugh. luke, you are beautiful. it’s not about anyone being more attractive.”

“you think i’m beautiful?”

“this is an insane topic and i don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“why not?” luke whines. his sudden change in demeanor in the evening makes sense now – he was jealous? or insecure, perhaps?

“why are you pushing it?”

“because i’m tired of being inexperienced! i want to have sex and learn all of these things that all my brothers tease me about, but i want it with someone that i trust. and i don’t have time for a relationship, which everyone else who has shown interest wants. we already hang out all the time too, so it’s not like we have to sneak off or carve out time for each other!”

“what if i don’t want to have sex with you?”

“that’s fine.”

“and what if it affects our friendship?”

“it won’t,” he shakes his head, and he feels pathetic. he’s practically begging, and you love it. “we can set rules and boundaries.”

“okay.”

“okay?” he asks, giddily. he scoots closer to you, and suddenly his face is too close. the act isn’t new territory, but with luke it is. you nod, however, letting him bring his face closer to yours. “can i kiss you?”

“no,” you whisper, your lips nearly brushing, “we’re going to sleep on it. then we can talk more tomorrow, and set some rules before anything happens.”

you pull away from him and go to settle yourself into bed while he grabs the light. the vents slowly allow a faint chill to settle in the air, so when he lays down, you pull the blanket over the both of you. his breathing is slow as you reach out and pull yourself into him so you are face to face. on a typical night, he always falls asleep before you since you are often stuck in your head. even now you assume he already fell asleep with his steady breathing and closed eyes. you run a hand through his hair and he sighs.

“i can feel you staring at me,” he mutters and you blush. you thank the gods that it is too dark for him to notice if he decides to open his eyes.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you play dumb and close your eyes. you scoot down to rest your head on his chest. he toys with the ends of your tank top and reaches under it to rest a hand on the skin of your lower back. a shiver runs through you. this is new. he pushes against you lightly until you are flush against each other. you feel your heart race and your whole body feels warm. the warmth is overwhelming even with the air conditioning on full blast, yet you’re sure it’s going to get worse. you were sure you wouldn’t be able to sleep with this heat, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to push away from luke. there is something so intoxicating about feeling so close to him, about feeling the lines of his abdomen against yours.

“stormy, relax. go to sleep,” luke whispers, and kisses the top of your head. you take deep breaths to try to calm yourself and wrap your arm around him too. eventually, the sound of luke’s heartbeat and the faint sounds of the thunderstorms from your cabin walls lull you to sleep.

when the sunlight flows in from the windows and luke begins to wake, he fully believes the night before was a dream. you stir beside him; your hair splays over his arm that rests underneath you, and a small smile tugs at your lips when you realize the body beside yours is his. “morning.”

“good morning,” he grumbles. you laugh and suddenly he’s happy to be waking up so early. “what time is it?”

“dunno,” you answer and retrieve your watch from the nightstand beside you. it was your mother's, he thinks, and the engraved initials on the band that differ from your own confirm it as you slide it on. “almost time for breakfast. you need to go make sure your cabin hasn’t burnt down.”

“don’t i get a goodbye kiss?”

“no,” your answer wipes the smirk off his face and you laugh at his antics. you lean over to his side of the bed and press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “we will talk later.”

“how much later?” he pouts, and you almost lose your reservations for the future. truthfully, you could have jumped him then and there but he continues to make you nervous. you never sleep with friends, although sometimes your hookups infiltrate your friend group (one in particular). you never even allowed yourself to think of luke – your closest friend – in any way other than platonically. thoughts of his body plague you now; thoughts of his lips, his thighs, his hands.

“well, silena, clarisse, and i have beach plans this morning. lunch after that, and then i have archery lessons with lee. so i’m free after dinner and the campfire.”

“sounds like you’re really trying to postpone sex,” he jokes, and you punch him in the arm, “i’m kidding!”

“we’re not having sex tonight.”

“we’re not?”

“no, we’re taking this somewhat slow. you’re my best friend who i love very much, not some acquaintance i see occasionally throughout camp,” you explain. luke was telling the truth, he was very inexperienced. there was little to no doubt that he was truly ready, but you could never deprive him of everything that could lead up to a person’s first time. “tonight, we will talk and slowly progress towards more.”

he groans and rolls out of your bed dramatically. you stifle a laugh until he finds your hands and pulls you to the floor. the straps of your tank top fall off your shoulders, and luke’s lips find their way to your collarbones once you softly land on top of him. a gasp escapes your lips as he holds you tight, his fingers pressed hard against your spine. the warm heat from the kisses trails all the way to the tips of your shoulders, and you pant, thinking about how nice it would feel if he just used his teeth a little bit. “i just needed to do that finally.”

“finally, huh?” you question, lightly pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. he maneuvered you both until you straddled him with his back against the side of your bed. your closeness should be more than enough, yet luke wants nothing more than to pull you closer. nothing would ever be close enough. “how long you been thinking about it?”

a blush rises on his cheeks and settles on his neck. the confidence he had just seconds ago disappears in light of your question. “i think since that time you beat me and pinned me down during capture the flag.”

“we were like sixteen!”

“and it was hot! oh my god, you staring down at me drove me crazy.”

“you horny ass! is that why you let me beat you now?”

“oh, i don’t let you beat me,” he admits, and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “you just are that good with your sword.”

you always assume luke pulls his punches (or his strikes, you suppose) with you because you’re such close friends. it’s reassuring that you come as a close second to the best swordsman at camp – however, percy is learning fast.

the conch horn sounds throughout camp, and soon everyone would gather for breakfast. neither you nor luke moves from your position; he stares at you with those deep, brown eyes, and every decision you thought you made before wavers. laughter and shouts from outside start to fill the quietness of the cabin, and you decide it isn’t so bad to let the guard down sometimes.

luke’s body momentarily tenses up as you slam your lips into his. he quickly relaxes, moving his hands to your plush hips. the touching is vulgar, but the kiss is so soft. his thumbs dip into the very top of your linen shorts, tracing the curve of your stomach and hips. your hands grip his forearms in an attempt to keep them on you for as long as you can – yet he can’t even imagine letting go.

your lips move languidly, your tongue barely grazing his bottom lip as he pushes his face more into yours. he gasps when your core grinds against his subconsciously, needily, and you take the chance to slide your tongue against his.

although it’s the last thing you want at the moment, he pulls away whenever your stomach lets out a loud rumble. you rest your head against his shoulder as your bodies shake with laughter. “let’s go get some food.”

taglist of those who showed extra love on the first post 🫶: @kamaluhkhan @fubureaders @daisydark @wstcoastcoll3ctive @nina-isabelle

#tomi writes #luke castellan smut #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #pjo fanfic #luke castellan x zeus!reader #zeus!reader #zeus reader #luke fic recs #charlie bushnell fanfic #charlie bushnell x reader #ruegard

158 notes · View notes

lemotmo · 7 months ago

Text

I don't often do this, because I try to avoid discourse in fandom and sometimes you just don't vibe with a character. It happens.

But I keep seeing these horrible and, quite frankly, very wrong and disrespectful takes on Eddie Diaz' character. And I can't just sit here and ignore them anymore.

I cannot and will never understand why people don't like Eddie.

I've read some posts and comments earlier about people disliking Eddie and... really? Eddie is boring? He doesn't get interesting storylines? He's just a prop for Buck and his storylines?

Are we watching the same show here?

Eddie is, by far, one of the most interesting characters on 911. The man has had one trauma after the other piled up on him, but still he keeps going. Why? Because of the one thing that matters more to him than life itself: Christopher.

As a single mother myself, I can relate. The struggle to want to give your child everything, to do everything for them, even if it comes at the cost of your own mental and emotional well-being? It is very real. I cannot tell you how many times I end up crying to myself at night, blaming myself because I wasn't able to stop the outside world from hurting my son. And you have to do it all by yourself as well. There is no one there to share the burden with, to share the heartache with. It's tough and it's real.

Eddie's storylines are intricate and nuanced and based in reality. They aren't necessarily the biggest and loudest storylines, but they still matter to people who can relate to him. People like me.

Now, 911 is guilty of showing a lot of important Eddie moments from someone else's point of view. That is true. Especially Buck's POV. The shooting comes to mind, even a part of his breakdown and more recently Eddie's friendship with Tommy. He made a bro-friend and seemed so happy and carefree, but since we saw it from Buck's POV, we can't fully trust this image.

So, I think that is why some people see him as just a prop in Buck's story. But it's much more complex than that. Buck stepped inside Eddie's world without complaint. He helped him out from day one by introducing Eddie to Carla. For the first time, Eddie is no longer alone in life. There is someone there who understands him and his love for Chris. He can safely rest and trust that Buck will be there to step in if necessary. He actually went ahead and put it in his will. Eddie loves the way that Buck loves his son. And the show is still using that bond to date. We saw Buck and Eddie in conversation about Chris, Buck talking to Chris, Buck being jealous of Chris thinking Tommy was cool...

I don't know what the future will bring for Eddie, but I desperately want and need him to be happy. And yes, I do think the narrative will eventually lead him to Buck. His happiness has always been intricatelly linked to Christopher. The way they keep weaving in Christopher in Buck's storyline? The way Eddie keeps being inserted in Buck's bisexuality storyline? These are some of the many reasons that give me absolute certainty that Buddie is in the works.

In conclusion? Just stop hating on Eddie Diaz folks. It's not a good look on you.

#eddie diaz #buddie #christopher diaz #evan buckley #eddie is no one's storyline prop #he is his own person #and I'm very proud to say that he is my favourite 911 character

293 notes · View notes

tetsuskei · 1 year ago

Text

notes: repost from my old blog, based on an old post and brief convo w rei @/sir-kuroo. divider by the great remi @/cafekitsune <3

warnings: office au, self indulgent, reader is a few years younger than kuroo

“do you come here often?”

kuroo tetsurou, a colleague, slides up next to you in the breakroom. his personality is suave and carries an air of sharpness, yet warmth and comfort. he’s always gone out of his way to make those around him feel welcome, and you’re no short of that. if you could think of a household name for your company, it would be his. many speak of him but rarely do many actually see him.

you wonder what’s made him grace yourself with his presence—coincidence, or fate?

he grins boyishly, rocking his feet as he looks at you with the most shining (and pretty) hazel eyes.

you blink slowly, processing his words.

“um…i work here. we’re coworkers.” you answer slowly, nodding to your work badge before resuming your activity of making your daily coffee. your heart starts to race at being watched and you try not to spill anything.

you don’t blame kuroo for not knowing exactly who you are. you work in the art department while he does promotion. you’re like two ships sailing past each other in the night. you’ve crossed paths a few times during brainstorming sessions and kickoffs for projects, but you never fully interacted before. at least not directly. only short pleasantries have ever been shared between each other.

the man’s face pales, smile faltering as you unintentionally dismiss his—quite sad—attempt at getting with you. he quickly regains confidence, though.

you hear him laugh softly before he shifts his weight to his opposite foot. “well just as i thought. i guess that means we work together, huh?”

kuroo watches your nose crinkle cutely as you frown and then laugh nervously, “kuroo-san, i don’t mean to say this with any disrespect, but if you’re still confused, i can contact HR for you.” maybe because you’re new he doesn’t know you’re a full time employee. did he think you were a temp? a freelancer?

and as crushed as kuroo currently is, his heart flutters at the way you say his name. he doesn’t know how, but your obliviousness is endearing and wholesome. he only wishes to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, to make you see what he’s trying to say.

the reality is, he’s seen you around many times. only just now did he work up his own courage to start a full fledged conversation with you. you’re very cute. shy, he can tell. but that only makes him more intrigued and persistent in getting to know you. you remind him a lot of kenma, actually.

said best friend implied kuroo was being shy himself, but he’ll deny it to the grave. he’s too stubborn to take his advice on how to approach you.

and the result? an embarrassingly horrible joke he came up with due to word vomit. he didn’t expect to run into you, but by the grace of god, you’d been right where you are, and he did not want to miss this opportunity.

he rubs the back of his head. “ahh no. i don’t need that, but thanks. i appreciate it.” he says, ending his reply with your name.

your eyes widen in surprise. “you…know who i am?” you blink, tilting your head.

kuroo thinks he’s acquiring cute aggression.

he nods, “of course i do. i know the names of practically everyone here.”

“oh.” you say, deflating a little, hope dissolving from your heart. your fingers tap your mug in thought. “right. it was just that…it seemed like you didn’t know i worked here, so i was confused.”

he clears his throat, noticing your dejection, “no! i definitely do! sorry, i worded myself wrong earlier. i-it’s just that—never mind.” he runs a hand over his face, and you’re shocked to see how nervous he suddenly appears. he always seems so confident and sure of himself, you wonder what could be going on now.

“no worries or hard feelings.” you laugh, and his shoulder sag with relief. did you know your voice could be so calming?

the tall man exhales, releasing the rest of his nerves. “allow me to start over. hi, i’m kuroo tetsurou, i work in the promotion department.” he shakes your hand, “i’ve seen your work. it’s really impressive.”

you palm is clammy as you return the handshake and introduction, but the smell of his cologne makes you feel more at ease.

“it’s nice to formally meet you, kuroo-san. you work for the jva is nothing short of amazing.” you reply.

“oh,” he quickly becomes bashful, a humble smile on his face, “it was nothing, really.”

he changes the topic, “but enough about me. back to you. i’ve been meaning to tell you all of that for awhile, but never worked up the courage to. i really should have sooner, i appreciate all that you’ve done to make the jva as successful as it is.” he continues, smiling. he hopes and begs that you don’t see his cheeks turning red.

your expressions lifts again, and kuroo can’t help but notice the small dimple in your left cheek. “thank you! that’s very kind of you, kuroo-san! you didn’t have to thank me at all, i’m just doing my job.”

“that’s true, but you’re very talented. needed to at least acknowledge that.” he nods.

“i guess so! the last project did require a lot of late nights and hard work…” unbeknownst to yourself, you start to ramble about your process.

his perceptive nature looks over your features. he notes the way you hold yourself, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater–a pink one he’s always been able to identify you by. your eyes seem to travel when they hold contact with someone for too long. you purse your lips when you’re lost in thought. but when you’re comfortable, you use your hands to gesture, expressions surprisingly animated, which make you seem more animated than your usual reserved state.

noticing the way he stares at you, you quickly stop, feeling embarrassed.

“oh! i’m so sorry, i’ve been talking your ear off. you probably didn’t want to know all of that…i bet you’re busy anyways.” you say, bowing out of apology.

kuroo only shakes his head, “ah it’s not a problem at all! you’re truly mistaken! it’s nice listening to how you work. i don’t have a creative bone in my body, so it helps me to understand better. plus, you have a very nice voice.”

wide eyes blink up at him and another smile pops up on your face. you giggle, “thank you! you’re very kind!”

“no problem,” he steps back slightly, clearing his throat, “i know this is the first time we are really talking but…would you…like to get lunch sometime? to get to know each other better?”

you think about work and your connections. as a new employee this would be good for you, right? to build more healthy work relationships. the more people you can know, the better. especially across different departments.

a smile appears on your face and you nod. “why not? should we invite anyone else to join? i think—“

he laughs, shaking his head, “no sweetheart, just you and i.”

you’re stunned. “o-oh…”

“you can say no, i won’t be offended.” he assures.

panic resides in you and you frantically wave your hands. “it’s not that! i’d be more than happy to! i mean, i’ve been looking to get to know you better anyways!”

a hand flies to your mouth and your eyes widen once you realize what you just said.

“w-what i meant was…it’s better to get to know someone 1 on 1 anyways! yanno?” you correct, heart pounding out of your chest. you’re screwed. he’s going think you’re weird.

kuroo smirks, a small hum of appreciation escaping him as he nods, “right, of course. well, i’m glad to hear that. why don’t we exchange numbers ahead of time so we can talk details later?”

after typing each others numbers in, he notices you just entered your first name into his phone.

he softly says it out loud , and a weird, twisting feeling forms in your gut. a small part of you wishes he’d say it again.

“um…you can call me that if you want, but don’t feel pressured to.” you tell him. “i’m just not too big on formality.”

he shakes his head. “not a problem at all. it’s a very lovely name.”

“thanks, kuroo-san.” you beam.

“call me tetsurou. it’s only fair, right?” he winks, patting your shoulder. it shocks you how big his hand is, but you quickly peel your eyes away from it.

he steps back, pocketing his phone before looking at his watch. “well, i should be off now. but we’ll catch up later? i’d love to pick your brain about an upcoming idea.”

“s-sure!” you call, waving after him. “see you, tetsurou!”

he waves back, saying over his shoulder, “do me a favor, yeah?”

“what’s that?”

“remember it’s okay to be proud of your work. you worked hard, so own it.” he says, sending you a warm smile.

“right, i will!” you nod. your heart is full from his advice, and you cling onto his sentiment.

“‘tetsurou’, huh?” your coworker, kazuma, walks up besides you as soon as the rooster head is out of sight. “when did you start getting buddy buddy with the head to the promotion department?”

you raise a brow. “what do you mean? that’s the first time i’ve actually had a full conversation with him. i don’t know why i was so scared to! he’s a very nice guy!” you explain.

he laughs, nodding. “right, ‘nice guy’…”

you blink. “what? did he do something to someone?” you lean in, whispering, “did he like…beat someone up?”

kazuma rolls his eyes, sighing as he fixes his own coffee, “nothing of that sort. you’ll figure it out.”

before you can question him, he turns on his heel and leaves. you start after him, but he’s too fast for you so you give up.

“weird…” you mumble. you shrug before deciding as unfortunate as it is, you should get back to work.

throughout the entire duration of your walk back to your desk, you realize two things.

1, you left your coffee in the break room, and 2–

you notice that under the notes section of kuroo’s contact, he’s put, ‘prospective work husband’.

oh. shit.

that’s what it was.

kuroo was flirting with you the entire time.

reblogs and interactive appreciated!

#risu rites ⟡#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo oneshot #haikyu fluff #hq fluff #haikyu oneshot #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsurou fluff

499 notes · View notes

kityana · 4 months ago

Text

i was going to add this to this post, but it got very long and a little off the topic and i didn't think it was fair so here goes.

i think there's a very good chance octavia isn't really aware of the situation between her parents.

in "loo loo land", octavia talks about her parents not loving each other as a new development.

when we know for a fact stolas and stella never got along, and seemed to dislike each other from the moment they became betrothed.

but in the trailer, she says "you never loved mother", so it seems like she recently realized that was the case. further more, she seems to put it in the same category of disappointment as the idea of stolas not loving her, too.

i think it's unfair to blame octavia for not noticing the dynamic between her parents sooner. for one thing, abusers are notoriously good at hiding their actions, and abuse victims very often hide their situation out of shame. this is doubly true for male victims of abuse, and even more so if the abuser is a woman. stolas himself says he put up with stella's behavior because he wanted to give octavia "a normal life", and i imagine that "normal life" did not entail knowing just how much her parents can't stand each other and how cruel her mother is to her father.

also, as @ceaselessims noted- octavia is rich and privileged. we base what we think is normal on our environment, and octavia's normal is not our normal. try putting yourself in her shoes- most of the people she knew her entire life were other royals. most of the relationship she saw were relationship between royals, probably the kind that is either arranged like her parents or made for other politically or monetarily advantageous reasons. that means most of the adult relationships around her weren't what we would consider loving, healthy adult romantic relationships. so the fact her parents were rarely if ever affectionate toward each other? to her that probably seemed normal. the fact they rarely seemed to spend time together unless they had to? again, normal. the tensions between them? stella's occasional snide remarks about stolas that stolas probably doesn't even address? normal, normal, normal.

i'd like to think that maybe at some point in the future, octavia willll spend some time with fizz and ozzie, or m&m, or any other actually healthy couple, and then the penny will drop that this is what an actually healthy, romantic adult relationship is supposed to look like.

but for now i'm thinking that for 17 years, as far as she could tell, her parents had a really ordinary, stable marriage of the kind she sees all around her. and then, one day, completely out of the blue, her father shatters it all with an affair. of course she's pissed at him. of course she mostly blames him for everything that's happening and seems more sympathetic to her mother. and of course that shakes the foundation of her trust in him, because as far as she can tell, he betrayed one person that was close to him, so who's to say he won't betray her, too?

and stolas isn't exactly helping things by seemingly not even attempting to explain the situation to octavia. i understand he's struggling with a lot, but keeping her completely in the dark is just letting her jump to her skewed conclusions, and it also gives stella a way to control the narrative, which i'm sure stella is going to take.

i think octavia will find out the truth eventually, and then i'm sure she won't take stella's side anymore after that happens. but i also think she's going to be very sad to know just how much stolas hid from her. that also seems like a betrayal of trust- that he couldn't trust her. their road to healing is going to be long and interesting, i think. and i can't wait to see it.

#Helluva Boss #Stolas Goetia #Octavia Goetia #Stella Goetia

106 notes · View notes

arachine · 2 years ago

Text

— what's going on down there?: a dick analysis

ᥫ᭡ featuring :: jake sully, miles quaritch & norm spellman

ᥫ᭡ includes :: their human forms + avatar forms

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: talking about dicks obviously, explicit sexual content (?), humor lol

ᥫ᭡ note :: if you know anything about arachine, you know i love a good dick analysis. these posts are intended for comedic purposes only, which means they’re not to be taken seriously.

— jake “ima slut you out” sully

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: as we all know, jake’s life on earth was very unfulfilling. he was a man who sacrificed his legs for the fate of the country, only to be disposed of into the unforgiving hands of society, with no way to reap the benefits (or lack thereof) that veterans were promised to receive. and after losing the privilege of mobility, his body changed drastically. he got smaller, his body got weaker, and yet, one thing remained—that dick! jake is a survivor, through and through—his personal motto is: if it ain’t broken, then it’s still working—and boy, he does not disappoint when it comes to the downstairs department. standing tall at 7 inches, is little jake (maybe not so little). when flaccid, his length measures at a solid 5.7 inches. definitely a grower.

⟳ width: a little bit on the skinnier side, but he knows how to use it and that’s all that matters!

⟳ color: i think for the most part, his shaft definitely matches the rest of his body; though, i can see it maybe being slightly a little more darker at the base, like a very light beige. when he’s flaccid, his tip is a pretty pink, almost like a ballet slipper (aka the best pink). turns into an angry red when fully erect!

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: jake pegs me as the kinda guy who doesn’t really care? i mean, trimming isn’t foreign to him, because he has trimmed it before, and does so when he notices it’s gotten to be too long…but, i don’t think it’s something that he does often. to him, it’s just hair. he’s on his grown man shit, you know?

02. curved?: uhm, yes! you know that one beyoncé lyric? yeah.

03. any veins?: absolutely covered in ‘em

04. how he fucks with it: i’d like to think before his accident, he was a doggy style connoisseur—come on, it’s jake we’re talking about here. can’t nobody tell me otherwise! i just know he had bitches bent over, weaves sweated out, makeup all over the pillows…mans was f-u-c-k-i-n-g okay? fuckingggg.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: the masses may attack me, but it’s time i spoke up. the man has a monster schlong. a cooter cat killer, if you will. if you thought his human form was big, shit, you ain’t seen nothing yet! completely flaccid, his cock measures to about 10 inches. when fully hard, he grows an additional three! talk about impressive…

⟳ width: so thick that it basically slaps his thighs when he walks. the man could create a beat with it, get em into the soundcloud business now!

⟳ color: self explanatory tbh, it’s fucking blue. as blue as papa smurf’s ass.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that because he’s an avatar, he grows hair there. even if i’m wrong, i’m right. i don’t give a damn what james cameron says. he’s basically my character at this point, and i will him to have hair damnit! just…the idea of him having a full bush down there, in the wild, all primitive and shit…does something to me. idk. don’t ask me why i’m so nasty, blame my deadbeat father.

02. curved?: is a banana yellow? there’s your answer.

03. any veins?: i might have a brain aneurysm just thinking about it, but yes! god, yes. so many…so, so, so many. ribbed for her pleasure or whatever trojan said.

04. how he fucks with it: is he still the doggy style connoisseur? yes. but now that’s got the strength of 20 men, backshots sound a whole lot like gunshots now. they say every time the mighty toruk makto thrusts into a cunt, a tree falls down or something. so, yes. fucks hard, fucks rough, fucks like he’s on a mission. what’s that one tik tok audio? “rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, i dive in her cervix.” yeah, he lives by that.

— miles “on your knees, cadet!” quaritch

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: just gonna cut right to the chase. he’s huge. like pussy splitting huge. i don’t care what anyone says, you can argue with ya friend, you can argue with ya mother, but you cannot argue with me! coming in at a solid 6 when flaccid, quaritch takes the cake for the biggest cock on this list (at least, human form wise). at full length, he measures to about 7.8 inches!

‘booooo’ you say, well, guess what? it’s the truth, and i’m just the messenger. whether you hate him or love him, he’s just that guy.

⟳ width: surprisingly average. but it’s okay, sometimes you can’t have the best of both worlds.

⟳ color: if my memory serves me right, he was pretty tan in the first movie. so, i’m gonna stick with that and say that it’s a pretty tan that transitions into a pale pink. i don’t know if some of you have seen old dick, but their tips get less saturated with age. it’s a phenomenon (not really, the blood flow to the groin is just a lot slower, which can make it appear kind of gre—anyway, i digress!)

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: this man is a colonel, so he’s all about discipline and keeping things nice and tidy. so, obviously, his hygiene reflects that. i don’t think he goes completely bald, but he does give it a good trim. kind of like a fade…just imagine a patch of grey, prickly hair. yeah.

02. curved?: yes, and since he’s older, it’s probably curved a lot. you could probably hang something on it. maybe a towel, or a lanyard. it’s definitely useful for something!

03. any veins?: god, i don’t know why, but i have it in my head that he’s on steroids. he’s just so buff and strong, and i mean, yeah, he could just be really fit…but he could also be a self-image obsessed freak who takes drugs to be the perfect soldier. the correlation, you ask? well, i just feel like people who take steroids are really veiny, and i feel like his dick would be really, really veiny. so, thus the rant about steroids. steroid dick.

04. how he fucks with it: don’t let his age fool you. he may very well be pushing his late fifties, but he’s still a young man at heart—and he’s definitely got the sex drive to prove it! i can see his favorite position being something like missionary. not so much because he enjoys the intimacy of it (like being face to face), but more so because he’s got a size kink—and definitely a dacryphilia kink. he enjoys seeing his partners cry, whether in pain, or in pleasure, or both! so, when you’re fucking him, don’t expect anything romantic. he just wants to see your pretty little face all teary eyed and pathetic.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: so big you can see it from space; that’s how the RDA mfs know they’re close, because they can see the tip protruding from pandora. no, but seriously, it’s still really huge. like maybe 12-14 inches—maximum.

⟳ width: probably twice as thick as a human’s forearm. and god, it’s sooooo heavy. big breeding balls to match.

⟳ color: blue blue blue…like wet fun dip. with just as many stripes as the american flag or whatever.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: yes, but the hair is black instead of grey and it’s probably really straight because na’vi hair is straight as fuck.

02. curved?: sir, yes sir.

03. any veins?: what’d i say? steroid dick. but even worse (better) now bc he’s so damn tall, he needs all the blood he can get down there.

04. how he fucks with it: has you in all types of positions. his favorites are anything that shows off his new found strength, so i’m betting on full nelsons and mating presses. just fast, powerful strokes. lives by the motto: can’t stop, won’t stop.

— norm “what’s the sq root of 69?” spellman

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: i’m sorry to disappoint the norm fuckers (if there are any), but he’s not that big. when he’s soft, his cock measures to about 4.8 inches, and at most, 6.2 inches when hard.

⟳ width: skinny dick.

⟳ color: dawg he’s so white, it’s like hella pale and the tip is so pink that when he’s aroused, it looks like there’s something wrong.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: like jake, i don’t think he really cares.

02. curved?: straight like a pencil

03. any veins?: like two, and they’re really prominent because he’s so fucking pale.

04. how he fucks with it: i don’t think human norm is getting puss, let’s be real.

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: i am a firm believer in N.W.B.C—nerds with big cocks. it’s just the universe’s way of saying thank you, they just…they just do so much for us, you know? norm may not have been packing down there in his human form, but this was his second chance at redemption. he’s now a proud member of N.W.B.C, sporting an impressive 15 inches. you know that one scene in the first spider-man when pete’s looking at himself in the mirror and he looks inside his briefs? yeah, that was norm when he found out. the man got so excited, he accidentally catapulted a scientist out of pandora’s atmosphere with the weight of his cock. joking.

⟳ width: on the skinnier side but still toe curling, nonetheless.

⟳ color: laffy taffy blue, with little (big) blueberry balls.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: no, he’s too busy in the lab and getting na’vi puss.

02. curved?: unfortunately no

03. any veins?: more than before, which he was pleasantly surprised to see.

04. how he fucks with it: norm’s got a big dick, but he acts so shy, like he’s scared of it or something. like stop playing boy and drop them drawls, the fuck? anyway, i think norm’s a sub. he pegs me as the type of guy who likes strong women, women who’ll tell him to shut the fuck up (because he talks so much) and eat their pussies. i guess this makes him a munch. yeah, he’s a munch. ice spice actually wrote that song with him in mind!

#jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader smut #jake sully smut #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch smut #avatar x reader #avatar x reader smut #avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water smut #atwow x reader #atwow smut

3K notes · View notes

plleeeepppyyyy · 2 years ago

Note

I absolutely adore your Wally fanfics!

If it’s alright with you, can you make a slightly jealous Wally fic? Again, it’s okay if you don’t want to, but if you do, here’s how it would go—

You’ve been hanging around with Barnaby, Julie, Frank, Poppy, Sally, Eddie, and Howdy quite often. Usually it’s because some of them request help, or it’s because they just want to hang out with you!

Unfortunately, this comes at the (slight) dismay of Wally. At first, he’s delighted you’re making friends with the others, or at least getting to know them better. But as time goes on, hanging out with him is less and less— of course, you still try to MAINTAIN hangouts with him, but it seems that fate dislikes him so! Every time you’re just having the best fun with him, someone has to come and take you away.

(Like say Frank needs you to catch butterflies with him just when you and Wally are drawing, or Eddie needs your help delivering packages.)

Either way, it makes Wally more jealous.

How he deals with it is all up to you! Again, if you want to write this, I hope I provided enough detail for you to base a story off of this! :)!!

iiiii think i accidentally made wally a bit more than slightly jealous? its really fun to write him being jelly ngl!! it was really fun to write this, ٥(¯ ³¯)

i also made him a bit (maybe too) rude to julie,, so sorry julie! :(

(i also would’ve posted this earlier but i had a busy day, sorry!!!!)

“slightly” jealous wally + reader!

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

______

•wally is just so…. happy that everyone wants to hang out with you!! so… happy… (ง'̀-'́)ง

•honestly he’s jealous at times, he’s honestly a very jealous man.

•like dont get wally wrong, he’s happy that you’re getting on great with his friends! it’s just he prefers to have all of your attention on him.

•just him, he wants you all to himself.

•but just as long as you hang around him, it’s perfectly fine—

•no it wasn’t. why’d you stop hanging out with him more? :(

•he doesn’t blame everyone for being excited , after all.. you were y/n. just great, fun, a good person to be around. how could people not stay by you?

•and that’s what wally wanted to do, stay by you.

•even if you guys hang out with the others, his eyes are only on you. like said before, you’re the apple of his eye. his bff, everything, ofc he wants to look at you.

•he notices quickly on that everyone else is just taking ur attention further and further, which makes you more busy and busy to not hang out with him! he’s legit so distraught, he immediately runs to house for some advice.

•like, how can he get your attention more?!

•he’s handsome, he’s entertaining, he’s got like,, everything, why do you pay more attention to his friends more than him?

•you guys could just be sitting around sketching, as wally watches you intently, someone has to come up and poof! you’re being whisked away..

•okay, he feels a bit guilty thinking of his friends in a not so friendly manner. but they keep taking you away from him! you were supposed to be his!

•he’s also kinda in his delulu arc,, he makes himself feel better that you’re just busy! ofc you want to hang out with him! you like wally, he likes you! literally he keeps trying to convince himself that everyday you’re just YEARNING to be with him 24/7. (like he is with you.) wally also convinced himself he is justified for feeling this way. i mean, you’re his best friend, he didn’t go all this way to bring you back just for you to be distracted from him.

•if one of the neighbors like for instance,, barnaby come up to you while you and wally are spending time together beautifully and grabs you away,, he’s so heartbroken. like don’t go! :( barnaby’s jokes can wait!

•as patient as wally can be, he gets a bit snarky.!(not a bit, a LOT) literally if frank comes up to you asking for help with something, wally spews out a quiet sassy comment. he’s so passive aggressive. as you ask him what he said, he turns to you with the most innocent face ever and says, “nothing, darling!🫶” (lies,,)

•you know how elmo got passive aggressive if rocko and susie? that is wally, elmo is wally..

•if sally walks up to you guys, wally will legit glare at her and be like, “hello sally.” and just eyeing her. like WALLY??? are you okay? 😭

•he can get SO desperate for you to stay with him, he comes up with every excuse in the book. he’s on the brink of grabbing you and just running away. he’s very on the verge of going on his knees of begging.

•he’s honestly like a dog who cannot live without your attention for a second. it makes everyone else so confused, like why is wally being so clingy to you?

•if you ever notice the snarky comments he’s been making and call him out on it. he apologizes and comes up with an excuse. that he was stressed; whatnot.. well,, it wasn’t a lie.

•if anything he’s starting to envy his friends, which is something he wouldn’t want to happen. but, if they keep taking him away from him. sometimes he just gets frustrated. you’re his bff!

•just as things start to get great, someone has to swoop on in and snatch you. he wants you to look at him and him only at times.

•hell, he even getz a bit jealous of barnaby! his other bff, even if you both hang out with him, he still gets a bit jealous.

•as he is left there alone as you go help howdy with his shop, he just thinks to himself. why can’t you stay by him? you’re supposed to be friends, the best of friends! doesn’t howdy have four arms? what did he need help with? it should be him getting attention from you, its just not fair. why?

•he literally is on the verge of breaking down as he goes back to home miserably. wally legit starts ranting again to home, what is he doing wrong? he rants a lot to the point where tears of frustration are clouding his eyes. why is he upset over you? no, you were his best friend, he had every right to be mad.

•just as he kept ranting, his telephone rang. it was you!

•finally you were able to give him at least some attention, and he could hear your lovely voice.. (attention starved i swear,,)

•you apologize to him for leaving, that stuff was just getting busier, but then offered to hang out with him.

•of course he said yes!! he felt excited, but it dawned on him. how was he going to keep you to himself? where it was just you and him.

•simple, just be stern.

•this time, he was going to keep you right, beside him. :)

_____________

“again, i’m sorry i’ve been so busy lately. its as if i’m just a celebrity here, huh?” you chuckled, it was a normal day. sunny, nice, and it was just you and wally. walking around, trying to find something to do.

“hah, you could say that.. it’s okay though, y/n. i’m just glad we have time together. especially now.” wally hummed in happiness, he wouldn’t lie. he was really happy. you sighed and nodded, you couldn’t but feel bad.

it was if you kept leaving wally behind, so you might as well give him some time too, right?

“yeah, me too. i’ll try to be around you more, of course if you want it.”

wally wanted it, definitely, it was like he couldn’t live without even talking to you for a day.

“mhm, i’d very much like that.” he nodded, finally some time to be alone with just you. no one else.

“i’ve been feeling bad for just leaving you by yourself, and..” you sighed and shook your head, clearly thinking as wally looked at you.

“wally i really want to have more time with you. thanks for being understanding about this whole thing.. don’t get me wrong, i like how your friends are so welcoming!” wally winced at the “welcoming” part, if anything they were too welcoming. but he listened on.

“it’s just.. sometimes they leave me barely any time to just hang out with you, you know? and for sure in the future, i’ll be sure to give you some attention.” you said in confidence, seemingly determined as you grabbed his hands.

which made wally a bit taken back, wow.. did you really felt this determined to make it up to him? he felt so happy at this fact and held your hands back.

“well, thank you.. y/n. i know it’s out of your control, since you are so exciting to be around. i guess people can’t help themselves but be around you.” he huffed jokingly.

“you’re a good friend though, y/n. i really appreciate you being this considerate.” wally smiled at you, which made you feel a bit better about the whole situation. you hummed and shook both of his hands, then let go. despite wally’s disappointment.

“yeah, of course! don’t wanna make you feel left out.. hey, you wanna go?—“ as you were about to finish your question, both of you heard julie. much to wally’s dismay.

again?

“heyyyy y/n! hiya wally!” julie hummed as she skipped over to both of you. wally glared at her ever so slightly as he looked at you, you were smiling. maybe out of kindness? manners?

he felt his heart sink a bit, “oh, hi julie! what’s up?” you greeted as wally stared directly at julie. if she even tried to steal you away this time..

“sooo, uhm, i need some help with something.” she sighed as she poked your cheek lightly, seemingly a bit shy.

“uhm, what is it?” you asked, wally kept looking at julie. practically serving knives right into her, as bad it would make him feel afterwards. he couldn’t just have you go away, not again, not now. you were his today. nothing was going to change that. home even agreed that you should give wally more time!

as wally begged internally for you to not go away again, julie explained her situation.

“so, i was gonna do this surprise for poppy, but i really need some help with some suggestions. could you—?” as julie was about to continue, wally quickly grabbed your hand and tugged you close.

“ah, sorry, julie! y/n’s a bit busy with me today, why don’t you ask someone else?” wally asked, if you listened close enough you could almost hear the passive aggressiveness. you and julie were both startled as wally basically held you. he smiled his usual smile, keeping you close. and tight. to him, you weren’t going anywhere without him.

“uhm, but it’ll only take a bit, i swear!—“ wally quickly shot her down and glared at her, his smile slightly faltering. “ask someone else. they promised to stay with me, right y/n?” wally said sternly. he looked at you, you were a bit taken back. a little flustered, yet confused.

“uhm, well, i did..” you mumbled back, you were a bit taken back as well. she seemed to be a bit scared and pitiful. “oh, uh, okay.. sorry for bothering you two. my bad!” she sighed and gave you both a pity smile, as if she was a bit embarrassed.

“it’s fine— uhm,” wally let go of your hand and smiled at you, “anyways, what place were you going to say, y/n?” you paused and looked at julie. feeling a bit bad as she looked around, backing up a bit.

“uh, that one cafe i talked about a couple days ago! remember?.” you stammered out, wally nodded and smiled at you. “lead the way then!”

you paused and nodded, mouthing a sorry to julie as you tugged on wally’s cardigan. motioning for him to follow you, you started to walk after you did so. thinking of how weird the interaction you just had.

wally lingered a bit and whispered to julie up close, “sorry julie.. but they’re mine.” he smiled at her, the way he mumbled to her made her confused. a bit embarrassed as well. what did he mean by that, you can’t just..

“for today at least, you know how it is.” wally winked and walked away, julie looked at him. a bit confused, no really confused. is wally okay? why was he being rude? she sighed sorrowfully and made her way, maybe someone else could help her.

you looked back a bit as you were paused in your steps, what did wally say to julie that made her run away? you felt really bad for that encounter, why would wally do that?

wally caught up to you and took your hand, “sorry if i was a bit.. stern to julie. she just.. needed to back off a bit, you know?” he assured you, you looked at him with confusion.

but you nodded, holding his hand back. “uh, you’re right.. i did promise you that i was yours today. huh?” you asked him. you decided to try to least not be too tense today at least. it was the least you could do for wally.

he nodded and kept his grip on your hand tight enough. adoring at the statement you recalled.

yes, you were his today.

and no one was going to change that.

_________________

•over the whole time this is happening he becomes more clingy, more around you. to the point where he just drags you along with him.

•he’s dismissive of his other friends at times too, he focus all on you. he waves eddie off and just listens on what you have to say. which does make him a bit more distant from the neighbors.

•even over the time, he gets more jealous and slightly more convictive, snarky, and just overall mean. in fact if you didn’t reprimand him for those comments he could’ve been way rude. it still makes him feel a bit bad too, those are also his friends. yet he’s just being rude. he can’t help it but feel annoyed though..

•he is trying to work on himself be less rude, to the point where he went to you and talked about it.

•you, being an understanding person thankfully, offered to help him out. make him less tense, jealous, and whatnot.

•and with your help, he does get better with his jealousy issues too! which makes him glad, it def gets him out of his delulu arc too.

•at times though, the thought of jealousy comes up.

•even if he tries to calm down, he can’t help but feel it. the emotions spring up at times.

•wally is still jealous nonetheless, and even if it is an ugly thing. it won’t go away for him. he just appreciates you so much, that’s what friends do, right?

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

ackjjj,, okay went a bit overboard ngl. but writing a jealous wally is just fun ! (￣▽￣)

thanks to anon for givin me some stuff to work with too, you got some good writing ideas!!(•̀ᴗ•́)و

yet again; sorry for posting this one later than usual! days are getting a little busy for me, but i’m definitely trying to get all of these requests done!

i also realized how much traction my clumsy and silly reader fic is gettin too, so thanks for that! i’m glad my writing is getting somewhere,,´･ᴗ･`

love y’all!!

ミ★

#wally darling #welcome home #wally darling x reader #welcome home arg

1K notes · View notes

crownofgildedlilies · 7 months ago

Note

i would love a percy blurb w the horrible summer party prompt! maybe like he floods the house a lil so it causes a distraction and the two can get out lmaoo. thank u i love ur writing <3

that just screams Percy I'm obsessed

based on this post opening requests up for blurbs with certain prompts!

take me away!

pairing: percy jackson x greek demigod!reader

Really, if you thought about it, you could blame the horrendous party on Ares.

You weren't even sure which of his children had the brilliant idea to throw the party, a desperate attempt to win the favor of someone else at camp you couldn't remember the name of, but you figured Ares had caused enough strife in your life that it was completely fair to blame him.

At least, Percy agreed with you.

"If we leave now, they'll notice," You hummed, hand tugging on the hem of Percy's shirt to keep him close to you. Not that your boyfriend had any intentions of going far, at all, but he had already taken a step towards the cabin exit.

"How will they notice?" He countered, frowning down at you, and you couldn't help the grin on your lips as you pushed forward and kissed his chin quickly.

"Because you're Percy Jackson at an Ares party." You pinched his side. Just because you had forced Percy to try out the party with you, didn't mean it wasn't strange that he had willingly gone. "I think everyone is waiting for Clarisse to come fight you."

"All the more reason for us to leave," Percy emphasized his words with a gentle squeeze of his hands on your hips, and you only rolled your eyes. "Seriously, it's so lame here. They didn't even get anyone from Hermes to steal snacks from town!"

You couldn't help but agree. The music was dry, there were barely any refreshments, and the Ares cabin had an energy like at the start of a fight. Sometimes it was energizing, but now it only felt stifling.

"We can't just walk out. We need to think of an excuse—"

The words had barely passed your lips before Percy was grinning and a sudden round of screaming rose from the back of the cabin where the bathrooms were.

"What did you do?" You hissed with narrowed eyes at Percy, but he just winked and slipped his hand into yours, tugging you towards the exit while everyone else moved to find the source of the commotion.

You were pretty sure you heard someone shout something about broken pipes, but you and Percy were long gone, sprinting across camp with him leading until he came to a stop at the edge of the canoe lake.

"Percy!" You laughed, a little high on adrenaline, and he wrapped you in his arms as he caught his breath, chuckles vibrating in his own chest along with you. "Please tell me you didn't do what I think you just did."

"You said we needed an excuse!" He defended, pulling back slightly from the hug to grin in a way that definitely got him out of trouble more than it should have with you. "Broken toilets spraying water everywhere is a pretty good one. Besides, I gave everyone else at the party an excuse to leave, too."

"I could have just pretended to be sick!"

And maybe it was a little ridiculous to find his logic so endearing, but you held his face between your hands and kissed him soundly, the only sound being the gentle waves lapping against the shore and crickets in the trees.

His hands fell to your waist, warm and strong, pulling you flush against his front. He tasted like sea salt and the Diet Coke he'd drank at dinner, and you thought you could kiss him forever, but soon enough your giggles interrupted and you broke apart.

Percy was grinning at you, so wide you couldn't help but brush the pads of your thumbs against the corners of it. He was the first to speak, voice low and filled to the brim with admiration.

"Maybe I should break toilets more often."

"Just wait until Clarisse finds out it was you, Jackson."

#pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #Percy Jackson blurb #rays of sun #percy jackson fic

167 notes · View notes

onlyseokmins · 1 year ago

Text

the devil wears baby blue • h.j.s.

Pairing: joshua hong x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors PLS dni!), strangers to fucking lol Warnings: joshua hong himself 🚩🚩, swearing, alcohol, reader is a menace and tease too i'm ngl, grinding, groping, slight exhibition kink, degradation, name-calling, objectification, FINGERS (all of it fingering, riding, etc), mentions of knife/surgery, choking, wbk but major hints to big cock josh 💔, marking, licking, alluding to devil imagery uwu, roleplay sort of but not really, kind of public sex acts + a mirror, manhandling, lil slaps, dangerous fashion decisions + "fun" clothing shenanigans during sex ig????, mentions of car sex and oral sex (male rec.), dirty talk (joshua won't stfu), edging, lil bit of pain kink if you squint ❤️‍🩹, and tons of banter/insults, is there a thing like a wealth kink??? - as always lmk if i missed smth WC: 7k A/N: *taps mic* would love to thank @onlymingyus and @duhnova for proofing, hyping, and supporting me on this. also ofc a huge honorary shout out to @hwanghyunjinenthusiast for the constant cheering and screeching at me in and out of dms - hope you enjoy this hehe. idk if jackie will see this but her watch post(s) helped re-inspire me to attack this wip. and finally blowing kisses to the joshushushus in my inbox, i hope you'll like this! ps if anyone recognizes where the last dialogue is from, you receive a kiss on the forehead from me and get to spend one night with joshua!! 😏

↪ this is a loosely based prequel to idiot

Seungkwan's hand lays steady on your back, guiding you through the crowd much more efficiently than you could have on your own. He has a way of navigating through the waves of people with practiced ease whereas you would rather just be swept away. It's why you enjoy going to the club with him, especially one as crazy as tonight's.

You would think you were still on the dance floor with how many people are bustling around you, mingling and giggling just as much on the sidelines as they do moving to the music. Drinks in hand, they chat and flirt with one another so it takes nearly twice as long to make it to the bar than you think it really should.

"This better be worth it," you shout directly into your friend's ear despite how close you are to him. "For the amount of times my feet have been stepped on!"

There's a sharp pinch from his fingers that snuck to your side. "Told you not to wear those stupid shoes."

Though you can't exactly hear it, you can see how his pouty lips purse out in a huff. He's also grumbling under his breath and you're able to catch bits and pieces. Things like, "won't matter" and "swept off your feet anyways" and "don't blame me" make you roll your eyes.

"Acting like this is my social debut with the prince of wales."

"Someone's been watching too much Bridgerton. And with how often you fail to come —" he's interrupted by the loud thumping of the bass, "makes sense."

"You can't possibly compare me against your standards, Mister Social Butterfly. You know everyone… and you've probably screwed a lot of them as well."

Seungkwan can only guess a gist of what you actually say and is therefore mildly tempted to let you get lost in the sea of people like he knows you'd rather prefer. But he's finally made it all the way over to what seems like an impenetrable social circle, though the group readily parts to make room for the two of you to squeeze in. So, he'll have to bring you along for the adventure.

"Hey there!"

"Hello!"

"Fancy seeing you here."

"I know, right?"

Greetings are easily interchanged. Most of them are familiar faces — friends of your own or people you've gotten to know simply through Seungkwan's ever-growing collection of new instagram posts.

Jeonghan's got some poor new soul to flirt with again and Seokmin looks like he'd rather be at home watching cooking videos. Vernon is wearing headphones of all things while Seungcheol has a shit-eating grin on his handsome face. And you instinctively know Mingyu has to be up to no good because you don't see or hear him.

Not that you're actually paying that much attention to the same-old-same people, focus naturally drawn to the tall man standing next to Wonwoo. Light brown hair curls just beneath his ears, shaggy enough that the urge to run your fingers through and imagine what the tug of strands between them might feel like consumes you. It comes as a shock, considering that Jeonghan's had the same style before and you've never felt like this.

You drink in the baby blue shirt that compliments the mystery man's skin tone, top buttons left undone to showcase the delicate silver around his throat and framed by collar bones. The fabric's elegance belies the strength of the body it clothes, material straining tastefully in the tiniest bit over a broad chest and wide shoulders. Sleeves rolled up to accentuate the flex of his forearm down to the long, long fingers wrapped all the way around the glass of alcohol held between them.

"That's Joshua Hong," Seungkwan supplies helpfully though he can't hide how smug he sounds observing you and shares a knowing look with Vernon who snickers.

"Joshua Hong," you repeat and enjoy how easy his name sounds and feels coming off your tongue. "Is that so?"

"Yeah and to my knowledge, he's extremely single."

"Don't tell me that's how you introduce me to other people."

He feigns innocence. "Can't recall but even if I did, bet it's going to work in your favor. Don't look now but it seems like you've caught a big fish."

Of course, when someone tells you not to look, the first thing you'd logically do is look. Glad you weren't caught staring earlier now that the very same man you were drooling over has noticed your existence and is staring directly at you.

Brown irises drop down to scan your figure and the suggestiveness of it lights something deep within you. You're quick to nudge off Seungkwan's arm around your waist when Joshua's eyes linger a second longer on it than you'd expect, ignoring your friend's sassy mutter of "hook, line, and sinker."

"I… I really don't like that implication, 'Kwan."

"Sure you don't."

Joshua Hong's intent gaze is far from unsavory. Even if it was more perverse in nature, you think you'd feel drunk off the same amount of power it fills you with and you haven't had a single drop of alcohol yet. A swear word escapes under your breath at the dampness of your back — and elsewhere — before sending the admiring man a demure smile of acknowledgement and turning once more to Seungkwan.

"You were criticizing my shoes earlier?"

"'Cause you can barely walk in them!"

"Then let's put these bad boys to good use."

Your friend can only shake his head as you stride away. He'll keep an occasional eye on you from afar for the rest of the night but he has a hunch things will be… fine. He hopes. Wonwoo did say Joshua was a decent man, after all.

He'll have to be… if he's willing to put up with you, Seungkwan thinks to himself with a cringe as he watches.

Vernon hands over a much appreciated beer and he sidles up to the unbothered man's side, jutting his chin out in your direction and asking, "Are you ready for some entertainment?"

"Yo, always bro."

"Cheers to that."

Meanwhile, you've made it to the new company without stumbling once — something you're very proud of. You nod at Joshua. Nothing more than a soft flutter of eyelashes, alerting him that you're aware of his presence but indulging in nothing more. Instead, you choose to lean comfortably into his companion's space.

"Hi Woo, care to share?"

The bespectacled man wordlessly offers his nearly empty glass of wine, always easygoing and ever perceptive. Unlike his best friend who never fails to be endearing but can't take a hint to save his life. One of the many reasons why Mingyu has never succeeded as a wingman — unfathomably clumsy but still loveable in all aspects to steal everyone's heart involved.

You finish the rest of Wonwoo's drink off with a satisfied hiss at the taste but not without a snort. "I didn't mean that, silly."

He cracks a smile, returning the teasing with a fake, reproaching scold of your name. "Could've told me you wanted to steal my buddy and not drain all my alcohol!"

Joshua laughs — loud and clear above the din of noises surrounding you. It has an air of gracefulness to it and you're sure the club brightens in a way that's totally not from the strobe lights going crazy.

"So, this is Seungkwan's friend…"

You jab Wonwoo's side with a huff. "Hey, I'm much more than that!"

"If it's any consolation," Joshua cuts in with another laugh and a handshake, taking on a self introduction. "I'm just some guy named Joshua. Hope that doesn't disappoint."

"Just some guy, huh? One that wears a Royal Oak?"

He thrillingly doesn't let go of your hand, keeping a firm but gentle grasp when turning it with his to properly glance at the notorious status symbol wrapped around it. The steel casing glints just as fiercely as the sapphire glass over white gold hour-markers embedded on its face.

"Yep, still just some guy that's called Josh. Joshua Hong, to be exact. Scared you off yet?"

"I wear heels that have a one hundred percent chance of breaking my ankle to a place where there's a terrible combo of dancing and drinks. But you think I'd be scared by a pretty boy wearing thirty-some jewels around his wrist?"

He steals another appreciative look up and down your body. Not as fiery as the first one but still bold without shame, striking another bolt of heat that flashes through your veins and simmers in your lower abdomen.

"Taste. And bite. I'd expect nothing less from someone like you."

"Someone like me?" you scoff as he winks, taking a step back and extending your arm as far as it will go with the notion for you to follow.

"Dance with me?"

Wonwoo had quietly faded into the background and slipped away for another refill. Smart guy. There's no one to worry about leaving behind when you accept this unfamiliar man's invitation and let him whisk you in the direction of the dancefloor. But not before catching Seungkwan's mild and supportive yet watchful gaze before he raises his beer in a mock salute.

It's almost cute at how inept Joshua is maneuvering through the tumultuous flow and ebb of moving bodies compared to said good friend. The way his taller frame looks more like a poor cruise ship tossed helplessly in the waves of the ocean than the stationary lighthouse and its reassuring beacon you'd expect causes a chuckle.

"You're almost as bad at this as I am."

He shoots an apologetic smile at the same time someone once again jostles his shoulder, pushing him closer into you. "Nightclubs really aren't my scene."

You're not complaining about the aided proximity that lets you hear what he says without strain. Although you do try to match the beat as it changes to something more sensual yet still playful. Going along with the rhythm of the other dancers rather than against much smoother than Joshua's awkward attempt to mimic. He sticks behind you, failing to hide the blatant mesmerization at how you sway effortlessly to the beat.

"You're not bad at this at all."

You shrug. "I've been here often enough to blend in better than most. So tell me, what's a rich boy's usual scene then? Shanqin Bay's clubhouse?"

"Hah, you wanna come with me sometime and find out?"

"Only if you can promise a fun experience… oh," you throw a smirk at him over your shoulder, "and to cover all the costs, of course."

"A pretty thing like you would have anyone saying yes and wrapped around your little finger."

"Maybe, but only if they're worth my attention."

"Afraid to disappoint yet again when I spend most hours of the day in the operating room."

You turn abruptly to face him, grateful for the hand that shoots out to support your elbow despite his surprise at your dubious side-eye. "Are you a doctor?"

"Maybe."

"Director's son?"

"Cliché enough for you yet?"

"I recall someone who's wearing a Royal Oak saying I had good taste so I'm not going to complain. Though it would have been quite the story to hear you were the one under the knife," you take a step closer and slip a finger underneath his silver chain to tempt him closer, "to end up looking this good." When large hands hesitate to land on your hips, you raise an eyebrow. "Thought a surgeon would have a steadier grip."

"Oh." Brown eyes flicker with a carnal desire, focusing on your lips. "You expect me to be a rich, talented playboy and not be naturally handsome too?"

"Sorry, Doctor Hong but there has to be at least something wrong with you."

The polite smile he'd been wearing all night quirks up at the corners, changing into something more on edge. A little dangerous. Beckoning excitement. He spins you back around, hands solidly landing on your sides — this time without reserve — to prevent your lower bodies from touching and changes the subject back to when you approached Wonwoo and him.

"Do you always take drinks from guys?"

"Ah, hm. Just the good ones."

"Good alcohol?" His breath is hot against the ear he's speaking directly into. "Or… good boys?"

Biting your lower lip does nothing to hide the unfettered glee you're feeling. "Alcohol, of course." A breathy sigh and you take the leap. "Want a taste?"

There's no need to ask twice. It's like the right key turning its lock. The doctor's initial awkward movements are nowhere to be found as one hand smoothly leaves your hip, turning your chin toward him to meet you halfway with his lips ready to brush against yours.

At the last minute, he backs off and turns your chin to its original position of facing forward with a smirk you can't see. Who cares about a missed kiss when his other hand slides across your stomach? Urging you to press your ass backwards and grind against the very obvious bulge that his khakis do nothing to hide.

Its growing hardness and promising length cause you to automatically moan, arching your back with the feral need to feel more. Your head tilts to the side, hips swiveling and swaying not to the beat but the rise of his cock. The position willingly grants Joshua access to lick, suck, and bite at the exposed skin.

He hums along to the music with a melodic voice from what you can hear, though you find more enjoyment in the consistent vibrations against your neck. A naughty hand plays with the tucked-in hem of your blouse and an occasional finger teasingly slips under the waistline of your jeans.

You can now feel Joshua's smirk when in turn, your fingers tangle in the bottom hairs of his mullet. His lips curl up, moving to nibble behind your other ear and breathe in your scent. As delightfully predicted, there's a distinct pull by your rings when you tug them free from the strands that has him pausing. Eliciting a sharp hiss and equally as sharp — but appreciative — thrust against your backside.

In retaliation, the lax hand caressing your throat tightens around it ever so slightly while he growls in your ear, "You said there has to be something wrong with me, right?"

"Mhm, oh yeah. Totally."

"Wanna fuck around and find out, beautiful?"

Hook, line, and sinker was damn right, Boo Seungkwan. Of course, the devil would be wearing a shirt the same shade as the sky where heaven's clouds make their home.

And you eagerly take the forbidden fruit — his hand, once again — and teeter after him. The red flags are already starting to fly at full mast but into the dimly lit hallway you go, elated to find an empty and quiet corner right before the stairs leading down to the bathrooms.

Underneath the neon glow of the exit sign, Joshua pins you against the wall with your arms laying on his shoulders. If you thought the attacks from his mouth were rough on the dance floor, they turn ten times more animalistic now that he has something to support you with other than strong arms and big hands. A pair of soft lips and the warm wet tongue between them contrast with the digging in of his teeth that follow your necklace chain to its adorning pendant.

It hangs in the v-neck window of your blouse and he lets out a tiny grunt of displeasure at the breasts being concealed away by the fabric and its many buttons. That doesn't stop him from tugging the bottom of the shirt free like a petulant child, nothing preventing his fingers now free to tickle and feel up the bare skin beneath.

This man is good at distraction. You don't think much of the light grazing beneath your tits, only a fleeting and casual touch. It feels so good when he cups under them like an additional support for the bra you're wearing and squeezes, causing you to keen and push yourself further into him. Then quick as lightning, one hand sneaks around the back to unhook the bra's clasp and the other deftly unbuttons your jeans.

"Joshua!" you squeak in protest, stepping back and pressing flat against the wall. You're quick to rush and slap a hand against your chest to keep the beloved strapless bra that's served you well from falling to the ground. "Is your red flag undressing someone in public?"

"Only if you insist 'cause surely I would never decline such a request being the gentleman that I am." The doctor makes no further move despite the way he licks his lips and teases, only chuckling at the menacing way you squint. "Just know my full intentions are to be touching all over and especially under whatever layers you're wearing very shortly."

There's no use hiding the whine that escapes when he places a hand on the wall next to you and leans in with a smirk.

"However, sweetheart… "

You catch his line of sight dart off to the left and your heart plummets, the fear of being left high and dry (wet) setting in. "Josh — "

"You'll have to forgive this rich boy's schemes. You see, I've always been very spoiled and just have to take what I want right away. And you're much too irresistible…"

He speaks casually. Like your jeans weren't suddenly unzippered and he isn't currently running a tantalizing finger on the fabric below the waistband of your panties, causing them to soaken further down. Way more than they already had and almost where you need him but also not even close in the slightest.

"Though as a rich boy," he continues, "I'm more than familiar with providing a small courtesy here and there. Would this club's filthy bathroom offer enough privacy for you, gorgeous?"

"… Only if you make sure I'm presentable enough to get down there… and back up here after, for when I have to leave with my friends."

Joshua's eyes widen before he's throwing his head back and laughing, bright and cheery like he's not going to rearrange your guts. "So you don't expect to go home with me? Maybe I won't be such a walking red flag to you."

"Doubtful. Now fix me up, Doctor."

"With pleasure."

It's not like there are as many people milling about as in the main area. Still, it's good to be conscientious. The same adept hands re-fasten your top undergarment efficiently. When he ducks his head to kindly fix your pants — which is sort of hot — you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear for shit-and-giggles to gauge his reaction.

"You know there's a front clasp too."

He glances up from where he's eye-level with your covered breasts, eyes darkening. Bingo.

"What a little whore we have here, hm?"

The nonchalant, degrading question and burning desire in his gaze makes your knees weaken, arousal skyrocketing. Enough that you almost throw all caution to the wind for him to fuck you. Right here, right now. But then he's pulling away, offering a palm you can't seem to refrain from taking a hold of. And ever the true picture of being a gentleman — helps you descend down the dark stairwell.

Your killer heels really do nothing for you physically (besides the threat of rolling an ankle) because it doesn't matter how tall or short you end up with them on. It's the confidence and ego that are heightened exponentially, which is all that matters.

That's why you follow Joshua Hong into the sketchy bathroom, let him lock the door, and bat your eyelashes with a coy smile. Leaning against the sink and fussing with your blouse as he approaches like a predator eyeing up its prey. Greedily drinking in the bare skin revealed by each button that's undone until only one is still fastened — right across your tits — that the man can unclasp himself if he so chooses.

Barely anything stopped him before anyways.

And that's what also fuels you to put your arms around his neck, pressing your bodies close together. Even closer by hooking your right leg across his hip, the point of your heel digging intentionally into the back of his other thigh. It's hot and hard — the dick bulge that keeps growing pressed tightly into the snug warmth of your core — and Joshua lets you grind down and dampen his khakis for a few moments longer than expected.

"Desperate, aren't you? Didn't wanna fuck in public 'cause you're freakier behind closed doors?"

"Just a little." You fight back the urge to whimper or admit anything to him. Like you aren't humping his length that only swells more and feels achingly thicker the harder you rut against it, eyelids fluttering the few times it's able to deliciously spread your pussy lips just the slightest through your clothes. "I'm so wet — "

"The more of a mess you leave on my pants, the longer I'll have to edge you while waiting for them to dry." Joshua grins cockily at you trying to force your hips to stop themselves only to struggle pathetically in vain. "Think you'd like that. Haven't even gotten to fuck this hot little cunt yet and I'm already certain I wouldn't mind being buried in there for hours. But don't know if your friends will stick around for that long…"

"J-Josh, ah — Shua… mhm!"

"So I think you'd better behave if you know what's good for you," he stills your hips hard, "fuckin' slut."

You mewl at the hard, rude thrust that bumps your clit as if he was actually fucking you. Like goo, you let him manhandle you around so you're bent over and facing the smudged mirror, hands gripping tightly to each side of the sink basin. Aided by the reflections, you witness how he shamelessly ogles the tempting ass that's been rubbing all over him all night. And of course that means you have to perk up and wiggle your hips, giving him quite a show.

The small distance between you clears the lust cloud and you throw a smoldering glance over your shoulder. "If you fuck me with my heels on, I'll give you a chance with them off."

Joshua swats your ass — not very hard but you release a yelp of surprise. "Wasn't aware that you were running the show, sweetheart."

"It's my backside you're looking at."

"Knew you were mouthy the minute I saw you. You're aware of how kind I am, so let me give you a choice." He's anything but kind as he sighs and leans his weight over top of you. Despite the bracing strength of his arms, you feel suffocated by just being caged in between them and the overpowering scent of his cologne. "I shut you up with either my fingers in your mouth or around your throat."

Oh… decisions, decisions! Long fingers that would surely feel best deep inside your pussy but that wasn't one of the options. You purse your lips in thought and arch up, balancing the heavy cock supported by your ass and unconsciously pouting. Joshua has the audacity to look at the time while brushing back his hair and clicks his tongue.

"Wow, I'm letting you choose between sucking on my fingers like a slut or being choked like a whore and you still can't decide? What a high maintenance toy."

The urge to scoff is extremely strong. "Sucking it is then, Doctor Hong," you say sweetly and then add with a sneer, "like the perfect slut that I truly am."

"When your friends all said you were nothing but a gentle soul, I knew they were duped. Only one was partially truthful in saying you could be sassy which doesn't even come close. Little do they know there's a bratty cockwhore with quite a bite underneath all that charm."

"Haven't fucked any of them, that's why. No plans to either."

"Yeah, what was it you like — oh right, good boys?" He laughs — low, mean, and degrading. "Then what am I, sweetheart?"

"A doctor who's full of himself and needs taken down a few, ha, pegs."

"Ah, there it is." Joshua undoes the final button, slipping a curious finger beneath the bra's front hook pulling your tits together. You shiver when it snaps against your skin after he retracts, pointer finger tracing a lazy line up your throat to its final destination. "The attitude."

You willingly part your lips, lolling your tongue out mischievously to match the roll of your eyes. "Someone gets off on it."

"Is that so?" He smears the lipgloss on your lower lip by pulling it down before releasing it. "Do you think this is all a coincidence, darling?" Meeting the hardened gaze in the mirror, you shake your head. "The minute I saw such a sparkling gem on Wonwoo's story, I just had to have it for myself."

It's not hard to guess what he's referring to. A couple weeks ago, you wore enough scraps of fabric to just cover your nipples and the areas between your legs. Drinking far too much and hanging off of the WonGyu duo's broad frames while the whole gang partied it up together at Vernon's. You had even asked them to send you the videos and pictures after because damn, you did look hot as fuck.

Who knew it would be bait for an entitled pretty boy?

"At least you waited to find me when I wasn't drunk."

"Much more fun to break someone sober."

"Glad to know consensual exists in your vocabulary."

"How about it — will you let me destroy this little pussy of yours and ruin it to keep you crawling back to me for more?"

"Sure, if you ever stop talking and actually do something — "

Joshua's quick to shut you up, almost cracking your jaw with the harsh thumb that's jammed in the corner of your mouth to prop it open. The following two fingers are thrust cruelly inside as a replacement so it can move to keep your chin steady. They're able to reach so far when pinning down your tongue, ending up wedged near the back of your throat so you're already gagging around them.

"Most sluts behave the second I drop the nice guy act. But boy oh boy, it only makes you act up more, eh?"

He finally does away with your bra to allow those gorgeous tits to spill out and casually rips the garment from your body like it's personally offended him. Maybe it has. Shoving it away into his back pocket and then urgently tugging your jeans down. The binding position you're left in helps keep your shaky legs in place while you cling to the sink like it's a lifeline. Upper body supported only by the cruel hold he has on your face until he yanks it back so you're flush against him instead, the cool baby-blue silk of his shirt set ablaze by your shared body heat.

"Next time, wear something that has easier access. Or better yet… maybe nothing at all or I'll be forced to rip it off." A piercing set of eyes attempt to glare into yours that roll back delightfully despite what's likely some snark ends up sounding all jumbled. "Oh yes, there will be a next time, sweetheart. I have to train this cunt to yearn for my cock — and you don't think you'll get it that easily, right?"

Joshua chuckles darkly knowing you can't reply. But liking to be full of surprises, you relax your upper jaw while his fingers trail across your pelvis and close your lips around the ones in your mouth. Suckling and swirling once the tension in them relaxes despite the naughty thought of biting. That doesn't eliminate the occasional graze of your teeth as a threat, responding to his words in your own way.

"Just look at yourself, slobbering all over… bet you suck cock like a champ. And prolly like it real messy. How well-trained you'd look trying to balance on these pointed heels while I fuck that bratty mouth."

You moan at the visual he's painted in your head.

"That's right, darling." There's a mean pinch to your clit followed by the man's groan at the ruined fabric squelching between his fingertips and how the covered little nub was already begging for friction. "Now tell me how long your cunt's been warming up and soaking these drenched panties?"

"Since the beginning…" you admit once he's freed your sore mouth and chooses to bully your breasts next. "When you looked at me."

He snickers, pushing your underwear to the side and petting at the bare slippery folds. Just able to barely see a small glimpse of where his actions play with your lower body in the mirror. At least your expressions make up for what he misses seeing.

"Aw, this soft pussy started drooling the minute I laid eyes on you? While I was imagining all the things I could do to these tits," the hand on one of them palms at the rounded flesh hard. "This ass," his pelvis grinds in a slow circle against it. "Mhm, and of course, this hidden gem."

At that, a thumb brutally rubs at your clit while plunging a finger inside the warm, wet walls that eagerly pulse around it. You weren't wrong about how good the digit would feel inside, the length and stretch of its bony knuckle feeling good enough to substitute as a mini-dick when Joshua starts a slow and methodical pace with it.

"Thought about having you spread out in the backseat of my Bugatti La Voiture Noire, you'd look like a vision laying across its leather seats. And the best thing? No one can see inside so you'll get your much desired privacy while being right out in the open."

Then he's adding another finger, longer than the first. And finally one more with an additional push in and out of the others. Clearly his experience on how to work a pussy is more than helpful. Alternating between stuffing your hole full of all three or changing up the pace and number each turn.

And of course, your chest is attended to as well. Both nipples tugged in iterations to match the rhythm of each finger spearing into your cunt, the pendant of your necklace bouncing in time. Without fail, he hits the bundle of nerves with a deadly precision that has you going slack against him.

"Maybe we should do that 'cause," he mumbles in your ear, "this filthy hole is awfully good at convincing me to spoil its owner like no one else. Let's see if it can tell me how much it'll want me to fill it up one day."

Your ears ring with the devastating screams of white noise at the sudden stop. The moans you were letting out trail off into a dissatisfied growl. His hand falls away from your upper body while the one in between your legs merely sits nice and snug, still inside but not moving. Far too relaxed, limp even.

"Joshua!"

"C'mon, weren't you listening? Convince me."

"Fuck you," is what you spit out, glaring at the challenging and impossibly smug reflection of the menace behind you.

"You didn't say fuck off, so… I'm waiting."

Another check at his watch like he's bored infuriates you enough to move your hips. Whining at how his fingers fail to stiffen and only follow your pitiful motions back and forth. Out of protest, you reach behind and take a harsh hold of the hard length you're able to grab.

"Watch it, darling!" Joshua flinches and the way his cock twitches dulls the venomous words that come next. "Or I'll leave you here all needy and by yourself, waiting for some other pathetic dick to hop onto in order to satiate just a little bit of this wet and slutty pussy's behaviors."

Well, that idea doesn't appeal to you whatsoever so you lean on the sink with a huff to do what needs done. It's a struggle to stay balanced on your heels while grabbing at his wrist but a small part of you knows he won't let you fall, a bicep supporting under your breasts. Revenge comes sweetly by digging your nails into the tense muscle of his forearm and leaving scratch marks that have him hissing.

And now you know for sure — despite the doctor's incredibly huge ego and big talk, Joshua Hong's no better than a painslut.

"Hah," you breathe out and start to slowly rock your hips. "Disrespectfully, go to hell."

Ignoring the abrasive insult — because he's a demon anyways — Joshua focuses on the wet suctioning sound growing louder the faster you move. The feeling of your tits and necklace hitting his arm to the beat of your hip bounces and enjoying the view of how his fingers disappear beyond the jiggle of your asscheeks. Up into the tight heat of velvety walls as you force his hand to behave and serve your needs like one of your dildos, though they've never been this uncooperative.

"That's it. Yeah, there we go… just like that. Go ahead and make yourself cum riding my fingers, beautiful. Uh-huh, now who's using me like a little whore to get off?"

You're already losing yourself. Waiting for that rising wave to crest because despite his annoying mouth, Joshua's fingers are more than skilled enough to hurl you into a delightful climax. As long as nothing interrupts it.

"Answer me — or I'll make you choke yourself."

"Mhm…"

He likes seeing how your face contorts, moans getting louder. It's too addicting which is why he growls out, "Do it."

It's a feat to let go of the sink but the reward is to move his arm around your bra-line to your throat, making his hand envelope it. The visual in the mirror is depraved — limbs all wrapped and tangled with each other — and your half-closed eyes taunt the searing gaze in the mirror, repeating his words right back.

"Why not do it yourself, Doctor?"

"Are you some sort of succubus or what?" He spits out the question like it's the germs on the toilet seat next to you. Freeing himself momentarily from the grip of your hand and your cunt, the man's at least nice enough to assuage the pissed off whine with a consoling lick up your neck and tugs impatiently at your pants. "Take these off."

"Go fuck yourself," you mutter darkly with half the mind to walk out of there. But you do as he says, quickly shimmying them off while your clit buzzes and twitches angrily at the neglect of stimulation again.

Joshua's eyes don't look away, his hands steadying your hips and your pussy aching when you hear how he slowly slurps on his fingers to clean them. Once you step back into your heels, he throws the jeans over his shoulder.

"Careful with the phone," you threaten.

Joshua snorts and bends over to secure a strap for you — sucking harshly on the skin of your thigh as a "you're welcome" but pulling away before your hands can tangle in his hair and keep him down there.

"Wrong thing to say to someone who likes broken and expensive things. Shouldn't you be warning me not to break something else?" Suddenly, your other shoe dangles precariously off your foot when he uses a strong hand to lift and support your leg onto the sink's surface. "Like this poor pussy?"

The straining burn in your muscles and the added chill of the porcelain is all alleviated by harsh rubbing at the tender skin of your entrance. Middle and pointer finger eagerly prying sloppy pussy lips apart once again.

"Ah, but I might enjoy that."

A clear glob of arousal drips from your hole fluttering and clenching around nothing. Joshua leers hungrily past your shoulder at the mirror's erotic display of your exposed cunt and the wetness shining under the buzz of the bathroom's fluorescent lights.

"Dirty and yet it's such a pretty little jewel. Sparkling and glistening so, so lovely that I can't wait to watch it shatter while playing with it."

Finally, all three fingers from before work in tandem to scissor repeatedly inside of your tight warmth without forgiveness. This time, the devil has nothing but good intentions to send you over the peak of pleasure. His eyes can't stop feasting on the raunchy way your greedy hole gobbles up his fingers. The loud squelches accompanying his motions echo around the small enclosed space, mixing with the warm breath hitting the side of his cheek from your gasping moans.

Joshua thinks it's mighty cute how puffy your outer pussy lips grow and struggle to spread around the thick and long digits shoved inside plus the onslaught of his thumb bullying your clit. The angle shows the slightest bulge of them relentlessly stroking the bundle of nerves that has your leg twitching from the sheer pleasure.

He focuses on bringing you there, all on what you're feeling rather than his own pleasure because you have the most convincing cunt ever that deserves to be ravaged by a large, girthy cock. A shame it has to wait because he cannot give in so easily. But you're definitely a piece of work. Joshua likes that.

"Gonna keep making a mess on my fingers, darling? Leave 'em all sweet and wet enough for me to wrap around my dick later and pretend it's your pussy instead."

You'll be the death of him when your head rolls into the crease of his neck, drool dampening the skin as you mouth senselessly at the vein protruding beneath. There's a sharp sting — the certain kind he hasn't felt in a very long time. A telltale warning of a hickey, the beautiful colors of red and purple already rushing to the surface and decorated by little nips of your teeth after you soothe the pain with your tongue.

No one marks up Joshua Hong. Sure, he's had lipstick stains before but those can easily be swiped off with a handkerchief and washed away in the shower. He can't help but smirk though, knowing when he eventually wipes your sticky lipgloss off, something of you will remain for a bit.

However you can't go without a little punishment. If you can even call it that when he returns to wrapping a hand around your throat. Anyone else who dared to leave a mark would be walked away from. But you — you simply lose enough oxygen causing your head to spin more pleasantly than it already is.

And you claw at his forearm, scratching it up ten times more to serve as a further reminder for Joshua to look at. You're by no means urging him to stop but to earnestly keep going while simultaneously searching for something — anything — to anchor you down as you float into an almost unconscious state of pure ecstasy.

It's by far the strongest, most intense orgasm you'd ever experienced. Becoming nothing but a bag of bones in his arms as your walls pulsate around his fingers and the fruitful expenditure of your release drips down his wrist.

He stays in that position, unable to move anyways with the vice-like grip of your spasming cunt cramping his fingers. Instead, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible by squeezing and releasing the pressure on your throat over and over again. The true picture of debauchery — heaven and sin mixed in one — and he kind of wishes for a third arm to take a photo for a keepsake.

Everything in your body aches deliciously. You feel both refreshed and exhausted when you finally come to and even then Joshua supports your weak body as you try to regain control over your wits and whereabouts.

"Pants," you croak out and wave him off when he tries to gentlemanly assist. Which he still kind of has to when you almost topple face-first on legs that feel like jelly. "Bra."

Joshua's a little less enthusiastic to hand that over, bitter sarcasm lacing his words. "Wow, won't even grant me a souvenir?"

"Boo-hoo," you gripe back and pretend not to notice the eyes glued to the way your tits bounce when adjusting the garment around them. Turning to look in the mirror, you work on dulling the "just got fingered in the bathroom" appearance. "It's not like you need one and it seems even less likely you'll keep anything from a stranger, especially lingerie."

"Hm, I like how well you read me."

"Of course you do, fuels that large privileged ego. Don't get used to it. But, want me to do something about that one though?"

He coughs at the rather suggestive insult, shifting his pants and shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the messy boner you're referencing. "Guess I did a great job if you're begging for it already."

"Oh, for goodness sake I'm being courteous."

"Cute."

Joshua admits it almost like he's startled by the words that escape his mouth. Further surprising both of you with a clumsy, sloppy kiss to the cheek when he leans over to fasten the top button of your blouse. As if embarrassed, he's already halfway out the door when he remembers to mention, "I'll be thinking of you darling, look forward to your call!"

You're left staring at the saliva spot reflected on your cheek in shock. And then, you wipe it off with the rest of the accumulated sweat to make yourself a bit more presentable and then head back to the club as naturally as possible.

Dr. Hong is seemingly nowhere in sight as expected. You figure it would be hard to return with a raging boner despite the low lighting and he probably left through the back exit to likely jerk off in his ridiculously expensive car. The visual of white ropes of cum streaming past the steel band of the Royal Oak around his wrist haunts your mind, making your aching core buzz to life again and your sticky panties even grosser.

Out of pure spite, you hope he stains his shirt too.

Luckily, Seungkwan is still at the bar when you wobble over in search of him. He shouts your name in mock shock, assessing your appearance with pursed lips and eyeballing your figure dubiously.

"You look like hell."

"Yeah?" you laugh it off as nonchalantly as possible, unaware of the phone in your back pocket lighting up with a returned text message from a newly saved number and a scandalous picture attached. "I just got back."

#ez.creates #svthub #joshua hong smut #joshua smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #smut #hong joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #if this flops so does the hong schlong #i fist fought this joshua in the parking lot and WON #svt.smut

869 notes · View notes