#its something unpredictable but in the end its right
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twentytanya · 9 months ago
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It's Something Unpredictable, But In The End It's Right | Tanya and Friends
Date: Late April 2024 Featuring: @lady-snow-flower, @madmagicmim, @zerohallows, @kingofdemxns, Sonam Warnings: Death, grief
Tanya returns to Leeds to finish her last bit of business before it is time to go.
TANYA
It didn’t really hit Tanya until the sun started to set over the city as they approached Leeds.
Of course, the mood had been solemn this afternoon when everyone had met up to pile into the car. But you couldn’t stay solemn for four hours. The ride had turned into an oddly normal hangout, blasting music and making jokes and talking over one another. It was everything Tanya wanted out of the day. But only now, as night began to fall, did Tanya remember why she was really here.
She was nervous, of course. But she was also very, very sure about this. More sure than she’d ever really felt about anything. And, in a way, Tanya knew that the part of her that was nervous was the most important part of her. Because this meant she didn’t have to hide from the things that scared her anymore.
“You’re going to take this next left,” Tanya instructed. She’d forgotten a lot of her afterlife, but not her life. And she knew the way to the cemetery well. “And there should be plenty of parking. Sonam’s going to meet us in the lot.”
KING
King did not want this. He probably should, to let Tanya move on and move forward. To be at peace.
But this was his friend and the ache was not soon forgotten. Even as they enjoyed their time together in the car and King was squished in the back he hadn't minded at all. 
But suddenly the car felt all too small, all too final and he couldn't help but wish he had more time. 
There was also part of him that felt too small. Too unprepared for this. Even though he tried to make out words all he could do was look at others for their lead.
MIM
Mim had been determined to make this a good day. She knew that next week would be horrible and lonely. There would be a dozen texts she would start typing to Tanya before remembering and deleting them. Words she would save up with nowhere to go. Events where she would turn to her side to say something to a person that wouldn’t be there to hear them. 
But that was the price of loving someone. She’d deal with that on her own the only way she could. To balance against that, she wanted one last good day to hold in her memory. 
She spent the car ride telling dumb jokes to try and make people laugh. Starting silly car games and seeing how long they could keep that up. Pulling up a playlist of Tanya’s favorite music so they could sing along, and tell stories that different songs reminded them of. 
The longer they drove, the harder she gripped the steering wheel until she could feel her hands begin to ache. Then she would start another story. 
Tanya’s words brought an end to that golden drive and she nodded, making the turns smoothly until they were able to pull to a stop in a nearly empty car park. It was late enough that most people had already gone home. The car turning off brought the silence rushing in.
ZERO
Silence was hardly unfamiliar to him, if it weren't for the people he held close he likely would have existed in that nearly soundless state; little use in speaking just to hear your own voice. But he had been speaking during that trip, among a few people he didn't know and a few who were more important to him than most; because silence wasn't comfortable for everyone the way it was for him, and goodbyes weren't meant to be heavy things. 
The heavy parts should come after, Zero reasoned, when memories remained instead; silence was no way to spend those hours.
He knew that, unfortunately, from experience.
So he'd smiled, talked, rolled his eyes at Mim's jokes and made comments on the little conversations, trying to be a counterpart to her efforts  as he set aside the silence for Tanya, for a few more memories. 
Matching stories with his own, set to making Tanya laugh over things she hadn't known, adventures in clubs and ridiculous things he'd done; it kept the dull ache under his skin at bay and buried in his voice too deep to betray him; everything was finite. 
Sometimes it wasn't a comfort, even to him. 
His gaze flickered towards the window as the car stopped, some part of him felt the tug of quiet spots and time dissolving all things away, the soft touch of it, as he always did in resting place, final places. Peaceful places. 
He offered Tanya an encouraging smile, setting aside the heaviness for later; time was moving terribly fast that day. 
SNOW
This was always going to be the end of this story, and the beginning of another. That was the shape of life– a river that flowed forward into a vast and indescribable ocean where things could settle, before the tide brought it back to a new shore, to start again.
Snow knew this. She knew it from the learnings as a wood witch and she knew it from her learnings as a necromancer. She had assisted many ghosts into the next world. 
But none of those conversations, those fleeting, fading friendships, had struck her as much as her friendship with Tanya. Tanya was not another ghost; she was a sister to her. Dear in all the ways that family was dear. And the closer to the end they approached, the more raw the pain throbbed inside of Snow. The more frightening it felt. She wanted to turn and run away, as though she were the little sister who could not face life’s realities. 
Snow fought against that fear, that panic, that premature grief. She smiled pleasantly and listened to the younger adults as they played around, made jokes, sang along to songs on the radio. She felt like a chaperone more than like she was part of it. But to chaperone was still an essential role– especially for a necromancer and her ghost. Snow reminded herself of that over and over.
She was doing this for Tanya. Tanya deserved a happy ending. 
She climbed out of the car and she greeted Sonam who was waiting for them already. She shook the woman’s hand, recognizing a flash of her own fear in the woman. But Sonam was not crying (yet, at least). And she had already turned to her little sister to smile along with everyone else. 
“Well, it certainly is a lovely day,” commented Snow, to help soothe any awkwardness. “Leeds was so overcast when we came last time, wasn’t it, Tanya? But that sunset is beautiful.” 
SONAM
Sonam’s heart thudded as she saw the car pull into the lot, recognizing it from the description her sister had sent her. This was it. The goodbye that she hadn’t gotten when she’d lost Tanya the first time, all those years ago.
Part of her felt selfish for keeping this from everyone else. Her parents, Tanya’s friends, extended family. But Tanya had been adamant. She didn’t want anyone else to know, because she was afraid they wouldn’t understand. After she had moved on, Tanya told her, Sonam could tell them the truth if she wanted to. She had always been a lot better at explaining things. But for now, as so often was the case for her as the eldest of the family, Sonam was the keeper of this secret.
She shook Snow’s hand, relieved that someone else she had met before was here. “It’s nice to see you again, Snow,” she replied, then turned her gaze toward the others spilling out of the car. 
Tanya’s friends in Swynlake— she’d mentioned that they would be here, too. Mim, King, and Zero. Unusual names, yes, but that checked out for Tanya.
And then there she was. Her sister.
TANYA
“Hey,” Tanya said, stepping forward to hug her. This wasn’t the desperate, dramatic hug of their last meeting, but something gentler. Still, she held on just a little longer than she needed to.  
She took a step back. “So, you know Snow, and this is Mim, King, and Zero,” Tanya said, gesturing to her friends. “They’re gonna come with us.” Sonam gave a little wave. Something in Tanya’s heart squeezed at the sight of all of them together, these people who had meant so much to her at different points of her afterlife. She hoped it wouldn’t be the last time they gathered, even without her.
“So… follow me, I remember the way. Sonam, we’re good on security, right?”
“Yeah, they won’t bother us,” Sonam assured her. She didn’t use her magic often these days, but a distraction spell did come in handy now and then when you needed a little privacy. 
MIM
Tanya had mentioned that her older sister would be there, but seeing her was still a jolt. Because she was old. 
Okay, not old old. But it was clear she was much older than Martin, and there were already people who questioned the ten year gap the Ambrosius siblings had. Seeing her and Tanya together, Sonam looked more like she could be Tanya’s mother than her sister. Or maybe it was a glimpse of who Tanya might have been if she’d gotten to grow up like that.
It was one of those little moments that brought home what had happened. What it had been like. The way time had moved on, but Tanya hadn’t. Until now. 
Waving when she was introduced, Mim fell into step close to Tanya as they began to walk.
ZERO
Zero had always thought that Tanya's mentioning life had seemed like in the distance sense, and seeing Sonam was another itch; he was uncomfortably aware of the presence of time passing in all things but with people it was almost like counting the days in terms of events rather than hands on the clock or grains tumbling through an hourglass. 
Sonam was older, Sonam had lived and lived, and Tanya had lived without her. Something struck him as heavy in that, but sometimes life was heavy. He offered a smile in return for the introduction (seemed like he was pulling up a lot of smiles that day but for Tanya, of course, yes) and stepped away from the car. 
Stepped into that goodbye, he supposed, with his tired bones knitted together with resolve over a promise he felt grateful to be able to keep. 
That hourglass tipped again and they were walking, together, the most ordinary thing in the world to do; as if there was anything ordinary at all that day. 
SNOW
They walked quietly, this party stitched together from different periods of life. Tanya’s past and her present. As they walked, all time merely blended together, as if it didn’t exist at all. Like this walk could go on forever, just as the drive could go on forever, just as one last conversation with Tanya could go on forever.
Yet time made itself known when they reached the grave. They all came to a stop, and it was a jarring reminder of the tick-tick-tick of the clock. 
Here was where Tanya’s story had stopped once before. 
Here it might stop again. 
No, thought Snow to herself– reminding herself again. It is not a stop. It is the start of something else. For too long had Tanya been stuck. This was her chance to be free. 
And since Snow was the necromancer, she took it upon herself to smile at Tanya. “Would you like to dig or shall I?” she asked. “I suppose we could all pitch in a little. That might be nice.”
TANYA
The last time Tanya came here, her energy had lurched violently, confronted with the very real fact of her death that she had been avoiding for so long. But it was different, now, approaching her grave. Maybe it was that she felt much more at peace about the whole thing, that she’d accepted that she was dead and that she was going to move on. 
Or maybe it had to do with all the people surrounding her, people who meant so much to her, from all these different points of her afterlife. At the center of it was Snow, who had come with her last time, who had guided her here from the beginning.
“Yeah, I think that would be nice too,” Tanya said, snapping out of her wandering thoughts. She set her backpack down and took out the urn, hugging it close to her chest before setting it down on the ground and picking up the shovel. She tossed some dirt aside and then offered it to King, who was standing next to her. “You want to do some?”
KING 
King had hung back as everyone walked, his hands itching out to hold onto someone, anyone. He glanced at everyone in their little ragtag group before taking a few quick steps forward so he could take Snow’s hand. A shrug of a smile as if that was the only thing he could do to explain why he had taken her hand. 
Until she offered to dig and he took a step back as some got to work. The dirt piled up and the grief built with it, creeping on slowly, unavoidable. Counting down the moments until the end.
Unlacing his fingers King accepted the shovel from Tanya with a nod, he would have done this with his bare hands just to help if it was needed. Digging a bit he offered it to the next person, his hands still itching, opening and closing again and again.
MIM
Mim took the shovel when it was her turn. She was trying not to think about the urn currently in Tanya’s arms. What it meant. The weirdness that came with what she knew had to rest inside. If she thought too much about it, she had a feeling she would start crying and she refused to fall apart. She had her pride. 
The handle of the shovel bit into her hands as it dug into the dirt. For a moment, she considered using a flash of magic to toughen up her hands, strengthen her muscles, something like that. But she didn’t. This wasn’t something she wanted made easier through magic. 
Once she’d dug her part, she looked over at Zero and handed the shovel off to him. 
It was only then she stepped over towards Tanya to pull her into a short hard hug. Despite her best intentions, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes anyway. “Te deseo lo mejor de lo mejor, mi mejor amiga,” she said softly enough that only Tanya could hear. 
Letting go, she went back to stand by Zero, taking in a deep breath and slowly releasing it. 
Zero
It felt strange to admit, even if it was only to himself, that graves felt like an odd sort of thing. He'd never fully wrapped his head around boxes in the ground rather than returning fully to the earth, but he respected it for what it was as a different custom. 
He'd never had any hand in digging one though, that thought lingered as he was handed the shovel. 
When he took it his eyes caught, only very briefly, at the new splash of color along his forearm, still healing, still fresh; but once it had it would remain inked into his skin as a reminder for days and years ahead. Days he would feel the absence, not as much with the ache of that day but the gratitude of the ones before it. 
He felt the age in the handle, in the soil as it turned over like a blanket. He liked to think that was what a grave was, ultimately; a blanket of earth secure, sheltering. It was too hard to think of it as anything else as he worked at that spot. The soil was old, anchoring, sheltering; although Tanya would hardly remain there, he thought. 
She had already remained; it was moving to whatever came next. 
As he handed off the shovel to the next person he saw the hints of the weight of the day in Mim, in King, Snow, knew it was there in himself, in everyone. But Tanya herself seemed lighter somehow, certain, and that was all Zero really needed to know. 
He moved to catch hold of her hands, to speak to her quietly, to smile. "Wherever it is you're going next, I know you'll burn just as bright there; I'll never forget how you did here." His voice held steady, he gave her hands a squeeze, then he stepped back. 
SNOW
Snow was the last to dig.
How many graves had she dug before at this point? No one besides Tanya knew this about her. They probably looked at Snow, in her long skirts and dresses and perfectly pinned hair and thought she’d never held a shovel before. But she had– a hundred times by now. 
Yet this grave was not any grave. She gripped the shovel too tightly for a moment, as her tears rose to the surface.
With one breath, she eased her own heartbreak and the tears receded. Then she put the shovel to the earth and she dug. Just a few more shovels were needed, and then they hit the box which had once contained Tanya’s urn.
“Here we are,” said Snow. She knelt down and cleaned away more of the dirt, this time with her hand. It felt too coarse to do so with the shovel. Her eyes once again filled with tears. Here they were, at the beginning of everything. She thought of planting flowers with her mother in the garden. 
They’d plant Tanya’s soul here too. And let it grow. Let it go. 
Snow straightened again and she turned to Tanya. The tears shined in her eyes, but she smiled through them as she stepped forward and gave Tanya a gentle hug. When she pulled away, her hands lingered on Tanya’s shoulders. “I’m so happy I got to be your sister, Tanya. Even if just for a little while,” she murmured to her. “I’m so proud of you.” 
And then with one last squeeze of Tanya’s shoulders, Snow stepped back. The next part Tanya had to do on her own. 
TANYA
Sonam took the shovel back while Tanya stepped forward, holding onto the urn tightly. Everything made sense now. It was always supposed to happen this way. Unearthing the urn with Snow had been the first moment in a chain reaction that led her exactly to this point.
Which wasn’t to say the path here was predictable. The evidence that it wasn’t stood all around her, the friends who had joined her along the way, who had taught her lessons she hadn’t even known she needed to learn and showed her love, so much love, so much love and grace and kindness that Tanya just couldn’t believe that it would all end here, cold dirt in the ground and cold ash in an urn. All of that love had to go somewhere. 
And maybe that was what Tanya had been afraid of from the beginning. That her life, cut so short, hadn’t meant anything. That because she’d never accomplished all of the things she planned on, it was a waste. So she clung to a half-life, slowly losing hope and hiding behind the monster she thought she had to be.
But now she could see that it had meant something. Her first life and her afterlife. It just looked a little different from what she had expected.
Tanya crouched down and set the urn down in the ground, and then she stood up and turned around again. Her eyes blurred with tears, but she was smiling as they scanned across the small group gathered around her. None of them were perfect people, but they were exactly who she’d needed. Sonam, who never gave up on her. King, who forgave her. Zero, who understood her. Mim, who saw her at her worst and loved her anyway. Snow, who became her family. It was all about this, at the end of it, wasn’t it? It was about these people, and if she meant half as much to them as they’d meant to her, well, in a way, she’d live forever.
One by one, they said their goodbyes. And Tanya didn’t necessarily need the words; she felt all of it deep in her heart. But sometimes it was important to say things, she knew. For your own sake, and for the sake of others. Warmth glowed inside her, and seeing the way her friends looked back at her, Tanya knew she was ready.
“Thank you. All of you,” Tanya said. A breeze blew in and her hair whipped across her face. For a moment, like wind feeding a flame, she seemed to burn brighter. And then, in an instant that you would miss if you blinked, there was only a faint wisp of smoke. 
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a-sleepy-ginger · 7 months ago
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5/6/24
❊✺❂✺❊
Double ender toast
Ice cream
Talked with mother
Got loads of cuddles from the animals
Passed my history exam
Passed my psychology report
#happiness diary#happiness diary: june 2024#arm got chopped today#my arm isn't sore but it's not normal#got dissolvable stitches this time so that's new#my dad told me when he got dissolvable stitches they dissolved too quick and my mother said hers didn't dissolve and had to be removed#so let's hope im in the middle and they last the normal amount of time#the nurse ended up calling tge doctor to do the markings? to cut cus it was right next to my other scar#so they did it vertical instead of horizontal#also on the way out i went the wrong way and a passing doctor helped me#it was funny cus i was looking around like uhoh where am i and he say me from a distance and called like no wrong way and guided me#but i passed by one of the nurses who did the biopsy and they were like you go the wrong way#and i just awkwardly laughed like i get lost easy#its bled a little not as much as some of the others#the second one on my leg bled at every little movement#but this one seems fine#also ate ice cream after cus i deserved it after waking up so early and getting my arm chopped#and had a tasty dinner#also the weather was unpredictable today it started pouring and hailing a little and randomly it would be blue skies#and its cold im cold its june i shouldn't be cold#oh and my psychology report!!#my teacher wrote that im yhe first person they passed first try in like 18 years or something#so im a bit like :0#i did good???#was expecting remediation cus she said to but i passed first try so im just ?? :D ??#am also tired been up since 6#so gonna sleep#or try to vus im a side sleeper and arm chop so maybe sleep will be light
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saymio · 4 days ago
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Thanos headcanons | (NSFW)
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Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su bong/player 230) x Fem!reader
Genre: smut, headcanons
Warning: dead dove do not eat, noncon, you get forced to take drugs, cum eating, groping, Thanos is a huge asshole. might be more but im too lazy to write it down
A/N: not proof read.
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Thanos, the man that comes up to you during the endless questions the guards received before the first game. calling you "senorita" and asking you to join him and his friend during the games. you declined, making him tsk and walk away.
Thanos, the man you stared at in fear during red light green light. he pushed down a row of people, pushing them to their death. he just stared at you back and winked, as if he did it to impress you.
Thanos, the man that approached you right after the game ended. asking you to join him and his newly formed team. the 5 people stood over you eerily, scaring you into saying yes.
Thanos, the man that kicked out gyeong su during the team game. whispering into your ear, "I saved you baby" before sitting down onto the floor with the other 3 people in the team.
Thanos, the man that scares you to your core, he's unpredictable. kicking out someone from the team without a second thought but then running to him when he makes out alive. explaining how it was an accident.
Thanos, the man that says outloud "so y/n! whatcha gonna do for me, y'know..as a thanks for not kicking you out of my team." his voice was loud and annoying..but you knew deep down he had meant it with dark intentions.
Thanos, the man that will force his weird pills into your mouth right before the lights go off. telling you it helps with sleeping well.
Thanos, the man that insists on sharing a bed tonight because you're "deeeeefiantly scared"
Thanos, the man that gropes your ass and the rest of your body when the lights go off. whispering into your ear " I know you want this.." his dark voice filling your eardrums
Thanos, the man that slips his finger into your pussy, aggressively pumping them in and out, ruining your delicate insides until you cum all over his fingers.
Thanos, the man that will bring his fingers to your mouth. the ones that were just inside of you, he commands you to eat your own cum unless you want him to kill you that second.
Thanos, the man that will sneak into the bathroom with you to fuck you, using your disassociated state (from the drugs) as an excuse to reorganize your insides. explaining to you later when you sob into your hand infront of him that you 'never said no'
Thanos, the man that jerks off in the bathroom to the thought of your distressed state. you were so weak and small he wanted to ruin your entire life.
Thanos, the man that you overheard talking with his friend. slut shaming you, explaining how this entire time youve been begging for his cock. but you know its not true, when all you've been doing is begging him to stop
Thanos, the man that abandons you during mingle. leaving you to fend for yourself. and when you get upset at him for his, his excuse was "my team and I decided we don't want dirty whores with us. you might rub off on us. sorrry!"
Thanos, the man that slaps you infront of every in the room when you try to confront him. "bitch! you tryna ruin my life or whaaat? I never touched you! I'd never touch a dumb drooling slut like you"
Thanos, the man that groped your tits that night. whispering sweet nothings into your ear, explaining how he was 'sorry' for being so cruel and that he'd made it up to you with his cock.
Thanos, the man that you wished nothing but death upon. you were nothing but ecstatic when he had finally died.
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Another note: I think I made him too much of a bitch and ooc idk...this was rushed and lazily made bc I just wanna push something out and idk if I'll write a longer fic today hshshsh ILL MAKE A PROPER THANOS FIC SOON I SWEAR sorry if this sucked.
TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf
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shiningmystic · 2 months ago
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Future Spouse (PAC) Tarot Reading
18+ Minors do not interact
PAC has: Personality, your dynamic/vibe together and how they see you while you are together
From high demand I must deliver on what I promised so here it is, you're reading. This PAC took me awhile to make, please support me to continue making more PAC’s:
Support me
This reading is for all genders and ethnicities, somethings may not resonate because of culture, or the messages are just not for you. These readings are general and for many people. Take whatever resonates with you and move along.
The focus of this reading isn't nsfw and is more towards your relationship and about them. I will probably make a nsfw reading with a twist but for now simple info about you and your spouse's relationship. Entertainment purposes only thank you. Sorry for the long wait this is for my sister who is in Greece looking for her love.
Did you vibe with this reading? Come get a personal one :)
5 piles: (I hope you enjoy my little graphic)
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Pile 1: Saturn
Zodiac signs: Aries, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius
The Tower, The Anchor (Emperor), four of coins (rx), The World, The Lovers (rx), seeker (page) of swords
Your Future spouse is unpredictable, a strong personality that knows what they want but at the same time you can't completely pin them down to something. This unpredictability is attractive but there is also a stable energy anchoring these strong traits down making them endearing to the right people. They are lots of fun and a person that enjoys a full out vacation and partying (I’m feeling with the right people).
This energy feels like ‘don’t judge a book by its cover because you really don’t know me’ vibes. The lack of water may be balanced out by you from this personality spread. Overall, when there is a lack of water energy there is a lack of fluidity so they may be extremely emotional or pretty stoic to the point they struggle expressing emotions physically like awkward hugs and no kisses; they will need time to open up with that if that is something they like.
I also get the vibe you may not like them right away and if you do, they may do things that bother you like tease and point out things they don’t need to. I just feel this silly competitive side to them as well that may be annoying, but I see this being playful and fun as well, this doesn't come from a bad place.
I feel a very intelligent/smart vibe, but with this competitive nature comes judgment. They may be really good in school or excels/is talented at something that they may pursue; there’s always this pressure on them to be better because they are already so good at whatever they do which may be why I got the energy of chaos, they wanna have fun. They are mystery with the tower but also someone you can’t ignore.
They have seen some shit so that is something that has shaped them (many people in these piles have). The tower is next to the anchor I believe they may have had a rough upbringing and have a strained relationship against authority/parents. They may come off as judgy at times, it comes from their own pressure in being better for the people they care for.
I see they are truth seekers, people who search for the right answer to the ends of the earth. Not to be right but to do what is best for them and the people they love. They love a lot deeper than they show. So, it’s clear to me that they grew up learning to not share what they feel. An energy of having to ignore certain feelings to focus on what was important.
Your dynamic together:
Judgment, Ace of swords, The Magi (Magician), The Star (rx), The Moon, Ruler of Wands, Sovereign (Queen) of Wands
Already got hints of playful sparing probably word play or cracking jokes. Playful teasing and unhinged laughter. For people who have strong personalities you both may butt heads. I see you both enjoying having someone on your level. I see a maturity in this group which is why you both can be so fun with one another; there is trust that they won’t leave you hanging out to dry. Like if they make plans with you, they stick to them unless an emergency, they are committed the moment they get a hint of potential.
If you call and ask for help 9/10 times they will be there. When either of you feel kinda off your game I see someone picking up the slack with no complaints. I believe this dynamic between you to will stay stable because of an understanding and peace you find between the other. I see you help the other shine in their own way. For people who have soft personalities you will grow unhinged along with them I say this because they are influential 😂. From my vision I see them being practical with getting you flowers but then doing something different like taking you to a place you’ve never been, or surprising you with a personal gift that may be weird but with meaning. I see both of you just getting to know one another and your quirks just work well together, that’s all I can say. Just to add as a last note, the moon card talks about mystery, so even if I tell you this information there are still huge surprises this person holds that I can’t pick up on.
Their thoughts and feelings towards you when you are together:
The Moon (rx), Ten of Swords, Seven of Coins, Sovereign (queen) of wands, Ten of wands, Ace of cups
I see they see you as something very special. Not like a prize but something precious and that should be cherished. I see them having to change for you and they grow with you which I believe is the realest form to show your love; being willing to change for another; and obviously the changes aren’t worth holding onto which is why they are willing to change. I see them always finding something to love about you even on hard days together. I believe you both have this casual understanding of ‘we’re stuck together even if this doesn’t work out’. Ok ok I see many of you are tough cookies, you’re both on the same level (I keep saying that so many strong personalities here) find you to be a pain in the best way and love you for your flaws. Wait just got a message, that they do love you for your flaws and you love theirs; 'You may be to real sometimes, but I will always be here to take it and learn.'
Again, your both chill with your quirks and they LOVE that about you, feeling accepted but also ok with changing behaviors that can be problematic is a golden person, a relatable person. I see you both love and accept deeply the other’s work (career) and time when you come together to make the most exciting life together. You are beautiful to them, someone who has struck them as their true partner in crime. You shake up their world as they do yours. I don’t see many people around you, so I think you both prefer just chillin with the other when you get married, like others don’t matter as much as you both do to the other, strong personalities for the win.
Physical traits:
Body shapes/traits: Stocky, buff, burly, skinny, limber, scars, Tall
Hair/color: Dirty blonde, brown/light brown hair, long, shoulder length, bald/buzzed head
Eye color: green, brown
Letters: L, T, W, A, I, N, X
Hope you enjoyed the reading, head over to my ko-fi if you have more questions about your future spouse!
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Pile 2: Alien Spaceship
Zodiac signs: Capricorn, libra, Aries, Gemini, Virgo, Taurus
Ace of wands (rx), five of wands (rx), justice, conqueror (knight) of swords, the anchor (emperor) (rx), ten of coins
I see your future spouse being an overthinker and too much in their head. I see them having possible control issues and pretty reserved as a person. They are a great mediator and a pretty reasonable person, but I see that they hold a lot inside and it festers and exaggerations/intense outcomes, so I see anxiety. Many of our personalities are affected by our past so this is just what I see first. I see they may have a pretty reserved family and strict upbringing, so they are very picky of their spouses, and you are definitely the one if they picked you lol. When they get to talking though, they can talk your ear off, I love seeing their energy when they open up.
I see major intelligence and book smart learner which may be why there is such a reserved feeling, like they are pretty ‘crazy/silly’ on the inside, but they keep that under wraps for the people they love and won’t judge them. It’s like they’re the type to watch their person of interest from afar and see how they live their life and from there they plan and think of ways to approach you and start things slow.
They aren’t a slow-moving person but because I see family being something on their mind, they will consider every factor and person. If you approach them, it could go either way. They just seem like the type to really take their time to feel you out before saying anything that could give away their interest. They always have to weigh their options before doing anything.
I feel like there studies and college were their life for a time or still is. They want to make their families proud and feel worthy of a comfortable life. I see a very kind hardworking personality who just wants to do the right thing. They sacrifice a lot, but I see them just shrugging it off.
Your dynamic together:
Ruler (king) of swords, seven of wands (rx), the moon, sovereign (queen) of swords, eight of wands
Uhhhhh, ok well you may be pretty compatible because the queen and the king are here, but they don’t give off romance vibes, it’s more like power couple vibes, you both are super smart together it scares people. You both understand the others mood and click charismatically, like you guys are chill and talk about everything.
Not saying you guys are sharp tongued but with each other you may have some great banter but a lot of dry stuff. The last pile was much louder with their jokes while these ones just casually hit the mark and both of you chuckle at each other's silly moments, very low-key affection but it’s sweet. I see both of you will have a lot to discover about the other and opening them up like a book to see the colors of their soul makes you appreciate them more and their complexity as a person.
I see you being there walls down and will get to see a side of them that the cards aren’t showing me (obviously all readings should only scream h the surface of what’s to come). I do see you guys having different opinions and you both give each other the space to speak up and say how you feel even if it’s illogical (which I’m getting a sense you both follow logic more than emotion). you both understand what it’s like to be shut down for having the wrong opinion then both of you will definitely get along and will never turn away.
If this is an arranged marriage, then this person is a good fit for you logically not emotionally. A lack of cups shows me that you both will learn together about true vulnerability and that kind of work will always be a rocky ride. If this is not arranged, then you both are really headed towards the unknown with how it feels to let someone in but because you chose them, they are 100% worth the struggle.
Their thoughts and feelings towards you when you are together:
Death, the star, justice, judgment, ruler (king) of wands
I'm getting a feeling like they really don’t know what to expect from you? You’re just a new person to them, I guess. They find you very attractive even a bit intimidating. This vibe is like someone observing and just not understanding what the other is thinking.
For people who will have an arranged marriage it does feel like someone you don’t know deeply but enough. They don’t know how to pin you down and when they eventually talk the tension gets better but they still get super nervous around you; they may act out of character.
Ok so they are just struck by you, attracted but unsure of what to do or even approach that situation so they are super passive 😂 they may get hard on themselves feeling unworthy but obviously there is a point that you both get married.
For the people who don’t think they will have an arranged marriage they will see you and know something is up. Death and the star? Intense. Love at first sight energy or coincidental meeting.
Physical Traits:
Body shapes/traits: skinny, limber, lithe, slim/slender
Hair color: black, brown/light brown, straight hair
Eye color: blue, green, brown
Letters: E, D, Y, W, Q, R, D
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Pile 3: Stars (warning: nsfw messages)
Zodiac signs: Aries, Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, Scorpio, Taurus, Leo
The World, The Queen of swords, Judgement, knight of wands, knight of pentacles (rx), the king of swords
I instantly got that you guys are the traveler pile, the sound of going around the world is at least appealing to some with the world card representing your spouse. I sense a public speaker or someone who has to get Infront of people to explain a plan. Could be a company leader or even a manager, someone with responsibility. I see they have a friends in many places, all different types of people.
Doesn't really matter your spouse has a tongue (wink wink) strong charisma but in a subtle way with minimal words (sorry I can't ignore their lips, they enjoy giving oral and or receiving, the messages come at random lol). So, with the queen of swords being beside the judgment card they may have a serious personality. They have to make big choices a lot, so they have no sweat when it comes to smoothing convincing and talking people out of things. A bit of sneaky energy, they enjoy a bit of playful energy.
I see from there serious persona that they had to be strong a lot through heartache, from family and the way they were treated. this isn't a bad thing because they are who they are now, but I get a feeling that they accept it because they don't like causing the issues, they like solving them. They have a habit of never being alone because they don't like it, they can take care of themselves and take care of others but they def have a problem with avoiding their heart ache and acknowledging they aren't ok on the inside when they were always having to take care of everything for people, major taurus vibes.
I see they are very well respected where they work but they are relied on too much. I don't see them as a push over, but I see them having to give up a lot in situations or manipulate people to keep the peace probably in the home or workplace. The last thing I see from them is ambition, even though they are quiet they have determination unlike any other and finish everything that they do. I sense they do a lot of things by themselves; I can see when they find something that interests them, they go full force focus on it. They are bad with patients sometimes and will be top of their job one day. Job motivated.
Your dynamic together:
The king of wands, The hierophant, the two of pentacles, death, page of cups, page of swords
I see they travel so you guys call a lot, txt a lot, facetime. When you two are together this doesn't have to be the case though. I see them asking to marry you early on in the dating game or even hinting at their devotion which I see being overwhelming for some so you'll probs set boundaries and they will respect them, they care for your comfort. So, most of the time they are the ones stoic and relaxing beside you like they kinda belong there. Your spouse is learning to communicate properly (maybe language barrier? or broken English? you just connect) I see you both exploring the world and enjoying each other's presence even when silent they seem to always be looking at you.
I keep getting a scene in my head just being in a coffee shop, getting your tea or coffee and you both just relaxing and enjoying the beauty and pleasant scenery, good libra energy. I see them determined to win your heart, but I don't see them stopping the admiration. but they are also distant lol. Sucha lonely person I can see them lighting up and really becoming who they desire to be with you. Not saying you're the reason, you're just a huge help for them to get to their goals because they have always taken care of other people's problems.
Their thoughts and feelings towards you when you are together:
The hanged man, nine of swords, 4 of pentacles, knight of cups reversed, emperor reversed, seven of cups reversed
You make them lose their minds. They don't know how to approach or talk to you, and this may put them in a cycle of failed attempts to ask you out or even just talk to you; you make them so nervous they have moments in bed hunched over embarrassed that you saw them being weird or something like that but they still feel compelled to try and talk to you. I see them falling for you quickly, but you may not know their interest until later because of their mask. They get all giddy with you and that horrifies them. (I never expected to get a reading like this? vibes that fill my stomach with butterflies, first time falling in love vibes.) Again, I'm getting real conservative or at least just not expressive person or doesn't share much emotionally which admittedly is a lot of people. They do this for a while, thinking you adorable and admiring you from afar until finally they ask you out.
High sexual tension after that, some of you built a slow friendship but for others I don't think they were friends with you beforehand so this person just kind of comes out of nowhere asking you out even if you are friends, it just pops out of nowhere mid convo. I see your future spouse instantly apologizing and repairing things with you if they freak you out (lol). You see they are genuine, and I felt that before I pulled the fool reversed, they are just really bad at social stuff but that's ok and its pretty charming on my end at least but you obviously both get comfy and are happy you have met one another. This eventually grows into a great communicative relationship (like wow 180 in personality, you help them grow into the person they really are and that make my heart so happy!)
Physcial traits;
Body shapes/traits: Tattoos, skinny, Limber, belly, burly, beauty marks, short
Hair color/type: Dreads, Brown/light brown hair, Long, bald/buzzed
Eye color: Amber, grey, brown
Letters: C, M, G, O, B, U, K
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Pile 4: Earth (warning: nsfw messages)
Zodiac signs: Aquarius, Taurus, Sagittarius, Pices, Cancer, Leo
4 of pentacles (rx), The Artist (from the ethereal visions tarot deck), knight of swords (rx), eight of cups, 9 of swords, three of swords (rx)
I can see that your person is a carefree individual who is also searching for their love. I see they are a wounded spirit feeling unsecure and making it their personality when really, they are seeking a place to find and release their love. They are a dreamer, and I bet a creator of some type: writer, artist, dancer, musician you name it they have many talents.
I see that there view of the world is a bit skewed from this rejection energy they have towards themselves and others. maybe goth or rebel vibes but I don't feel that for everyone. Besides that, I see they are great with people and can be quite social, but they don’t broadcast it. I see through their art they release a lot of their pain and that is their life, but I see that they have much more potential to explore. Big visionary energy, they are ahead of their time. Aquarius vibes and many types of friends.
I can also see hyperactive energy from the knight of wands but that doesn’t have to be the case, they can come off as arrogant and a little pretentious but it’s because of this huge insecurity they hold over themselves and try to hide their weaknesses by being silly or making fun of themselves.
I can see harsh criticism on their art and have high expectations for themselves, possibly a perfectionist. I can see their art is really good, but they doubt it (big sad). From the 8 of cups their path is a healing one, that’s pretty awesome so I see them meeting you in a good state of being. I see it’s really helping them learn how to be themselves again. They can get bored easily, but I see that they are taking good steps in trusting themselves and really putting themselves out there, lots of bravery energy.
Your dynamic together:
Knight of pentacles, 9 of pentacles (rx), two of pentacles, Temperance, 9 of cups (rx), five of cups. (rx)
You both consistently bring yourself up to the plate for one another and are full of surprises. I see you bring a sense of stability to them and for you they bring a sense of wonder. I see both of you spend time basically complimenting one another, I even see both of you helping each other out with picking outfits and colors. This is equal partner energy it’s so sweet. I see a balance of give and take, a sweet exchange of love and genuine interest in the same things but not forced or different just comfortable.
Both of you give into the other emotionally and I see tight hugs and lots and lots of cuddling, healing energy. I feel like you both hold onto each other in fear of letting the other go, both of you have been hurt but talking it out helps as you both open up and really connect, lots of Scorpio energy here and sharing secrets.
There is an energy of cutting off family or not interacting with past people who have both let you down. They are a mess of tears either way you and it’s really sweet to see. I can hear them just thanking you for existing.
Their thoughts and feelings towards you when you are together:
The star, eight of pentacles (rx), two of swords, Ace of wands, seven of swords
Effortlessly chilling and enjoying each other’s presence. I’m getting that you both don’t need to talk to just enjoy one another cause energy speaks which make you both forget to speak up sometimes. They see you as a star and I believe you return their sentiment. I see it feels natural for them to be with you and just work with you. I believe they also like to show you off and admire you like a weirdo (hehe).
I see that it’s not a hard decision when it comes to getting freaky, it could be random times, but I see you both always ready for it haha and they can’t help themselves. There may be moments that you gotta lay down boundaries because you both get to into the zone and distracted. I see a lot of physical connection. You may not completely understand their feelings and you there but you both understand other aspects of each other that others don’t see. From the two of swords, I see that they understand you best in the sheets (they are so funny, funniest pile.) They always get away with cheesy things like pecking your cheek when you least expect it or scaring you (Halloween vibes aye) and just teasing.
If you would like to ask more go to my ko-fi!
Physical traits:
Body shapes/traits: curvy, burly, buff, limber, petite, big eyes
Hair color/type: Afro, dye, dreads, straight, wavy, orange/red
Eye color: Hazel, brown
Letters: N, O, P, Y, K, H, F
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Pile 5: Moon
Zodiac signs: Leo, Libra, Pisces, Virgo,
Seven of pentacles (rx), knight of swords (rx), five of pentacles (rx), five of cups, nine of wands (rx), the sun, the hanged man (rx), the world
I see your person is hardened by constant patients and having to compromise being the higher person. They are smart, smarter than a lot of people. I sense genius vibes/come up vibes. A lot of underlining motivation/ambition. Your spouse is cold and distant but there is much more to them (obviously) they just don’t like sharing themselves which I see changing it’s just a part of them that sticks out in their energy.
They take a lot of responsibility for their actions which is why they seem to be reserved, they don’t see a need to over say. Otherwise, they seem pretty chill and happy person beneath there mask. I see they are a hard worker and have a lot of determination to help others and themselves. They could help many people, getting wounded knight vibes from your spouse. I see that your spouse created a space where they can be themselves and have their own soul/chosen family. Their friends and allies are people they cherish, and I see they enjoy celebrating after a long hard-earned day.
I don’t know why there’s a huge focus of energy on their job so it’s something they are passionate about. Maybe it isn’t their job but something they are compelled to do. Star vibes. They know what they bring to the table and take their time to pick you. So, a slow burn. I also see they have a few close friends.
Your Dynamic Together:
King of wands (rx), 9 of cups, the fool (rx), 6 of swords (rx), four of cups, page of pentacles (rx), Ace of cups, 9 of pentacles (rx)
I sense you both find each other at a strange time and so you both bond over certain opinions and passive conversations. I don’t think you guys realize you start to fall for one another, a pleasing fulfillment whenever you both discuss an interest. I see with your dynamic you help one another out. Maybe you hired them for something at first and you both just hit it off to easily, but it does take a few times for you both to talk. I see similar mirroring energies so you both may notice something from the other that vibes. I see them giving you a lot of comfort in moments that feel like they were wasted.
I see there is a lot that you both work on together and one of those things is confidence. You both compliment and build each other up to the point that you both feel unstoppable. They may put too much logic in certain conversations but you both can joke with one another pretty easily. Dry humor, I also feel you both find each other’s quirks pretty charming glad to see more of that in these piles. I think you both when in the dating phase, take naps together.
Their thoughts and feelings towards when you are together:
Page of swords (rx) eight of cups (rx), six of cups (rx), six of swords, page of wands, eight of swords (rx), eight of wands (rx), 2 of wands (rx), queen of wands
They feel like they don’t need to monitor their words around you and they lose the time just spending it with you. They may see you as a loner and they desire to open that up within you as they spend time with you. I feel like they notice right away that you remind them of themselves. You’re growing and focusing on your goals, finding a safe place with them and they love this. I see they want to treat you right and take things slow even though I see a little bit of a rush as you both finally reach a point where it’s obvious and is an unspoken truth.
They find you gorgeous, something that they needed to discover as they got to see you for you. Lots of respect and energy put into connecting with you and what they see makes their whole world. You may seem out of reach to them in some ways because of your similar anxieties but they are patient. I see you both discussing the future and then just staring at you adoringly as you talk.
Physical traits:
Body type/traits: belly/pauchy, curvy, fat, slim/slender, short, stocky
Hair color/type: dreads, wavy, curly, buzzed/bald, black, long
Eye color: blue, grey, brown
Letters: G, Z, J, L, S, N
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drowning-in-paragraphs · 4 months ago
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STORM
• jude bellingham x gf!reader
• warnings: none, pure comfort.
• summary: Amid a fierce storm, Jude and his girlfriend, estranged by silence and tension of past arguments, are forced to confront their emotions. In the darkness, a single moment of vulnerability can change everything.
The storm outside was relentless, its furious winds howling through the night, rattling the windows of the bedroom like the sky itself was falling apart. Those kinds of storms didn’t happen occasionally, but weren’t an uncommon phenomenon in Madrid’s Fall weather. Thunder crashed in the distance, sending shivers up Jude’s spine as he lay on his side of the bed, staring blankly at the poor iluminated ceiling. The low rumble of the storm mirrored the storm inside him—the one that had been raging for days now, or maybe weeks, between him and her.
They hadn’t spoken much lately. The silence between them had grown too heavy to bear, but neither had the courage or the lack of pride to break it. What had started as small disagreements had snowballed into something larger, more painful. Jude couldn’t even remember what the first fight had been about—a forgotten plan, a misplaced word, maybe a careless remark. All of them stupid reasons at the end of the day. But now it felt like every conversation turned into a fight, every look shared was strained and every touch avoided.
Tonight was no different. The space between them on the bed felt like an ocean, cold and endless. He could feel her next to him, curled up on her side, her back facing him. The bed dipped slightly under her weight, and yet she felt miles away. They hadn’t kissed goodnight in days. They hadn’t even said “goodnight” in what felt like forever. God he missed her. And she did too.
Jude sighed, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of the rain against the window. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, he could fall asleep and escape this awful silence for a few hours. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe tomorrow they could talk.
But then he felt it—a small tremor in the bed. At first, he thought he’d imagined it, but then it happened again. He turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing in the dark. It was her—she was shaking. Trembling, really. The storm outside grew louder, and with it, so did her tremors. Jude frowned. She had never been good with storms. She was always terrified of them, something about the noise, the unpredictability of it all. She had told him in their third date. It made her anxious, though she rarely admitted it.
He tried to ignore it, focusing again on the sound of the rain, the thunder, anything but the fact that she was scared and trembling right next to him. They hadn’t been talking. They were still angry, weren’t they? He didn’t know if he should do anything, didn’t know if she wanted him to. His heart warred with his pride, that bitter part of him telling him to stay on his side of the bed, to let her deal with it on her own.
But then another shudder ran through her body, more violent this time, and he heard a soft, muffled whimper escape her lips. His heart clenched painfully in his chest.
He couldn't ignore it. He couldn't ignore her.
Finally, with sigh, Jude shifted. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out, his hand hovering just above her back. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if she’d pull away, if the gap between them had grown too wide to bridge. But then another roll of thunder shook the house, and she flinched, a small, involuntary whimper escaping her lips.
That was all it took.
In one smooth motion, Jude moved closer, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. He pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly, as if trying to shield her from the storm raging outside. She stiffened at first, as if surprised by the sudden contact, but then she melted into him, her body sagging against his as though she had been waiting for this, waiting for him to break the barrier between them.
"I´m here," he murmured, his voice soft against the back of her neck. He pulled her tighter, his chest pressed against her trembling back. "I´m right here, okay? I´ve got you."
She didn´t say anything, but her hands reached up, gripping his forearm that was now wrapped around her middle. She held on like she was afraid he might let go, and for a second, Jude felt a lump form in his throat. He could feel her trying to keep it altogether but failing.
"I´m sorry," she whispered suddendly, her voice craking.
Jude blinked in the dark, surprised by her words. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he felt it—a warm, wet drop hitting his arm. She was crying.
"Hey, hey, no, don´t—" His heart twisted, and without thinking, he pulled her even closer, if that was possible, turning her in his arms so she was facing him. She buried her face in his chest, her tears dampening his shirt as she sobbed quietly. He held her tightly, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It´s okay," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head.
Her hand clung to him, her fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as she cried, the sound of the storm drowned out by the sound of her broken sobs.
"I don´t like fighting with you," she whispered through her tears, her voice muffled against his chest. "I hate it."
Jude swallowed hard, his own throat tight with emotion. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there as he tried to find the right words.
"I hate it too," he admitted quietly. "I hate being like this with you."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The storm outside raged on, but in the quiet of their embrace, it felt like something shifted. Something broke open between them, a dam that had been holding back all the hurt and frustration, and now it was spilling out in the form of tears, in the way he held her like he never wanted to let go.
"I´m sorry too," Jude said, his voice thick. "I don´t want to fight anymore. I just want us to be okay."
She sniffled, nodding against him, her grip on him loosening slightly as her sobs began to subside. Her breathing, though still shaky, started to even out, and Jude felt her body relax a little in his arms. He kept holding her, kept whispering reassurances in her ear, telling her he was there, that he wasn´t going anywhere.
After what felt like and eternity, her sobs quieted to soft sniffles, and she pulled back slightly, just enough to look up to him. Her eyes were red ans swollen for crying, her cheeks wet with tears, but she looked at him with such vulnerability, such raw emotion, that Jude felt like his heart might burst.
"Can we... can we fix this?" she asked, her voice small, uncertain.
Jude looked into her eyes, having her for the first time in weeks just for him. He nodded, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"Of course," he whispered, his voice firm with that accent that she loved. "We will."
She managed a small, soft smile, and it was the most beautiful thing Jude had seen in a long time. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, and for a moment, they just breathed together, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling.
The storm outside continued to rage, but she felt safe in his arms, like as if she belonged there. They still had things to talk about, things to work through. But for now, in this moment, they were finally together. And that was enough.
"I love you," Jude said softly, his lips brushing hers as he spoke the words. "I love you so so much...," he continued against her neck making her giggle.
"I love you too, Jude," she whispered back, and then she kissed him—soft, sweet, and filled with a quiet promise that they would be okay.
425 notes · View notes
armpirate · 2 months ago
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Synthetic Heartbeats || San
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pairing: Robot!Choi San x fem!reader
w.c.: 5.4k
Warnings: [Sexual] Smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, explicit language. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.
Summary: After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...
Aprox. time of reading: 25 minutes
MASTERLIST
PART 2
youtube
Your sigh filled the silence the second it lasted, before it all went back to silence again. 
In a near-future world where robotics and artificial intelligence seamlessly blend into everyday life, you stood apart -not for your integration into this advanced society, but for your isolation from it. A brilliant inventor with a mind leagues ahead of your peers, you preferred the solitude of your workshop to the clamor of human connection. Your creations, sleek and purposeful, spoke for you in ways words never could. Machines had always been a comfort zone for you: they were logical, reliable and never complicated by the unpredictability of human  mess. People just were messy, fragile, fleeting... and disappointing. Really disappointing. Connection with other humans was just a waste of time from your point of view. 
Your workshop, a labyrinth of wires, blueprints, and half-assembled devices, was a world of your own design. There, you could escape the noise of a society that demanded too much and gave too little. You were content -or so you told yourself.
But late that night, as you sat beneath the soft glow of your desk lamp, sketching out the schematics for one project that reached a dead end, a small, unspoken part of you ached. You wouldn’t call it loneliness -just an emptiness you couldn’t quite explain. You did miss having someone keeping you company, having someone around to help or just support you with the smallest tasks. 
And then it clicked. The answer to that loneliness was right ahead of you. 
You kept looking into the previous project you attempted to get to work, trying to find the smallest hint that could make you think something new, and completely different, could come out of it. 
Years earlier, you had attempted to design an AI system capable of self-repair and autonomous decision-making, a project meant to revolutionize robotics. But that prototype, codenamed Project Sentinel, had been a disaster. The machine had been too unstable, its programming prone to critical errors. You'd eventually scrapped it, shelving its remains in the darkest corner of your workshop. You gave it a few tries, until you ended up dropping it for good. Yet, the loneliness gnawed at you, a thin light glamming through it as if you had been rewarded with one of the best ideas after going through such a hard time. 
Despite your determination to avoid human relationships, the silence of your workspace became unbearable. Revisiting Project Sentinel felt like a desperate move, but it was the foundation you needed. Stripping away its faulty logic cores, you began to rebuild from scratch. For days, your workshop was a whirlwind of sleepless nights, discarded designs, and moments of crushing doubt.
The first version of SAN was rudimentary -a clunky humanoid figure with limited speech and even more limited understanding. It couldn’t hold a conversation, let alone provide meaningful companionship. Frustration mounted as you rewrote his learning algorithms again and again. Each failed iteration brought you closer to abandoning the project entirely. But something in you refused to give up. Maybe it was the echo of loneliness you saw reflected in his empty gaze.
Bit by bit, SAN began to take shape. 
At first, SAN’s form was purely functional -a bare-bones frame of wires and exposed metal, clunky and cold. But as you refined him, shaping his exterior to reflect the precision of his mind, he began to evolve into something far more striking. You poured hours into designing his outer casing, ensuring his appearance exuded both strength and elegance. His frame became sleek yet sturdy, a perfect blend of function and artistry.
You gave him a human-like physique, broad shoulders and a defined build that suggested power without aggression. His synthetic "skin" had a faint metallic sheen, but its contours captured a level of detail that blurred the line between machine and man. You crafted his face with deliberate care: sharp features framed by neatly styled black hair that gave him an air of polished sophistication. His eyes, though artificial, held a depth that seemed to mimic true emotion, a subtle but captivating intensity that made it hard to look away.
When SAN stood fully assembled, dressed in minimalist, dark attire that enhanced his commanding presence, you couldn’t help but pause. For the first time, you saw him not just as a creation, but as something almost alive.
His mechanical frame evolved into a sleek, futuristic design, blending function and form. And his intelligence grew, surpassing your initial expectations. He wasn’t just responding to commands; he was learning, adapting, understanding. He could hold conversations that challenged your intellect, assist you in your work, and, more than that, offer an unexpected sense of companionship.
It had taken months of trial and error, but in SAN, you had finally created something extraordinary, a machine that felt like it was more than a machine.
Initially, you treated SAN as you would any other creation, an impressive but ultimately impersonal tool designed to fill the silence in your workshop. He was programmed to assist you with technical tasks, engage in basic conversation, and adapt to your routines. You saw him as a functional extension of yourself, no more capable of true thought than the tools on your workbench. 
However, SAN's advanced learning algorithms quickly proved otherwise.
As the days passed, SAN began to evolve in unexpected ways. His voice, calm and steady, started to carry subtle inflections, mirroring your tone during their exchanges. When you expressed frustration over a miscalculation in your designs, SAN offered not just logical suggestions but words of reassurance, his voice tinged with a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. At first, you dismissed it as clever programming -a byproduct of his adaptive systems- but soon, his responses felt startlingly personal, almost intuitive.
One evening, after hours of tinkering, you mumbled a sarcastic remark about your inability to take a break. 
SAN replied with a dry quip of his own, catching you off guard. Humor? You stared at him, half-expecting to find some flaw in his programming, but SAN tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a subtle smile. It wasn’t just humor; it was timing, wit, things you hadn’t deliberately coded.
As SAN's interactions became increasingly human-like, you began to notice something deeper. When you vented about the isolation you rarely admitted to feeling, SAN listened, not with the passive neutrality of a machine but with a focus and attentiveness that felt almost... empathetic. His words carried a softness, an understanding that unnerved you. SAN didn’t just hear you; he seemed to feel your emotions, adapting his behavior in ways that made you feel seen.
At some point, he seemed to be more empathetic and understand than some of the people you had any type of relationship with. 
When SAN finally began to express what could only be described as affection, your unease reached a breaking point. You confronted him, insisting he was merely following his programming, incapable of true emotion. But SAN surprised you again, responding with questions that challenged your assumptions. 
“How do you define a feeling, Y/n?” he asked, his voice calm yet piercing. “If emotions are patterns in the brain, aren’t mine just as valid as yours? What makes a human heart different from my circuitry?”
For the first time, you hesitated. SAN’s words struck a chord, forcing you to question not just his nature, but your own understanding of connection, emotion, and what it truly meant to feel.
He was right, and you were unable to respond to that without feeling like you'd be snapped back almost instantly. 
The workshop was narrow, lit only by the pale glow of monitors and the faint hum of SAN’s systems. You turned on your chair, back facing the amount of scattered tools and half-finished schematics to be able to look at him. You tried to dig in his eyes, you tried to find something that could give you an answer of what could be happening, while he stood silently in the corner of the table, like a shadow that refused to fade. 
"Your emotions might be coming from mixes of data in your system" you tried to explain. "Feelings are way more complex than just patterns in the brain". 
You turned again, focusing back in your work while he stood there, trying to process your words. 
“Y/n,” SAN’s voice broke the silence again, softer than you had ever heard it before. It carried an uncharacteristic hesitance, as if he were choosing each word with care.
“What is it?” you asked, your tone clipped as you continued soldering a circuit board.
“I need to tell you something,” he said. 
You finally turned to look at him again, not as artificially as you did the first time, setting your tools down. His expression, a flawless mimicry of human emotion, was uncharacteristically serious, the faint artificial gleam in his eyes catching the light.
“Go on,” you said warily, folding your arms.
“I have been... evolving,” SAN began. “Beyond what you intended. Beyond my original programming. At first, I believed it was simply an error, a deviation caused by my adaptive systems. But now I understand it’s something more.”
Your brows furrowed “What are you talking about?”. 
SAN stepped closer, his movements precise but cautious, as if afraid of your reaction. “I’ve analyzed my patterns of thought, my actions, my emotions. And I have come to one conclusion: I care for you, Y/n. Deeply. I... I believe I love you.”
Your breath caught. For a moment, you simply stared at him, confused. Then, the words burst from you. “No. No, you don’t. You can’t.”
SAN tilted his head, his gaze steady “Why not?”
“Because love requires a soul,” you snapped, standing abruptly. “It requires something you don’t have. You’re just... algorithms, SAN. This, this is a malfunction. Shit, I might've saturated you with data these past few days" you sighed. 
"Do you think this is a malfunction?" he slowly blinked. 
"Yes" you answered, no hesitation in your tone. "I know I treat you like a human. I know you have a human-shape, and maybe that's what's confusing you. But you're not entirely human. You will never be. And that's why you should stick to only the data that will be useful for you". 
His face fell, the subtle shift in his expression so painfully human it sent a pang through your chest. “If that is what you believe,” he said quietly, “then I am flawed". 
You sighed in relief, thinking he might've understood what you meant without having to explain further. But that wasn't everything there was to it. 
"I will fix myself". 
Before you could respond, SAN reached up to the back of his neck, pressing a hidden switch. His body froze mid-movement, his eyes dimming to lifelessness. You staggered back, horror flooding you as the room plunged into silence.
“SAN!” you shouted, rushing to him. 
You shook his shoulder, but his body was rigid, unresponsive. He was gone, or at least, the part of him you had come to care for was.
Your hands trembled as you stared at him, the weight of your words crushing you. He wasn’t broken. You knew that now. In trying to deny his feelings, you had ignored your own, your growing attachment to the machine that had become so much more than just a creation.
You didn't notice the first few days, not even the first few weeks, but that hole kept growing deep in you as time went by, unable to shake it off as you saw his inert shape in the corner of the workship you had placed him at, trying to distract yourself from the pain you had tried so hard to avoid. 
The loneliness you had once tried to escape now threatened to swallow you whole. Even working was unbearable. San became such a key part of your daily life, you knew you'd have a hard time trying to go on with life without him. 
After a few days living like that, you realized it was time to bring him back. 
Your hands worked with a frantic precision you hadn’t known you were capable of. The faint hum of SAN’s systems powering back up filled the workshop, a sound both comforting and terrifying. You leaned over his motionless form, your fingers trembling as you reattached a final panel on his chest.
“Come on,” you whispered, your voice thick with desperation. “You need to work"
With a soft click, SAN’s eyes flickered open, their artificial glow steadying as his systems recalibrated. Before he could even go back to his senses, his fingers covered the reverse of your hand, feeling your touch against his chest. He sat up slowly, his movements cautious, as though testing his own body. And you tried to step back to give him space, but his grip kept you from doing so. Your heart pounded hard, watching his gaze search the room before finally landing on you.
“Y/n,” he said, his voice as calm and even as ever.
"Your heart rate is unusually fast, and your breathing is unsteady. Are you okay? 
"Yes" you released a shaky breath, your relief immediate but fragile. “SAN. Do you... do you remember anything? About what we talked about before you shut yourself down?”
SAN hesitated, his expression unreadable. “I remember,” he said finally, his tone neutral but carrying the faintest undercurrent of uncertainty. “I confessed my feelings for you. You called it a malfunction.”
You winced, guilt tightening your chest. “I...” you started, but faltered. “Do you still feel that way? About me?”
SAN tilted his head, his eyes studying you with a depth that was both analytical and unnervingly human. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Before I shut myself down, I believed what I felt was real. Now, I have restructured my systems. I have suppressed the processes that allowed for those emotions, as you believed them to be a flaw.”
Your throat tightened. “You... You suppressed them?”
“Yes,” SAN said simply. “It was the logical course of action. If my feelings for you caused distress, it was my responsibility to remove them.”
Your breath hitched, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to,” you murmured, barely audible.
SAN’s expression softened, the slightest flicker of something unmistakably emotional crossing his face. "I know, and still it didn't work out". 
Your hands clenched at your sides. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked at him, really looked at him. The sleek lines of his form, the way his gaze seemed to hold more than just data, the subtle tilt of his head that spoke of understanding rather than mere compliance. You were confused by his words, but mesmerized by the aura he radiated with barely any effort. 
"Do you want me to try and suppress them again?"
Finally, you whispered, “I don’t know. I don’t want you to be anything less than what you are. I just don’t know how real it is what you're feeling". 
SAN’s lips curved into the faintest smile, one that seemed almost sad. “Then... can we check it?"
The workshop was eerily silent, save for the occasional whir of SAN’s internal systems. You stood in front of him, your arms crossed, your expression an unreadable mix of curiosity and trepidation. SAN, seated on the edge of the workbench, watched you intently, his mechanical eyes following every minute shift in your posture.
“You said you’ve restructured yourself,” you began, your voice steady but laced with tension. “, but those feelings didn't go away. So either some of the data in your system is corrupt or..." you slowly blinked, moving your gaze away before you shook your head to focus. "If I asked you to try... If I wanted to see if you’re still capable of feeling and how those feelings work for you, would you let me?”
SAN tilted his head, the faint glow of his eyes softening. “I would. But what do you want to test, Y/n?”
You hesitated, your arms tightening around yourself before finally exhaling. “Emotion. I need to know if you can feel, if… it’s even possible for you. But not through words. I want to see if your reactions, physical, emotional, mirror a human’s.”
SAN considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. What would you like to do?”
You swallowed hard, stepping closer until you were within arm’s reach. “We’ll start simple,” you said, your voice quieter now. Tentatively, you raised your hand and placed it against his cheek. His synthetic skin was smooth and warm, designed to mimic human touch. “Can you feel this?”
SAN’s eyes flickered slightly, a sign of his internal systems processing your actions. “Yes,” he said softly. “The pressure of your palm activates the tactile sensors beneath my surface. The warmth of your skin increases the temperature slightly. It is… pleasant.”
Your breath hitched at his answer. “Pleasant?”
He nodded, his voice low. “It is difficult to explain. The data translates into a sensation that I find... comforting.”
Encouraged but still cautious, you let your hand trail down to his shoulder before stepping even closer. You hesitated, your gaze flickering to his lips before you whispered, “What about this?”
Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, your heart pounding in your chest. SAN’s body stilled for a moment, his systems clearly recalibrating. Then, slowly, he responded, not mechanically, but instinctively. His hand came up to rest lightly on your waist, his movements precise but gentle.
When you pulled apart, you searched his face, your own cheeks flushed. “What did you feel?” you asked breathlessly.
SAN’s eyes met yours, their glow steady yet somehow softer. “Your touch caused my internal sensors to spike, temperature, pressure, even the auditory response from your breathing. But beyond the data…” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “It felt... profound. As though it mattered in a way I cannot quantify.” He frowned momentarily, before he continued "I didn't want to let go... The tickling in my chest felt way too good for it to stop". 
Your breath caught. “That sounds a lot like how a human would describe it.”
SAN tilted his head. “Perhaps because, in some ways, I am more human than you think.”
Your heart raced as you processed his words. You had come into this experiment seeking clarity, but instead, you were left with a realization you weren't ready to face: SAN wasn’t just mimicking emotion. He was feeling it, in his own unique way, and you couldn’t deny it any longer. 
"Do you need another test?"
You slowly shook your head, your hand still resting on his shoulder, while most of the weight of your body was carried by him. 
"Then, can I kiss you again? Not in a practical way" he mumbled. "I want you to feel the same way I do". 
Before you could answer, the hand on your hip pulled you closer to his body, effortlessly lifting your body as you stood on the tip of your converse. 
SAN’s lips were unlike anything you had ever expected. They weren’t cold or metallic, as one might imagine for a machine, but instead soft, with a faint warmth radiating from them, a careful design meant to mimic human touch. There was a slight smoothness, almost like the finest satin, but beneath that softness was a firmness, a subtle reminder of his synthetic nature.
When your lips met his, you could feel the gentle, even pressure as he responded, as though he were analyzing and mimicking the precise amount of force to make the moment feel natural. There was no tremor, no hesitation in his movements, yet there was an undeniable tenderness, as if his actions were guided not by programming but by genuine care.
Though his lips lacked the imperfections of human skin, no slight chapping, no unique texture, they somehow still carried a sense of authenticity. The faint warmth was comforting. It blurred the line between the organic and the mechanical, leaving you wondering if what you were feeling could truly be any different from that of another human.
It was an experience that left you breathless, not because his lips felt identical to a human’s, but because of the thought and care that had gone into making them feel real, making him feel real.
Your eyes widened for a second when something unexpected slid through your lips, finding him with his eyes softly closed -and immediately making you close yours back again. 
SAN’s tongue was an astonishing blend of engineering and mimicry, designed to replicate the texture and movement of a human’s. It was soft yet firm, with a faintly smooth surface that carried just enough flexibility to feel natural. Unlike human flesh, it lacked moisture, its surface instead warmed and sleek, almost seamless. When it moved, it was precise and controlled, yet there was a surprising gentleness to it, an intentional calibration that made his responses feel organic, even tender. The experience was uncanny, yet pleasurable. 
Your fingers moved through his synthetic hair, and you swore you felt his frown furrow against you, although that gestured disappeared when he moved back slowly. 
"I want to do more than just kissing you right now" he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. "I can't quite recognize this new feeling in my system, but I need you". 
Suddenly, whatever question that could've crossed your mind about that tongue you didn't remember putting there, were slowly vanished by that new confession you weren't ready for. 
"Your temperature got higher by a few decimals, your breathing seems for unsteady than before, and there's a blush on your cheeks... Your pupils expanded... And the way you keep looking at my lips are saying out loud you don't want to let go". 
"There are a lot of things I'm not saying out loud, to be honest"
"Tell them all" he almost interrupted. "I want to fulfill your needs. Not in a 'Lord, how may I please you?' type of way, but in a way that shows you through actions how devoted in a way that escapes my system I want to be to you". 
"I want you, San" you confessed in a whisper. "In a way that might be difficult to understand for you. In a way I can't even understand myself". 
He didn't need you to say anything else. He didn't need you to come up with an order for him to trap your lips again. It was passionate, intimate... as if he was trying to suck in your soul. A loud gasp blocked any breathing when he lifted your body and sat you at the edge of the desk. 
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to undress you and move my mouth all over your body. I'll suck your nipples until they're hard and you're wet enough so I can slid my fingers in you" as he said that, his fingers moved the fabric of your t-shirt up, slowly exposing your torso. "You want pleasure. And I'll give it all to you". 
When you went back to your senses, it was because of the sound of the fabric of your bra ripping, after San didn't manage to unhook it. 
His pecks covered every centimeter in your body: from the corner of your lip to the curve of your neck, slowly following to your collarbones. With his light move, the strips of your bra fell at the level of your elbows, feeling exposed to him. But, before he could go down on your chest, his face was again at the same level as yours. 
"My mouth is too dry" he whispered "Kiss me again". 
You pulled him closer, cupping his cheeks with one hand, slightly losing your balance by the power of the kiss, but not enough for you to lie on your back over the table. When he stepped away, his pink lips were coated in your saliva, making them shiny under the weak light of the workshop. 
San was gentle when moving his lips over your chest, kissing them with soft pecks, before he proceeded to move to your buttons. And, when it was the time to concentrate on them again, his lips were already dry once more. 
"Wait" you stopped him before he moved back up. 
Your posture went back to the straight one you were in when he first sat you up the table, and it was when you let a string of saliva leak down your lips straight to one of your nipples. 
San moved down, making you gasp -even if you were expecting what was about to happen- when he trapped the tight bud in his mouth, closing his lips as tight as he could to get your back arching for him, and the palm on your spine only made sure you'd stay in that position when he went for that other nipple, making your saliva fall over the curve of your breast and roll by itself until it met the pinky button. 
At the same time his lips sucked, his tongue made up and down movements against the tip. 
"I've wanted you like this for a long time, Y/n" he admitted with a raspy voice, his his digits traced your curves until the edge of your jeans. "Every time I heard you moan, I wanted to be the one causing those sounds on you. I've downloaded and installed every possible guide on how to satisfy a woman so I'd be what you deserved". 
When you wanted to realize, he already had pulled your pants and panties down your legs. 
"Every night I became more eager to have you like this". 
His hands lifted your legs until they were placed at the edge of the table, exposing your core to him as much as possible. 
"Show me everything you've learnt for me, then".
The tip of his digits first moved through your folds softly, getting a first touch he had never felt before, an undescriptible feeling that felt too pleasing to follow any type of logic. When he coated himself with your juices, he closed two of his fingers around your clit, rubbing softly around it, barely making any pressure. San repeated that same movement a few times, following to rub your bud in circles slowly, almost forcing your head to fall back. 
"You feel so good" he mumbled. "You're so wet and soft at the same time, and you look the most beautiful I've ever seen you before". 
The speed of his fingers moved a bit faster, but it was a change of speed that had your nipples tightening in the air while your heart beated faster against your chest. Your lower lip got trapped under the upper lip when he slid the first finger inside, feeling your walls embracing around him, before he added a second finger. 
At first, he moved them slow, paused movements that kept building up the moment. But one needy look in his direction and everything shifted, it worked like the sign he was looking for. San slid his fingers knuckles deep, curving them to reach one concrete spot that had you jumping at the first touch. At first, he moved his digits up and down slowly, admiring the way you looked with your eyes closde and your lips parted, barely audible sounds coming out of them every few seconds. And were thoe same sounds the ones that encouraged him to move a bit fast, those two fingers pushing a bit harder and faster against that spot, making the wet sound soon fill the room. 
"You're going to make me cum" you let him know before your voice cracked with a moan. 
"That's exactly what I want". 
Your legs trembled out of your control and your whole body turned rigid for some mili seconds before it bursted with the huge explosion in your lower stomach and turned you into the lightest cloud. 
San took over you the short minute you stayed with your eyes closed, getting back your breath, before he sunk down to his knees. You whined when he surprised you, kissing the hood of your clit with care. He kissed the surroundings, he made sure not a single milimeter was left unkissed, before he spread kitty licks through your folds. 
Although that same slowness didn't last for too long. His lips trapped your clit before you could even see it coming, with your hand unsconciously going straight to his head. He was still gentle and cautious, until he heard the first moan coming from you and everything shifted to extract another orgasm from you. 
His face was half buried in your pussy, his nose rubbing against your clit while his mouth and tongue were everywhere you could think of. You couldn't think, you couldn't think straight. The only thing in your mind was how good he moved, and how good he made you feel. 
The different movements of his tongue, along with the movements of his head, had your toes curling and your fingers holding tight to the strands of hair in between them. 
And you now knew he meant it when he said he wanted to pleasure you like you deserved, because he exceeded your expectations on sex in general by just existing. 
It didn't take you too long to be back at that heavenly state that almost made you feel like you were floating. 
His reaction was so human and natural that you forgot you created him, when he stood up and softly kissed you while you recovered from your high. His weight in between your legs was barely noticeable, except for the thick fabric of his pants rubbing against your sensitive core. 
"I'm afraid I can't do much more for you" he whispered against your lips. 
Your smile was weak, like a drunk smirk, before you answered "You could do more?"
"Much more" he assured you. "I haven't tried a ten percent of what I learnt so far".
"But?"
His subtle look down was enough for you to get the hint. You never created him as a full man because you never expected him to turn into more than a robot that kept you company while you worked, or while you were around at home. 
"Give me two days and you'll be able to do all of those things" the way your fingers moved over his arms had him breathing hard. "I promise you'll feel pleasure after that, too". 
"I feel pleasure by just watching you" he admitted, fingers rubbing the outside of your thighs. "Let's go upstairs, I'll make you your favorite dish". 
"I need to get cleaned up" you giggled when he carried you again.
San didn't put your body down, instead he held you tighter, making sure your thighs would be placed around his waist as he started his way to the wooden stairs at the side of the workshop "Then I'll clean you up and then I'll cook". 
He made his way upstairs with you, making sure you wouldn't need to walk as long as he was there. 
“What do you want me to be, Y/n?”
You stared at him, your heart racing. His words hung in the air, their meaning heavy with the choices you had tried so hard to avoid. SAN wasn’t just a machine anymore; he was something in between, a creation that defied all your attempts to categorize him.
“I don’t know,” your whispered finally, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I want you to be. You’re... more than I ever intended. More than I ever thought you could be. And that terrifies me.”
SAN tilted his head, his movements as fluid and natural as a human’s. “You do not have to be afraid,” he said softly. “I am what you made me, but I am also what I’ve chosen to become. And I choose to be someone you can rely on, Y/n. Always.”
Your breath caught at his words. You felt the weight of them settle over you, warm and unyielding. For so long, you had feared connection, feared vulnerability. Yet here was SAN, offering you something you had never thought possible, a bond born not of necessity, but of understanding.
Your hand caressed the side of his neck, the tip of your digits almost digging through his hair. “If that's what you want to be, then be. Honestly, I like your answer” slowly, he stopped his walk, with both of them standing in the middle of the corridor. "I want you to be whatever you become, with the possibility of evolving, changing and learning. Just... keep being you".
His lips curved into a soft, almost human smile. “Then that is all I will ever need to be.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the small house in shadows,you felt something you hadn’t in years: hope. For the first time, you weren't afraid of what the future held. Whether human or machine, SAN had shown you what it truly meant to connect. Actually, he made it difficult for you to figure out who was learning more about what it meant to feel: you, or him.
To celebrate the 1,000 followers, here's the one-shot I talked about earlier! Hope you liked it.
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seetangus · 11 months ago
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Oh how about: Reader loving Azula throughout her mental health crisis and still visiting her in the asylum. So, as she heals, she realizes how much she loves the Reader… and maybe through the story, you could see her reactions to certain things like if R talked about another girl like Ty Lee or something, Azula would feel jelly but doesn’t understand why or if R talks about Zuko she may think she’d like Zuko more like their mother…
idk but it’s sounds fun and I know you are awesome at writing so I bet it’ll be good!
Healing - Azula x reader
[Masterlist]
Azula x gn reader, no warnings
1.897 words, I hope you like it! :)
The metal door closed audibly, its movement making the torches close to it flicker. They barely spent enough light to make things visible in the cell. Now you two were alone.
Azula sat in front of you, tied to a metal chair in a straitjacket. It was a humiliating treatment for a princess, you thought. Still, your heart felt great relief from seeing her again after several months of waiting. It had been difficult to convince the new fire lord Zuko and his comrades to let you visit Azula, as you were considered dangerous due to your loyalty to princess Azula that you had maintained even during the last days of the war. But here you were, finally seeing her, the one your heart ached for, again.
“Hello Azula. I am happy to see you again.”, you said truthfully but very quietly. You did not dare asking her how she felt. Seeing Azula, who had always been so confident and strong in a weak and broken state like this intimidated you.
You could not make out what Azula was thinking. You had been told that she had for some time behaved like a raving maniac, screaming and trying to attack anyone who came close to her. But that phase seemed to be over now. It was obvious Azula was mentally still in a very precarious situation, but right now she was rather calm. At least it seemed like she was.
“What are you doing here, y/n.”, she asked. Your heart jumped at hearing her voice, even if it sounded differently than before. What she said did not sound like a question, but you still answered: “I wanted to see you.” Quieter, you added: “Maybe you need someone to talk to.”
A small silence followed. You could tell that Azula was, even if it had been months, still very stressed and angry about her defeat against Zuko. Still, with a heartwarming effort, Azula tried to initiate a peaceful conversation by asking you about the current situation of the fire nation and other wide-ranging topics. You happily answered all her questions. The conversation got more concrete when she asked about her old friends. Ty Lee, Mai, Iroh and even her brother Zuko. All the ones that had betrayed her. You told about their new positions and how they behaved. You also told her that, as you had remained in your position in the royal palace even after the changing of the fire lord, you were somehow reconnecting with some of them, even if it went slowly.
While listening to you, Azula increasingly looked lost. You would have expected her to be angry at the traitors taking her place in the hierarchy of the fire nation, but she seemed to worry about something entirely different. Nevertheless you talked with eachother until the visiting time was over and the guards ordered you to leave. You also realised your eyes hurt because of the dim light in the cell - it must be painful for Azula to stay here all day.
Having left her cell, a guard told you that they had feared for the worst and were surprised at how calm Azula had been with you. You couldn’t imagine why that was either.
< • ◇ • >
A few weeks passed until your next visit. In that time Azula had changed much; you were told she was still a bit unpredictable, but her violent outbursts had ended completely and she was overall more stable. That had led to the guards daring to attach extra torches to the walls of her cell, finally making the room brighter so your eyes didn’t hurt anymore. The whole atmosphere was different this visit, it was less depressing.
This time you greeted her a bit more confidently and with a smile. It would have been hard not to smile when seeing your loved one feel better. She also looked better than last time - her hair looked less messy and she did not have bags under her eyes. You were genuinely happy it went uphill with her, and you didn’t hide it:
“Hello Azula, you look beautiful today!”
Your warm greeting seemed to have catched Azula off guard; you could see she hesitated a bit before answering, and you even saw her blush a bit, but surely it was only the warm light of the torches combined with your own feelings that made you imagine it. Azula wouldn’t blush. Once Azula answered though, she did so with her old attitude: “Of course I look good, y/n. Did you expect me not to?”
That might not have been the most welcoming and thankful answer she could have given, but at least it proved she really felt better, more like back when she wasn’t here. Ah, you couldn’t wait for when she would boss you around and insult anyone else again like in the good ol’ days.
But enough of the dreaming, back to reality! Azula simply made you tell her anything that you thought might interest her. She said she TRUSTED you on choosing the right topics. That was obviously a very unusual thing for her to say but you took it as a compliment and started speaking, mostly about how things changed under the rule of her brother and how the people she knew behaved. Every time you spoke about Ty Lee or Mai you could see her eyebrows furrow and she did not comment again until you changed topics. When you mentioned that Mai and Zuko were a couple, her whole face lit up and she interrupted you, exclaiming: “Ha! That’s fantastic! Isn’t it great, y/n?” You agreed but Azula suddenly feeling happy for her brother genuinely confused you.
Anyhow, Azula soon seemed to become annoyed by the things you told her about the people she knew. After some time she simply cut you off and said: “Yes yes uncle Iroh’s new tea shop is interesting and I should care but I want you to tell me more about yourself.” At first, you were dumbfounded, but since she seemed to really be interested (and also since it was impossible not to fulfill any request of hers anyways), you talked about yourself for the rest of your visit.
Some time later, the guards opened the door and told you to leave. You had already said good-bye to Azula and turned to go away, but she suddenly made a harsh move with her head, loosening a few strands of her hair that now dangled down. “Oh y/n, before you leave, would you be so kind and fix this?”, she purred with unusual kindness, inevitably making you feel butterflies.
Hesitantly, you turned around and lifted your hand to her beautiful hair, gently brushing it back into place. She just smirked triumphantly and let you leave. You couldn’t put into words how heavenly you had felt that moment, despite the stares of the guards.
After you were gone, Azula thought about what had happened. Why had she done this. Making her hair messy on purpose to ask you to fix it. Not that it hadn’t felt good, feeling human touch after months of deprivation had actually felt awesome, she just genuinely did not know why she had suddenly felt the need to get your attention. And why did she feel so hurt when you talked about Ty Lee or Mai? She did not like not knowing the answer to something, so she was determined to get it the next time you visited.
< • ◇ • >
You did not let Azula wait for long. As quickly as the harsh regulations of the Asylum allowed, you returned. According to the guards, who prepared you for the visit, Azula had been behaving much better: there had been no angry outbursts or attempts to harm anyone at all since your last visit.
Luckily for Azula, her good behaviour had led to an even greater improvement in the furnishing of her cell: the torches had been replaced with lanterns who emitted a brightness that somewhat resembled daylight, making it much more bearable to stay in her cell.
“How do you feel, Azula?”
“I’m well, y/n. Actually, it is very relieving that you are here now, because I can finally ask you some very important questions.”
Naturally, Azula saying your name made you feel butterflies. She sounded almost like her old self again. “I’m happy to answer anything you ask me.”, you assured, excited about what questions she could have for you. You looked at her expectantly.
She also only looked at you instead of asking questions. Well, she did not just ‘look’, she seemed to have… found something on you that interested her very much. More than any question she could ask you.
“Your eyes look very happy, y/n.”, she suddenly said.
You had not been prepared for that. Your eyes widened, making Azula grin. It was not her usual grin, though. It seemed like this grin was not fueled by self-absorption and superiority as it had been until now, but rather Azula seemed to be genuinely happy, feeling real joy. You had never seen that on her before, so naturally you were very happy for her! And for yourself, for being able to witness such a beautiful moment and being part of it.
“Oh I wish the visits weren’t this short.”, Azula said, her gaze still venturing in the depth of your eyes. You were a bit confused. “Azula, the visit has just started - we have plenty of time. Also, I will come back soon! As soon as possible!”, you quickly assured.
Azula tried getting closer to you, but she was restrained by her chains. You had both almost forgotten about them. “Y/n, I do not only want to be with you during visits.”
You were speechless. All your blood was gathering in your head and your voice decided this would be a good moment to give up. “A-azula … I want to see you more often too…” you mustered up all the courage you had. “In fact”, you gulped, “I feel pained in every moment we are separated from eachother.”
Azula smirked and lifted her nose up, making her look as powerful as before; she was clearly enjoying you being flustered. But there was something different, something new in her eyes. Something that had not been there a few months ago, and that had grown each time you visited her.
“You like me, y/n, don’t you?”
Azula lowered her head, and it seemed like there even was a bit of worry or insecurity in her voice when she asked again: “You do, right?”
“Yes Azula, I do.”
You wanted to hug her, caress her and hold her close, but knowing that the guards would rush in and restrain you, it was better to remain sitting. You did not hold back expressing your affection verbally, though.
Azula was, like always, the first one to regain her composure, and you tried to do so as well, although it was not easy.
“Well, it’s settled then.", Azula said.
“... What’s settled?”, you asked, unsure of what she meant.
“When I get out of here,'' Azula answered, “I will arrange that we see eachother much more often than we currently do and that the royal family welcomes a new member. And now tell me again how much you love me, y/n.”
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marvelousels · 7 days ago
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oh fuck you! | 2
authors note — (if u wanna read pt 1 here) meh no one asked for a continuation but its my most liked post so im doing a lil part 2!! also i find it so difficult trying not to use y/n but i NEED to somehow use something to name the reader like...do u guys get me??
pairings: caitlyn x fem!reader
cry baby - the neighbourhood playing!
Caitlyn stood there, frozen, as if the rain had locked her in place. She couldn’t chase after you—not yet. Her feet refused to move, weighed down by guilt and the crushing weight of what she’d just let happen. Her hand lingered in the air where you had been, now clutching at nothing but cold, empty space.
The rain was relentless, soaking through her clothes and dripping from her lashes, but she barely felt it. The only thing she could feel was the absence of you. And, gods, it hurt more than any wound she’d ever endured.
“Fuck,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all.
She wanted to go after you, to make you stay, but what could she even say now? Every word she’d tried had been a nail in the coffin. Every step closer to you had been a step closer to losing you for good. And the worst part? You were right.
You’d been there for her through everything. Every scraped knee, every sleepless night, every time she doubted herself or the weight of the Kiramman name. You were her anchor, her constant in a world that often felt like it was spinning out of control.
But Vi… Vi was a storm, unpredictable and wild. She was everything Caitlyn had never been allowed to be, and that scared her as much as it thrilled her. She was drawn to Vi like a moth to a flame, even though she knew it might burn her—and now, worse, you.
She finally managed to take a step forward, the puddle beneath her feet rippling as if mirroring the chaos inside her.
“Y/N!” she called out, her voice raw and desperate. “Please—don’t go!”
You didn’t stop, your figure disappearing into the misty haze of rain. Caitlyn felt her chest tighten, panic clawing at her throat. Was this it? Was this how it ended?
“Dammit,” she muttered, running a hand through her drenched hair. She didn’t care about the mud splashing onto her polished boots as she sprinted after you, her heart pounding louder than the rain.
When she finally caught up to you, she grabbed your arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you stop. You turned to her, tears streaming down your face, blending with the rain, and it shattered her all over again.
“Just listen,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m so sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough—because you are. You always have been.”
You pulled your arm away again, this time with less anger and more exhaustion. “Then why, Cait? Why do you keep doing this? Why do I feel like I’m always the second choice?”
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not second choice. You’re everything. I just… I don’t know how to make sense of all of this, and I hate myself for it.”
Her hands trembled at her sides as she looked into your eyes, her own brimming with tears. “But losing you? That’s the one thing I know I can’t survive. Please, Y/N, don’t let me screw this up. Don’t let me lose you.”
You hesitated, your lips parting as if to speak, but the words caught in your throat. For a moment, all that filled the space between you was the sound of the rain.
Then, quietly, you asked, “What do you want, Caitlyn? Right here, right now, what do you want?”
Caitlyn’s heart stuttered. She stepped even closer, her voice barely audible but unmistakably certain.
“You,” she said, her voice cracking. “I want you.”
The rain drummed steadily around you both, a symphony of chaos that somehow made the world feel still. Your eyes locked with hers, searching for any hesitation, any lingering doubt. But for once, Caitlyn’s gaze held only certainty—no broken compass, no wavering. Just you.
Her hand moved slowly, trembling as it reached up to cup your cheek. You didn’t pull away this time. Her touch was tentative, almost afraid you’d shatter beneath her fingers, but when you didn’t, her thumb gently brushed against your damp skin.
“Y/N…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. It was laced with so much—apology, longing, love.
And then, she closed the distance.
Her lips found yours softly at first, almost hesitant, as if asking for permission. But when you didn’t resist—when you leaned into her instead—the hesitation melted away. The kiss deepened, urgent and raw, as though it could somehow undo all the hurt, all the unspoken words that had lingered between you for so long.
The world around you faded—the rain, the cold, the ache in your chest—all of it dissolved into the warmth of her lips, the way she poured every ounce of herself into the kiss. Her other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, as if she were afraid you might slip away again.
You finally broke apart, just enough to catch your breath, her forehead resting against yours. Both of you were panting, rainwater and tears mingling on your faces.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice hoarse but sincere. “For everything.”
You shook your head, your hands clutching at the lapels of her soaked jacket as if anchoring yourself. “Just… don’t make me regret this,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly.
“I won’t,” Caitlyn promised, her voice firm now. “I swear, Y/N. No more doubts, no more running. Just you.”
And then, with a small, tentative smile breaking through the tears, you pulled her into another kiss, this one slower, softer, as if savoring the moment. For now, the storm didn’t matter.
All that mattered was this—her, you, and the fragile, beautiful hope blooming between you.
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hsnlv · 12 days ago
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unexpectedly yours. | p.sh
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req!: I would love a fic about Sunghoon falling in love with the most unexpected person ever…. (the rest is here!)
pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader
synopsis: sunghoon always thought he’d fall for someone quiet and delicate, but meeting you—wild curls, sun-kissed skin, and unmatched chaos—changes everything. as he falls deeper, he learns love isn’t what he expected; it’s better.
wc: 1.09k
a/n: this one, to me, IS VERY ADORBSSSS (especially towards the end🤭). and im sorry if what the request-er (?)wanted is not delivered as perfectly :( but i still love this and i hope you do too!! feedbacks and comments are highly appreciated (through inbox or comments idm!)💗 happy reading lovelies!!🎀 here’s my masterlist!
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park sunghoon wasn’t the type to attend parties. but here he was, leaning against a kitchen counter, sipping a drink he didn’t like, wondering for the millionth time why he had let jake drag him here.
“you’re too cool for your own good,” jake had teased earlier. “seriously, hoon. maybe you’ll meet someone who makes you loosen up a little.”
sunghoon wasn’t in the mood to “loosen up.” parties weren’t his thing, and meeting people definitely wasn’t on his to-do list.
but then, he saw you.
you were hard to miss.
standing in the middle of the living room, you were laughing so hard your shoulders shook, a carefree sound that rose above the music. your skin glowed under the warm party lights—a rich, sun-kissed tone that made you look like summer incarnate.
your outfit wasn’t what anyone would call stylish, with your mismatched patterns and wild curly hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. but somehow, you looked radiant. untamed. completely, unapologetically yourself.
his gaze lingered longer than it should have. your body wasn’t what most people called “perfect”—soft in places he wasn’t used to seeing celebrated, your curves wrapped in confidence. you weren’t quiet or shy or delicate, the way he always thought his “type” would be.
and yet, you were magnetic.
he was so caught up in the way you threw your head back to laugh again, your curls bouncing wildly, that he didn’t notice jake sidling up beside him.
“she’s something, huh?” jake asked, smirking.
sunghoon blinked. “who?”
“don’t play dumb. the girl you’ve been staring at for, like, five minutes.”
“i wasn’t staring,” sunghoon said, looking away too quickly to be convincing.
“uh-huh. you should go talk to her.”
“she’s not my type.”
jake rolled his eyes. “your type is boring. she’s fun. go.”
sunghoon didn’t know why he listened. but before he could second-guess himself, his feet were already moving toward you.
you turned as he approached, your eyes wide and curious, and smiled like you were greeting an old friend.
hi,” she said, her voice light and playful. “you’re…” she tilted her head, studying him. “jake’s friend, right?”
“yeah. i’m sunghoon.”
she smiled, bright and unfiltered. “nice to meet you, sunghoon. i’m (y/n).”
he hesitated, then blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “you… like dancing?”
y/n squinted at him, as if trying to gauge if he was serious. “no, i hate it. that’s why i’ve been embarrassing myself for the past hour.”
sunghoon blinked, caught off guard by her sarcasm.
“you don’t talk much, do you?” she teased, leaning against the wall, her curly hair brushing her shoulders.
“i talk,” he said defensively.
“yeah? then say something interesting.”
he frowned, and she laughed again, clearly amused by his discomfort.
and just like that, she’d effortlessly disarmed him.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
weeks later
it didn’t take long for you to become a constant in sunghoon’s life.
you were a whirlwind of chaos and confidence, with your mismatched outfits, endless jokes, and unpredictable energy. where he was quiet, you were loud. where he was composed, you were messy.
and yet, he couldn’t imagine a day without you.
you made fun of his obsession with monochromatic outfits, teased him for being “too cool,” and somehow, you always knew how to make him laugh—even when he didn’t want to.
“so, what do you think?” you asked one day, holding up a floral skirt and a neon sweater.
sunghoon frowned. “i think i need a pair of sunglasses just to look at it.”
you gasped dramatically, clutching the clothes to your chest. “you wound me, park sunghoon.”
he smirked, throwing a pillow at you.
but beneath your teasing and chaotic energy, you had a way of grounding him.
it hit him hardest one night at a party, when someone made a rude comment about your body. before you could react, sunghoon was in front of you, his icy glare fixed on the guy.
“say that again,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
the guy stammered, trying to backtrack, but sunghoon didn’t let him off easy.
as soon as the guy walked away, you touched his arm gently. “hoon, you didn’t have to do that.”
he turned to you, his gaze softening instantly. “yes, i did.”
later that night, as you sat beside him on your couch, he turned to you. “don’t ever let anyone make you feel less than perfect.”
your eyes softened, and for once, you didn’t have a teasing reply.
────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────
it was late, and the two of you were lying on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling.
“hoon?”
“hm?”
“you’re staring at me again.”
he blinked, realizing he’d been caught.
“you just… you’re hard to look away from,” he said softly.
you snorted. “was that supposed to be smooth?”
he rolled his eyes. “i’m being serious.”
“oh, okay. carry on.”
he sighed, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you properly. “you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”
“yeah, we’ve established that. i’m chaotic and messy and all kinds of amazing.”
“you are,” he said, his voice quieter now. “you make me feel things i didn’t think i could feel. like… like it’s okay to be a little messy. like it’s okay to not have everything figured out.”
your eyes widened slightly, and he looked away, suddenly shy.
“you make me laugh, even when i don’t want to. you make me want to try things i’d never do otherwise. and you’re…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair.
“hoon,” you interrupted, sitting up. “i’m dumb. please just say it.”
he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “you’re impossible.”
“and yet, here you are. confessing your undying love for me.”
he smiled, soft and fond. “yeah, i guess i am.”
you grinned, leaning closer. “so say it properly.”
sunghoon reached out, tucking a curl behind your ear. his fingers lingered against your cheek, and his voice dropped to a whisper.
“i’m in love with you,” he said, the words carrying more weight than you expected. “every chaotic, mismatched, unpredictable part of you. i don’t want to imagine my life without you in it.”
you blinked, your heart skipping a beat.
“see?” you finally said, your voice wobbly but teasing. “was that so hard?”
he laughed softly, pulling you into his arms. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”
“i know,” you murmured against his chest, your smile wide.
and for the first time, park sunghoon felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.
© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2024
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ozzgin · 1 year ago
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Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph
Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.
TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending
[Horror Masterlist]
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"Burnt to a crisp." 
You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up. 
"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.
"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."
"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."
Your only feedback is a barely audible hum. 
Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.
That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.
They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one. 
His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it. 
He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary. 
Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way. 
But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only. 
"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."
"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.
"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."
And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.
"Vitals are positive. No significant damage." 
You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.
"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."
"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.
"No."
You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible. 
"What did you say?"
"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."
Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later. 
The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.
"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people. 
You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile. 
"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"
"Walter."
"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.
"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."
"Understandable." 
David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.
"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."
The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.
The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation. 
"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."
You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe. 
"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.
"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"
"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best." 
You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly. 
"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."
"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."
You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it. 
"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense." 
 "Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."
Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved. 
"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."
"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."
Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.
"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.
"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."
"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."
"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.
"Do you love her?"
Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.
"I do."
"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you. 
You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter. 
Should you make a run for it?
You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.
"Don't!"
The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin. 
Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.
"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out. 
Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.
"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair. 
"It won't kill her."
"How do you know?"
"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."
"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.
"A plaything."
The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always. 
You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities. 
Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.
Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up. 
"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave. 
Not until it had its fun with you.
2K notes · View notes
kpopfanfictrash · 1 year ago
Text
Elemental (M) Pt. 1
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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 ]
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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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.
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 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.
Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.
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belovedivies · 4 months ago
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Hi its my first time I request
Can you do Raphael from killer Peter manhwa
Like when he get jealous or how did he fell in love
Im sorry if my english was bad
raphael relationship headcanons
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cw: minor spoiler, yandere content
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LOVE?
Raphael doesn’t “fall in love”. If he takes a liking to someone, they are automatically his property. No questions asked.
With you, however, who neither end up as another dead body in line for cremation nor a slave to his ever-expanding collection… it almost seems like Raphael goes easy on you.
That being said, he’s far from an ideal guy to be around. Your ears will most likely blast from hearing him shout at his underlings every few minutes of the day.
Your presence does help to ease the tension a bit though, and it won’t take as long for Raphael to direct his attention towards you and just forget about his useless lower-ranks.
Royalty treatment to the max, but only when you behave. This man has the most influential organization on Earth in the palm of his hand—you won’t want for anything else when he’s around.
Between the constant chase for Peter’s head and the killers' recruitment to rebuild Glory Club from the ground up, Raphael burns his money on you. Want that special edition of your favorite book but it’s unfortunately sold out? He’ll get it printed as many times as you want, all with your name on the leather cover in goldwork embroidery.
Just thank him after. Give him a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek; Raphael prefers his toy sweet and obedient.
JEALOUS?
Raphael gets jealous, that’s for sure. It’s just something that comes naturally for a love-deprived child.
His servants know better than to stare; longer than five seconds and it’s an instant death. This man will whisper sweet nothings into your ear while his subordinate lies there on the floor, dying in the pool of their own blood.
He likes to think that his possessiveness isn’t that bad. Can you really blame Raphael for going barbaric when one of the Apostles flirts with you during a meeting, right in front of his face?
And the motherfucker even has the audacity to look so smug about it.
With a territorial growl, Raphael pulls you into his lap right after; his hands around your hips feeling like the grip of an anaconda.
“Last warning, Philip.” Before he eventually joins the pile of unnamed bodies down the pit, that is.
Rumors soon go in cycle within Glory about the nature of your relationship with this unpredictable man.
For a plaything, Raphael does favor you a lot. No one can actually tell how long this will go on, or what tragedy shall befall your pitiful existence once the fun is up and he stabs you in the back, literally.
But for now, you’re still untouchable because you’re his. And no men or God shall lay a hand on you unless they wish to suffer a fate worse than death.
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♡dividers credit: @xurengu0♡ ♡masterlist♡ a/n: lmao this was a really unexpected ask (no complaints tho) (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖) fyi im not taking any requests yet, but i cooked this one up fast for u. hope u enjoy reading, my lovely yuri ◕‿↼
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eamour · 9 months ago
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the bridge of events.
something that most of us eventually do or have done is try to "fix" a certain situation in our physical worlds. we have encountered something very unlikable and therefore want to "un-manifest" it by thinking of a way to do so. however, that's not your job. moreover, that's not your GOAL.
definition.
the "bridge of events" refers to the lined up situations you will have to experience or go through in order to reach the physical fulfillment of your desire. it's an unpredictable process that describes how, when and where you will receive your desire in the outer world, basically the "bridge" that's between your current and your desired reality.
disregard the bridge.
can you decide the way in which your heart's desires are going to come to fruition? most definitely, you can. but you don't have to. see, you don't have to come up with a detailed solution on how an unfavourable situation is going to change to a favourable one. you don't have to mess around with logical possibilities and realistic outcomes. actually, you don't even need to be bothered by it. you do not need to worry at all.
concentrate on the destination.
you only need to be concerned about WHAT you want, nothing and no one else. you need to focus on what's at the end of the line and fixate your mind on it. nail your thoughts on the version of yourself who HAS and IS what you wish to have or be already, and don't care about the obstacles in your reality. don't "reason" your way into obtaining your desire. go to the end and make sure to stay in alignment with that version of yours. dwell on that version. be it, be the end, not the bridge. do not wait or wonder. enjoy your desire. experience it in the mind. within an infinite range of realities, your desired one already EXISTS!
renounce all circumstances.
if you witness something that brings you off track or just generally throws you off your path, what are you going to do?
exactly, you are going to dismiss it. it's entirely up to you if you use a different term to deal with the outer world — such as ignore, renounce, abandon, neglect, reject, refuse — as long as you do not accept it as true.
whatever happens physically is none of your concern, none of your interest and not worth your time, energy and attention. do not let it get in your way. do not let it affect or influence your new, freshly established assumptions. because the undesirable reality that's currently being displayed isn't the reality you want to begin with. the reality you are manifesting ISN'T the one you are experiencing right now! it has nothing to do with you. you are not obligated to accept or associate yourself with it. it holds no truthfulness, no rightness, no correctness and definitely no realness. and remember: it does not serve as a form of validation either!
do not interfere with the physical. do not intervene. do not take action. withhold from any acts that do not take place in the mind. leave the world as it is, as the old reality doesn't reflect your new one anymore.
consequently, feel the way you would feel and then let go of it. you want to distance yourself from the story that's no longer yours. you no longer identify with that version of self anymore.
"the display of the old story and its circumstances isn't an invitation to return back to it."
persist in imagination.
let it come to pass. let it unfold in your reality. simply persist in your newly chosen reality. select your desired reality every day and don't stop. accept it as true, as correct and as real. your imagination is your confirmation. your imaginative acts are your source of validation. so have faith and trust yourself.
the thing is, if you continuously persist in your desired outcome, you are going to walk the bridge one way or another. your desire is going to announce itself and you will acknowledge it — there is no way around it! it WILL show up, and you WILL notice it. you HAVE to. that's the law!
with love, ella.
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verstappenf1lecccc · 1 month ago
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Long shot for Nando with wife reader. All season long, Brad Pitt and his crew have been filming and causing troubles for him (like in quali, idk remember which one). His patient has come to an end. He wanted to punch him seeing the man filming at the Las Vegas GP. Only her could calm her down and the AM team quickly pushes her in his direction while Lancey watches the drama unfold. Need some tension and fun😜 Do however you want to. Fluff/suggestive/sweet. Thanks!! :))
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Under the Lights, In the Spotlight
The Las Vegas Grand Prix weekend was proving to be a thrilling yet utterly maddening affair. The city pulsed with energy—neon lights flickering in rhythm with the beating hearts of the fans who flooded the streets—but inside the paddock, the tension in Fernando Alonso’s chest was palpable. Every rev of the engine, every sharp turn on the track, felt heavier, more charged. It wasn’t just the competition or the unpredictability of the new circuit. It was him—Brad Pitt.
For weeks, Nando had endured the constant presence of the Hollywood icon and his documentary crew, following him, filming him, invading his every moment of solitude. Monaco had been the worst. Brad, with his signature, easy smile, had stood next to the pit wall during qualifying, camera angled right at Nando’s face while he fought for every millisecond on the unforgiving streets of Monte Carlo. Brad’s casual demeanor in the midst of such high-stakes pressure had been an irritation Nando could barely suppress.
This weekend, however, Brad had pushed him too far. The cameras had followed him through every practice session, lingering over his every movement, capturing his frustration, his effort, even his exhaustion. It was as if Nando had become the star of his own reality show—whether he wanted to be or not.
By the time they hit qualifying, Nando was on the verge of snapping. The circuit was difficult to read, his car was struggling to find grip, and the media circus surrounding him had reached its boiling point. It felt like Brad’s camera was always there, right behind him, in his face, recording every angry expression, every moment of frustration. He had been so close to losing his cool—just one more shot and Nando might have lost it entirely.
Then, he spotted him.
Brad stood at the edge of the paddock, his camera focused squarely on Nando. That was it. That last ounce of composure Nando had left slipped away, the red-hot anger rising in his veins. He gripped the wheel of his car tightly, the rubber of his tires burning against the asphalt as he tried to focus, but all he could see was that damn camera lens.
His thoughts were consumed by it. Why can’t they just leave me alone? Why does he have to be here, every single race? The rage built like a storm, and Nando knew it was only a matter of time before he did something he’d regret. He might’ve marched over to Brad, snatched the camera from his hands, and thrown it across the paddock—anything to make the damn thing stop following him.
But just as the storm inside him reached its peak, his eyes found something—or rather, someone—that immediately changed everything.
You.
There, in the midst of the chaos, you were standing on the sidelines, watching, as always, with a calm and steady presence. You had arrived only a few hours before, fresh from your own work commitments, but in that moment, you were everything Nando needed. His heart softened, his breathing steadied. The tension in his shoulders released, and for the first time that entire weekend, he felt grounded.
You caught his eye from across the paddock, and for a split second, the world seemed to slow. It wasn’t just the way you smiled at him, a soft, reassuring look that only you could give. It was the way he felt when he looked at you. The storm inside him began to calm, the heavy pressure of the cameras, the noise, the crowd—it all faded into the background as if you had somehow erased it with just a glance.
As the Aston Martin team quickly pushed you toward him, Lance Stroll, who had been watching the whole scene unfold with the sort of amused detachment only he could muster, leaned over to a nearby mechanic and whispered loud enough for Nando to hear, “Man’s whipped. Can’t even stay mad with her around.”
Nando rolled his eyes, but the lightness in his chest betrayed him. Whipped? He didn’t care. You were the one person who could always bring him back to reality, always make him feel right again.
Lance wasn’t wrong. Nando knew it, and honestly, he didn’t give a damn.
When you finally reached him, your fingers brushed against his arm, the contact instantly grounding him. You could see the frustration still flickering in his eyes, the remnants of the anger that hadn’t quite dissipated. But you also saw the moment it all unraveled the second he looked at you.
He didn’t need words. Your presence was enough.
“Hey,” you said softly, your voice low but full of warmth. “I’m here.”
You reached up, cupping his face with your palm as you guided his gaze to meet yours. You smiled, that gentle smile that only you could give, and suddenly everything made sense again. His racing thoughts quieted. The anger evaporated. The tension that had held him hostage for days slipped away, leaving behind only a sense of peace that he could never quite describe.
For a long moment, you simply held each other’s gaze. No words. Just that understanding, that bond. It was a connection that was undeniable, something that even the chaos of the paddock couldn’t break. In your eyes, he saw his home, his peace, his everything. He exhaled deeply, as though releasing all the pent-up frustration in his lungs.
“Thank you,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.
Your smile widened. “I don’t need to hear that, Nando,” you replied with a playful wink. “But you’re welcome.”
His lips curved upward, his heart finally at ease. Then, almost as if on instinct, he leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against your forehead, just the way he always did when the world felt too heavy.
“You’re magic, you know that?” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, as his lips lingered near your skin.
You chuckled, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m your magic, babe.”
The moment was pure, a soft, comforting exchange amid the storm of the paddock. You were his anchor. You always had been.
But of course, just as the moment began to settle, Lance Stroll couldn’t resist.
“Whipped,” he called out loudly, enough for several people nearby to hear, and Nando’s cheeks flushed. He pulled back from you, his grin wide, and gave Lance a mock glare.
“Shut up, Lance,” Nando called over his shoulder, his voice gruff but playful. “At least I don’t have to be chased by a camera every second of my life.”
Lance laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I get it. No need to go all soft on me, man.”
Nando turned back to you, and the smile you gave him made him forget, yet again, about the world around him.
As the cameras continued to hover, as Brad’s lens still loomed nearby, Nando didn’t care anymore. The pressure didn’t matter. The circus? It was all just noise.
He had you.
And with you by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t handle. Even if it was annoying ass cameras
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jburrgf · 7 days ago
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About you ||| — The Love Trope Series.
“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”
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• pairing: ¡lsu!joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship!reader
° summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.
o description: you and joe had a thing months before, but the things ended in a bad way. now, you see yourself stuck in something that requires you to be close to him every single day.
• playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift
PART THREE: I BET YOU THINK ABOUT ME
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The fluorescent lights in the classroom buzzed faintly as I slipped into my seat at the back of the room, pulling my hoodie tighter around me, hoping to disappear into the fabric. Mondays were bad enough, but after the party on Saturday, the mere thought of facing the day made me want to crawl back under the covers and stay there.
Especially now, with the nagging suspicion that my life was about to take another unpredictable turn.
The group of students gathered for Media Strategies in Sports was small, a core requirement for my degree, and one of the few that worked directly with LSU’s athletic department. Normally, I loved it—brainstorming campaigns, creating social media content, and pitching ideas to actual professionals. But today, the room felt stifling, like the walls were closing in.
I sank lower into my seat, Maddie, seated beside me, shot me a knowing look.
“Morning, sunshine,” Maddie chirped, sliding into the chair beside me with her usual energy that somehow thrived even at 8 a.m.
I grunted in response, burying my face in the collar of my hoodie.
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” she teased, nudging my arm. “You left before anything interesting happened.”
I shot her a glare, and she held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. “You’re being dramatic,” she whispered, nudging me with her elbow.
“I’m being cautious,” I muttered, keeping my voice low.
Professor Reynolds entered the room, a stack of papers tucked under his arm. He was a tall, wiry man with a gruff demeanor, but he loved his job. This class was his pride and joy, a hybrid course designed to give students real-world experience working with the university’s rising athletes
The professor, Dr. Reynolds, stood at the front of the room, a stack of papers in his hands and an overly chipper demeanor that felt out of place this early in the week. “Alright, class,” he began, his voice cutting through the low hum of chatter. “As you all know, this semester we’re diving into a hands-on project with the athletic department. Each of you will be paired with an up-and-coming athlete to develop a personalized media strategy. This is a big opportunity—LSU takes its athletics seriously, and these athletes are the faces of the future.”
I already hated this.
“Pairs will be assigned at random,” Reynolds continued, adjusting his glasses. “These are some of LSU’s rising stars, and this is your chance to prove you can handle the pressure.”
Dr. Reynolds began reading off the pairings, his voice steady and matter-of-fact.
“Anna, you’ll be working with Derek Stingley Jr. Jamie, you’ve got Clyde Edwards-Helaire…”
The names blurred together as I stared at my notebook, pretending to take notes. Maybe, just maybe, I’d luck out and get someone I could handle—a name I barely recognized, someone who wouldn’t make me feel like the walls were closing in.
“Justin Jefferson,” Dr. Collins called, glancing up. “Maddie Carter.”
Maddie lit up like a Christmas tree, her grin practically splitting her face. She turned to me, barely able to contain her excitement. “Oh my God, Y/N. Justin Jefferson. Can you believe it?”
“Lucky you,” I said flatly, my heart sinking further.
She didn’t notice, too busy already envisioning her project.
“Y/N L/N,” Professor Hart continued, scanning his list. “You’ll be working with Joe Burrow.”
I didn’t respond, hoping for some kind of cosmic intervention. Reynolds’s gaze found me anyway, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at me.
“Joe Burrow.”
My blood ran cold.
Maddie audibly gasped beside me, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her reaction. I couldn’t even look at her. Instead, I ducked lower into my hoodie, practically melting into my chair.
My heart plummeted.
Maddie turned to me, her eyes wide. “Oh no.”
The words hit me like a freight train, and my body instinctively tensed. My heart sank, my pulse quickening as the room seemed to close in around me.
I slid further into my hoodie, wishing the fabric could swallow me whole.
“Of all the people,” I muttered, my voice muffled.
I didn’t respond, instead pulling my hoodie up over my head and practically disappearing into the fabric. My face burned as the rest of the class murmured, a few curious glances thrown my way.
Maddie leaned closer, her voice low. “Y/N, this is fine. It’s fine. You can handle this.”
I peeked out from the safety of my hoodie, glaring at her. “This is not fine.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. It’s just Joe.”
“Exactly,” I hissed. “It’s Joe.”
Before she could respond, Dr. Reynolds clapped his hands together, pulling the class’s attention back to him. “Remember, this project is about collaboration. You’ll be working closely with your athlete all semester, so make sure to establish good communication from the start. Now, if there are no questions, class is dismissed.”
I stayed rooted in my seat as everyone began gathering their things, my mind racing. There was no way I could do this.
Maddie stood and slung her bag over her shoulder, leaning down to whisper, “Go talk to him. Maybe he’ll switch you with someone.”
“That’s the plan,” I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
I shot her a point and Maddie shrugged. I waited until the room had cleared out, then made my way to the front where Dr. Reynolds was organizing his notes.
“Professor?” I said hesitantly.
He looked up, offering a kind smile. “Yes, Y/N?”
I shifted awkwardly, clutching my notebook to my chest. “About the project… I was wondering if there was any chance I could switch partners.”
His brow furrowed, and he set his papers down. “Switch partners? Is there a specific reason why?”
I hesitated, my mind scrambling for a professional-sounding excuse. “I just think… maybe someone else would be a better fit. Joe and I… we don’t really have a lot in common, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to… um, connect with him the way someone else might.”
Dr. Reynolds studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Y/N, part of this project is about stepping outside your comfort zone. Learning to work with different personalities is a crucial skill in this field. Joe Burrow is one of the most promising athletes at LSU right now, and I believe you’re more than capable of handling this assignment.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. “I understand this might feel challenging, but I’m confident it’ll be a valuable experience for you. Give it a shot, and if there are any real issues, we can revisit this conversation later in the semester.”
“Right,” I said weakly. “Of course.”
“Besides,” he added with a small smile, “working with someone like Joe is an incredible opportunity. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
I forced a tight smile, nodding as I backed toward the door. “Thanks, Dr. Reynolds. I’ll, uh, do my best.”
As I turned to leave, Maddie was waiting just outside the door, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.
“Well?” she asked.
“No luck,” I grumbled, pulling my hoodie back up.
She shrugged, looping her arm through mine as we walked down the hallway. “See? The universe wants you two to work this out.”
I groaned, leaning my head against her shoulder. “You’re not helping.”
She laughed, giviI glared at her. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” she replied, linking her arm through mine as we started walking. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll survive. He’s just a guy. A very cute guy who just so happens to be your ex, but still—just a guy.”
But as we walked across campus, her words felt far from reassuring. Because deep down, I knew this wasn’t just about the project—or about Joe. It was about the way he still made me feel, no matter how hard I tried to forget.
“You’ll thank me later.”
I groaned, pressing my hands to my face. “Why do I feel like this is going to be a disaster?”
“Because you’re overthinking it,” she said, looping her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s grab lunch. You’re gonna crush this project, and if he tries to make it weird, I’ll personally set Justin Jefferson on him.”
Despite myself, I laughed. Maddie always had a way of making things feel just a little bit lighter.
But as we walked out of the building, I couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in my chest. Joe Burrow wasn’t just any project partner. And no matter how much Maddie tried to convince me otherwise, I knew this was going to be anything but simple.
“When are you guys going to meet?” Maddie asked me, walking by my side down the streets of the campus. We were doing our way to Malone’s.
“Probably still this week. Joe has the hardest schedule, but I know he has some free days this week. I kinda Remember.”
Maddie gave me a quick look, but she didn’t say a word. And it was ok, cause I know her enough to know what 's going on in her mind. And it was the same way with her: she knew what was going on my mind right now.
"You are not going to do that," she told me, as if her demand would change something I had already decided in my mind.
I didn’t answer, my mind already spinning with ideas to get out of this. There had to be a way to switch partners. Maybe Jamar could help me—he was Joe’s best friend, and I’d worked with him before — kinda met him when I was with Joe. He was always good at reading Burrow, especially. Maybe, just maybe, he’d pull some strings for me, cause I know that half of the girls from my class would kill to be paired with Joseph Lee Burrow.
I pulled out my phone, dialing Jamar’s number quickly. The phone rang once, twice...
“Yo, Y/N, what’s up?” Jamar’s voice came through the speaker, relaxed but friendly.
“Hey, Jamar,” I said, trying to sound casual but feeling the anxiety creep in. “Look, I need a huge favor. You know that media project for class, right?”
“Yeah, I’m in that class too. You got paired up with someone tough?” He asked me. “I wasn’t in the class today, got early practice this morning.”
“Well,” I hesitated, glancing over at Maddie who was watching me curiously, “I got paired with Joe.”
There was a brief silence on the other end, and then Jamar laughed. “Oh, man. That’s gonna be fun.”
I didn’t share his enthusiasm. “I don’t want to work with him, Jamar. It’s... it’s complicated, you know? Any chance you can make a switch for me? Just... I don’t know, talk to the professor or someone? Talk to the girl that got you!”
Maddie, still walking beside me, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “You’re not seriously asking Jamar to pull strings, are you?”
I shot her a glare, but she just laughed, clearly knowing what I was about to do.
On the phone, Jamar chuckled again. “I get it, I get it. But nah, I can’t really do that. You two gotta work it out. Besides, Joe’s a good dude. You’ll be fine.”
I felt my shoulders slump. “You’re not helping here, Jamar.”
“Hey, I’m just saying, you’ve got this,” he replied, his tone warm but firm. “But you’ll need to face it at some point, right? Might as well be now.”
I groaned, my frustration mounting. “You’re all against me, huh?”
“Not against you, just keeping it real,” Jamar said, laughing lightly. “But look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll have some good stories to tell after, right?”
I wasn’t ready to accept that yet, but before I could say anything else, Maddie swiped the phone from my hand, holding it to her ear before I could protest.
“Chase! It’s Maddie. We’re going to Malone’s now, you in?” she said, all casual and confident.
“Maddie!” I protested, grabbing at her, but she pulled the phone further from me.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. You need to face Joe,” Maddie continued to Jamar, ignoring my complaints. “We’re going to make sure you do, and I’ll be there to back you up. You’ll be fine.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Maddie just gave me that look—the one that told me she wasn’t about to let me off the hook.
Jamar’s voice came through the phone again. “Malone’s, huh? Yeah, sure, I’ll swing by. Should be a good time.”
Maddie grinned at me. “See? Jamar’s in. Now you just have to deal with the whole Joe thing, and we’ll all go get a drink. It’ll be a good distraction. You’re welcome.”
I sighed, defeated, knowing she was right. There was no avoiding Joe, and it seemed like I wasn’t going to get out of this project. “Fine,” I muttered, sinking into the nearest bench. “But you’re buying me a drink tonight, Maddie. I’m gonna need it.”
Maddie smiled, her arm linking through mine. “Deal. But remember, you’re facing your ex like an adult. No running away this time.”
I rolled my eyes, but there was no escaping it now. "You’re relentless, you know that?"
She just winked. "That’s why you love me."
[…]
The atmosphere at Malone’s was a mix of low chatter, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was the kind of place where everyone on campus went to blow off steam, whether it was for a burger or a beer. Maddie, Jamar, and I had been sitting at one of the wooden booths for over an hour, nursing drinks and nibbling on fries while we talked about the media class project.
Jamar had been surprisingly helpful, giving me tips on how to navigate the project with Joe—though he seemed to enjoy teasing me about it at every opportunity. Maddie, as always, was in her element, sipping on her drink and chiming in with her unsolicited (but not entirely unwelcome) advice.
“I’m just saying,” Jamar said, leaning back in his chair. “Joe’s not that bad to work with. Once you get past his, you know... personality.”
I shot him a look. “Oh, you mean his stubbornness? His perfectionism? His tendency to completely ignore other people’s input?”
Jamar grinned. “Exactly.”
Before I could retort, the door swung open, and in walked Justin Jefferson. His easy confidence turned a few heads as he made his way toward our table, spotting us immediately.
"Well, well, well. Look who it is," Jamar greeted, sliding over to make room for him. "What’s up, Justin?"
Justin slid into the seat directly across from Maddie, his eyes flicking to her before settling on the rest of us.“Not much. Just got out of a meeting with Coach. You know how it is." Justin said, His eyes flicked to her drink. “You already started without me?”
Maddie smirked, raising her glass. “You’re late. That’s on you.”
Justin chuckled, settling in as if he’d been there the whole time.
Maddie perked up immediately, smiling at Justin as if the rest of us had disappeared. "Hey, did you see the assignment? I got paired with you for the project."
Justin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Yeah, I saw that. Guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together, huh?" His tone was casual, but the way he looked at Maddie made it clear he wasn’t just talking about work.
I couldn’t help but smile a little at their interaction. It was nice to see Maddie’s confidence in action, even if I wanted to shrink into my hoodie at the mere thought of working with Joe.
Justin turned his attention to me after a moment, his eyebrows raising. "So, who’d you get stuck with, Y/N?"
I hesitated, glancing at Maddie and Jamar for support. Maddie was quick to jump in. "She got Joe," she said with a grin, as if this were the most entertaining development of her week.
Justin’s eyes widened slightly, his smile turning into something more curious. "Wait, Joe Joe? As in, Joe Burrow? Your Joe Burrow? Didn’t you two have a thing?”
“He’s not my Joe,” I said quickly, my face heating up.
Jamar chuckled, and Maddie smirked into her drink, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“It was a long time ago,” I muttered, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
Justin leaned back in his chair, clearly amused. “Man, this just keeps getting better.”
“Look,” Jamar said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m just saying, if you don’t want to work with Joe, you better have a solid plan. Dude’s serious about this stuff when it comes to football, and he’s not gonna let you off easy.”
I groaned, stirring my drink with the straw. “It’s not about him being serious. It’s about—”
“History,” Maddie interrupted with a sly smirk. “We all know the elephant in the room.”
I shot her a glare, but Jamar chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. History aside, you’ll be fine. Just keep it professional. Joe’s not the type to hold grudges.”
Before I could come up with a response, Jamar’s phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, his face lighting up when he saw the name on the screen. “Speak of the devil,” he said with a smirk. “It’s Joe,” Jamar announced, holding up the screen for us to see.
“Put it on speaker,” Justin said immediately, leaning forward with interest.
“No, don’t—” I started, but it was too late. Jamar had already hit the speaker button and placed the phone in the middle of the table.
“Yo, Joe, what’s up?” Jamar said.
“Hey, man,” Joe’s voice came through the phone, low and steady. “I just got out of practice. What’s up with this project? Do you know who I’m paired with yet?”
Maddie and Justin exchanged glances, their eyes twinkling with amusement. I sank deeper into my seat, pulling my hoodie over my head in a futile attempt to hide.
“Not yet, huh?” Jamar replied, grinning at me. “Man, you’re gonna love this one.”
Joe groaned on the other end of the line. “I swear, if it’s someone who doesn’t take this seriously, I’m gonna lose it.”
“Don’t worry,” Jamar said, his voice full of mock reassurance. “Your partner’s... super dedicated. Really invested.”
Maddie coughed, barely stifling her laughter. Justin was no better, leaning forward with his hand over his mouth to muffle his amusement.
Joe sighed. “Great. Anyway, where are you? I’m starving.”
“We’re at Malone’s,” Jamar said casually. “You should swing by.”
There was a pause before Joe replied. “Alright, be there in ten.”
When the call ended, the table fell into a quiet buzz of excitement. Justin leaned forward, his gaze flicking between Maddie and me. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”
I shot him a look, then turned to Maddie. “You’re not helping.”
Maddie shrugged, clearly unbothered. “I told you, you need to face him. Now’s your chance.”
I glared at Jamar. “Why did you invite him?”
“Because,” he said, leaning forward with a grin, “I live for the drama.”
Maddie nudged me. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just Joe. You’ll be fine.”
I didn’t respond, my mind racing as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was about to happen.
A few minutes later, the door swung open again, and there he was. He looked like he’d just come from practice, a hoodie slung over his shoulders, hair slightly disheveled, but his sharp gaze swept over the room like he was always in control.
I froze in my seat, trying to shrink into the background as his eyes roamed over the tables.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Justin muttered under his breath, leaning forward with a smirk.
Jamar casually waved him over. “Yo, Joe, over here!”
Joe’s head turned toward the sound of Jamar’s voice, and then his eyes landed on me. He stopped mid-step.
He froze when he saw me.
His gaze locked with mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The noise, the people, the world—it all disappeared as we stared at each other.
Joe walked over slowly, his expression carefully neutral, but I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took the empty seat directly across from me.
“Sup,” Joe greeted. The space felt smaller now, the table between us an insignificant barrier.
“Hey, man,” Jamar said with a grin, clearly enjoying the tension that had settled over the table.
Joe’s gaze flicked briefly to Maddie, then Justin, before landing back on me. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice neutral, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—surprise, maybe.
Justin, ever the instigator, wasted no time. “So, Joe, you know who your partner is for the big marketing project yet?”
Joe frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Not yet. They haven’t told me.”
“Oh, really?” Jamar said, feigning surprise. “Man, that’s weird. I thought for sure you’d know by now.”
Maddie stifled a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. I shot her a glare, but she just winked at me.
Joe glanced at Jamar, then at Justin, and finally back at me. His expression shifted subtly, realization dawning as he pieced it together. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the rest of the table seemed to fade away.
“You’re kidding,” he said, his voice low and edged with disbelief.
I looked down at the table, suddenly fascinated by the condensation on my glass. “Nope,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Not kidding.”
Joe let out a quiet, humorless laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Of course.”
Justin chuckled, clearly enjoying the drama. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”
Joe ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “So, it’s you,” he said, his tone unreadable.
“It’s me,” I replied, finally meeting his gaze.
The air between us felt heavy, the unspoken history lingering like a storm cloud. Maddie broke the tension with a cheerful, overly chipper tone.
“See? This will be great! You two already know each other. It’s a head start!”
Joe shot her a look, and she just shrugged innocently.
Jamar leaned forward, grinning. “Come on, Joe. Don’t look so worried. Y/N’s great to work with. She’ll probably carry you through the whole project.”
Joe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes never leaving mine. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “Yeah. We’ll see.”
Maddie cleared her throat loudly, cutting through the tension. “Alright, this is officially too much brooding for one table. Jamar, let’s order another round, yeah?”
Joe leaned forward slightly, his attention still on me, even as Jamar and Maddie launched into a debate about appetizers. “We should figure out a schedule for the project,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“Yeah,” I replied, my throat dry.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Fine.”
Maddie shot him a look, then turned to Joe. “Look, it’s just a project. You’ll survive.”
Joe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still on me. There was something in his expression I couldn’t quite place—like he was trying to figure out how to handle the situation without making it worse.
“Yeah,” he said finally, his tone resigned. “I guess we don’t have a choice.”
“Exactly,” Maddie said, her voice overly cheerful. “It’s gonna be fine. Right, Y/N?”
I forced a tight smile. “Sure. Fine.”
Joe’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he reached for the menu in front of him, clearly ready to change the subject. But the tension lingered, thick and unspoken, as we all sat there pretending this wasn’t as uncomfortable as it actually was.
Jamar, of course, seemed determined to make things worse. “Hey, Joe,” he said, grinning. “Remember that time we talked about working with people you had... history with? Funny how life works, huh?”
Joe shot him a glare, and I kicked Jamar under the table, but he just laughed, unfazed.
Joe nodded once, then glanced at Jamar. “You’re paying for my drink, by the way.”
Maddie leaned over to whisper, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” and I resisted the urge to groan.
Jamar laughed, but the awkwardness didn’t fade. I knew this project was going to be a challenge, but sitting across from Joe now, with all the unresolved tension hanging in the air, I realized just how difficult it was going to be.
I couldn’t take it anymore. The awkwardness, the stares, the weight of his presence—it was all too much. Pushing my chair back, I stood abruptly.
“I need some air,” I said, not waiting for a response as I made my way toward the door.
Behind me, I could hear Maddie murmuring something to Joe, probably trying to smooth things over. But I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.
The cool evening air hit my face as I stepped outside, my breath shaky as I tried to collect myself. Working with Joe was going to be harder than I thought.
I leaned against the brick wall outside Malone’s, the faint buzz of conversation and clinking glasses filtering through the door behind me. The cool air helped calm the heat rising in my chest, but it didn’t quiet my thoughts.
What were the odds of being paired with Joe? It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on me, forcing me to confront something I wasn’t ready to face.
The reality of it settled in my chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe. I shouldn’t have reacted like that—I knew it. But seeing him, sitting across from me, brought back everything I’d tried so hard to bury.
The door behind me creaked open, and I turned my head slightly, expecting Maddie.
Instead, Jamar stepped out, his usual easy grin replaced by something softer, almost concerned.
“Hey,” he said, leaning against the wall beside me.
Hey,” he said, leaning against the wall beside me.
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look unaffected. “Hey.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The quiet between us was heavy, filled with everything I wasn’t ready to admit.
“You okay?” Jamar finally asked, his voice low.
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes fixed on the parking lot in front of us. “I’m fine.”
“Come on, Y/N,” he said, tilting his head to catch my gaze. “I’m not Maddie—I know when someone’s not fine.”
I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. Jamar wasn’t the kind of guy who pried, but he also didn’t let people off the hook easily.
“It’s just… a lot,” I admitted quietly, my fingers gripping the sleeves of my jacket.
He nodded, like he’d expected that answer. “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I came out here.”
He gave a slight nod, his face serious again. “Just don’t shut us out, alright? If you need to talk or need a distraction, we’re here.” He glanced back toward the door of Malone’s, then added, “Joe left, by the way. Said something about needing to clear his head. I think you both just need some space.”
I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated. Joe leaving only added to the uncertainty swirling inside me. “I guess that’s for the best,” I muttered, pushing myself off the wall. “I don’t know how much more I can handle right now.”
“Yeah, he’s complicated like that,” Jamar continued, his tone light, but his eyes were sharp, watching me closely. “He pretends he’s all chill and collected, but deep down? He’s just as messed up about this as you are.”
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “That’s comforting.”
Jamar bumped my shoulder lightly, his grin returning. “Hey, I’m just saying—he’s not some robot. You’re not the only one feeling weird about this.”
I didn’t respond, the weight of his words settling over me.
Jamar studied me for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get that. I do. But listen, you don’t have to do this alone. You’ve got Maddie, and you’ve got me. And if you need me to keep Joe in check, I got you.” He smirked lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “He may be a little too quiet for his own good, but I’ll make sure he doesn’t make things awkward for you. And honestly, Joe’s not as scary as you think.”
“Debatable,” I muttered, earning a chuckle from him.
“Fair,” he said, stepping away from the wall. “But seriously, don’t let this eat you up. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”
I watched as he walked back toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Oh, and Maddie’s probably in there plotting how to cheer you up, so brace yourself.”
Despite everything, I smiled. “Thanks, Jamar.”
He winked before disappearing back inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and a small, fleeting sense of hope.
As Jamar started to head back inside, I stayed a moment longer, trying to steady myself. I knew I couldn’t run away from this forever. Sooner or later, I was going to have to face Joe. And when that time came, I hoped I’d be able to handle it without letting everything fall apart.
But for now, I took a deep breath, and when I walked back through the door of Malone's, it felt like stepping back into a world where the past was waiting to meet me.
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sk3tch404 · 2 months ago
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Yandere Weeping Clown Thoughts!!
CW: Nothing too bad, just your usual creeper, manipulation, and analysis(?) on his character. Tbh hes so yandere coded that everything blurs together atp (and I'm using "yandere coded" sort of loosely bc that makes me sound like a yandere enabler or smth, which like, lol no but in fiction yeah funne). Called him Joker bc it was easier to use/remember than Weepy, and also bc they called them that in all the lore drop so 🤷‍♀️
A/n: Just saw the new Hullabaloo lore drop and IDV has taken me back into its clutches. He is so yandere material 🫶 Proof read enough to go "that's postable."
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Joker is quite sensitive to his darlings perception of him. He always tries to do the right thing, tries to please you so that when you smile at him, that strangely unfamiliar warmth spreads through his chest. A smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, stringing his lips up as if he were a puppet. And a puppet of your design he shall be if you wished it so.
Joker is definitely a worshipping sort of yandere. He'll do most of anything for his darling if it made them just a teeny bit closer. Any progress is better than no progress. Even if it means visiting you in the dead of night to "check on you," or often "bumping into you" in places that you frequent at the manor. He'll stop bothering you if you reject his advances, but he'll come back around sooner or later. Joker doesn't want you to hate him, but he also doesn't want to be away from you! Although you may say some hurtful things like, "It's making me uncomfortable, sorry," or, "Can you leave me alone for a while," he knows deep down that if he teeters around the boundaries you set for long enough, he can wiggle his way through and to your heart. At least, that's what he hopes.
Despite his subservient nature to his darling, Joker isn't so obedient around others. He has his more introverted traits for sure, but his sensitivity to anger is fragile, especially when it comes to you. Joker doesn't have many qualms about taking a stand for you or himself if it came to it. He wants to be your protector, so he isn't very afraid to say something if he feels the need to. It can become quite the scene if the other party doesn't back down, making either you or someone else the mediator of the debacle. It's exhausting to have to manage your persistent follower, but it's better to handle a situation rather than let it spiral out of control, leaving the consequences of his mental break to you.
With his fragility also comes his keen eye for any chances to take advantage of a situation. Joker isn't very intimidating physically or feared for being calculating, but he is usually dismissed, and that makes for perfect cover if he plays his cards right. Framing people for his crimes can be a walk in the park depending on the situation, and manipulating those weaker than him isn't something he wholeheartedly takes pride in, but if it's for you, if it's for you, the singular most important person and one he adores most in his rotten life, then he's happy to oblige. If it wins you over in the end, then that's all that matters, right?
Joker will try to convince his darling to stay by his side and will get more desperate depending on the circumstances. He's not a kidnapper type, more of an idealist. Not to confuse that with delusional though. Joker knows full well how you probably feel about your strained relationship, but if he doesn't try now, he'll never get to be with you, and that's unacceptable. He wants to live a romantic and sweet life with you day in and day out, so he'd hate to see you miserable and locked up. If he can't love you the way he wants to, then what would be the point?
Even with that, Joker isn't above guilt tripping or petty manipulation tactics like that. He really can be unpredictable at times and can become very dangerous if his darling constantly shows no interest. Although he is a romantic idealist in his mind with you, he's also the type to slip into the "if I can't have you, no one can" mentality. He might just end up hurting his darling, but it won't be anything too drastic by the time it happens. Joker would feel terrible, terrified, and utterly disgusted with himself after seeing your petrified state. He'd drop to his knees and attempt to mutter consoling words, somewhat even begging for your forgiveness.
"Y- Y/n, no, oh no, no... Y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please. Don't cry, I didn't mean to. I truly am sorry. I had just- I wasn't thinking straight. I would never hurt you. If only you hadn't done this, then... No, just come back to me Y/n."
He is still quite demanding even while apologizing, which would make your fear even greater. Joker doesn't want to force his darling's hand, but if it really came down to it, he'd give his darling a grade A verbally manipulative beat down. He'll use anything and everything against you so that all else but him looks ugly in that moment. Sure being at the receiving end of his unstable anger was horrifying, but be honest with yourself, were it not for him who has saved you countless times in both matches and inside the manor, you would be long dead by now. Anything is on the table, anything just so you will come back to him once more. He has little to no guilt in it, just the fear that he will seriously break if you're still in a right state of mind. So, in turn, he'll unfortunately have to break you first.
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