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emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Pillow Talk

A/N: i will never apologize for being horny on main

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: After an entire day of staring at you in that bikini, Loki is left utterly desperate for release. Good thing he sleeps with a lot of pillows.

Tags: masturbation, phone sex, pillow humping, needy!Loki, pining

Loki shifted on the bed, mashing his face roughly into the satin pillow case. It was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept. Even the tiniest hint of sleep had evaded him, and he’d tossed and turned enough to make his muscles ache in protest. With a frustrated growl, he rolled onto his back and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. This was never going to work.

He had no one to blame but himself for his insomnia. Really, it was pathetic, the way his mind had latched onto one silly little human and made her the object of his obsession. You with your silky hair and soft eyes, keeping him up until the morning hours. Your melodic voice rang in his eardrums, and every time he closed his eyes, he’d see that perfect skin of yours and wish it was pressed up against--

With a gasp, Loki swiftly brought his hands down to grasp the sheets in agony. He wished he could blame it on the fact that he hadn’t bed anyone in at least a decade, but he knew himself. Celibacy had never been an issue for him in the past; he wasn’t a teenage boy, he could control his needs. But you had him feeling like one all over again. The way he gawked at you like it was his first time seeing a pair of breasts nearly spill out of a way-too-tight tank top, it was downright shameful. You were just so innocent, so pure, and he longed to see that smile collapse into a pout as you whimpered against his lips.

Despite his best efforts, Loki could feel his cock throb in renewed need. It had been begging for release nearly all night, and Loki had successfully ignored it so far. He held steady in his determination in not giving in, but his resolve was slipping. Today has been especially tortuous. Tony and his goddamn insistence that Loki participate in team bonding. A day at the beach, one which Loki spent lounging in the hot sand shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. You had splashed around in the waves with Natasha and bounced around in a bikini that seemed specifically designed to torture Loki. The bottoms had shifted themselves to ride up quite a few times, and Loki had taken pleasure in watching you reach back with slippery fingers to pull them out of your ass.

Loki’s cock throbbed again, almost violently this time. He moaned softly into the open air. The sound was pained, and Loki felt his hand begin to drift towards the string of his pajama bottoms. They were silk, and because Loki had chosen to forgo underwear, the soft material felt like heaven against his swollen erection. Before his fingers could slip inside to where he needed them most, Loki ripped them away in defiance and turned onto his side, tangling the blanket between his legs as he rolled. The pressure of the thick comforter into his crotch made Loki suck in a surprised breath. His hips twitched upward of their own accord and Loki’s eyes fluttered in pleasure.

Loki could feel his will dissolving with every jolt of pleasure that swam up his spin. His mind spun with images of you: you curled up against him, reaching back with your dainty hand to pull him closer to you, encouraging him to grind against your backside. As if he was in a daze, Loki grabbed one of the many pillows adorning his bed and shoved it between his legs. The firmness of the pillow was so much more satisfying than the blanket, and Loki groaned.

It was over, he had accepted defeat. Loki was about to hump his pillow like an animal and it was all your fault. He thought of that wet bikini sticking to your skin, your breasts bouncing as you jogged back up the beach to him and breathed out a “what’s up” like he wasn’t about to cum in his swim trunks just from watching you. As the memories danced through his head, Loki’s hips began to roll in more deliberate motions. With every thrust, his cock pressed up against the soft material of his pants. Loki could feel the pre-cum wetting the silk, but it only served to amplify his pleasure as the damp fabric clung to his skin.

The buzzing of his phone startled Loki out of his fantasies, and he nearly wanted to throw the thing against the wall. Tony would get him a new one, as he always did no matter how many times that Loki had insisted they were unnecessary devices. As much as he wanted to let it ring, Loki had learned that calls at this hour usually meant an unexpected mission, and he’d be back on house arrest if he didn’t answer. Loki reluctantly leaned over to his bedside table to grab the vibrating object, keeping the pillow between his legs. His heart came to a near stop as he saw your name illuminated on the screen.

A few moments passed as Loki stared dry-mouthed at the caller ID, wondering when he had fallen asleep. Because the only explanation for you calling him in the middle of the night was that he was dreaming. Sure, you had texted him the occasional internet video that you thought he’d enjoy, but had never called him. And certainly not at five in the morning. With a hard swallow, Loki hit the “accept call” button and waited.

“Hey, Loki?” Came your tired-sounding voice. It wasn’t as gorgeous when muffled by the phone static, but it gave Loki shivers nonetheless.

“What is this about?” Loki tried to sound as irritated as possible, figuring that would be the proper reaction to receiving a call this early. The truth was that he was elated to hear your voice, and was disgusted by himself. A mortal, making him this weak in the knees, it was absolutely pathetic.

You were silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t sleep. I-I’m not really sure why I called you, I’m sorry for waking you up. I’ll just--”

“Wait!” Loki burst out before you could end the call. His loud voice echoed back at him in the silent room and he cringed, hoping that no one had heard him. Loki bit his lip anxiously, uncertain of what to say to keep you on the line. “Um, I was awake. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Oh, I guess that’s good. Well, not really good that you can’t sleep, I mean good that I didn’t wake you.”

Loki chuckled at your awkward ramblings. Norns, you were so cute. “Don’t worry, pet, I know what you meant.” As the words left his lips, Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just called you. Pet. It had been a slip of the tongue, but it brought forth a whole new round of fantasies. He couldn’t help but imagine about what it would be like to own you, to grab you by your pretty face and push his cock between your lips over and over. Absent-mindedly, Loki began to move his hips against the pillow again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from gasping. As quietly as he could manage, he put the call on speaker and set the phone down beside him so he could lie back on his side and resume his earlier activities. Loki knew it was so, so wrong to do this while you were none-the-wiser, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so worked up for so long and now it was like his body had taken over, hell bent on getting the relief it needed.

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Oh, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose,” Loki said as his eyes fell shut. His voice was the slightest bit strained, the soft drag of his pants against his cock making it hard to focus.

“Yeah, same here.” You sighed into the phone, and Loki heard a bit of rustling as you presumably got more comfortable. “I have trouble sleeping a lot, actually. I guess I just get lonely.”

A heavy weight of guilt sank into Loki’s chest. Here you were, opening yourself up to him, and he was trying to get off to the sound of your voice. He was truly depraved, that was for sure. But fuck, the tired rasp to your voice and the small sighs you let out were sending him sky high. His mind was running wild with fantasies of you under him, you in his lap, you up against the wall as he fucked you into it. Loki fought to sound normal as he responded to you. “I understand. Most beings are very social creatures, we need company to--ah!” A particularly rough thrust of his hips had caught Loki off guard as the mind-numbing pleasure rocketed through his body.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, pet,” Loki said, panting as he forced his hips to still. “Just stretching.” It was a lame excuse, but Loki was too far gone to come up with anything better. His body quaked as he tried to keep still, like his own muscles were attempting to disobey his brain. Everything in him was screaming out for more. Cum, you need to cum. Once again, Loki was forced to give in as his hips resumed their grinding. The pillow itself was now damp with how much he was leaking, and it felt amazing.

The phone was quiet, and Loki could almost hear how hard you were thinking on the other end. And then: “Loki, are you...masturbating?” Your voice trailed off as you said that word. The sheer embarrassment was evident in your tone, and Loki was almost astounded at how bold you were. Not many humans had the nerve to just up and ask something like that.

Even through the shock of being caught, Loki could not find it in him to be surprised that you had caught on. You had always come across as intelligent to him, it was foolish to think he could fool you with a half-hearted excuse. Still, it was beyond humiliating to have been called out so brazenly. Loki saw no point in denying it; you would not have asked if you weren't sure. “Yes,” he replied, voice cracking as he froze in place for the second time. Despite the embarrassment, Loki’s erection did not not falter. In fact, it seemed that he only got harder. This mortal would be the death of him.

“O-oh!” You seemed surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to come right out with it. “I’m so sorry, I guess I interrupted you, huh? Shit, I’m sorry.” How absurd. Loki was the one shamelessly rubbing himself against a pillow while talking to you, and you were the one apologizing.

Loki found it intriguing that you hadn’t hung up immediately upon learning of his actions. You hadn’t seemed disgusted at all, just apologetic for interrupting his activities. Loki wasn’t sure if your lack of repulsion was what caused it, or if it was simply his need clouding his judgement, but his mouth began to move before he could stop it. “It’s excellent for sleep. I highly recommend it for nights like these.”

There was no sugar coating it; that was a proposition, no matter how poorly disguised it was as simple advice. “Um,” came your faint reply. Loki’s face burned as he pictured the look of horror you were probably wearing at the moment. And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as you spoke again. “Yeah, I tried earlier. Wasn’t really...working.”

A new gush of blood found its way into Loki’s cock at your admission. He couldn’t help but imagine you writhing on your bed, soaked in sweat and your own slick as you tried desperately to get to that crescendo of pleasure. His blush had somehow grown even stronger, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had even blushed at all. This mortal was killing him, you were his executioner and he was begging for you to pull the trigger.

“That’s quite unfortunate,” Loki managed through his reverie. He was still frozen, almost scared to begin his motions again for fear of cumming on the spot. His cock twitched in time with his racing heart, occasionally dripping precum into his pants. Loki was a mess, but he could not bring himself to care in the slightest. All that mattered was the arousal screaming under his skin and your intoxicating voice in his ears.

“Yeah. Sorry, should I go? And let you, y’know, finish?”

Loki racked his brain for an excuse to get you to stay. It was maddening, how quickly you had ruined him. Seduction was one of his many talents, as was manipulation. In the past, he would have had no trouble at all talking someone into his bed and onto his cock, but you were different. Every flirtation died on his lips the moment he was in your presence, and it was all he could do to form complete sentences as you turned his knees to jelly.

After an excruciating period of silence as Loki thought, he finally spoke. “It would be unfair of me to abandon you in favor of pleasuring myself when you cannot do the same.”

This time it was your turn to stay quiet. Loki waited anxiously, half-expecting you to just leave anyway. He had already come to terms with your disinterest in him, you were probably just being polite. But...you had called him. There must have been at least a slight attraction for Loki to have been on your mind after attempting to get yourself off.

“Maybe we could…” There was a tremble to your voice as you trailed off, and Loki held his breath as he waited for you to finish. Whatever your suggestion ended up being, he was ready to enthusiastically agree. Anything that involved you and pleasure was incredibly enticing. “Maybe we don’t have to hang up, then.”

Loki’s eyes went wide. Did you mean…? An involuntary moan fell from his lips as he shivered at the thought. “I would, mm, not be opposed to that idea.” Loki’s body had won over for the final time that night and his hips began to move again. After restraining himself for so long, feeling that delicious friction once again nearly overwhelmed him.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” you said. “I can’t really believe I actually asked you that.”

“Would you like instruction, pet?”

“That might help, yeah.”

Loki began to wonder if he was dead, and this was his version of Valhalla. Whatever the case, he was going to ride this high for as long as he could. Everything else seemed to fade into the distance: the chirping of birds outside as the sun rose, the hum of the traffic down below, all of it meant nothing. It meant nothing because you were on the other side of the phone asking for Loki to tell you how to touch yourself. Loki took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of himself; he needed to let you catch up before he could allow himself to lose control.

“I want you to get undressed, and get comfortable.” That was a simple enough command, Loki figured. If he started slow, maybe he could reign in his pathetic neediness and focus solely on your pleasure.

“Okay, I can do that.” The speaker went quiet as you presumably settled onto your bed and slipped out of your pajamas. “Now what?”

“Touch your breasts,” Loki said. His breathing was heavy, but even as he settled into the role of your instructor. “Rub your fingers across them, tell me how it feels.”

You sighed happily. “It feels really nice. Can you tell me what you’re doing?”

Loki was a bit ashamed to admit that he was currently grinding into a pillow, but figured there was no point in lying. “I’m, uh, I have a pillow between my legs, and I’m rubbing against it.”

A whimper burst from your lips. “Oh, that’s so hot.”

“Is it?” Loki asked hesitantly. He didn’t feel very attractive; slick trousers and sweat coated skin, fighting hard to hold it together.

“Yeah, fuck. Can I touch myself, please?”

Loki wanted to drag it out a bit longer, to tease you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to that pretty voice. Especially when you asked so nicely. “Go ahead, pet. You’re such a good girl.”

There was a faint slick sound, then a drawn out moan. Loki groaned in response, the sound extracting a full body shiver from the god. He had never heard such alluring sounds of pleasure, you were just so far above any other being he had ever met. “That’s it,” he murmured in encouragement.

“Feels so good,” you said, voice growing high pitched. “Shit, I’m not gonna last too long. Ah, fuck. Been needing this all night.”

Loki sucked in a breath and began to thrust with more fervor. His eyes nearly rolled back at the pressure and his thighs squeezed around the pillow. “That’s okay, darling. I, oh--” Loki cut himself off with a strangled moan as his pleasure mounted. “I need to cum, too.”

For a moment, panting and whimpered moans were the only thing coming through the speaker. Loki prayed that you were as close as he was, because the coil tightening in his stomach threatened to snap at any moment. It was all he could do to keep from allowing his release to overtake him before you got yours. “Please, pet. I want to hear you cum,” he ground out as his eyes fell shut.

“So close,” you whined. “Loki, I’m gonna cum.”

He couldn’t help it. Loki’s control disintegrated as he began rutting into the pillow like a wild animal. His hips moved in sharp, quick thrusts, and quiet moans left his lips with every movement. ‘Cum--fuck, mm--cum for me, love.” He was going to cum, he couldn’t stop. He just needed you to finish first.

The phone crackled as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Loki listened in a trance, trying to memorize every noise that left your lips as you climaxed. Your sounds spurred him on, and he found himself tipping over the edge, cumming harder than he had in a long time. Pleasure whited out his vision, and Loki could faintly hear himself whining your name in a broken voice. He didn’t get the chance to be embarrassed about the noise; his cock pulsed in dizzying waves of euphoria, spurting out rope after rope of hot cum. It shot into his pants, soaking them all the way through and seeping into the pillow. It wasn’t until the last drop had left his body that he was finally able to stop the groans that had been bubbling up from his throat.

As the pleasure subsided, Loki sagged against the bed and took in the mess he had made. His pants were ruined, no doubt about that. And the pillow? Well, it would most likely need a few good washes. But he felt sated, too relaxed to even care about the cum drying to his thighs.

“Are you still there?”

Fuck, he had almost forgotten that you were still on the phone. “Yes,” he croaked out. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finished for him. Though you couldn’t see him, Loki nodded in agreement.

The bed suddenly felt very large and very empty after the daze of Loki’s orgasm faded. He found himself wishing that you were here, so he could wrap his arms around that perfect waist and bury his nose in your hair. It was an incredibly foreign feeling; Loki had never been one to cuddle after sex. But then again, everything about you was different. You were special. Loki opened his mouth, ready to invite you to his room, but something stopped him. What if this had been just a spur of the moment thing for you? What if you only saw him as a tool to get yourself off?

“Would it be weird if I came down there?” You asked, startling Loki out of his thoughts. There you went again, calming his anxieties before he even had the chance to feel them.

A relieved grin broke out on his face, and his heart sped up again in excitement. “No, I would very much enjoy that.” And for the first time in a very long time, Loki felt wanted.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #mcu #marvel #smut #needy!loki #my writing #fanfic

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” now that I’ve actually got it posted:

Call it a director’s cut! The process of actually writing the thing, and also jokes made along the way. Link to the actual fic.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy for image descriptions, even the text screenshots. Might come back that later. Most of this was DMs with @atagotiak.

This was an entire thing before I even started writing:

Before I decided on ages and stuff Ahsoka, to Jango, who has had zero contact with Kaminoans: Okay I know I'm a Jedi kid so you hate me but this toddler is your clone from the future. Jango, tired: What the FUCK are you talking about. Rex, barely able to talk: Don't you dare leave me with him, Commander! Ahsoka: I'm not going to leave you I just--I'm so tired I'm so fucking tired I haven't slept in five days and someone tried to kidnap Leia two days ago I am so fucking tired I need help

Ben: [twenty years of depression followed by a 'now I'm safe' breakdown over the course of weeks] Sokari: [whatever the FUCK this mess is]

When Ahsoka mentions there only being three other Jedi at the time of her death, I was thinking Kanan, Yoda, and Obi-Wan (Leia told her about the latter two living past her). She's not counting anyone that received training after the Temple fell, and she didn’t know about Cal.

When Leia says “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

Depa: I'm no therapist but I diagnose you with "incredibly fucked up." Ahsoka: yeah, that’s fair

"Why did you pick Depa for--" She's pretty and I'm gay. Also because of the Kanan thing But mostly I'm gay "It's not a visual medi--" GAY

Empty of context beyond general post-fic AU: "Hey Sokari, we need to engage in psychological warfare against this individual and--" "I'm going to break into his office and leave a threatening note on his desk and leave no other sign that I was there. He'll see that his security is nothing and the only reason he isn't dead is because I'm too nice to kill him." "...okay, not what we were planning, but that works. Why is that your first choice?" "I really like breaking and entering, it's soothing." Ben just standing there with a bland smile like This Is Normal.

"We need someone to infiltrate a highly guarded facility in hostile territory." "So we're sending the Torrent kids?" [sigh] "We're sending the Torrent kids."

Rex and Sokari insist on both going by "Torrent" even though Rex could be a Fett. Jango really wants him to be a Fett. Rex has too many grudges to agree to being a Fett for... a while.

I really hope it's blatantly obvious that Ahsoka's not a reliable narrator for some things Ahsoka: Fett could care less if I died Jango: jfc even if you are older than me I can see you're fucked up. Drink your hot chocolate. Hells. She's got good reason to expect him to hate her as a Jedi! BUT. THAT IS NOT REFLECTIVE OF REALITY

We don’t get a lot of actual characterization for Jango, but the way I played him out here is he has never really parsed that Jedi are people before all this. It's a lot harder to treat them as a monolith when the traumatized former child soldier is having regular breakdowns in your shitty little kitchen

Fett: I respect you Ahsoka: No, don't do that

Ahsoka’s vigilantism is something that, in my mind, she's associating heavily with Zygerria and then the clones.

I figured that she never bothered to learn Quinlan’s teacher’s name but in the process of looking up some basic facts (whether he had a surname), I found that Wookiepedia was forced to give us a VERY wide range of possible death in Legends.

Please take a moment to imagine Quinlan's FACE when Ahsoka initially dismisses him. Quinlan has put a lot of effort into being rogueishly charming! It's very useful for his line of work! He knows to expect either irritation or a return flirtation when he acts like this with people his own age! Ahsoka is not flustered OR rolling her eyes and insulting him, she's just ignoring him and it's a bit of a blow to the ego

This just makes me really happy:

This was the initial comment I made, as a joke What if Maul is just. There. On one of the planets they make a pitstop at. What if Maul exists as the walking problem he is, but fifteen, and Ahsoka immediately tries to kick his ass and drag him back to Coruscant. I do not have room for this plot but What If

Despite not having room for this plot, I proceeded to write this plot.

Maul is kidnapped and it’s the best thing that ever happened to him HE'S FIFTEEN HE'S DUMB AS SHIT AND HAS A BAD ATTITUDE AND YEAH HE'S A DARKSIDER BUT HE'S FIFTEEN

Ahsoka: I sense... Maul [takes off sprinting] Rex: [immediately takes Jango's blaster and runs after her] Jango: Wait who Tholme: Who Quinlan: Who Jango: [looks at Leia] Leia: I don't know who that is either! Ahsoka, already wrestling a teenager to the ground: Oh no, you're a child, REX STUN HIM AND GRAB THE CUFFS, I'M SURE FETT OR THOLME HAS SOME

Fighting him isn't even legal, they have NO evidence of criminal wrongdoing, so first she needs to yell until he admits to something she can fight him about

Ahsoka: When I see Maul, it's on SIGHT Maul: WHO ARE YOU

Ahsoka: The Force didn't give me hands just to NOT throw them when I run into That Crafty Son Of A Bitch

Ben, when they arrive, after the tearful reunion: You... you brought Maul. Ahsoka: Well, yeah, he's fifteen and kinda dumb. I figured we could drag him here and force him into therapy, see what happens. Ben: I can't quite tell through the gag, but I think he's threatening to feed you your own spleen. Ahsoka: Lol, yeah.

Ben is absolutely on team "get Maul therapy" and will fight the Council on rehabilitating the baby Sith But also it's like. Here's your daughter! And your niece! And your daughter's QPP! Also your best friend, but baby, and his teacher, and the biological origin of a number of people you cared for deeply! AND ALSO THE GUY WHO SPENT LITERAL DECADES CRAVING YOUR DEATH, FOR SOME REASON

I just really want Ahsoka lovingly bullying Maul She gives him noogies and the horns don't protect him because girl has reinforced gloves

Maul's only allowed a low-power training saber and his fights with Sokari involve Much Taunting by her and Eventual Screaming by him, and everyone pops by to see: 1. Sokari doing the most absurd flips, for fun. 2. The bullshit that is ataru-shien reverse-grip jar'kai in the hands of someone who makes it work 3. What a Sith lightsaber form looks like 4. Just the general nonsense that is the way these two fight

Tia said “Wrt ridiculous flips. I'm remembering that time she beheaded four Kryst'ad at once.” and I just Rex brings up the quadruple beheading at one point to get someone to stop asking questions and the awkward, horrified silence almost makes him regret it. And then Sokari just snorts and makes a joke about how Rex once speared a slaver point-blank and everyone's just like hello??? "are you two okay" "no"

Maul absolutely starts crushing on Sokari after a 'sword under chin' moment and she's just very "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh you're fifteen, bye" GO MAKE PUPPY EYES AT OBI-WAN OR SOMETHING

The crushes are the worst part of everything, really, she's an attractive young woman that can kick a lot of ass, and a lot of people are into that! Unfortunately, most of those people are a decade younger than she is, mentally, because all the people her actual age look at her and see a child on account of the 17yo body.

It’s almost a good thing she’s in no place mentally for a relationship.

I just want Ahsoka to wear beskar.... I think that would be Nice........

This AU is also what caused this post.

I'm deeply enamored by the idea that Ahsoka can win fights against "older" padawans pretty much unilaterally, even when they team up 2v1 And then she offers to fight 5v1 "But only if I have permission to fight dirty." Ben approves it, a horror show full of "I fought many wars and will scream in your face or kick you in the balls if that's what it takes" follows She wins. There are no permanent injuries, but her reputation certainly gets weirder. Nobody under the rank of Knight agrees to let her fight dirty again. She just lets that stand because, well, she's not actually a padawan, she's thirty-three.

I’m not going to write this but my brain was EVIL and suggested it:

IT WOULD BE REALLY SAD IDK maybe 9yo Anakin has nightmares about what's happening to baby Ahsoka because bullshit about time-traveling force bonds IDK ANYWAY he cries to Sokari about the nightmares and she's like "oh shit" and it's time to go rescue herself from motherfucker unlimited

It's either that or she's like, expecting to welcome mini-me aaaany day now, for like, several months, before she realizes Something Went Wrong. Anakin’s dreams could even start right as she’s starting to realize something’s off.

Obi-Wan has never had a padawan that doesn't at some point bite Even Luke will, when pushed

OH also once the twins get Baby's First Lightsaber (training sabers, not real kyber), Sokari begs to borrow them for a dumb joke and tells Rex to get on her shoulders for a "Grievous Greeting" and they do The Thing

Jango and Ahsoka wrt Quinlan is just “Do I need to beat him up for you” “You realize I’ve beaten up sith lords before?”

JANGO'S TRYING He's just. "Can we be friends? Can I--can I be the guy that just noticeably gets in the way of a creep on the subway so you can be more comfortable without someone making a scene? I'm fucking trying here, give me a hint."

We didn’t actually figure out Jango’s age until this point. The only reason Fett's age matters is for Quinlan making a Wild Oats quip after Jango says he didn't know about Rex until a few weeks ago, and Fett going "How old do you think I am? And how old do you think the kid is?" and Quinlan getting Very Awkward as he does the math. Rex overhears and lets Quinlan sweat for a bit before saying "I'm a genetically-modified clone someone grew in a tube, he didn't know or have reason to know until he saw me with Sokari." Which is like. Eight additional layers of WTF, obviously, but at least Jango gets to avoid awkward wild oats jokes

Like, you’d expect the rebuttal to be ‘he’s my brother just with a biiig age gap’ or ‘he’s my nephew’

I find it very unfortunate for Quinlan that I've decided his defining characteristic in this context is going to be repeatedly putting his foot in his mouth

He’s trying so hard but "That sounds like a cool thing, maybe I'll ask ab--and it's another fucking trauma."

I'm doing Ahsoka&Jango t w i c e (there’s another fic where I’m doing it)

It’s just a fun dynamic! So much resentful respect.

Like she's twenty seconds away from calling him a bitch at any given time and he's just there like "I don't like you but I do see you move like you're about to tell an entire building to get on their knees with their hands in the air and I can respect that" Also she's probably much less judgmental about using blasters than Obi-Wan is The Maul subplot actually started with me daydreaming about Ahsoka grabbing a blaster for Reasons

I like the idea of Jango just deciding the most Useful thing he can do is help teach the Smol how to fight. He's AWKWARD around Rex and Soka because he doesn't know if there's anything he CAN teach them.

I didn’t actually plan for Tholme to figure out the age thing, he just SAID it and I had to sit there like Wait.

Ahsoka, Rex & Leia: ahhh, children Tholme: you say that like you aren’t children

I liked getting to write Rex's little "I have worked with all of them, and they're all Terrible" He loves them But They once got stranded on a planet that didn’t exist and Ahsoka died and Anakin killed a god.

There was research and discussion as to whether Ahsoka could win against Tholme but seeing as she held her own against Vader, and fought Grievous at that physical age without dying, etc.... yeah, the only thing holding her back was her body not being what she was used to, and she’s had a few weeks go adjust.

“I miss being able to just jump off skyscrapers” is such a jedi thing

Jango: I'll take the gun back if he tries to leave, they can't get far before--WHAT THE FUCK He knows Jedi are scary but he’s still not really used to just how over the top ridiculous they are He knows how to deal with Jedi in battle, not Whatever The Fuck These People Are Doing

Rex isn't even a Jedi, he's just so used to working with them. “Oh yes time for free-falling without a parachute again, same shit as always.”

Tia: I’m imagining Jango freaking out and Quinlan and Tholme being like. Concerned but mostly exasperated Clearly if they’re jumping off buildings it must be serious? But jfc they could’ve maybe communicated a bit more?

Leia: I want to finish my juice Tholme: Quin, stay with her while we go figure out what those two are doing. Quinlan: Wait what

Jango: Oh now he’s jumping off a building too??? Tholme: Sokari, you are not registered! You can't legally jump out windows yet! Jango: What the hell is going on? Is this normal?

We don’t necessarily know how often Ahsoka and Maul ran into each other after Mandalore. There was the later thing on Malachor, but other than that I'm just going with the idea that they ran into each other every year or two and just went for the eyes like feral cats

Ahsoka: I need to kick ass and you're coming with me. Rex: Yeah, okay. [several minutes later] Rex: Whose ass are we kicking?

Ahsoka and Rex

Neloms aren’t a SW fruit to the best of my knowledge, I just wanted to mess around with lemons/melons

Jango: you didn’t think any of this through, did you? Rex: you were there, you know we didn’t "When the Jedi says to jump out a window, I jump out a window."

Tholme’s real composed about stalking the ancient nigh-mythical enemy of his people, very “Life is already so goddamn weird”

This fic has been so heavy on the trauma but then I introduce Maul and suddenly it's the worst kind of comedy Nobody is competent, everyone's a little dumb, the bad guy is just grocery shopping

My propensity for banter has turned this into a six-person buddy cop comedy about Maul buying grapes They spend a significant amount to time ineffectually stalking Maul before Quin suggests the sensible option Quinlan just "You remember this is my literal job and specialty right"

Ahsoka sees Maul and all her brain cells go out the window except "Fight good" Usually she doesn’t need to worry about doing things legally. Maybe she needs to worry about someone seeing her do illegal things but she spent the past 15 yrs in a place where her existing was illegal

I feel like he’s also maybe kinda wanting to reassert that yes he is competent. Bc like. Ahsoka’s been kinda condescending this whole time and also can beat everyone up so. It's not his fault that he's actually the youngest person there, but.

Jango is finding this whole being friendly to Jedi thing a lot more overwhelming than he thought it would be. And overwhelming in different ways.

Maul usually signifies things getting worse and more horrifyingly tragic but he's just a dumb teen that they needed to arrest for his own good.

Quinlan: Look, I'm useful! Ahsoka: I've been through hell, wanna hear? Quinlan: NO. I DON'T. WHY.

Quinlan: I understand the concept of joking about your traumas, I do it sometimes myself! But sith hells that’s a lot of trauma.

Quinlan just wanted her to treat him as a Competent Individual, and here she is whipping out stories about Dying and Gods and the Force insists it's the truth and he just???? And apparently emo darksider over there is a Sith. And just, sure. Why not

A lot of people’s interactions with the time travelling disaster lineage is just

Tholme and Fett arguing and Ahsoka's just waiting for a moment to pop in with "Hey, when's the last time either of you worked with the other's culture before this mess? Yeah, that's what I thought."

Much like Leia and Ahsoka hurting each other earlier, and Tholme figuring out the de-aging, we ALSO have Fett’s confrontation with Ahsoka being something the characters just did, rather than something I planned.

FTR the only time I managed to trigger myself while writing this fic was the “your behavior isn’t actually acceptable and we’ve all been trying really hard to give you room to recover but you have to at least make an effort to not be a bitch”

Writing about people having PTSD and symptoms of such: Yay! Writing about people having PTSD and engaging in toxic behavior to cope: Shit Ahsoka had... basically my exact reaction. It's "remind yourself that you're in the wrong, that they have a point, and then be overly formal in the apology because fuck if you accidentally make them feel sorry for you when they're the injured party"

Quinlan: Can we be friends? I mean, you're an asshole, but you're really cool. Let's be friends. (He MIGHT be nursing a crush) (Neat mysterious girl who can beat him up.)

Also he realises she's probably nicer when not having a slow-motion breakdown He's like "Huh, you'll probably be less of an asshole once you've gotten therapy."

...also, she pretty and got Nice Biceps

I love writing a good mental breakdown

I was so close to including a "he tried to kill me" just early enough for Jango to wildly misinterpret as her thinking Quinlan tried to kill her. He'd have been very confused, considering Quinlan's the one that called them down in a panic and currently has Ahsoka having her massive breakdown in his lap But

Tia: I could see Jango interpreting it as idk, Quin resembling someone or for a moment acting like someone who tried to kill her and she had a flashback or something like that

There's absolutely room for a couple reasonable interpretations there And "trapped in a flashback about someone who tried to kill her" is absolutely what's happening! Just. You know. For a different reason. Jango probably wouldn’t assume Quin would hurt her, for one thing he seems to like her, for another even if he did he’s smart enough to pick a way that wouldn’t be so likely to get him caught

I had to step back and actually say “Also I'm just. Wow. I'm really just shoveling QPP Rex&Ahsoka at full speed”

Me, a few weeks ago, joking: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist Me, now, entirely seriously: Two halves of the same idiot black ops specialist

Me, belatedly: Oh, Ahsoka being joyfully mean to people was a form of mania she was unconsciously using to build a barrier between herself and her impending meltdown

She went from "just died" to "in charge of Rex and Leia" in like. Two minutes.

Confession: I've been delighting in the mental image of this whole Mess leading Jango to try to retake Mandalore, and Ahsoka loans him a saber for a 1v1 to get the darksaber.

“Can’t I just fight him barehanded? That’s how I did it on Galidraan.” "But the drama, Fett!"

Probably Rex has learned how to use a saber as well, because you never know when you have to borrow a weapon

I later changed my mind to Jango asking her to help, rather than her just sneak-teaching him, but it was funny.

Background nonsense to all this is Ahsoka and Rex, despite Rex being as force-sensitive as a lump of coal, having developed a process where she can extend her sensitivity to him mind-to-mind for weird symbiotic battle trance that scares everyone around them. It’s very similar to Battle meditation.

CONTEXT FOR LEIA BEING WORRIED ABOUT THOLME HIDING THINGS: Tholme is hiding the fact that the Council reached out and told him that the people he picked up might be connected to Ben and Luke, who showed up after the Depa thing but a solid week and change before Jango's ship makes it to the Temple. They asked that he not share that information to avoid getting anyone's hopes up in case the two situations aren't related. Ben and Luke haven't shared enough information for anyone to really be sure if the other three are connected Because the info Tholme has isn't quite the info Jango has, etc. And they can't just say Ben is a future Obi-Wan over comms

I just have a lot of feelings about people trying to do something right and just. Nobody's at fault! Not really! It's just complicated!

Tia: I like how when Ahsoka isn’t doing maladaptive trauma response stuff she’s very mature. And of course she’s had to be but it’s a good like, contrast. Where when she slows down to think about things she’s very sensible

Jango just spends most of this story lowkey wanting Ahsoka to Be His Friend but there's too much baggage that he's only metaphysically responsible for

Local aroace(?) has a squish

Ahsoka: He just wants to get on my good side because of Rex. Jango: I'm pretty sure you could kill an entire army without trying but you wouldn't because you have actual morals and stuff... and when I met you it was because you were killing yourself trying to keep (what appeared to be) children safe... you seem cool please be my friend.......

Ahsoka’s #1 weakness: mountains of trauma Ahsoka’s #2 weakness: she just doesn’t get why so many people think she’s cool and want her to be their (girl)friend

Jango, a 27yo massacre survivor who's killed Jedi masters with his bare hands: [gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly]

Ahsoka was raised in a religious meritocracy but developed all her opinions during a galactic war and then became a vigilante spy, Rex comes from a military cult, Leia is from an inherited monarchy that participates in democracy, Quinlan was originally from what appears to be a dynastic dictatorship, and IDK about Tholme other than that he is also from the religious meritocracy. And in legends Quinlan came to the religious meritocracy after his aunt sacrificed his parents to a vampire cult and then forced him to experience the psychometric echoes of that. There's just. A lot going on.

Leia at least has knowledge about structure and admin in theory that isn't based in either the military or populations under 10k

Jango: I want to be your friend. Ahsoka: Sounds fake.

I am unfairly fond of "Rex destroys a conversation by bringing up his own horrifying childhood and calling it a cult"

"Why does Sokari call you 'Rex'ika'?" "Because she's older than me." "...can I--?" "No."

Nickname privileges are extended ONLY to Ahsoka and older clones. There are no more older clones, so it's just Ahsoka.

Me joking about Star Wars AUs: Would you like a crackship? Me writing actual Star Wars fic: My favorite character type is apparently “too traumatized to have a relationship” so this is at least 90% gen.

I had to pull a scene opening at one point because Ahsoka's skill with not getting shot is actually much less useful than Tholme's clearance levels.

Now I really want a team-up of Ahsoka, Rex, and Jango where they do have to get in a dogfight of the "she flies, we shoot" variety and Fett just has to scream because the speeder thing to catch Maul was one thing, but this....

Ahsoka, before TCW: I know all the traffic rules but I'm not that great at flying! Ahsoka, after TCW: I'm great at flying but if you let me behind the wheel we are absolutely getting arrested.

She went from "knows the rules but doesn't have the skills" to "has the skills but primarily in the form of not getting shot" which! Is delightful! "Bet I can get us through that alley--" "DO NOT"

Jango and Ahsoka are both just very "Is this friendship? Is this camaraderie? My heart's been fried on platonic love by so many murders that I'm not sure anymore." "I've lost a lot of friends. I kind of forgot how to make those."

I have no idea if "hasn't been closer than Alderaan except that one trip to Chandrila" is canon-compliant but ehhhhhhhh It feels plausible enough?

Belatedly realized that I could just explain my optimal Rex&Ahsoka dynamic as just... drift compatible. It's vague enough on the specifics while still digging into the meat of what they mean to each other and how they work together. The terminology is already in existence. I can just use it.

Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Doesn't matter! They're drift compatible.

They are important to each other and that is what matters

I really like the Leia&Quinlan thing. He's just like "This small child needs a friend that isn't super depressed," and decided he's going to be her friend. I keep trying to toss in "Quinlan volunteers to 'baby'sit." She's not much older and she has a Baby Brain, it works out

There's a running bet as to whether Leia will leave the Order the second she turns thirteen, or if she'll let Sokari "train" her for a few years first. And... that’s how I came up with Leia Antilles, Senator of Serenno.

They'll be bullshitting Ben as her new master to "finish out the padawanship" since they can't tell everyone she's really in her thirties and he's conveniently there and already knows everything and was half her master anyway. Like Ben was planning on taking on Luke, but Luke is "six" and even he can't swing that as old enough to be a Padawan, and it's not like Sokari will take more than a handful of years to justify knighthood, sooooooooo

#Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Leia Organa #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #time travel #de aging #Phoenix Babbles #Uncle Ben and Little Luke #Auntie Soka and Little Leia #I need to excise the bits that are actually funny on their own

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bffsoobin · 3 years

Text

This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

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“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow.

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile.

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you.

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner.

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest.

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you.

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage.

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door.

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own.

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch.

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were?

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow.

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question.

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger.

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated.

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away.

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest.

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance.

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you.

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh.

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle.

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely.

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back.

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.”

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep.

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class.

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake.

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another.

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger.

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in.

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said.

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying.

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television.

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion.

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”.

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it.

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay.

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-”

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.”

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.”

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka.

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut.

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect.

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours.

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway.

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s.

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with.

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to.

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall. “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic.

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get.

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them.

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet.

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.”

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better.

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you.

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side.

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument.

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair.

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms.

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top.

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun.

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts, and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow.

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears.

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you.

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin.

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night.

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone.

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you.

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it.

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice.

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.”

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.”

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you.

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins.

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come.

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down.

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it.

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

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have I ever talked about my theory that Phantom Planet could have been a dream created via a Nocturne/Spectra alliance because

bruh

that entire episode is literally all of his worst fears and also his greatest wishes all rolled into one weird nonsense ball

Nocturne knew that trapping him in a regular dream didn't work because he could break out like last time, so he teams up with Spectra to create a dream that felt more real and as a result was harder to become lucid and break out from

it couldn't be perfect because he'd know something was wrong and break out, it couldn't be a total nightmare because nightmares have a tendency to wake people up

so they craft a dream that has good and bad, his fears and his desires, it's still kind of bizarre and absurd but in a regular dream way where it feels normal until after you wake up and realise 'what the actual fuck was that'

like all of it makes sense this way, Danny is finally pretty confidant and secure in his ghost hunting, everyone loves him

but now there's a new ghost team that constantly show him up and make him feel useless and humiliated

he turns it around and realises he has a chance to be normal again, he goes back into the portal and it works! yay! he's an ordinary human again, this is what he WANTED

and then it turns out that his best friend is treating him like shit because he got rid of his superpowers, because maybe that was all she cared about this whole time, maybe she never really liked him at all

and then Vlad goes full supervillain?! it's exactly what Danny was always afraid might happen, Vlad is in control, Vlad has the world in his hands, and Danny is powerless to stop him, he's probably had literal nightmares about this

Everything goes to shit and then they make a plan to fix it and when everything seems terrible OH WOW HE GETS HIS POWERS BACK!! and he convinces all the ghosts to help him! he's a hero again!! his friends like him again!! yay!!!

Danny's dad beats up Vlad, honestly this feels very cathartic for Danny I can absolutely imagine him genuinely dreaming up this scenario

He saves the day, gets kissed by the girl, his friend becomes the Mayor (?????) and Vlad is gone once and for all and he reveals his secret to everyone and everything is good and happy the end!

I can almost hear Spectra and Nocturne throwing these plot points at each other, Spectra gets her hit from the fear and misery, and Nocturne gets his from the joy and happiness, win win for everyone

the problem then becomes... what now? the story they created can't just end there, how long can they keep milking this? how long has it already been? they're going to run out of ideas, the dream world is going to start coming undone, things will get more and more nonsensical to the point where Danny can't ignore it anymore and he'll realise something is wrong

eventually Danny's gonna wake up

and what the fuck has happened to everyone while he was asleep?

#danny phantom #phantom planet #nocturne #spectra #once upon a time someone sent me an ask #requesting that I make sense of Phantom Planet #I have tried people #my god I have tried #but Mayor Tucker kills me every time #I just can't do it #this is ALL I HAVE #IT WAS ALL A DREAM #Lula's headcanons #Lula's AUs

209 notes · View notes

embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 25

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader CW: Language, implied sexual content, angst

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 25: Theories of Emotions

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

April 30th, 1976

“HAHAHA!” Y/N let out a scream of mirth. She laughed so hard that her knees buckled, meeting the soft grass beneath and wand slipped from her grasp. Her eyes swam with heavy tears, gasping for air as she rocked back and forth, clutching her ribs. Nonplussed and unamused, Regulus gawked at her.

“You wart. You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

It was a passing joke, that she would teach Regulus how to swim but he took it a little too literally. Now, swimming — or attempting to swim in the shallow area of the black lake, wearing bright yellow floaties to keep him afloat, Regulus kept making large splashes; his arms failed around, legs unsynchronized as he kicked to propel his body.

“When you said your swimming skills were horrific, I thought you were being humble!”

Regulus’s face turned a dark pink, but he wore a sheepish grin. He doggy paddled his way out of the lake, which made her laugh even harder and waddled on land. Y/N got up, threw him a towel and ruffled his hair.

Regulus had been looking a little more lively lately, and Y/N was just happy that he seemed to be doing better.

“We can work with this!”

Regulus tossed her a dirty look, “Promise me you’ll never become a professor.”

“Whatever you say, Reggie —” “Hey!”

Once dry, they walked back to the castle and broke off into separate directions. Y/N promised to meet Remus a little earlier than usual at the library, but before then, she stepped into McGonagall’s office and sat in the chair opposite to her. Career meetings have been going on and her scheduled meeting had been weighing her down.

“Hello, Ms. L/N. Biscuit?” McGonagall gestured to the metal tin in front of her.

“No, it’s okay.” “Don’t be absurd.” Y/N was too afraid to reject again, so she took one.

“So, how are you feeling about the upcoming exams?”

“Nervous. Anxious.”

“I can imagine. You did struggle with the change of curriculum at the beginning of the year, but you’ve consistently improved.” McGonagall flipped through her stack of notes; her little glasses perched up high. She cleared her throat again. “You've always excelled in Defense, Potions and Transfigurations — and I’ve talked to Flitwick, he’s said you’ve improved drastically. Although, you struggle with History of Magic.”

Y/N sighed and nodded. Professor Binns wasn’t exactly helpful. “It’s never been a… strong suit of mine.”

“We all have our strengths and weaknesses, no? It doesn’t concern me much. I’ve heard you and Mr. Lupin are quite amicable — you two do study with each other..?”

“Yes, I attend his study sessions.”

McGonagall flashed her a rare smile and Y/N felt immense pride fill her. McGonagall smiling was almost as rare as getting a letter from her mother. “I can proudly say I have faith in you.”

“Thank you.”

“Then, I can assume you’ve given thought to what career you want to pursue?”

This was what she was dreading; thinking about her future. She’d give thought, loads, but it felt like there was such little time to decide the rest of her life. McGonagall waited for an answer as she watched Y/N struggle. “Do you have plans of continuing your education in America or..?”

She tried to make eye contact and her palms suddenly became damp. “I’m having doubts about working in the wizarding world.”

McGonagall pursed her lips.

“It’s not like I don’t want to — I do!” She explained, “I’ve thought about being a Healer. My mother is a Muggle Doctor.”

Professor McGonagall soaked in her words. “Are you struggling because you’re not sure if you want to become one, or do you feel pressured by your mother’s decisions?”

She sat straighter at this. “Er — Yes? No? That’s not my problem — honestly, I think my mom would discourage me from becoming one. It’s just… I mean…” She looked back to McGonagall who nodded encouragingly. “It’s just… the war… I’m not sure if I can…”

“What do you mean?” Her voice shifted, becoming brittle and it took Y/N by surprise. McGonagall wore a look so unlike her. Any trace of her firm, yet strict-kindness facade vanished. It was replaced with deep exhaustion.

“I’m a New — Muggleborn… most people — wizards — aren’t kind to someone like me… and I heard that they’re training them to be medics. I would be in the midst.”

McGonagall took off her spectacles, unveiling her red-rimmed eyes like she’d lost sleep or been crying. She sighed, so sorrowful and heavy that it even affected Y/N. “I won’t lie and say you’re wrong…” Her palms rubbed her tired eyes. “But you can’t let them win. Don’t let go of your dreams to submit to them. I won’t let my students diminish their talents and dreams.”

The professor took a long pause. “I know several institutes that transfer magical credits into Muggle credits if you’re seriously considering disconnecting from Magic. But, I urge you, think about it.”

She nodded gravely. There was already a considerable disconnect from her and the Muggle world that going back seemed impossible, but it was probably the safest.

McGonagall broke the silence, reshuffling her papers.

They continued to talk for some time, jumping from courses and mark requirements for NEWT level courses and Y/N left with a stack of papers and mock schedules. With a heavy heart, she headed towards the library. It seemed like every week when exams neared, the earlier group sessions would be.

Y/N flopped down on one of the couches near the back and let her head loll to rest on the cushion. She wasn’t alone for long before she felt the couch dip beside her. She peeked open one eye; Sirius in all his glory was there. In one hand, he held the Marauder’s map before she snatched it.

“Now you’re stalking me?”

His head made a funny gesture. “You know about the map?”

“... James.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I haven’t told anyone. I promise!”

He beamed and when Y/N flipped through the papers McGonagall gave her, she felt Sirius place a hand on her thigh, slowly inching up.

Snogging — shagging — it made life a lot more fun. Unresolved anger between each other? Broom closet with heated words between kisses. One of them was stressed? Take it out on the other. Wanted fun? Sneak up to Sirius’s dorm. Sirius being a fucking asshole? Kiss him and he’ll shut up (although, Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that he knew this and was purposely being a dick to get a reaction now). Their anger was slowly dwindling to extinction. Moreover, rather than brooding exchanges across the hall, there were one or two sly smiles.

But, they had four unspoken rules they followed:

Never talk about whatever they were,

Because surely, neither meant anything to the other,

If they were with anyone else, they would have to tell the other,

And most importantly; never, ever, tell anyone.

“You look ravishing.”

Y/N felt her face heat. “I wish I could say the same about you."

Sirius smirked, his fingers trailing dangerously close to her inner thigh.

“Here?" She hissed, "What are you doing?"

“The thrill is the fun part.” He pressed a few sneaky kisses to her jaw, “You spend too much time here with Lupin and not enough time with me.”

“Jealous?” Y/N’s brow rose and she turned to look at him. “Of Lupin?”

Sirius didn’t answer but momentarily pulls away. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

She rolled her eyes. “Slag.”

“You know French?”

“Second official language in Canada.”

Sirius nodded. “Well, I’m a slag… for you.” She teasingly smacked him on the head with her papers.

“I can’t stand you sometimes.”

“Feelings mutual, princess.”

Y/N hid a smirk, resuming to ignore him as she flicked through the stack of papers. There was a dreadful feeling settled deep within. Everything was moving too fast and she felt like she had nowhere to turn. Overwhelmed, she pressed herself into the couch further and groaned out, “Fuck —”

“Maybe we can do that later?”

An involuntary chuckle slipped out which had Sirius grinningly like a fool. There it was again, that Sirius Black grin… it made her heart do wild flips. “You’re a literal dog.”

“And aren’t you a lovely witch?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, flipped him off and went to tug on Sirius’ hair to pull him off before a loud moan ripped from him and echoed throughout the library. Y/N’s eyes grew large, mouth agape. Sirius was unapologetic though; his smile grew bigger.

“I promise I’ll let you slap me, lightly,” he winked and wiggled his brows. “Or hard, whatever you want.”

She shook her head and shoved her things into her bag and pulled Sirius to his feet before he led her up to his dorm. His name spewed from her lips like a prayer and consumed every thought.

At some point, they flopped down on Sirius’ bed as they breathed in deeply, catching their breaths. Y/N was filled with content and went to turn on her side, facing Sirius and cuddling up to him. Gently and mindlessly, pressed a series of light kisses to his forehead while massaging his scalp.

The sun made one last feeble appearance before being engulfed by dusk. Rays of golden glow spilled in as she embraced him. Her hands ran feather-light touches up and down his bare skin and Sirius’ head hugged close to her chest. The soft touches were filled with nothing but her (not so) hidden affection and calm peace. She didn’t think much about her actions.

Something she’d come to learn during their stolen kisses and nights under white satin sheets; Sirius was beautiful in a wild, carefree way. He was wild like how wind sweeps through the branches of willows trees and meadows on a cool summer's eve or carefree in the way waves from the ocean crashed upon rocks. He was hauntingly beautiful in a turbulent, pliable way — wild in not just beauty, but essence too.

And it hurt. What were they doing?

Everything moved so quickly. Not even a month ago, she was supposed to be hating Sirius — now their limbs were tangled together. The ever-present war crept up during the worst times and she and Lily hadn’t spoken since their fight.

Lily…

Y/N tried to be indirect, catching her eyes during class or in their dorms, but nothing. She would always re-direct her gaze. It’d grown awkward in the dorms; Marlene and Dorcas caught in the crossfire.

She really missed Lily. Their late night talks, silly games, Lily keeping her in line and Y/N getting Lily to let loose; everything and more.

Usually, once she and Sirius were done with each other, they would leave, peel off each other but Y/N was so tired of — well, everything.

Trapped in thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Sirius’ body go rigid until his body began to tremble. Sirius made a small strangled noise that she originally mistaken as a laugh or snore until she felt wet droplets fall on her skin.

Y/N pulled back to find Sirius silently crying. She watched him, thinking that she should comfort him but was rooted in place and eyes drifted to the door, thinking of leaving. It felt like an intrusion being there with him and comforting someone was not on her list.

“Er — Sirius?” She whispered, alarmed. Her smile fading and his breath hitched. She awkwardly patted him before going to stiffly stroke his arm, but it only seemed to make him cry harder. She quickly ripped back her hand and put distance between them. Her mind raced a mile a minute as she listened to him. “Sirius? Hey — what’s wrong?”

“Get out.”

She froze and looked back at him. “Do you want me to get someone —”

“GET OUT!” He yelled. It scared her so much that her body jolted and Sirius hid his face with his hands. Sirius crying and screaming at her unprovoked made her panic and recline. He stayed quiet after that, rolling over, pulling his blankets above his head.

She chewed on her bottom lip so hard that a metallic taste flooded her mouth. In a rush, she quickly threw on her clothes and grabbed her bag. She shuffled towards the door but then looked back at Sirius; he looked so small and his cries made her fill with immense sadness. She debated; should she leave and respect his wishes? But the way he was crying, so hysterically and abruptly — she worried he might’ve done something impulsive and stupid.

She decided on leaving and sat right outside the door just in case. She listened to his sobs that managed to seep through the walls.

She waited there for a very, very long time that she almost fell asleep before she heard his muffled voice and swore he said her name.

She knocked twice, “You okay?”

There was a knock back.

“Was I that bad of a kisser?” She tried to joke after some time. Luckily, she heard Sirius choke out a heartbroken giggle. This time there were two knocks. A no, she assumed.

Silence crept back in and Y/N leaned against the door and looked around the hall. Nobody else was there, but just in case put up a spell for any prying ears.

“Do you still want me to leave?” She asked. “Just say the word.” Communication with him felt weird.

Sirius remained quiet but then she heard him hop off his bed, feet coming closer to the door. She then felt a small nudge against the door as Sirius slid down to sit on the opposite side.

“You can talk to me,” Y/N said nervously, not wanting him to blow up again. “Did I do something? I promise I didn’t mean it.” She remained still, listening to his quiet sniffling.

Two knocks.

“Er — I won't push and you don’t need to tell me but — um, I promise I won’t tell a soul. Not even the other Marauders. It’ll be our little secret.”

It takes a long time before Sirius eventually stops sniffling and she listens to his uneven breaths; she's extremely uncomfortable and baffled. He tries to speak several times but ends up cutting himself off.

A sharp exhale came from him, shallow and irregular. In a small, weak voice that made it feel like an invisible weight pressed against her chest, he finally spoke.

“Je suis —” Sirius started before switching to another foreign language. Y/N was able to pick up on a few words: it was Italian.

“Nessuno dei miei amanti mi ha toccato così senza volere qualcosa in cambio. Non mi fai sentire usato e ne ho he terrorizza.”

More silence ensues; Y/N thinks that he might’ve walked away until he speaks again.

“Il modo in cui mi fai sentire mi spaventa e non riesco a gestirlo.” Sirius stops, taking a shaky inhale, “Non sono ancora pronto.”

Then, she hears the door click open and the knob turns. She backs away until it opens and her head peaks in. Sirius is staring at the ground to avoid her eyes, hair acting as a curtain to hide his face. She shuffles in, Sirius leans against the door and shuts it. Y/N shifts to sit in front of him. He’s dressed again, but the sleeves of his shirt were damp with tears.

She inches closer to place an encouraging hand on his but stops, remembering earlier. “Can I touch you?”

He closes his eyes — like the question was a mental battle before he nods. Y/N reaches up, pushing back the strands of fallen hair, revealing his red, puffy eyes. Her thumb strokes over his skin tenderly — intimately, but it causes a broken whimper to escape him, but leans into the touch.

“Whatever you said,” Y/N mutters, “Thank you for telling me.”

Pink floods his cheeks and he hesitantly reaches out, his arms going around her waist to pull her into a hug.

“Mi sbagliavo su di te.” He mumbled to her shoulder and Y/N was left to think.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

They both missed the study group and dinner. Eventually, Sirius fell asleep and Y/N snuck out of his room before the Marauders came in. She didn’t want to go back to her dorm to face Lily and was extremely hungry. She then thought back to Sirius before going to grab food for both of them.

She slipped out into the night, being accompanied by Nearly Headless Nick who had a worried expression on his face. Y/N didn’t think much of it, if anything, she was rather annoyed; after the day she’s had, she wanted to be alone for a while.

The house-elves helped to line a large platter of food before she thanked them, making her way out of the kitchens. Nearly Headless Nick floated close, urging her to speed up.

“Sir Nick, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you following me?”

“Making sure you get back to Gryffindor’s tower safely.”

That caught her attention. “Safely?”

Sir Nick’s eyes widened. “My poor girl, haven’t you heard?”

She and Sirius missed a lot when they were together. Nobody was quite sure what happened to Mary; she wouldn’t speak a word of it, not even to Marlene. All anyone knew was that Mary was a victim of Dark Magic and was found in a torpid state by Hufflepuff’s Head Girl; used as an initiation for Mulciber for the Death Eater ranks.

Word ran wild around the school of Mulciber’s expulsion and everyone was left on edge. Rumours went around of the Imperius curse. Mary was fine physically, Sir Nick told her, but mentally…

Y/N’s blood ran cold while Nick had a sorrowful smile of reassurance. “You’ll be fine — your friend will be fine but you need to come with me, now.”

But out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen a shadowy figure peek out from the shadows and Y/N drew her wand, Sir Nick floating right behind her.

“Lumos!”

There, tall and unwavering was Snape.

He marched up to her, but Y/N began to quickly walk away until he reached out and yanked her back by her shoulder with bone-crushing strength.

“Lay your hands off!” Sir Nick cut in.

Snape ignored him, “What did you say to her?!” His cheeks were tear-stained; eyes glowing with something dangerous and Y/N wanted to run. “She won’t even talk to me!”

Lily must’ve finally confronted him.

“Let go of her! Let go, let go!” Sir Nick chanted, wisping through Snape until he stumbled back.

Y/N turned around, and heard Snape mutter darkly, running off. A cold wave embalmed her as every hair on the back of her neck rose.

“Come with me now,” the ghost said. She didn’t need to be told twice.

The moment she stepped inside the common room, Y/N felt every bone in her body relax. Her footsteps were quiet and rounded into the main area when she saw everyone there. James and Lily were pacing back and forth. James tugged down on his hair; Peter was by Dorcas and Remus, Marlene looked deathly pale, the two Head Boy and Girls were there. Sirius sat in a chair, his arms cradling Toulouse as he nervously swallowed, face imprinted with distress.

Remus was the first to notice, his head snapping up once he sensed her presence. He stood, “Y/N!”

Everyone’s head snapped towards her. James shouted, running up to her. “Are you okay?” His hands went straight to her face and handled her like a doll. “My Godric! We were so worried — we were about to go and search for you!”

Sirius abruptly stood up; chair screeching, eyes wide but then quickly took a seat as everyone tossed him an odd look.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just missed dinner and wanted to get food!”

James tackled her into a hug and she almost dropped the plate of food.

Her eyes then travelled to Lily, who looked like she was on the verge of tears. Lily made a move to go up to her, hand slightly outstretched before stopping and quickly ran up the staircase. Everyone noticed but didn’t mention it. Then the Head Girl and Boy exited wordlessly.

Lily leaving fucking hurt.

“I heard from Headless Nick, how’s Mary?”

There was a collective sigh. Marlene got up, going over to her and pulled her into another hug and pulled back. Her usually smooth skin was now littered with furrowed lines. “She’s with Madam Pomfrey, I’m going to sneak into her room now. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Should any of us come?” Peter interjected.

“No… I don’t think she even wants me there. It might overwhelm her.”

“Be safe,” Dorcas said, her eyes wide with worry. And then she left.

Y/N made her way to sit down, James practically glued himself onto her as she plopped down next to Sirius, but still far enough to avoid suspicion.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Remus said. “When you didn’t show up for the study sessions and dinner we all… thought the worst.”

“Sorry…” Then her eyes wandered to the staircase, thinking about Lily again.

Dorcas stirred in her seat. “Don’t take Lily’s absence as offence. She was really worried.”

“She suggested we go out to find you,” Peter said. “Also had a nasty row with Snape in the courtyards too. Everyone saw it. What a bell end, Snape.”

“I think, for now, we all ought to start pairing up,” came Remus. A solemn noise of agreement went around. Nobody talked for a while and Y/N placed the large metal tray of food on the table, no longer having the appetite to eat.

James was the one who broke the silence. “Where were you?”

Sirius stopped petting Toulouse and listened carefully. “I was busy talking to McGonagall. Something about careers. Then I just got tired and ended up sleeping through dinner.”

It technically wasn’t a lie and everyone seemed to believe it.

The air was tense and James wouldn’t stop fretting. Ultimately, Dorcas began to talk to Peter, Remus had a pensive look before going to crack open his book but seemed tense. It was only until she felt Sirius nudge her foot. She shifted her head gradually to examine him.

‘You okay?’ He mouthed, searching for any kind of lie or injury. His eyes were still puffy but overall looked better.

She shook her head. ‘I’m okay, you?’

A nod.

His reaction earlier had new questions arising but she saved that for another time. Her eyes darted to the plate of food and then to him. ‘It’s for you.’

But then she peered up and saw Remus watching their interaction. He seemed to be deep in thought and took a large inhale. She swore his eyes flashed a golden glow. Worried he was catching on, she initiated a conversation. “Moony?” She teased.

When he wore a judicious look during times like these, Y/N is reminded just how smart and intimidating he could be. It was like he knew everything before anyone else did.

“Sorry — thinking ‘bout something. Anyway —”

While occupied with Remus, Sirius glanced shyly over to Y/N and bent over to take a treacle tart, biting into it. The gesture was so heartbreakingly touching to him; so unexpected coming from her.

Sirius was left in a transitional phase. A lot of the inner turmoil he held — or thought he had — was released today and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Whatever irritation he held towards Y/N vanished. He looked forward to their bickering, shy forehead kisses and the feeling he got that was the opposite of dread or disgust after being with someone.

It felt nice, doing something he truly wanted for once — not engaging in intimacy out of coping rather than genuine interest.

But then, it unleashed everything else he wasn’t ready to deal with yet. His reaction to touch earlier had set off a bomb buried so deep within him but Merlin — he hadn’t realized it would’ve affected him that much.

Truth be told, now all he wanted to do was ruin her to bits and pieces but he was getting too ahead of himself — becoming attached too quickly and he already felt himself disconnecting. The only thought that lapsed in his mind was: run, boy, run.

It echoed through his head again, love wasn’t — isn’t a magic potion, far from it. So what was he doing? He needed to make a decision; continue doing whatever they were doing, work on himself or run.

Running away is easy. It’s always been easy. But he was tired of it.

And after the intense fear that paralyzed him, that made his mouth go dry and heart pound in his chest when nobody could find her when she left — after knowing what happened to Mary; it almost caused Sirius to spike and go into a panic attack.

Sirius wasn’t afraid of many things. After all, he’d already gone through so much that there wasn’t much to be afraid of anymore. But if he had to choose, and it was at the forefront of his mind, it would’ve been her.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Y/N headed to bed early as Dorcas waited for Marlene to return to the common room. It left her alone with Lily.

It was already dark, aside from a small lit candle that seeped through the cracks of Lily’s bed drapes. She did her evening routine before slipping into bed, listening to Lily faintly scribble in her diary. Only when Y/N felt herself relax, she heard Lily get out of bed and drew closer to her.

“Y/N?” Her voice was apprehensive. Y/N’s back faced her. She pretended to be asleep. “Psst… hey?”

Lily sighed before she sat down on the edge of the bed and didn't move for a long time. When they heard footsteps coming to their dorm was when she rose and uttered, “I’m glad you’re alright…Gave me a bit of a fright there… I’m sorry.”

Lily rushed back to her bed, drawing her curtains together when Marlene and Dorcas entered.

Y/N finally exhaled heavily, balling her blankets tightly. A thousand words, questions and thoughts were left unsaid. But, when she knew everyone finally was asleep, she uttered out an inaudible, I’m sorry too, and shut her eyes.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Translations

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Do you want to sleep with me?

Nessuno dei miei amanti mi ha toccato così senza volere qualcosa in cambio. Non mi fai sentire usato e ne ho he terrorizza.

None of my lovers have touched me like this without wanting something in return. You don't make me feel used and I'm terrified (of it).

Il modo in cui mi fai sentire mi spaventa e non riesco a gestirlo. / Non sono ancora pronto.

The way you make me feel scares me and I can't handle it. / I'm not ready yet.

Mi sbagliavo su di te.

I was wrong about you.

108 notes · View notes

savagetrickster · 4 years

Text

Caffeine Rush (NSFW) | BNHA

anime | character: bnha | bakugou katsuki

word count: 17,845

Themes/warnings: 18+, aged-up, praise kink, blowjob, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, swearing, mild degradation, unprotected sex

The office building that made Ground Zero agency was quiet and still. The appointed office hours were over hours back.

Most staff had already retired for the day. Among the black, lifeless screens on the desks, only hers stayed running bright and full of words on its screen.

The cursor behind the word on the tail of her report was left to blink repetitively as she dragged her feet to the pantry.

Her head felt numb with mental exhaustion as the weight of the nearing deadline reared its ugly head once again as the dreading thought of it reminded her again. The uneasiness and brooding anxiety that it brought about was no help in elevating the stress on her.

Between her heavy thoughts about the report taunting her from her computer screen, her legs brought her to the coffee machine.

Her hand fell into a mechanical motion as it placed her mug on the dispenser and lifted to press the Espresso option on the LED screen.

This was her third cup...no, fourth. Wait, or was it the sixth?

It didn’t even matter anymore.

She just needed to get through one more night of slaving away to finish it, and she would be fucking done with this long-due paperwork.

It was stupid of her to procrastinate so much; now she had to pay the price.

In the lonely silence of the pantry, her weary eyes watched the dark coffee dribble over her mug, sending one central ripple across the smooth steaming surface.

Her hand returned its grip to the handle once again, tugging it out of the dispensing holder.

A yawn left her as she turned away and instantly greeted with a startled-

“Fuck-” As the coffee in her mug was sent swishing and splashing over its rim as her hand collided into something solid with a curt jerk.

The scalding sting over her hand made her hiss. Her eyes flew up with irritation, her mouth opening to yell.

And she froze.

Then her eyes widened, horror seeping in when she realized she was staring at the angry face of...Ground Zero himself.

Her eyes followed his gaze down to the coffee dripping off his pants.

Well, shit.

A hasty jumble of ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry’ tumbled out of her mouth as she placed down her mug on the countertop behind while her other hand tore a handful of paper towels.

Her knees met as she quickly lowered herself before his stained pants.

Maybe it was the nights spent over the stupid report.

Maybe it was the coffee.

It seemed that all common sense or whatever would have kept her from grabbing the front of her boss’s pants had died along with her overworked brain cells.

Her apologies continued stumbling out of her mouth as her hands worked in a hasty pace on his pants, her eyes focused on wiping away the spillage.

Too caught up in her guilt and her panic to realize anything else-

The warmth in her hands was trying to pull away.

The stuttering mess of curses uttered above her.

The stiffening within her grasp.

He just returned from a long day outside to take some stuff and his craving for the aromatic bitterness of coffee was what brought himself straight to the pantry the moment he stepped through the main door.

It was absurd to think he would end up being groped by a female employee in the pantry. The brewing words he wanted to yell at the woman with fell at every brisk rub down him.

Bakugou could feel the resisting voice bubbling in his chest growing quieter at every stroke.

Fuck. While this was bizarre and all to him, the jolting thrill running up his length sent a delicious chill up his spine.

A particular thrill of friction brushing over the protruding vein on his clothed erection shook his next breath out of him.

Loud and harsh enough to draw her eyes up to him, her hands pausing.

And was met with a flustered yet irritated face glaring back at her.

Her eyes drifted back to her hands blankly at where her fingers were wrapped around - something was thick and kinda...lengthy.

In her hands was Ground Zero’s...oh wow.

She always had dirty thoughts about her boss but damn, this was not what she had ever imagined herself doing.

Along with muscular, lean built and tall stature that could give models a run for their money, the bulge accentuated in his flattering, somewhat fitting pants was a big distraction for the females in his agency...or maybe it was just her.

Exactly as she had imagined, he was indeed...big in her hands.

And it was...

Her fingers tightened slightly. ...hard.

A responsive jolt accompanied by a hissing curse made her jump, slapping her with a cold splash of realization.

Shit.

That she was on her knees in her company’s pantry, caressing her boss’s cock.

Oh shit.

Her hands flinched away from him as if scalded and her legs scrambled to get her away. A bright, red blush colored the flustered horror on her face.

She was so fired.

So so FIRED-

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Her eyes raised to find him looking down at her with a towering glare brimming with impatience and frustration.

“You think you can just get away like this?”

“I’m so sorr-”

“Weren’t you just fondling with my cock?” His usual husky voice sounded rougher and breathless. “Who the fuck said you can stop?”

She stared, stunned. Wondering whether her ears were failing her as well.

But clearly they weren’t because she could hear an intriguing strain in his voice.

The struggle in his gruffness and the red eyes prodding into her sent a needy ache within her, feeling a gush of her arousal soaked through her panties underneath her dress.

A slip of her eyes from his face, a shiver ran through her at how his nipples on his well-defined pecs were poking through the tight clad of his hero costume on him.

Her eyes slipped even lower.

The huge tent prodding through his pants made her eyes waver and her breath quivered through her lips.

Was she high from all the coffee? Or had she officially gone nuts?

She wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t even want to care.

The man of her dreams himself was offering himself to her.

She could feel her body trembling with a strong ache. The long, yearning ache that had followed her through the years and pushed her to join his agency.

An ache to be filled by Bakugou Katsuki, the world’s second strongest man.

An ache to feel him shove his cock into her.

An ache to make her wild thoughts about him come true.

She felt the last straining thread holding herself back snap as her hands flew forward, immediately working on the buckle around his waist.

Her lips were stretched over his leaking cock as soon as it sprang free from his pants.

The pre-cum spilling over from his swollen tip smeared over her lips as she moaned giddily at the melting heat in her mouth.

The hand tugging harshly onto her hair dug even more pressure into her scalp as a throaty groan joined her muffled moan.

“Ye-Yeah, show me what you’ve got.”

A grin stretched across Bakugou’s face as he pressed himself harder into her, feeling his cock sink deeper into her warm cavern, her moans spiked with a choke.

“And I’ll give you a good one later.”

His hand left her head to join the other clutching onto the edge of the countertop behind her.

Her walls clenched to his words just as her eyes watered at the pressure pressed to the back of her throat.

Fuck, he was as thick as she had guessed. But she had never imagined he would be so...veiny.

She drew back and relished in the heavy pants and moans from above, tracing her tongue daringly across the trails of veins running along with his lengthy girth.

Her hands raised to join her mouth, adding on with tightening squeeze as she lingered at the tip of his bulging cock.

A slow, elaborate lick across the weeping slit on it, her throat swallowed with a deep gulp.

Almost instantly, a dragging grunt rumbled through his body.

Humming in delight at what she heard, her cheeks hollowed as she started to suckle heatedly over the hot running tip.

Within the firm grip of her hand, she could feel his thick girth filling up, growing thicker as she welcomed more pre-cum into her.

The husky moans from above light a smirking glint in her eyes as she reached a hand up his length and clamped over his balls with a teasing curt squeeze.

Immediately, the husky moans from him hitched with a broken grunt.

Her walls clenched tight at how erotic that sounded.

“Y-You take my cock so well. Do you think you deserve to be fucked by me?”

The small collected pool of her own arousal on the floor beneath her heated cunt was rained upon by another surge as her walls convulsed with need.

“No, I-I don’t,” His stiff cock popped free from her mouth, a slick thread of her saliva remained connected to its flushed, bloated tip.

“Bu-But Bakugou-sama, you deserve to be inside me.” Her eyes were fogged with hazy heat and her cheeks red.

Bakugou…

His cock spluttered another rush of pre-cum.

...-sama?

“I-I’ve been ready for you ever since I laid my eyes on you.”

His red eyes shook with his expelling breath as a carnal jolt rippled through him, his cock tightening even more with the growing pressure within.

“Strip completely,” His eyes blazed as he spat his order, “Get on that table and show me how much your pussy wants me then.”

Clothes were strewn on the floor in an irregular trail to the broad table sitting in the center of the pantry.

Propped by her arms behind her, her legs shook with effort to keep her thighs wide apart for him.

Her heated cunt wouldn’t stop leaking, trickles of her slick fluid continued to join the collected puddle on the table below as the man took his time to approach.

The way his hungry gaze sat fix on her weeping folds stretched wide enough for the chills from the air conditioner to tickle her.

Red eyes took in the sight before him greedily.

The clench of her eyebrows on her forehead

The way she bit down on her lower lips.

Her face flushed red and her breasts rising and falling with harsh pants.

And the way her raised thighs were spread wide apart for him.

“Look at you,” Bakugou stopped before her, his lips forming a smug smirk at the sight for the glistening trickles slipping out of her, “...Already dirtying my property with your slutty pussy.”

Her breathy pants spiked with a moan as he pressed two fingers to her clit, pinching it briefly before moving down.

A gathering of her warm arousal coated his fingers as they ran lightly over her-

“I haven’t even done shit yet,” -and paused to pry her sopping folds apart. “But fuck, you’re already so wet.”

A gasping whimper puffed out of her as his fingers pushed through the thick coat and into her aching walls.

The wet, lewd squelch dragged through the air as her wispy whimper rose to a drawn moan at the delicious thrill his fingers made as they bulldozed their way into her sensitive walls.

She found it hard not to stare at the way his erected, weeping cock prodded against his toned stomach. Wondering with a wistful sigh about how it would feel inside her.

“Ba-Bakugou-sama, I-” A rough shove of one more finger into her tore a startled cry through her words.

“You what?” His lips widened with a grin as his fingers curled and stretched teasingly within her pulsing walls.

“P-Please…”

Her eyes raised to his, staring back helplessly at the amusement in his dancing red eyes, trying not to give in to her aching desire to return to his cock. “...fuck me.”

Her struggle against her straying eyes was not missed.

“Aren’t my fingers already doing that?” His knowing grin widened. “Oh you mean...like this?”

His calloused fingers inside her suddenly sped, thrusting through her walls vigorously.

Gasping moans rode through her throat as fast, furious friction of the loud, lewd squelches accompanying his pumping fingers rubbed the heated air between them frantically.

The building pleasure within her was making her dizzy with euphoric fever as her moans rose.

Uncontrollable hot tears escaped her dazed, wavering eyes as she watched his fingers work heatedly between her wide opened thighs.

Her walls were convulsing, resonating with her urgent need to release the pent-up pressure inside her.

Not even coffee could keep her this awake.

The jolting thrills were shaking her overstimulated body. “Baku-Bakugou-sama, I’m-”

His fingers were ripped out of her before she could finish. A startled moan elicited out of her at the same time.

The slick threads connecting his fingers to her spilling cunt quivered as Bakugou brought his hand up, his eyes admiring the result of his work with a satisfied glint.

He brought his heavily coated fingers before her panting, parted lips with a smug, intense gaze.

“Clean up this shit.” His gruff voice was commanding and blunt.

Her lips immediately latched onto his fingers, hastily lapping up her own fluid. It tasted weird on her tongue, but she didn’t bother too much.

She could feel her body shivering with impatience and frustration. One big gulp down her throat, her eyes raised to him with anticipation, in time to see his hand run over his cock.

“I think it’s time I give you your little reward.” His eyes met hers. “Be grateful that I, Ground Zero, even considered putting my cock inside you.”

“Tha-Thank you, Ground Zero.” Her eyes followed his hand as it slid over his swollen tip.

“Bakugou-sama suits your mouth better. Eyes up here,” The edge in his voice hardened. Her eyes raised to his obediently. “Thank me properly if you want me inside now.”

A thrill jolted through her cunt.

Fuck, in her head where her imagination ran wild, he was always the dominating one but witnessing it with her own eyes...Shit, she never knew he could be any more sexier.

“Thank you, Bakugou-sama.” A sultry purr reverberated in her chest as she sighed giddly at the sinful sight the way his leaking arousal was giving away his own needs for her cunt.

Today was probably by far the best day of her life. The sex gods if there were any, were smiling down on her.

“Now, get down onto the floor on all fours.”

Her slick arousal cascaded down her thighs the moment she eagerly set herself on her knees. Her softly arched back accentuated her ass as her excitement ran through her throbbing walls.

A shuddering chill ran up her spine at the light brush of his cock across her protruding ass as Bakugou planted himself behind her.

His eyes narrowed at the gap between her thighs.

“Is this how you show me your gratitude?” His hand landed on her butt cheek with a harsh slap. She responded to him with a sharp cry as her body jolted.

“Open wider.” A sharp sting rang across her other butt cheeks as another slap landed.

“...And I’ll fuck you like the little slut you are.”

His words sounded so...hot to her ears.

With a shivering whimper, she obeyed, lowering herself with forearms propped shakily on the floor beneath her.

Her butt cheeks spread open as she pushed her thighs apart for him.

His breath shuddered out of him as he watched the quivering threads of her slick fluid stretched, following the widening space between her sopping folds she made from parting herself.

All these...

A strangled groan escaped him.

...for him.

The tight pressure strained in his bulging girth even more. Fuck, he couldn’t wait anymore.

His hand slipped up her arched back and wrapped itself tightly around the end of her long hair, her back arching even more to his firm grip on her, as his other slathered his needy cock over her dripping slit.

The delirious whimper shuddering down to her cunt fanned his carnal ache to shove himself in.

The tightening grip on her hair was her only warning before his hip shot forward. His cock plunged through the pouring flow of her arousal and buried completely into her in one powerful rut.

The bright flash of pleasure searing through the sudden big, wide stretch of her cervix forced a choked moan out of her, hot tears spilling out of her widened eyes at how thick he was.

“Fu-Fuck,” A trembling grunt shook out of his lips as he drew himself back through the walls clamped in a vice-like grip around him. “What a tight little bitch you are-”

His cock rammed in one bruising thrust, shoving an instantaneous sharp cry out of her mouth.

More continued to tumble out of her as he continued to hammer into her, his hand tugging harshly onto her hair like it was his rein.

The other hand in a clutching grip on her hip as his cock drove fiercely through her pulsing walls.

Helpless sobbing moans forced out her mouth at every rough snap of his hip. Her eyes nearly rolled back every time he pounded into her.

A sly grin stretched his panting lips as he thrusted mercilessly into her

“Too much for you?” A slap on her ass drew another cry from her.

Somewhere between his powerful ruts, his hand had left her hair and joined the other on her hip in a harsh grip.

His intense gaze glared into her as she staggered weakly on her shaky arms with giddy whimpers and groans. She was a slobbering mess beneath his towering stance.

“Keep up with me.” A growl ripped through his words as he gave her another slap on her ass.

In the smothering heat ramming between her clenching walls, she was beginning to see white flashes behind her fluttering blinks.

Blazing brighter and brighter as she felt his rushing cock push her fast to the edge. She couldn’t anymore.

It was too...

“Ba-Bakugou-sama!”

A tattered shriek broke her voice as a starburst of electrifying ripple shattered through her shaking body, her orgasm instantly flooding his relentless cock with her rich arousal.

The hiss sifted through his gritted teeth as Bakugou bit back a groan at the hot burst and her rapidly gripping walls that were engulfing him greedily.

Fuck. This was it for him too.

Along with the squeezing tightness around him, the overpowering load in his cock forced the rolls of his hip to grow hectic and furious.

Her fleeting moans joined his breathless groans as he chased his own release with a fervor blazing in his red eyes, ramming hot blistering thrusts into her.

His desperate thrusts were accompanied with slippery, frantic squelches loud enough to mingle with harsh claps of their slapping skin as his hip met with her flushed ass heatedly.

One particularly sharp, powerful thrust forward forced a growling moan shredding through his mouth as his hip snapped into her and buckled erratically.

A loud sultry groan dragged through her throat as she felt the bulging tip of his swollen cock nestle into the deepest part of her with a rough prod.

The hot burst of his thick rich seed spluttering fiercely inside her made her eyes roll back.

The back of his muscular thigh clenched as he held his spurting cock snug inside her, expelling a wavering satisfied sigh.

Her dragging groan ended with a delirious whimper as she relished in the warm fullness inside her, her walls stirring their mixed fluid with fluttering clenches.

One thought ran in her hazy head as she crumbled to the floor, amused and amazed.

That she had done it.

Her dreams came true.

That she had actually fucked one of the hottest men alive.

#bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #bnha smut #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #mha smut #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #anime smut #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo imagine

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benlaksana · 3 years

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2021

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It's been roughly a year and a half since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic here in Indonesia, and I've recently been trying to understand where I'm at. Not physically, as in physical space, but mentally and probably existentially. What is the state of my mind? I am aware that I've become somewhat bitter, my late nights are sometimes riddled with anxiety for what the next day may bring and reoccurring personal-collective grief has at times, and recently more often than I would like to admit, numbed me.

This may probably be my mind's automatic coping mechanism seeing all this death mainly as a result of how my government has failed us, its citizens, especially during a time of crises. And I really need to stress this point: how my government has failed us Indonesians during the times we need it the most and I very much believe that it is because of this why many of us Indonesians are in constant misery and haunted by that feeling of despair. If chronic physical pain causes constant daily anguish, I am not surprised if chronic physical and mental pain caused by structural violence causes persistent misery as well.

I'm somewhat fortunate in this regard, I'm grateful that I've learned ways to keep my sanity in check. My contemplative practice is key for me. Honestly, I wouldn't have gotten far in life without it. I have many people to thank, but Art Buehler especially, my former professor in esoteric contemplative/meditative practices who reminded me and pointed a certain possible direction of where I should head when I sense a lost in my life's direction, is one those I should thank the most. I know this seems like an individualized response to structural oppression, and I don't intend to paint such a picture, but I do believe we need some kind of mental stability to keep on going. To survive if not thrive.

Art sadly passed away in 2019. I received an email about his passing. And come to think of it I never really did allow myself to properly grieve for his passing. I don't know why. To be told through a short concise email that someone you cared for died, without having the opportunity to properly say goodbye feels like that person never really passed away. It is horrible way to end relationships. A sudden cut, nothing finalized, and since goodbyes are relational, now nothing can really ever be concluded. I have to make amends with myself and only with myself. If I said goodbye yesterday, or if I say goodbye today or perhaps tomorrow, will it ever be enough for me?

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Life is individual yet also relational. It's good to have friends, family, people that care for you or the odd mix of all three to get you through life. So although I have these array of tools to possibly help get me through life but if the people whom you look for some kind direction is no longer present, I'm just not sure for how long I can maintain it if I'm doing all this by myself. Will a breaking point come to me?

The mind is a fickle thing, and the mind is as strong as its habits. Bad habits, bad mind. Good habits, good healthy mind (no habits, no mind?). They also say that things that might happen, will indeed happen. It is just a matter of time. If so, how will I break? To what extent? For how long? What will change? What will I lose? Will there be something renewed? Will I come out the same person? Will I come out changed but for the worst?

This is one of the things that worries me. That certainty of uncertainty. The certainty of breaking, the uncertainty of when and of its form. Will I explode in sudden exasperation, engulfed in madness? Will it be a quick balloon pop yet a slow descend into meaninglessness? An unabashed diatribe rant towards someone I care? Something that's just a twitter post away from me on actually doing it. Will this be an opening, an opportunity for 'satori', a sudden lift of the 'veil', bringing about comprehension and understanding of the true nature of things? Questions, questions, questions, not much when it comes to answers, is all I have for now. To be hopeful is hard these days and with the wavering hope, very much coming and going like waves, it has become incredibly hard to even retain any semblance of kindness. That is something I do not want to actively become a habit of. Without hope, comes the cold embrace of fatalism that many on the 'left' are guilty of. Clutched by fatalism, empathy becomes harder to come by. I've seen it, and I have felt it.

I know that my eroding sense of hope is connected to my personal dreams. Specifically how it has become very hard to actualize it. Rara and I never really planned on staying in Indonesia for long. I was confident enough, a bit too confident come to think of it, that we will be out of Indonesia by 2021 the latest. A mere 2 1/2 years after our last stay in New Zealand. The plan was for me to continue my studies, getting into a Ph.D. program and of course a scholarship. That was our ticket out. Hoping that we'll be back to our old routine in Wellington, in and out the university's library, my head in books, loving our 'flatwhites' while regretting having too much of it, the usual stint doing some university tutoring, community organizing stuff, lazy gardening, out and about on the weekends tramping around Wellington and if Covid did not happen or/and maybe if my government handled things much, much better I think that would've been the case. Or at least I constantly would like to imagine that would be the case.

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Yet here we are still in Indonesia, me struggling to do my Ph.D. through this wretched distant learning, initially in the comfort of my home yet steadily devolving into cabin fever. And Rara with her own struggles trying her best to get back on her feet as an aspiring musician. None of it is going as well as we had hoped for. All this while juggling trying our best to keep ourselves safe and our families and friends safe. Both of us have become direct witnesses how challenging this has been, physically and mentally. Both of us slowly grappling with the continual kick in the gut, the never ending structural absurdity, violently absurd.

That slow grueling realization of how fragile our lives are. Not just existentially. It is existentially precarious yet at the same time understanding that precariousness in many of its aspects is structurally and politically maintained. It is this political construction of precarity, which Isabell Lorey elaborates in her book State of Insecurity: Government of the Precarious, that angers and saddens us the most.

Lorey provides a nuanced approach in unpacking and differentiating this thing called being 'precarious'. The three dimensions of being precarious: precariousness, precarity and then precarization. On precariousness, Lorey draw's on Judith Butler's conceptualization of precariousness which she sees as existential, relational and inevitable. I'll insert my existential philosophy and Buddhist values here, to help me see and more importantly accept the transient nature of life and that impermanence or change is the only constant. Our lives, our bodies are destined to die and wither away. We humans are fragile mortal beings. The loss of life, the loss of one's identity, the loss of everything that makes us, us is unavoidable. It's also a 'relational' thing, as in it is also a shared experience. Everyone will experience it. It is the great equalizer some say.

Then we have precarity. Yes everyone dies, but the process of dying or even the process of grieving someone's death is dependent on what Lorey see as the “effects of different political, social and legal compensations of a general precariousness”. Some die at young age due to starvation, riddled with poverty and disease and have nothing or no one to ease their pain, others die surrounded by family and friends in a well-cared for hospital. Some have days or weeks to grieve, others have to go back to work the next day as she or he have no luxury to stop working even just for a moment and simply grieve. To stop working even for a day draws some closer to the possibility of death for the person or those dependent on the person working. This is the inequality of dying and grieving due to our social hierarchies. How fragile we are, is dependent on those social hierarchies.

And last we have Lorey's third dimension, governmental precarization which is the instrumentalization of insecurity by the government. In other words, the government using the idea and the reality of insecurity as a tool or device to control its citizens. The calculated, deliberate attempt by the government in destabilizing our lives in order for us to be easily governed. Insecurity, be it real or due to perceived constructed fear of insecurity is an effective governing tool. The fear of being labeled "useless and lacking in contribution to the nation-state". The genuine insecurity of not being able to get a job due to the false understanding that it is simply a result of an individual's laziness rather than due to systematic government policies. The deliberate attempt in making our lives constantly insecure, constantly on the edge, without us initially knowing it and when we do come to understand, the blame is on us. It is normalized and it is internalized.

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This is not simply a social issue, it is a deeply existential one as well. We Indonesians have very little to make us feel safe at the moment. Covid and the government's response to it has severely limited our movements and it's not simply physical immobility, but also an existential one, the inability to even have the imagination that our lives are actually "going somewhere", towards a forward direction. Perhaps some sort of minute incremental progress, but progress nonetheless. This imagined mobility is what Ghassan Hage calls as "existential mobility" and this immobility suffered by many of us is what he also calls as "stuckedness".

Turning an often momentary or the ephemeral nature of a crisis into something prolonged and perhaps even permanent is another part of the strategy of governmental precarization. Our lives or jobs are always on the line and again coupled with the sick prevailing idea that we only have ourselves to find the solution. The crisis is permanent, we don't know why but we've been told that way, if we fail to overcome it is because of our personal inabilities thus proliferating and intensifying this sense of stuckedness.

Forcing us to accept whatever solution the government-messiah presents us with in order to relieve us from this suffering. From labour laws that normalizes precariousness even more, to oppressive new laws that limits our desire and ability to dissent, to including who or how our enemies are defined, easily accepting who is to blame for all this insecurity we are all suffering.

Be it the long dead Indonesian communists, the Chinese Indonesians and the racist perception of them being "selfish and greedy", the Indonesian Islamists - the kadruns and their conservatism, the "foreign forces" whomever they may be constantly trying to take over Indonesia, anyone or anything is to blame. Anyone but the Indonesian government and its affluent patrons. Insecurity and the fear that rises from it renders many of us easily governable and compliant.

This governmental precarization and this 'stuckedness', which Hage sees no longer as a possibility that may or may not happen but an "inevitable pathological state which has to be endured" is how Rara and I feel at the moment.

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Rara and I feel our lives are going nowhere. We feel that our lives are stuck, constantly rotating in a hamster wheel trying our best to overcome our precariousness. No progress, no forward movement, no growth, just trying our best to survive from this sustained uncertainty. It's an awful feeling, paving way to existential dread. We are very much looking forward to moving back to New Zealand as soon as possible but with the conditions right now, that is something I can't even dare to imagine.

And although I am grateful that the weave of our privilege with at many times just pure sheer luck has kept us alive and physically well for the time being, we both now realize that we have hit a proverbial concrete wall here. Adding to the already precarious nature of life here in Indonesia, our line of work as a fledgling social science academic and aspiring artist and what Rara and I aspire to do socially, what we aspire to become, easily ends in stagnation if we intend to continue to live our lives in Indonesia. (I want to direct you to Social Science and Power edited by Vedi Hadiz and Daniel Dhakkidae to get the gist of what I'm trying to get at here.)

This is a hard pill to swallow, harder to write and even more so to act upon. I am existentially tied to Indonesia, my family and friends are here, my father is buried here and so will my mother. Memories of the distant past, the colloquial language when shitposting on social media, my mind and body have been shaped by Indonesia in ways I possibly do not even fully realize. This is why I oscillate between guilt towards others and guilt towards the self. I feel guilty for simply having an exit strategy when many others don't, I have the luxury of choice. Yet I also I feel guilty for feeling guilty about this, as it means I am also neglecting the well-being of myself, now and in the future. I need to work on this and find my bearings, being stuck in a guilty limbo won't get me anywhere.

And the future is far from stable, I wonder what is on the other end of surviving this pandemic? There is so much collective grief, collective anger and of course personal anger. All this will amount to something, I'm sure of that. Although I don't know what exactly, I'm not entirely confident this something will be good. John Keane's new book 'The New Despotism' comes into mind.

What do I personally do with all this anger? I’ve noticed how anger, especially when it is on the verge of hatred, morphs itself and easily descends into madness, into aggression and often showing itself, unawaringly to us, when the act of expressing anger happens. Your mind becomes instantly clouded, ending in mindless action. This inability to have control over oneself terrifies me. I already have so very little semblance of control over life in general at the moment, if I truly have no control over myself whatsoever, what then do I have?

And I wonder if it is a waste of time asking these pseudo-intellectual questions? I don't know, yet I do know I live in a society where it hones aggression and hostility, whether it be in physical and digital spaces, and I would like to draw myself away from all this at the moment before I transform myself into something I do not wish to be. Anger I can fully understand, and it is needed and useful. Yet to actively transform it into deep blinding hatred and sustain it daily, is something I feel psychologically destructive for me and I'm trying my best not to go on that path.

I rarely update this blog I know, but this blog has always been used as a personal chronicle of how much I have progressed, digressed or both. And I needed to write all this, because I've never been this least sure of what my life should be like and where it should go. I know I am not alone at this. This pandemic has destroyed the lives of many, our futures, our dreams, our sources of love and I hope that anyone of you reading this finds a way to get through it, doing anything you can do day in, day out.

I'm not sure it if amounts to anything. Maybe it won't, maybe it will, or maybe it has but maybe we just can't see it. All I can personally do for now, is to hold on to these 'maybes', and maybe, just maybe I'll get through this too.

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“Where must we go...

We who wonder this Wasteland

in search of our better selves?”

- The First History Man, George Miller

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silverandsoulbonded · 3 years

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A Life of Stories - Soulbonding and My Story

It’s the late 90’s. A tiny child sits in the grip of wonder on the carpet two feet from the old, analog television screen. The volume is turned way down on a Saturday morning, so as not to wake the parents. And Digimon: Adventure is playing.

That kid was me.

I spent the next several days telling anyone and everyone I knew about the trials and bravery of my favorite new friends on the TV. Taichi and his Digi-pals.

Every Saturday morning I tuned in with wrapped attention to check in on my friends. Because that is what they were. I could not explain it at the time, and looking back I see that I did not understand just how powerful my love for them was, but over the years I began to notice the disparity between my experience and that of others. The glazed looks I received when I tried to communicate just how much the “stories” around me meant to my heart and spirit.

As I grew, so too did my well of worlds. When it was not Digimon, it turned to Batman and the DC Animated Universe. Over the years, as things became harder and harder for me in an unsafe household, I would reach out to those stories for safety and comfort. In the dead of night, listening to shouts, I would silently pray for Batman to come in and save me. I would think about Static, from Static Shock, and his bravery. I would long for the Justice League to show me hope.

I grew up in a conservative Protestant Christian household, and I was quickly taught from the moment I could understand stories that they were not real. It seemed a strange double-standard to me, as we read of Jesus and his amazing feats, recorded centuries ago by the hands of men but somehow “different” than the other stories I consumed, which also taught me and affected me just as emotionally.

It would not be until adulthood that I could finally articulate this incongruity I felt, much less possess the bravery and personal freedom to think about it on my own terms. To set aside the pre-packaged “truth” I had been fed growing up in order to find my own fresh fruits of wisdom and meaning.

Stories. Stories are what sustain humanity. All we have are stories. Even the perceptions we store in our brains are only that. Perceptions. Stories. We can never truly know what an orange is, or who a person is. We only can know our perception of them, and the story of them that lives on within us.

And, sometimes, those stories speak to us in the most fantastic and magical of ways.

Fast forward to 2021.

I am an adult. A practicing witch and pagan. An artist and writer. I am functional and thriving. And I have an unusual family.

Some of the most important people in my life do not exist on the physical plane of this Earth quite the same as other friends of mine. They exist in the subtle realms of Dream and thought and wonder. Over time I have come to find many names for them. Spirits, guides, and “soulbonds”.

I began my foray into the community of “soulbonding” when I began to sense, or rather, acknowledge the living quality of some of the “characters” I was writing about. One character in particular, a being who introduced himself to me in a dream, had me particularly flummoxed. I called him Asura, and from the moment he entered my life through that dream, my entire world changed. It was akin to stepping onto a roller coaster car while it was still moving—except this roller coaster had no track and no limits. His entire presence permeated my life, my thoughts, my daydreams. I wrote about him, and it was my writing about him that led me to thoughts, questions, and explorations I would have never dared otherwise. By finding him, he led me to find myself, and for that I shall be forever grateful.

At some point, I, and even my closest friends, became aware of a “spookiness” about my dogged pursuit of this mysterious character. I started to know things about him and his world, and make connections in his story, that seemed to come out of nowhere but which all cohered together perfectly. Without a fault, I would learn tidbits about him that would suddenly fit with another thing I learned later, though I never had to strain to achieve such things. It was not so much that I was “creating” the story so much as “recording” it. There were elements of his story that overlapped with our world’s history and it was spooky as all get out when I learned about historical facts through his story and later found them to also be reflected in my own world, which has a similar timeline to his. A sort of “sibling world” to his.

We also noticed the tremendous power of my emotional connection to him and his friends. My boyfriend at the time even became jealous of Asura, though I assured him that was absurd. “Asura is just a story,” I would say. And my boyfriend thought the same yet he, and others, seemed unable to ignore the fact that there seemed to be something weird going on.

And, one day, with horror, I realized I was in love with Asura—fortunately, by that time I had since broken up with my boyfriend—but the idea terrified me. Unsurprisingly, this sent a conservative Christian “good kid” such as myself down into a spiral of questions and disbelief.

I felt the imposter syndrome. I thought, “I must be insane.” Yet, no one, myself included, could deny the reality of this connection I felt.

Over time, Asura and his friends began to speak to me. They guided me and provided loving support to me. I, at the time, figured I was either crazy or eccentric.

“Maybe this is a writer thing,” I thought.

And it was that thought that led me to soulbonding. I learned of other writers who also had their “characters” come alive to them. Alice Walker, author of the famed American work, The Color Purple, allegedly purported that she had received her story straight from the characters’ mouths one afternoon, during which she sat down to tea with them and learned their tale. And that is when I found a forum site called “The Living Library” (now defunct), and learned the term “soulbonding”.

In that community I found others who echoed my story in various ways. Deep personal connections to entities from other worlds, many of whom they found depicted in the flourishing ecosystem of thought and imagination, stories, that surrounds the human race. Others, discovered their unconventional friends via dreams, visions, or odd circumstances just like myself. One person I met had actually found one such friend first, in this instance a version of Edward Elric from “Full Metal Alchemist”, before learning years later—with a start I imagine—that Edward actually had an entire manga and anime about him.

I say “version” because another amazing phenomenon I discovered was the occurrence of many instantiations of people, characters, from infinite worlds, all with slight variances from one another. That is when I was introduced to the idea of Multiverse Theory and Many Worlds Theory.

As my personal investigations led me down various spiritual rabbit holes, and eventually led me to spirit-working and witchcraft, I found more and more ideas that seemed to jive with my experience.

I discovered what are colloquially called “pop pantheons” in occult circles. Pantheons of spirits and deities who connect to pop culture figures in human society—and even figures from “fiction”. And there is a whole, thriving community of people who lead successful, fulfilled, and meaningful spiritual lives working with these entities. I learned that reality and “truth” are not objective like I had been taught so long ago. And I finally understood MY truth—all we have are myths and stories. Experience is subjective and the only measure of meaning and truth we have is in the effects we see in our own lives.

With tremendous wonder and happiness, and even love, I have seen the effects my unconventional friends and family have wrought in my life. Asura is my familiar spirit now, and I have a whole host of other beings whom I love. Some come from “personal gnosis”, or unique experience, such as Asura. Others are beings who have come to me from the vast world of collective Dreaming that permeates our world, evident in media sources, in the form of stories.

I still have moments of doubt. I sometimes wonder, “Gee-golly-whiz, am I NUTS?” But then I remember that my truth exists only in my own experience. My ethereal family brings me happiness, growth, and meaning. And there really is no difference between my relationship with them and the relationship I had with Jesus so long ago. Every experience is real to me, and brings with it change and good. And that is what matters.

In this blog I intend to share my experience, in hopes that it can offer a beacon to others in similar situations. Every person’s experience is unique, though I hope mine can at least offer some hope, understanding, and love to another.

Cheers.

And happy story-telling.

- Cosmic

#soulbond #soulbonding #spirituality #spirits #spirit-work #spirit #stories #writer #writing #poppantheon #pop pantheons #occult spirituality #witch #spiritworker #spirit work #my story #my post #SILVERfamily

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7soulstars · 4 years

Text

Emerging of Kalon

Request: I need some new johnny depp fics in my life where I want a reader with insecurities and johnny reassuring her that he loves her the way she is.Maybe she is a bit more chubby than his past gfs and she has to wears glasses.Abd thanx so much for accepting it.

Yooo this imagine is soo important to me. As a person who had a lot of insecurities and has suffered through depression.It is really important for me to spread a certain message to others like me. I have this belief that you aren’t born with insecurities,you are made to have them.Don’t point out things to people that would make them uncomfortable in the long term guys it becomes quite scarring for them and it also makes you a damn bully. Also it is normal to have stretch marks, tummy rolls ,acne, scars ,body hair and all that stuff, Man or Woman or any other gender you identify as.That’s what makes you human.If people can’t accept you for who you are please cut them out of your life.Ya’ll beautiful and I love ya’ll. Hope you like this !!

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Pairing : Johnny Depp x Reader

Warnings : TW,Nosy people who like putting others down for fun, Signs of depression,Suicide attempt,Angst,Swearing, Fluff, Johnny being the absolute sweetheart he is.

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Kalon ;Latin for ideal beauty in all, physical ,spiritual and moral forms

1.Instigation.

“I still can’t believe THE Johnny Depp went for you after his past ones”,said someone snapping her out of her trance.”Pardon ?”,she asked as if to confirm whether she heard him right . “I mean look at you....His exes were all supermodels weren’t they? Not a single flaw..”,the man guffawed.”Well you have have a micropenis why did your wife choose you?”,her bestfriend snapped crudely making her cringe.”Let’s go Y/N “, Y/BF/N said dragging she out of the restaurant .Well this wasn’t how I wanted college reunion to end up like,thanks Nathan she thought. “Are you alright Y/N ?”, Y/BF/N asked. “Of course”. No I’m not. “It doesn’t bother me at all.” It bothers me too much. “Nathan’s a dick .Don’t let it get to your head EVER”. But he’s right, his words are already in my head. “Yeah...”

2.The disquieting

“Hey glasses ! Looking ugly as always.”

“Look at her hogging like a pig, hey fatty you want more?”

“Darling why don’t you try going on a diet.”

“Don’t watch telly, you’re blind enough already”

“Jason what do you think of Y/N ?” “Damn man she was not even my type”

“Please Stop !”, Y/N woke up with a jerk, breathing in short gasps .”Johnny-”,she stops cutting herself off as she looked at the empty looked at the empty side on her bed. He isn’t in the country she remembered . Silence. She stared at the framed picture of them together on the wall. Plip. A tear fell. Plip Plip. Two more,before she couldn’t control it any more. The past wouldn’t change.She knew it would haunt her forever. But they had stopped for a while. But since Nathan ,it came back harder than ever. She didn’t tell Johnny, she’d never tell him , the last thing she wanted to do is to become a larger burden. So she cried herself to sleep every single day.

3.Repressing

Y/BF/N frowned as she looked at Y/N’s lunch. “Since when do you eat salads ?Hell,that isn’t even salad it’s just *ugh* lettuce....”,she says looking at the leafy stuff with absolute disgust. Y/N looked at her as if she did not understand what she was saying “I love salads,you know what? I’m not that hungry.....better get back to work! See you later!”,she said leaving as she didn’t even let the other speak. Starving, Hurting, Looking into the mirror and hating herself. The cycle continued.This was going to be dangerous in the days to come and she knew that too.

4.Avoiding

6 missed calls from Mom

19 missed calls and 87 messages from Y/BF/N

40 missed calls and 150 messages from Johnny

3 notifications from Twitter.

No one had seen her in 4 days .The telly changed channels at Johnny’s apartment .Things scattered around as a trembling hand set down the remote . Fat tears dampened the pillow as her eyes read the news headline. ‘Johnny Depp at a dinner date with ex wife Vanessa ? Is he finally done with his simple girlfriend ?’

5. Falling

This was it.She ended up the way she predicted she’d end up 10 years ago. Weak,Tired,Empty and Lonely. She stared at the bathtub as it filled itself until it was overfilled,water spilling out of its sides as it splashed onto her feet. She didn’t flinch at the coldness.She stayed robotically still, looking down at her palm. A blade. Without hesitating she got into the tub,the tap still running. She didn’t think anymore,tears wouldn’t fall even if they wanted to. She closed her eyes as she let her self go ,ignoring the frantic ringing of her phone and the banging on the apartment door.

6. Alerting

To say Johnny was concerned was an underestimation.Y/N wasn’t picking up his phone since several days .He was distracted, couldn’t concentrate and worry filled his entire existence.He didn’t know what to do,even going as far as asking his ex wife for advice.He decided to go back ,back to his girlfriend’s loving arms.

The moment he stepped back into the city he took his time.Picking out her favourie flowers ,the chocolate she always loved and a little something of importance. He ignored the notifications is phone was chiming with, his mind only full of thoughts of her....The thoughts were short lived , disturbed much to Johnny’s dismay by Y/BF/N’s call. He ignored once,ignored twice but after that he knew something was wrong.”Johnny !”, panicked voice spoke through the phone. A frown replacing the man’s smile “Did Y/N text you that absurd note too?” “No,wait Y/BF/N let me check”,he put the call on hold as his eyes skimmed over the words displayed on his screen. His phone now dropped on the car floor he wished all of it was a dream.They stopped as he stormed out, back to his apartment. He knocked wildly on the door but not a voice came nor a cackle. He threw his body on the door several times ,”Goddamitt Y/N OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR DON’T PLAY WITH ME RIGHT NOW !”.In his panicked feat he had forgotten he had the keys until they dropped out of his jacket pocket.He didn’t wait a moment as he fumbled it into the key hole ,kicking the door open as soon as it opened.

Silence.

Splosh . The sound of water hitting the ground from the bathroom echoed in the whole house.

“Y/N ?”, Johnny softly whispered as he pushed open the bathroom door. A horrific scene unfolded before him.

7.Mourning

It had been two days and Johnny wouldn’t budge.He saw red that day and the site still wouldn’t leave his thoughts alone.He would neither eat,nor sleep as he sat beside his beloved girlfriend who lay on a hospital bed. Dark Enough by Amanda played on the radio. The text message, and the talk with Y/BF/N replayed in his head as if war replayed in a retired soldiers dreams. “I didn’t know you were hurting that bad”,he whispered, tears threatening to fall again. He place his head on her stomach as he let the silent tears fall,until her hand fell on top of his head.

8.Resuscitation

Johnny jerked up ,his eyes as wide as saucers, as he froze with eyes full of pain and hurt.Y/N did not dare meet his gaze.She felt ashamed and disgusted. But those feelings were immediately replaced with shock as Johnny almost lunged at her,hugging her tight. “I was so scared I was so fucking scared when I saw that text and then you drowning in the red water filled in the bathtub ! I thought you’d left me ! I thought you died you weren’t breathing...How dare you think of yourself that way how dare you think you were not good enough !? You were the best fucking thing that happened to me since my kids goddammit !”. Y/N had never seen Johnny this mad.Hell, she had never even seen him cry. She didn’t know how to answer him, she was too ashamed.He wouldn’t break the hug, as if he would loose her if he did. He loved her too much. “Why ?”,he asked again,as if he was begging for an answer. Even a word. He just wanted to hear her voice. “I was scared...”,her voice cracked coming out much broken than she predicted. “ I didn’t think I deserved you, I thought I’d never reach the levels of those beautiful actresses and models.I was scared to tell you about my past..I was scared to bother you...”. Johnny’s heart broke. He never thought his Y/N would think that way. She was always smiling .Not even a little frown on her face. Always there for everyone. Yet no one comforted her. How could he never see it? Of course he couldn’t see it she was perfect to him.His Y/N was the most perfect person in the world. “I love you”, he blurted. He never said that.He was too shy. But he hugged her tighter ,” I love you so much. Even with scars,insecurities or that ugly face you make when you see things you do not like. You were, have and always will be the most perfect to me. Please....don’t do that again...”

9.Emergence

Y/N was discharged from the hospital in a few days. Johnny wouln’t leave her side. All his attention would be on her to see if ate well, and loved herself. Y/N felt safe. And she wasn’t wrong . Johnny was everything she deserved.

They sat on the rooftop of a cafe in Paris. A calm silence passing over them. “Y/N ?” ,Johnny asked. “Hmm?”,she hummed along, silence entailing after. ”Marry me ?”,he asked. That was the day Y/N was the most happiest, and did the beautifully emerged Kalon say yes? you’d ask. She said it without a second to spare. After all our Kalon had found her wings.

“No one is born ugly, we’re just born in a judgemental society”~ Kim Namjoon(BTS)

----The End----

Whew ! After all the procrastination and time I took brainstorming this baby is done! This was requested by the wonderful @anycsirp I really really hope you liked this ! Also I meant what I said before the start of this oneshot . YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. PERIODT. Please do like and comment your opinions! I really hope to read em ! I’m not that great of a writer but I did my best !

~Love, Hri

#johnny depp fan fiction #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp x y/n #johnny depp x you #fanfiction #request #ask hri #send asks #imagines #self love #insecurity #love yourself #kim namjoon #kalon

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yodawgiherd · 3 years

Text

You Were Never Truly Gone

>>>Read on AO3<<<<

Rating: T

!!!! This is a post-139 story so please don't read if you didn't get to the chapter yet!!!!

Alright! As you guys know I am a certified™ cope machine and there was no way that I could NOT do something after the finale. Those who follow me on tumblr/twitter know that I was not exactly happy with how things went. Therefore, I have written this.

Might continue if you guys like it :)))

Today, It was three years. Three years since she lost him, three years since she was forced to kill the love of her life to save the world. Three years since her heart shattered to a thousand pieces. Three years since….

Mikasa felt the tears on her face, slowly sliding down as she caressed the cold headstone of Eren’s grave. Here, under the tree where they often rested was the place of his final sleep. The end of the journey.

And it still hurt.

The same despair that tore her apart when Sasha died, only amplified now that it was him who would never come back to her. It was necessary, they all knew that Eren planned to sacrifice himself since the start. Her blade was the one that saved everyone, but it did nothing to ease the pain. Sometimes, in the darkness of the night, Mikasa found herself envious. Envious of all the people who were blessed with a happy reunion. Envious of Armin and Annie who were newly engaged, envious of Falco and Gabi and their budding happiness. Envious of the families that got to embrace their loved ones freely while she could never do it again.

And that was not all.

Even Historia managed to find happiness with her child. Yes, it was forced unto her by the circumstances, but her husband truly loved her, and the queen adored their offspring. When Mikasa visited and got to hold the child or play with him, she often felt needles pricking at her heart. Why was she robbed of having the possibility? Why could she never have a child of her own?

Technically she could, of course, she was still a young woman, but Eren left a hole in her heart that no other human being was capable of filling. The tattoo on her wrist, the one she was supposed to pass down to her children? Well, it would appear that it would stay with her and her alone. When she and Armin got drunk one night and he told her everything about what transpired in the paths when she heard him say just how much Eren loved her back Mikasa was hurt like never before. Back then, she envied again, but differently.

She envied all the dead people because they could not feel pain anymore.

Then again, not everyone got their happiness back. Mikasa spent a lot of time with Levi over many teas as they talked and talked and reminisced. The captain lost everyone too, Erwin, Hange, his old squad, and none of them came back. He was just as hurt as she was. And when she broke down one day, openly sobbing in front of him, it was one of the few times that she saw Levi cry because he shared her pain.

It would not be fair to say that Mikasa Ackerman was stuck in the past. Usually, she was fine, her thoughts were not occupied solely by the past and by what she lost, but this place, this grave always picked her apart.

She traveled the world, alone or with Armin and Annie, seeing all the wonders that were once walled off. She visited Hizuru too but didn’t stay, much to Kiyomi’s dismay. Maybe one day Mikasa would be able to leave everything behind and take up her mantle as shogun’s descendant, but that was still far off. The wounds were too fresh.

When in Paradis Mikasa lived in a small cabin, just as the one in her and Eren’s dream, although it felt painfully empty without him sometimes. The small garden and the few animals kept her busy, but there were nights where she tossed and turned and remembered how it felt to hold him.

“Eren… I wish to see you again.”, she murmured, the hopeless whisper falling from her lips, overcome with those suppressed feelings here at Eren’s grave on the anniversary of the day he died. The day he left her forever.

Others would be here soon, they always gathered here on this day, remembered Eren as their friend and comrade, the man who sacrificed himself for them. But to her, he meant so, so much more – the future she could never have, the man that she loved more than life itself, the love that she was forced to sacrifice on the altar of the greater good.

In her darkest moments, Mikasa wondered if it was worth it. Home, family, those were the things she so desperately wanted, needed, and fought for, and yet they were taken from her. She cut them off herself with the blade and was now forced to suffer the unjust consequences.

Alone.

Her brooding was interrupted by something tugging at the end of her scarf. It was a bird, she realized, one that quickly flapped its wings and flew away when the fabric wouldn’t leave her neck. Looking after it, as it soared up high, Mikasa’s sadness broke with a melancholic smile. Is this the freedom that Eren wanted? The one he died for? Is he still there, watching her from the heavens above? Would she meet him in another life, perhaps?

And then, someone cleared his throat behind her.

“So, you’re still wearing that old thing?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened. No, this wasn’t possible. This wasn’t happening. That voice….

As quickly as she could Mikasa turned her head, the ponytail flapping in the wind. And there he was, looking just like the day she lost him, Eren Yeager with a half-smile on his face.

“Hello Mi-“, was all he managed to say before she tackled him, the two of them tumbling on the grass.

Ignoring the grunt the fall forced from Eren’s lips, Mikasa pressed her ear against his chest, just like all these years before. And again she was greeted by the steady beating sound, her eyes filling with tears.

“I’m dreaming.”, she sobbed, realizing that this must be her imagination, “You are not real.”

But he didn’t disappear. He didn’t dissolve into a fog and Mikasa didn’t wake up hugging her pillow instead. No, he was here, beneath her, solid and very much alive. The hand that gently slid over her head, caressing the now-long midnight hair was warm.

“You grew out your hair.”, Eren noticed, the sound rumbling from the chest under her ear, “Looks good on you.”

And that was about the height of absurdity that Mikasa was willing to endure. Pulling back quickly, she fixed him with a stare.

“No. Eren, you don’t get to appear and talk about my damn hair. You don’t get to d-die for three years and then come back without a word.”, her hand was squeezing his shirt, she realized, squeezing it so much that her knuckles bled white, “You can’t do this to me.”

“I suppose that you deserve an explanation.”, he surrendered, mirroring her and sitting up.

His eyes slid over to the tiny headstone, to his own grave, noticing the flowers there. Mikasa also didn’t let him go, her hand was still wound tightly in his shirt. She was still scared that this was her mind playing tricks on her, that this was not real and he would dissimilate at a moment’s notice. Overcome with the urge to touch her, as he yearned for so long, Eren gently took hold of that pale hand, intertwining their fingers.

“I thought I would die.”, he began, “Exactly as I told Armin, I did not lie. When you cut me, the darkness was supposed to come in, to close my eyes forever. But it didn’t.”

He took a shuddering breath.

“I was stuck in the paths, but they weren’t paths anymore. With Ymir gone and the curse unraveled, they became a vortex of memories and thoughts, sucking me in and I could feel my consciousness slipping away. Back then, I almost let go.”

Eren couldn’t meet Mikasa’s eyes, staring at his grave instead, the tips of his ears turning red for some reason.

“I-I couldn’t let myself leave you like this M-Mikasa, I Uhm... I…”

“You love me.”

She said it herself, making Eren’s head whip up to look at her, the blush now spreading to his cheeks.

“Armin told me everything.”, she explained, “He told me that you wanted to be with me in the end.”

“Ugh, and I made him promise that he wouldn’t tell you.”

Mikasa squeezed his hand harder.

“He was drunk, don’t blame him.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Eren sighed, once again looking at the headstone and making a mental note to ask Armin about the broken promise later.

“Well, as I was saying, the paths were coming to an end, the vortex was slowly but surely losing power and the parts of it were dying. So I did the only thing I could think of – I started stitching myself back together.”

“What do you mean?”

“I walked through the memories, every single one, picked those that belonged to me, and held them.” He looked down, staring at his fingers, “I didn’t even have hands back then, no body, but somehow I could do it, I preserved my memories by will alone, I pulled and pulled and they went, they stayed with me.”, his face changed into a somewhat haunted expression, “It was terrible, painful, and the hardest thing that I have ever done, but I kept moving forward, I kept going until all of me was together again. The rest of the memories died, disappeared into nothing, and for a moment I was scared that I would end up like that, stuck in a dark abyss with nothing but my thoughts.”

Eren’s thumb caressed Mikasa’s hand where their fingers were tangled together, reminding her that she was listening with bated breath. Letting it out, she breathed and he went on.

“I knew that if I let go of the ones I was holding that I would be free, that I would finally cease to exist, but I couldn’t.”, even with the blush, he met Mikasa’s eyes when he continued, “I had those memories I shared with you, the ones of you and I couldn’t let them go.”

Mikasa was the one blushing now, matching the redness of Eren’s cheeks.

“I don’t even know what happened,”, Eren confessed, “But when I realized that I would never let go I was pulled into something. A body, made by Ymir no doubt, her parting gift for me.”

He looked back towards the grave.

“I didn’t regenerate or anything, the head is still under the tree, I was made anew by the goddess you freed.”

Mikasa choked on a sob, not even realizing that she started crying again. Gently, so gently Eren reached out, wiping the tear away from her eyes with his thumb, smiling.

“I woke up on that field, naked and with no idea how I got there, which was quite a problem.”

Even crying Mikasa laughed at that, the mental image too funny to ignore.

“Obviously I had no idea how much time had passed while I was putting myself back together from scraps, I had no map or anything to guide me.”, he tapped his chest, “But I had this feeling, this magnetic pull towards somewhere, and I knew that it was guiding me to you. Back to my home.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. Lunging forward Mikasa wrapped him in a firm hug, sobbing freely into his chest. And Eren held her and caressed her and did all the things she dreamt about for years, making her melt into him. This was way too good to be true.

“So I began walking,”, Eren picked up, intent on finishing his story, “reaching a town I stole some clothes and continued. Sniffing around I realized that it was almost three years since I “died”, and now I had nothing. I stole a lot, because I had no money, and almost got caught a few times but I kept moving here, to you.”

Mikasa held him closer when he said those words, breathing in the scent of those stolen clothes and finally realizing that this was real. This was happening.

“Finally I reached the ocean after a few weeks, and there I managed to sneak on a cargo ship that took me here.”

Very, very gently he pushed her so that she pulled back, and they were looking at each other. Mikasa noticed the slight tremble of Eren’s lips, indicating that there was something he had to say so she kept quiet, waiting for him to string the words together.

“Mikasa,”, he said, “I’m no longer the man I once was. Eren Yeager died at that battle, he died and disappeared and will never be seen again. This body, not even a hair is left behind by him. I’m not Eren Yeager anymore, in fact, I’m not anyone. I don’t have anything to offer you – my powers are gone, my name is gone, my personality is dead. I am no one, but there is one thing that is still nestled deep in my heart because I believe that the feeling would traverse space and time for you.”

Slowly he cupped her cheek, giving her all the time in the world to pull away. Yet she didn’t.

“Mikasa Ackerman, I love you with everything that I am and everything that I once was.”

Now her lips were trembling, and they were staring at each other like a pair of blushing idiots. Then again, weren’t they just that?

“Could I…”, it took all of Eren’s courage to ask the next question because he was still a coward, but all the memories and suffering he endured were for this, for this moment, and the girl in front of him. He had to push it out, he needed this ever since that moment in the fields with the smiling titan, the memory which Eren saw hundreds, if not thousands, times when he was stuck in the paths.

“Can I kiss you?”

Mikasa didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed forward until their lips met and Eren’s mind went blank. Objectively, the kiss sucked. It was their second and the first that happened while they were both fully alive. She was way too insistent and he was way too stunned by her reply to kiss her back.

It didn’t matter.

It was still the sweetest thing that ever happened to them, and when Mikasa pulled back Eren regretted the loss of her warmth immediately.

“I know that you are a new person, but can I still call you Eren?”, she whispered, her breath tickling his skin.

“You can call me whatever you want.”, was his immediate answer.

“Ok then…”, a tiny smile curved those lips that he dreamt of kissing so many times up, “Nice to meet you, Eren.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mikasa.”

This time it was him who closed the distance, hellbent on getting better at the whole kissing thing. She kissed him back and Eren held Mikasa in his arms and the world around didn’t matter anymore. Just her and him, finally getting the love that they fought for all their lives.

High above, the bird flapped its wings and disappeared into the distance.

#eremika #snk #139 spoilers #aot

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harmony88 · 3 years

Note

Okay so I saw your post yesterday from journey's end where you said something about how the Doctor wants to snog Rose when she says she built the dimension cannon to come back to him and I just want to read your take on that PRETTY PLEASE!

Oh, anon! How lovely if this had been reality! Let's just say it is. Ask and you shall receive :) Also put this on Ao3 (I'm sure its been done before but this was too fun)

He knew hugging her was going to feel like coming up for air. The amount of times he’d imagined this moment was astronomical and overwhelming, and even so, he was entirely unprepared for what it would feel like to actually hold her again.

He’d come up with a million scenarios. Dreams about falling into the parallel world by accident and scooping her back up and then escaping with mad laughter, holding hands just as the walls were sealing off again; visions of somehow finding her on a beach in this reality with her hair smelling of sea salt and sand. In those, he would wrap her up in a hug that made them both dizzy, and of course, he'd spent an absurd about of time coming up with silly daydreams of just casually stumbling across her in a coffee shop, making some flirtatious comment that was much too simple for the heartache they had both been through.

Not entirely unlike what he'd said to her today, he supposed, as he had laid dying in her arms.

Long time no see.

It had been far too long. But, by some miracle or utter cleverness, here she was. Her chest was pressed against his, her lips were on his shoulder, kissing him and also breathing him in, and he just held her. The very thought of letting go was more than his hearts or soul could bear, so he didn’t, instead he opened his eyes and looked at Donna, who was giving him a coy smile full of relief and joy. So much swam between their eyes in that single look, and he knew without her having to say that she was thinking about that day so long ago, standing in a wedding dress, watching him try not to cry.

And he knew that right now, she was bloody happy for him.

Her name was Rose.

“I missed you,” he said without meaning to Rose's ear, and his eyes pulled away from Donna to look at her as she loosened her grip around his neck. He swallowed hard, because she was already too far away again and he was already falling, losing himself to her sweet honey scent and beautiful eyes, and the longer he looked at her the harder it was to imagine they’d been apart for as long as they had.

He didn’t know how he’d survived, and he refused to even think about having to go through it all again, not when she was finally here, and when her hands came to rest on his chest directly over his hearts, Jack averted his eyes, noticing the way the Doctor’s eyes seemingly widened.

"I'm starving," he said, looking at Donna. "And if we have to keep fighting today, we should -"

"Right, yeah, we should," Donna said, but neither Rose nor the Doctor noticed when they left and headed to the galley. They were just staring at each other, and when he exhaled her name, his breath brushed her cheek.

“Rose….”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered, and he nodded, smiling a little at her before he pulled her back into a hug, and this time he realized they weren’t being watched. So his hands, which he’d made sure to keep on her upper back before, fell to her waist, forcing her breathing to hitch a little, a sensation he could hear just as much as he could feel, and it was intoxicating. “I missed you so much.”

He stayed silent, but his lips pressed onto her hair, and his fingers debated about slipping under her shirt and her leather jacket, but the moment he realized that's what she was wearing a sense of dread filled his entire body, and he let out a shaky breath when he decided to keep them where they were. “Do me a favor?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. “When this is over, I want you to throw away every single leather jacket you own.”

“What?” she asked, pulling back a little and raising her eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“It reminds me of...saying goodbye,” he said softly, wearing his hearts on his sleeve for the first time in years and he found himself utterly terrified by it. But she just bit her lip and cupped his cheek, and she looked down at her jacket.

“Funny,” she began. “It reminded me of you.”

His face softened, and when her eyes looked up to his, there was a tenderness in them that was making his breathing feel sharp and painful. He just let his Adam’s apple bob as he tried to accept those words, and she stepped closer to him, her eyes never leaving his face as he brushed his hand across her arm, feeling the tangible evidence that she was here, in the flesh and in leather, and he fought the urge to kiss her forehead.

He lost, and before he knew it he was tasting her skin, savoring the sweet concoction that was Rose and sweat, and her hips buckled into his. She let out the smallest moan when she did and his hearts began to speed up, and suddenly she felt too far away again.

He touched the leather jacket, and they both remembered.

You were fantastic. And do you know what?

“Doctor…”

“Rose…”

So was I.

They were so close, so beautifully close, and he started to lean down, ready to kiss her, ready to just give in because he was simply tired of fighting this and he supposed there was some truth to that stupid saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, when the TARDIS sounded an alarm and everyone’s attention snapped to the console. He grabbed her hand, not about to not touch her, and they ran over to take a look at what was going on. Jack and Donna were there, too, and whether or not they actually ate their snacks or had been listening at the door like petty teenagers didn’t matter at all as they read the readings, and Jack stiffened.

“What the hell?” he asked.

“Something is looking for us," the Doctor said.

“There’s a massive Dalek ship at the center of the planet,” Jack said, looking at the screen. “They’re calling it the crucible. I guess that’s our destination.”

Rose and the Doctor shared a glance, but Donna was trying to play catch up, and she looked back down at the controls. “You said these planets were like an engine. But what for?”

“Rose,” the Doctor said, a thrill running through him completely at the fact that he was able to do that and look at her face while he did. She bit her lip, probably thinking the same thing. “You’ve been in a parallel world -”

He made sure to smile with his eyes at her at the word ‘been’, because it was the past, and it wasn’t true anymore, because here she was, perfect and pink and yellow and in the damn flesh, and she smirked a little, realizing that was a game he was going to continue to play and she was certain of it. He’d make it light hearted and fun, of course, but she knew and he knew that really, he would say it as a reminder that he wasn’t dreaming.

She squeezed his hand.

“That world is running ahead of this universe. You’ve seen the future. What was it?” he asked.

“The stars were going out,” Donna told him instead, remembering suddenly, and Rose glanced over at her. She nodded.

“One by one,” she added. “We looked up at the sky and they were just...dying.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to continue, and she began to look at her feet. She couldn’t wait to tell him this, she'd thought about it so much, but she wanted to do it alone, and right now they had...well….a few too many people. But he needed to know and time was running out, so sod it.

“Basically we’ve been building this, erm. This travel machine...This, dimension cannon, so...well - so that I could…” she tried to say, but she could feel Donna and Jack’s eyes on her and it made her hesitate. The Doctor’s eyes darted to her lips before they found her eyes, and his face was hard to read, though there was the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips.

“What?” he whispered.

He needed to hear her say it.

“So I could come back,” she mused, and he gave her a classic grin, full of teeth and his clicked jaw, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his hand found hers again. He hummed happily as she rolled her eyes, because they could both feel the flirty banter lingering in the air. She bit her lip as he continued to smile like an idiot at her. “Shut up.”

She was teasing, but her voice became a little breathier than it had been, the way he was looking at her was simply too much, and his smile fell, his tongue tapping the back of his teeth as he suddenly had this hungry look in his eyes that she’d never quite seen before, and she stopped breathing when he spoke next.

“Make me.”

His hearts were pounding, and her face, which was a little shocked at first, suddenly became determined, and neither cared nor remembered that Jack and Donna were there as she grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her. He wasted no time. She was lonliness' remedy, the thing he craved more than the air in his lungs, and his mouth was on hers before he could process it.

She cried out when he pushed her against the controls, tongues lapping and hands cradling her waist like they were before, only this time his fingers slipped beneath her shirt, dancing on her skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them, and Jack stared in shock. Donna blushed and then turned away, walking over to Jack and making him step aside as well, because they both heard the panting that was starting to stir from both of them, and they figured if the world was ending, they should at least get this.

So they slipped back into the other room for as long as they could.

“Up,” the Doctor groaned.

“What?” she gasped, shuddering when his lips found her neck.

“Your legs. Put them up. On the seat,” he ordered, nipping a little at her. She laughed and kissed him, but she did what he said and groaned when he suddenly rubbed her in just the right spot with his thigh, and that leather jacket they’d debated about was being unzipped. "Oh, I missed you."

“Doctor,” she whined, and he just nodded.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. “I'm not going anywhere.”

She nodded, letting herself be spellbound for another moment, but her eyes caught sight of the monitor and she tried to pull away.

“We have….the planets, we -” she tried to say, but his lips were on hers again, and he sucked on her bottom lip. She whimpered.

"So?" he whispered, and she sighed.

“We can’t...not right now, we -”

“Yes we can,” he growled. “We can. I don’t care. I want you. I don't want to have to wait, the universe always makes us wait and I'm tired of it.”

Her jacket was nearly pulled completely off as his kisses grew more frantic, hot and wet and needy and full of so much guilt, perhaps. Guilt for losing her, guilt for not finding her first, and she rocked into him, making him cry her name as he slammed his hands on the console.

But the TARDIS still had her wits about her, and just as they began to tear each other's clothes off, making it so his suit coat was completely unbuttoned, she shifted and threw them both to the ground.

Rose winced when her shoulder hit the grating and he looked at her worriedly. His pants had a bulge that hadn’t been there a moment ago, but before they could yell at the TARDIS or resume what they were doing, the Old Girl jolted again, and he pulled Rose to his chest.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, you?” she said, and he nodded, standing up and helping her to do the same. Donna and Jack were back in the room, looking a little nervous, and everyone knew the storm was getting closer.

“In that parallel world, you said something about me,” Donna whispered, looking at Rose. The Doctor looked at Jack, who was smirking and pointed down to his pants, and he just made a face.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, and Jack just beamed.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, but Rose was looking at Donna carefully, and when she slipped her hand out of the Doctor’s to walk to her, he panicked.

“Rose, come here,” he said, unable to stop himself, and she stepped back so her side was touching his.

“The dimension cannon could measure timelines -” she began, and the Doctor gave her an adoring smile, wanting to ask her so many questions about it he could hardly stand it. She just nudged his side. “It’s weird, Donna, but they all seemed to converge on you.”

“But why me?” she gasped, “What have I ever done? I’m a temp from Chiswick!”

The TARDIS jolted again, knocking them all down, and the Doctor’s hands were securely on Rose’s waist as they stood back up. His hearts were pounding, and they all stared at the door. The scanner beeped.

“The Dalek Crucible,” he whispered, and for good measure, he kissed Rose’s hair. “All aboard.”

He looked at the hand in the box for a fraction of a second as they headed toward the door, because he’d seen a version of this timeline that he was just desperately hoping was not about to come true. But if it did, he'd try to be okay with that.

He'd try.

#fanfic #anon ask #doctor and rose #tenthdoctor #rosetyler #pining #my heart

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rivensmusa · 3 years

Text

Too much green

Rivusa Revolution- Day 2: Jealousy

Fandome: Winx Club

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Musa & Riven

Time: s2e03

We all know the moment when in season 2 Riven goes to comfort Musa, who is worried about their friends. But we rarely talk about that brief scene of jealousy when Musa learns that Layla will be riding with Riven on his hover bike. So I decided to look at the scene a little closer and describe Musa's feelings.

Here you go:

Musa was sitting in the middle of a bench between Flora and Tecna. She heard Headmistress Faragonda saying something to Layla and the other girls going on the mission. But the music fairy's thoughts were somewhere completely elsewhere.

She was still thinking about the scene from less than an hour ago when she had almost killed all her friends and herself using her powers. Thankfully, it was only a simulation. But Musa still felt terrible about it. The experience was like a bucket of cold water for her. She had never thought about the danger her powers could bring before.

Musa was a really strict student. Together with Flora, they had the best grades in their class. And what did all that knowledge give them?

Both were not chosen for the mission.

In Flora's case, her powers simply didn't work. Musa's powers, on the other hand, were a danger to others.

The music fairy realized how much she still had to learn. She was sure there was a way she could use her sound powers in the cave without causing a catastrophe at the same time. She just didn't know it yet...

"...A small group can move quickly and are much less noticeable."

"And besides, they don't go alone."

A new voice snapped Musa out of her thoughts. She turned her head and spotted Saladin, the headmaster of the Red Fountain. Where he had come from, Musa had no idea.

And just then, she heard the sound of hover bikes coming. Three Specialists rode onto the Alfea campus and parked their bikes right next to the benches where the Winx, Layla and the school principals were sitting.

"Yes! The Specialists!" said Stella to Bloom so loudly that everyone present could hear it.

Musa took a better look at the three boys who had just joined them. By the colour of their helmets and their body silhouettes, she guessed who they were.

"That's not fair," she complained, "they don't even have powers!"

"Which means," explained Faragonda, "that they have no powers to lose."

"Last year, the boys took part in a survival course on unknown territory. Brandon and Sky got the best results, so I'm sure they can handle this mission."

Tecna began to comment that, by her calculations, the presence of those boys was unlikely to significantly affect the success of the mission and that Layla would have to play the role of the chaperone.

However, Musa's attention was focused on something else. As usual, whenever he was around (and also when he wasn't, though she tried to suppress it), her thoughts fled to the Specialist with maroon hair.

To begin with, she felt that Saladin's comment was unfair to Riven. After all, he was the one who had managed to escape Cloud Tower last year, survive in a rubbish dump surrounded by monsters, and build himself a weapon out of rubbish. Sky and Brandon may have had the best grades in that survival course, but it was Riven who was able to put that knowledge into practice.

And besides, she wondered what he was actually doing here if he wasn't supposed to be part of this mission. Not that she was complaining about his presence. Actually, she did care about it.

"Alright girls, are you ready?" asked Sky.

"Layla, you'll go along with Riven for now."

WHAT?!

Musa felt as if Saladin's words had slapped her in the face. She also felt that maybe, if she had better control of her powers, she could have gone with Riven. And not Layla... After all, she wasn't even an Alfea student! This was all so unfair!

Although, why did she care who Riven would ride on his bike? So what if it wasn't her? Whatever.

At some point, Riven turned his head and looked in the direction where Musa was sitting. Through the helmet he was still wearing, it was impossible to see exactly what he was looking at. But just to be safe, the music fairy quickly lowered her gaze so he couldn't see that she was staring at him.

Then Timmy arrived with their new ship, and they all began to prepare to leave. Stella gleefully threw herself towards her boyfriend and, with a confidence worthy of a princess, took her place on the hover bike right behind him. She put on her helmet and hugged Brandon tightly around the waist, announcing that she was ready to leave.

Musa continued to stand by the bench with her arms crossed over her chest.

This was all just not fair! She wanted to go with them too.

Of course, it was only because she was worried about her friends. Nothing else.

It had certainly nothing to do with the fact that she had once secretly dreamed of Riven taking her for a ride on his hover bike one day. After all, she had never imagined what it would be like to embrace him around the waist and feel his abs under her hands. She had never thought about the fact that it would be the perfect excuse to hug him. And that maybe then she would be close enough to finally recognize what the smell of his cologne reminded her of. No, she had never thought of anything like that!

And besides, sooner pigs would start to fly than this would ever happen.

Musa looked to the side, pretending to suddenly see something interesting there. She did so only to avoid watching as Layla would put her arms around Riven's waist.

She could feel herself getting hot inside. And if she didn't know better, she would think she was jealous. But that was absurd. She couldn't be jealous. After all, nothing was going on between her and Riven.

Yes, their relationship had slightly improved. But since the incident with Darcy last year, Musa had no feelings for him anymore. They were friends, that's all.

And that was still progress! For half of the last year, the music fairy had hated Riven with all her heart and wished him all the worst.

Therefore, it was certainly not jealousy she felt now.

"Come on," commanded Riven, "Get on."

"Who said you were going to drive?"

Suddenly everyone turned to look at Riven and Layla.

The girl clearly had no idea who she was talking to.

Confused, Riven also started looking around as if seeking confirmation that he hadn't misheard.

"What? You think I've never driven a motorbike before?"

Musa watched as the Specialist began to squeeze the handrails of his bike harder. She was sure he was about to explode and tell Layla that there was no way he would let her drive his beloved bike. This machine was probably his only love, so he wouldn't let a stranger, in addition, a fairy, drive it.

Suddenly his head turned towards Musa again. He still had his helmet on, so she couldn't see what he was looking at. But for some reason, she had a feeling as if he was looking straight at her.

Musa raised one eyebrow upwards. She wondered what that was the meaning of all of that and why Riven had not yet exploded.

This time the music fairy did not look away. For a brief moment, they looked at each other in silence. Or not. It was hard to tell through the helmet.

Eventually, Riven glanced back towards Layla and wordlessly gave up his driver's seat to her.

This was something Musa really hadn't expected.

Now, instead of seeing Layla embracing Riven, she saw how the Specialist grabs the Andros princess around the waist.

And before anyone had time to comment on it in any way, Layla started the motorbike and took off. Bloom and Stella threw in some more goodbyes, and a moment later, they were gone.

Why had Layla done this? What was her purpose?

Was it possible that she liked Riven?

He hadn't even taken off his helmet!!

And anyway, what did she care?

After all, Musa was no longer interested in Riven. She didn't care who he was with. If Layla liked him, go for it, girl! The coast was clear. They would definitely make a great couple!

Actually, they were indeed a good match for each other.

From what Musa had learned about Layla, she knew that she was strong and super laid back. She liked dancing and music just as much as Musa did! She didn't brag about her title, but she wasn't shy either. Musa really liked her. Not to mention that she was exceptionally beautiful.

So if Layla and Riven would start being a couple, she should be happy for them, right? After all, they were both her friends. And Layla was definitely a better choice than Darcy.

So why did Musa find it hard to breathe and feel pain in her heart at the very thought of it? Why?

After all, she didn't want to be with Riven anymore. He had hurt her badly last year.

She forgave him, but she no longer had any feelings for him. None at all! They weren't right for each other. She knew that now. Not to mention the fact that he was never interested in her anyway.

All that 'chemistry' that was between them last year was just a product of her vivid imagination. Her brain liked to pick up little moments in their interactions or in his behaviour and assign them excessive meanings or find excuses for his actions.

For example, the time he walked under their balcony during a break in the battle last year. Musa thought maybe he had come to talk to her and was just embarrassed to go upstairs. So she went down to him, but it turned out he was looking for Timmy, not her.

Or how today Riven looked at her for a moment before letting Layla drive his bike. Surely it didn't matter, a mere coincidence. Still, her brain was already starting to find some deeper meaning.

But the truth was that Riven didn't care about her at all.

"Come, my dear fairies. They will need our support."

Faragonda's words brought Musa back to earth. But the uncomfortable tightness in her chest didn't go away.

It was probably from fear for her friends. After all, seven of them had just flown to the Under Realm, where there no one knew what danger awaited them and whether they would make it back alive.

Because after all, she didn't feel that aching prickle in her heart because she was jealous.

Right?

If she was jealous, that would mean she still cared about him. And that would mean she'd only be disappointed again, and she'd have to face again the question of why she wasn't enough and why she even cared because he wasn't worth it after all.

And then she'd have to pull herself back together somehow. And that was just too hard. The mere thought of it made her loathe getting into any kind of romantic relationship.

So no. She wasn't jealous. She wasn't ready to be jealous.

Or was she?

#rivusa revolution 2021 #rivusa week #rivusa #musa x riven #riven and musa #winx club #winx musa #winx riven #winx fanfic #or was she?#jealousy

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