#i was barely awake when i saw they were live and were about to perform this... i just ??? that wass my brain

[carooosa]

Craving Temptation Part 1: First Bite

Word count: 2.8k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion x AFAB!Tav/Reader Warnings: 18+, vampire bite, masturbation AO3 link: First Bite

Summary: Astarion awakes from a nightmare and needs to test out a theory of his. He never expected that you would wake up, nor did he expect the effect you would have on him.

You weren’t supposed to wake up, especially not right before he sunk his teeth into you. What were you going to do, now that you saw him for who he was: a slave, in more ways than one. Forever hungry for the blood of living creatures, always under the command of his wretched master. Perhaps he could quickly disappear into the night, never to be seen again. Or, better yet, he could manipulate you into thinking that you’ve simply imagined everything. 

It would be easy, surely, to gaslight you. You were always quick to see the best in everyone, and he despised it. It was honestly quite confusing; you kept going on and on about needing to get rid of the tadpoles as soon as possible, yet you never turned down the opportunity to help. Perhaps that’s why he decided that you would be the perfect thinking creature to drink from. You were bound to find out that he chose you as his prey sooner or later. If not by waking up now, in the morning you’d know without a doubt that something was wrong. You looked naive on the surface, but you were cunning. You gave everyone the benefit of the doubt but refused to be taken advantage of.

Maybe that was the real reason he chose you. You were strong. And if he needed anything right now, it was strength. Cazador was still out there, and if his nightmare had any bearing of truth to it, he was angry. He hated to admit it, but he needed protection, and you were his best bet. He thought for a second about telling you who Cazador really was, the years of torment and abuse the vile monster had inflicted on him, but he quickly pushed it away. No, he thought to himself, I should keep that information hidden until I need to use it.

A part of him longed to tell you. To confide in you. You would reassure and comfort him, but it wouldn’t be enough to answer the burning question in his mind. Did Cazador still have a hold on him, or was he free to make his own choices? The only way to know was to break one of the horrid rules placed on your kind.

Thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures. 

He looked down at you, at the fear in your eyes. You finally saw him as the monster he was. But there was something else. Was that curiosity? Concern? What were you thinking when you saw his bared fangs?

His question would stay unanswered as all you managed to ask was, “What’s going on?”

An ever so simple question that should be easy to answer, yet he was unsure what to say. A pang of guilt cuts through him.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He scolds himself at how desperate he sounds, how utterly pathetic. But in that split second that you’ve registered his plea, your features soften. This was his way in. He would use your need to help others against you.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just needed-” reassurance “-well, blood.” He tried to search your face for a clue as to what your next step was.

“So you’re a vampire?” You asked, taking a step towards him. He was slightly annoyed with that question, as it was quite obvious at this point. And why were you taking a step towards him? You should be terrified at this revelation, yet you seem to only be concerned for his wellbeing. This caught him off guard and he ended up taking a step backwards in turn.

“I only feed on animals: boars, deer, kobolds-“ rats “-whatever I can get.” His voice falters at the end of the sentence and he grimaces. His performance of the victim was becoming a bit too real.

You take a step towards him yet again, and this time he feels the squirm of the tadpole behind his eye. He’s unable to stop you from peering into his mind as it never crossed his thoughts that you would use the tadpole willingly. By the time he’s pushed you out of his mind, he’s sure you’ve seen some of the torment he was forced to endure. He can almost taste the putrid rat blood as the memory lingers in his head.

He’s angry that you’d peer into his mind, that you would see him as something so weak and helpless. He waits for you to mention the vision but you never do.

Instead, you look up at him with your gentle gaze, and ask, almost sounding like you’re hurt, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hells below, what was wrong with you? You should be angry. You could even kill him and he would understand. But no. You had to always see the good in people. And he wasn’t going to be any different.

“I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me,” he says while taking a slow step towards you. He needed to make sure that he was in control of this situation.

“I do. Of course, I’m upset, but I understand why you kept this from me. Is there anything I could do to help?”

You had fallen right into his trap. Your unending pursuit of heroism would get you killed one day, but Astarion didn’t mind if it meant he got to reap some of the benefits. 

“Why, yes, darling, I could use some blood.” He sees the uncertainty in your eyes and reassures you, unwilling to let go of this opportunity. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

He watches as you fidget where you stand, your eyes flicking between his eyes and fangs. “Just a taste — Nothing more.”

He smiles, the tips of his fangs glinting from the moonlight. “Of course. Not one drop more,” he says while closing the distance between the two of you. As he gets closer, panic starts to set in. He’s never actually drunk from a person before. “Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable?” He’s put the mask that he’s crafted over the past 200 years back on. If you’re going to allow him to drink from you, he may as well play into the sexy vampire trope.

He watches as you lay down on your bedroll, your body tense with nerves. He slowly lowers himself to be squatting next to you. He can hear your heart beating loudly, and his mouth waters at the sound. He gently brushes your hair away from your neck and runs a finger from your jaw to the base of your neck, causing your breath to catch.

With his mouth wide open, he places his fangs tentatively on your neck, licking the skin a couple of times before he sinks his teeth in.

He’s immediately overcome by the taste of your blood. It’s sickeningly sweet, just like you, but it’s wonderful. It’s unlike anything he’s ever tasted before. How he yearns to devour you, to taste you over and over again.

You’re fidgeting underneath him, the whimpers escaping from your mouth hypnotizing him. He imagines you making those whimpers from his fingers inside you, making you a mess. You were always put together, and oh, how Astarion would love to ruin you. He feels your blood travel from his throat, through his body, and eventually, to his cock. He’s taken aback by the feeling as he hasn’t gotten aroused by his own free will since turning into a vampire.

Before he can ponder on it any longer, one of your hands reaches up and grips onto his shirt. He instinctively moves to straddle you, his cock nestled up against the space between your legs. The taste of your blood has started to change, shifting into something intoxicating. His mind spins as he drinks your life essence, and he unknowingly starts to grind against you.

He lowers himself further into you, his chest brushing up against yours. He realizes that you’re only wearing a thin shirt by the hardness of your nipples. The feeling causes him to moan, some blood spilling down his chin. 

Your hand moves to be pulling on his hair. He imagines you tugging his hair as he eats you out. He wonders how you would taste; if it would be anything similar to your blood or entirely different. 

He holds your head to consume you even deeper, and the new position causes more blood to flow into his mouth. He starts to grind faster, feeling the dampness of your arousal through his trousers and smelling it as well. His cock aches from the confinement of his pants. He imagines how warm you would feel around him, how he would make you scream and go insane from his touch. If you moaned like this from just a bite, how many different sounds would you make for him?

He yearns to explore your body, to taste every inch of you. His thrusts have begun to get uneven, and he realizes just how close he is. He forces himself to stop grinding against you and tries to will himself to think of anything other than your perfect body in shambles beneath him, but it’s all in vain.

“Astarion-“ you say with a gasp. Your voice is the catalyst that sends him over the edge, careening into a pleasure he hasn’t felt in quite a while. He thrusts himself into you as he comes on himself, blood spilling from his mouth and onto your bedroll.

He quickly pulls away from your neck, hoping that by some miracle you hadn’t noticed his undoing.

You pant breathlessly on the ground, your skin paler than before. Blood trickles from the wound on your neck. Astarion resists the urge to drink your blood, lest he somehow lose more control of himself.

“That… was more… than a taste…” you say in between breaths.

He’s still not come down from the euphoria of your blood and his release when he answers. “Ah, yes, I was just — swept up in the moment.” You slowly sit up on your bedroll and look expectantly at him. “And it worked. I feel good. Strong-” Horny. “-Happy,” he finishes with a sigh.

You start to look through your backpack to find a rag to wipe at your neck. As you pull one out, something comes over Astarion and he quickly snatches it away before kneeling in front of you.

“Let me,” he says, and he carefully swipes away at your wound. It’s bigger than he meant it to be.

You both sit in silence as he cleans up your neck. He can feel your eyes piercing into him, but he refuses to look back at you. He’s not sure what exactly just happened, and he’s not going to let you get any hint of what he did to himself. Just as he’s finishing up, you gently grab his wrist and force him to look directly at you.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His cock twitches from your look and praise. He abruptly stands up and comes up with an excuse to leave. He clears his throat before saying, “Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need something more filling.” He can see some sort of sadness in your eyes as he says this. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it,” he finishes while turning on his heel.

His manhood aches and he yearns to run off somewhere to relieve himself. Doing so would raise concern from you, so instead, he slowly saunters off into the woods. He’s unsure if he’s gone far enough, but he refuses to look back to see. He continues on, his cock throbbing with each step. Once he’s sure he’s far enough, he collapses against a tree.

He groans as he nimbly unties the laces of his trousers and haphazardly yanks them down his thighs along with his underclothes. He’s made a complete and utter mess of himself.

This was not like him. He was not one to make a mess on himself. He has always been in control of any sexual encounter, dissociating from the experience to run through the plan of how he would take his current hookup back to Cazador’s mansion. He knew the plan and didn’t need to rehearse the steps, but he found it easier to get through the sleepless days if he could simply forget every passionless lovemaking he’d had.

He was honestly disgusted with himself. How could he get so carried away? It must’ve been your blood, and the fact that you were the first thinking creature he had ever drank from. Yes, that was surely the reason. Even still, he was left with a full erection covered in his spill. He gingerly touched the slit on his head and hissed from the feeling. It felt… good? This was surely another side effect that your blood had on him.

He looks at the mess he made of himself and curses your name out loud, his cock jumping at the sound. What was it that caused him to act this way? You were definitely... aesthetically pleasing. And although you made choices he didn't always agree with, there was a certain charm about you. Your voice was both soothing and grating, every time you said his name causing something to stir within him. He had convinced himself it was annoyance, but after tonight he wasn't so sure anymore.

He had begun to mindlessly stroke his hardness, rubbing his cum all over in the process. You were always so put together, remaining calm in the most dire of situations even as people yelled and berated you; the only times you showed any negative emotion were when you were treating a wound inflicted in battle. But have you shown any *positive* emotions?

You smiled, but you never laughed. You praised others and were gracious to everyone, but you were always focused on finding a cure for these tadpoles. You were never fully present with anyone, and he longed to change that. 

The thought of himself being the reason for your undoing ignites a fire within Astarion, and he fervently pumps his hand as he grips tighter around himself. If the sounds you made while he drank from you were any clue as to how you would react from more intimate activities, he was sure you would be singing at the slightest touch.

He imagines your perfect mouth contorted in pleasure as he puts his years of experience to use. You, the composed leader who let nothing bother them, squirming and crying out his name as he fucked you throughout the night. Would you grasp onto him like you did when he drank from you? Would you yank his hair as you become overstimulated? Would you cry out with every thrust he would make?

And Hells below, would you say his name? At the thought of your voice, he moaned, quickly covering his mouth with his free hand to muffle the noise. Oh, how he would do anything to hear you say his name like that again – with untamed desperation. He would gladly follow you on your useless side quests if it meant he could ravage you each night.

He began to reach his climax for the second time this evening, his mind frantically trying to remember how you felt underneath him. He pictures how warm and inviting you would feel around his cock, how he would fuck you over and over again until you perfectly fit him and only him. His pleasure rapidly overcame him, his cum splattering onto the forest floor. 

As he calms down from the high, anxiety courses through his body. He pushes the feeling aside as he makes his way to the nearest lake to clean up. As he washes his body, he can't help but dread what whatever happened might mean. He acted like a feral animal in heat, needing to please himself as soon as possible. And you were the cause.

This wouldn't do. He would not allow you to have any power over him, especially not with something as conflicting as this. No, he would need to make you beg for him, to rely on him for your pleasure, because then you would never get rid of him.

He finishes cleaning himself up and returns back to camp, formulating the perfect plan to make you his. This was exactly what he was used to doing, the only difference being that now his endeavors would lead to his own gain. As he passes your bedroll, the smell of your arousal reaches his nose and his cock throbs from the scent. Whatever he ended up doing, one thing was for certain: he had to gain control over you.

Part 2: Psychic Ecstacy

#astarion pov #astarion smut #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #fics #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #my writing

[stayandot8]

Insomnia

Genre: Smut, 18+. Minors, do not interact

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: smut, so 18+. MDNI. Oral (fem rec., p in v, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it kids), cockwarming) that's all I can think of, if I missed any let me know. Other than that, I'm...just gonna leave this here okayBYE

WC: 2.3k

masterlist

We went to bed two hours ago. Or at least, it felt like two hours had gone by since we laid down. I was snuggling my Wolfchan when I felt his human counterpart lay down behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. His breathing hadn’t changed since he laid down and he kept shifting around much like I had. My guess was that he had too much on his mind, like always. End of the year awards and performances and such. So it was no surprise that I hadn’t heard him start to snore yet. 

It seemed I just couldn’t turn my mind off, even though I didn’t have any performances to worry about. Everytime I would feel myself grow closer to falling asleep, something would pop into my mind and drag me back out. It happened a couple times, I would be so close and I would literally feel myself being dragged back into my conscious mind with something else. And when it happened, I would just move ever so slowly until I got comfortable again so as to try not to disturb my boyfriend behind me. It was no use though. His snores never came, so the only logical explanation was that he was just as awake as I was.

“Chris.” I whispered into the darkness. A groan answered me, not exactly happy about it but willing to answer nonetheless. “Did you know that lemons are actually man-made?” 

Silence. 

Then a very groggy

“What?”

“Yeah, something about sour oranges and citrons.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw it on a tikok earlier today.” 

“Baby, I love you. But I need to sleep.”

“We’ve both been trying for the past hour. It’s not working.”

A huff, knowing I was right but not willing to give up just yet. I turned around to face him, still with his arms locked around me. I couldn’t see his face that well in the dark, but I knew his eyes were still closed with resignation. I felt his breath as he sighed, knowing he wasn’t getting any sleep no matter how hard he tried. 

“I think my mind is just going too fast and I can’t turn it off.”

“I know. Me too. But yours makes more sense because of how much you have coming up. You guys have so much to do during the end of the year, I don’t understand why they sign you up for so much.”

“Well, some of it is us. We want to do it.”

“I know. You’re all workaholics.”

“Can’t help it. We love what we do.” A pause. And a sudden… change in the air. He shifted closer to me. “You know what else I love?”

“Hm?” 

“You.” He kissed my forehead. Then my cheek. Then the other.

“Well I would hope so. I am laying in a bed with you in the middle of the night with no intention of going back to the apartment I pay to live in even though I barely live there anymore. Although you sleeping shirtless is such a nice plus.” He ignored me and continued kissing those lips along my neck. He loved being around me, voicing this often enough until I started to believe him around our third month of dating. We couldn’t stay apart for very long, both of us equally needing the other like water to a fish. No matter how hard we tried, we just couldn’t stand to be apart unless forced to because of tour. 

“Do you know what else I love?” His voice was thick with sleep, giving him a lower register that made my toes curl. He was still kissing me, leaving little chills wherever his lips planted. They were traveling lower and lower, from my neck to my throat to my collarbone over my heart. He noticed my breathing getting heavier and faster, goosebumps popping up everywhere he went and shifted so he was leaving over me. The moonlight shone just enough through the curtained window that I could watch his eyes go from sleepily distant to focused and alert. He watched my lashes flutter and my eyes darted to him, waiting for him to make his next move. Now I knew where this was going. And I knew it would work. 

“What?” I asked, breathless. My nipples ached with how hard they had become in such a short amount of time. They poked through his t-shirt that I usually wore to bed. He caught sight of them and smiled to himself. He ever so lightly grasped the bottom of the worn cloth and lifted it slowly, to tease me further and let the anticipation grow. The sudden chill of the air was too apparent to me now, trying to appease the flush of blood now running hot through my veins. 

“These.” He leaned down to blow his hot air straight on my nipple, the contradicting air making them ache impossibly more. I bit my lip to keep from groaning, but it didn’t suffice. It came out anyway, more strangled than if I had just let it out. “These beautiful tits are just perfect for me. I love how they look when you just get out of the shower-” He stuck out his tongue to press it against them, the muscle swirling circles around and around and he kissed it lightly. “And you’ve got your towel wrapped around you-” He kissed it again. “You hold it close to your chest and it makes them bigger somehow.” He latched on to it and tugged it enough so that when he let go, it bounced back gently. “Ugh. and that. That-” He sucked harder this time, making sure to swirl his tongue as he tugged it back further and let go. “-is my favorite fucking thing.” 

He did the same to the other nipple, my hands flying to his hair as he worked his magic. My moans were useless to fight against now, growing louder and louder. I was sure that someone would knock and yell at us to cut it out. Shame I didn’t care. 

He was too good.

His warm and wet lips licked and kissed and sucked and bounced their fill until my underwear was soaked, the scent of it now inescapable. 

“Chris, please. Please, I need something.”

“What, baby? What does my pretty girl want?” He asked as he was sucking a hickey right above my heart, his favorite place to leave them. So you’ll always have me close to your heart, he once said. He had already left them scattered around my chest, knowing they were my favorite place to have them. He always kissed them after leaving them, especially the ones he knew would leave deeper marks. After the last one, he gently removed my entangled hands from his hair and started moving southward, leaving a trail of featherlight kisses in his path. 

“There. I need you there.” I managed to whisper into the darkness. He let out a huff of laughter. 

“You mean right where I’m headed? I know baby, I know you. I know you better than you know yourself.” He whispered into my thigh before he kissed it softly. “Don’t I.” He dragged my panties down just as slowly as he had lifted my shirt and threw them somewhere.

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. He did. He really did. He knew what I liked before I had even told him. I didn’t have to. It was the way he knew me, like we were the same person.

He kissed his way up my thigh, skipped over my core to do the same thing to my left leg. I was writhing now, dying with the anticipation. He was good at making me wait, knowing just when it was too much. Like now.

He dove in with no warning, earning a gasp and yelp wrapped into one. He went straight for my clit, sucking as hard as he had with my breasts. He wanted to suck me dry just to make me wet again, just to prove to me that he could. He anchored himself by wrapping his arms around my thighs, something we learned the hard way that he needed to do or else they would squeeze his head. Not that he minded, but he made me lose all control of every limb that it made me feel safer. When he hooked his arms, he pulled me forward, bringing me straight to his waiting mouth. My fingers found his hair once again for something to hold onto, the feeling of the rapid increase of pressure in my core almost too much. The sounds of him sucking and moaning into my folds added to the fuzzy feeling that was clouding my brain, making it impossible to do anything but feel the pleasure this beautiful man loved to give. My mouth was stuck in an ‘O’ with the cries of pleasure coming from an exceptional suck here or a plunge of his tongue in my pussy. 

He unhooked an arm as he slowed down to ease the intensity of the pressure. The feeling of clenching on nothing was so frustrating that I felt myself pulling at his hair harder than normal. But the harder I seemed to pull, the louder his own moans became. When he slowed enough for me to realize how hard I had gripped him, I released his hair. He pulled away, a string of our mixed juices following his insanely shiny lips. 

“No, don’t you let go. You pull as hard as you need to.” His sultry tone was the reassurance I needed to do just that. I threaded them back through and he put a finger in his mouth then resumed, licking slowly circles on my clit once more. He pushed the wetted finger in my entrance, but it wasn’t enough. 

“More.” I whispered, and he obliged. He thrust another finger in, the two stretching me as they drew apart. He was going slow, too slow, torturously slow. “Channie, you’re going too slow.”

“Baby, that’s not my name.”

“Daddy, faster, please.” I whined, ready to beg as much as I needed to to just get him to move faster…

“That’s my girl.” He picked up the pace, thrusting his digits faster until I was clenching again. “Is my pretty girl gonna cum?” I nodded frantically, the bubble so close to popping. 

And then he stopped. I waited, trying to catch my breath. And then I heard, very loudly, him sucking on something. He was sucking my wetness from his fingers and staring, hard, at my pussy. 

“Wha-”

“I want to cum with you.” It wasn’t a command, more like a declaration. One made from desperation as deep as mine. His boxers were off and he was stroking himself already. “You’re still on the pill?”

“You ask me this every time and yet the answer is always the same.”

“Good. because I don’t think I could pull out tonight if I tried.”

He lined himself up, prodding at my entrance and held himself there. He leaned over me once again, gently kissing me until I wrapped my arms around his neck and forced him closer. He slid the rest of the way and I gasped into our kiss. His size still surprised me even now. He always felt big no matter how many times we slept together. 

We moaned together when he was fully inside and when he started thrusting, it was slower, more intimate. He was taking his time, contrasting his actions moments earlier. Every thrust up, my hips went with him, our breaths mingling as our foreheads stayed touching. With this slow pace, he was able to directly hit my g-spot with every thrust. I could feel him, all of him, in every move of his hips. He was taking his time feeling me, the warmth and the pleasure would crumble him if he went too quickly. 

“I have to,” he said, reading my mind. Like he often did. “If I don’t I won’t last.”

“But I don’t want you to last. I want you to crumble like only I can make you.”

“Shit.” He buried his face in my neck. “You can’t just say shit like that, baby.” 

I felt my bubble coming back, rising with the continued stimulation and essence of him. I might be the only one who could make him crumble, but my destruction button was well within his reach at all times. He knew I could fall apart with the right thrust, he just wasn’t hitting it. On purpose, I had just learned. Every nerve was on edge, every brush of his lips on my neck sending me higher. His hands roaming every which direction I could think of, cupping my chest and rolling my nipples with his fingertips, lighting them on fire. The bubble was closer and closer to popping with every lick, every thrust, every roll.

“Baby… baby, I’m close.”

“Me too. Let go, I’m right there with you.”

And like a match getting struck, the release sent waves and waves of pleasure through me. Chan’s orgasm hit him at the same time, filling my core with his warm seed. My hips moved of their own accord, meeting his thrusts in sync to ride it out together. His pants were mixing with my moans to fill the once dead air and drain any remaining energy I had left. He kissed my neck a few more times as we came down together, smiling as he did. 

“I need to clean you up,” he started, cock still at attention inside me. “But I don’t want to move.”

“Stay. I don’t think I could get up if I tried.” They were the last words I could remember saying before the comforting darkness swept me away in its arms.

#stray kids #bang chan #skz #chan skz #skz bang chan #chan stray kids #chan x reader #chan x you #christopher bang #stray kids chris #chan smut #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan fanfic #bangchan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #chan scenarios #chan fic #bang chan x y/n #chan x y/n #chan x female reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x female reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids chan smut #stray kids chan fluff #stray kids channie

[choidaisy]

 ⊹ ⋆｡˚ . ˚✧ .  ⊹ ⋆｡˚ DAISY SCENARIOS ! #1

𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝.

genre: angst, fluff, 14th member words: 1,482 warmings: emotional strain, exhaustion, skipping meals, public image pressure

The morning started unusually in the dormitory. The clock read eight o'clock when Daisy, normally radiant and full of energy, crossed the kitchen in complete silence. Her steps were light, but the curious gaze of everyone at the table turned to her, as if something was amiss.

Seungcheol, the group leader, couldn't help but feel concerned as he noticed that something was off with his usually lively friend. "Good morning, Daisy. Are you okay?" he inquired, turning in his chair to examine her more closely. Surprisingly, she didn't respond, just stared at her glass of water.

"Good morning, Daisy?" Seungcheol insisted, raising his voice slightly. The tension at the table was palpable, and everyone awaited a response at that moment.

Daisy finally turned to face him, revealing a tired expression that contrasted drastically with her usually lively nature. Seungcheol, suspicious, questioned, "Did you sleep at home? Were you working out?"

The response came abruptly, surprising everyone at the table. "I would have loved to sleep, but I spent the damn night wide awake," grumbled Daisy, turning abruptly to leave the place. The sound of Seungcheol's fork dropping onto the plate echoed through the room, drawing the attention not only of his friends but also of Daisy herself, as he raised an eyebrow.

The tense atmosphere in the kitchen reached a new level when Seungcheol, unable to contain his concern, stood up abruptly, dragging the chair with him. He approached Daisy, whose eyes were now on the verge of tears.

"What's going on? Where are you coming from?" he asked, demanding answers. Daisy, arms crossed, shot him an accusing look. "Didn't Soonyoung tell you?" she challenged, as Seungcheol turned to Soonyoung for clarification.

"Daisy, please, we talked about this yesterday. Stop being childish. Are you really going to start another fight now?" commented Hoshi, casually chewing his food.

"Childish?" she retorted, raising her voice. "I'm being childish?" Daisy laughed incredulously at the accusation.

Amid the prevailing confusion, Seungcheol, who always valued order, began to lose patience. "Can SOMEONE PLEASE explain what's going on? What do you mean another fight?" he demanded, visibly irritated.

Daisy, feeling exhausted, annoyed, and hungry after a week filled with commitments, could no longer contain her emotions. She shouted, venting all her frustration. "I'm coming from the dance studio because my dear performance team changed the song in the setlist without telling me. I was informed last night, and the change is already in effect for today." Her words hung in the air, laden with tension, as everyone at the table absorbed them.

"Wait, Daisy, have you been rehearsing since yesterday?" Jeonghan asked, surprised, and she nodded. "I warned that changing the song wasn't a good idea."

Jeonghan's prior knowledge triggered an even greater rebellion in Daisy, who felt completely left out. "What? You knew too?" she questioned, indignant.

"Daisy, I've told you we thought you were aware. You're being overly dramatic; it's annoying," Soonyoung commented, trying to downplay the situation.

"How could I be aware if none of you informed me?"

"We barely saw you this week, Daisy. We asked them to inform you," he defended.

Before Daisy could unleash more emotionally charged words, Seungcheol intervened, trying to restore order to the conversation. "Did none of you ask her if she was okay with the change?"

"No, Cheol. Nobody consulted me. The four of them decided without me," Daisy retorted, tears now escaping involuntarily. The combination of tiredness, hunger, and frustration was pushing her to the limit, heightening her irritation.

"Anyway, we were the majority. And we wanted to change the song," justified Soonyoung.

"Why not just remove me from the team then? Since my opinion doesn't matter," Daisy vented, tears now flowing freely. Her vulnerability only intensified the moment, making her even more frustrated with the unfair situation she found herself in.

Seungcheol closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing his head. He couldn't believe that he would have to deal with group problems so early in the morning.

"Enough, it's already sufficient," he said, holding Daisy by the shoulders. "Go rest; we have a flight soon, and you haven't slept yet," he added, trying to convey calmness to his exhausted friend.

As Daisy withdrew to regain her energy, Seungcheol returned to the table, clearing his plate. The impasse had taken away his appetite, and he still had a conversation ahead with the leader of the performance team. "Finish eating and come to the room for a talk," he ordered Hoshi.

Hoshi sat next to Seungcheol, who patiently awaited him. He took a deep breath, feeling the seriousness of the moment. For Hoshi, all the drama seemed unnecessary, considering Daisy's excellence in choreography.

"You know that communication is crucial to making things work, right?" Seungcheol questioned.

"I swear we thought she was aware, hyung," Hoshi replied.

"But she wasn't. She's visibly tired and stressed, and you called her childish and dramatic."

Hoshi took a deep breath, acknowledging his mistakes. "I'll go talk to her."

"No. Let her rest now," the older one said. "But you guys need to consider everyone's situation, not just the majority. We all know how busy she's been with commitments outside the group."

"I know, I understand," Hoshi agreed, lowering his head. "I should have listened to her side."

Seungcheol gave Hoshi two reassuring pats on the back, wanting to show that, despite defending Daisy at that moment, he was there to support Hoshi in whatever was necessary. "Don't handle everything alone. If you find it difficult, just call me. We'll find a solution together."

The impending departure time brought with it the challenging task of waking up the young woman who had spent the night rehearsing the choreography of the song that triggered the entire confusion.

"We need to wake up Daisy," Joshua reminded.

Mingyu volunteered to go there.

Before entering the room, he knocked on the door three times, opening it slowly to carefully check if he wasn't intruding on her privacy. "Daisy," he murmured as he walked in, but she didn't hear.

So, Mingyu crouched down next to her and called her again. She slowly opened her eyes and mumbled words he couldn't understand.

"Sorry for having to wake you up, but we need to go, sweetheart..." he said softly.

She nodded with a sleepy expression. "I'm coming," she said, yawning.

"You need to get up now," he insisted, laughing softly.

Daisy sat up in bed, her face and hair in disarray.

"Alright," Mingyu said, hugging her affectionately. He then informed her that they had let her sleep as much as possible, but now they had only fifteen minutes to leave.

Daisy came downstairs without delays, accompanied by Mingyu, who held her backpack, while everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Still half-asleep, the taller one guided her to the car, laughing when he noticed she was about to lose her balance.

Upon entering the car, DK handed Daisy a coffee and a sandwich he had prepared himself, realizing that she hadn't eaten yet. Although she was without appetite, everyone insisted that she eat. The first bite was enough for her to realize how tasty it was, and in a few minutes, she had devoured everything.

On purpose, Seungcheol had arranged for the members of the performance team to travel in separate cars from Daisy, considering that her energy was not fully recharged.

At the airport, Daisy couldn't hide her mood. Even though she had to wave to several people and appear cheerful in photos and videos, she simply didn't have the enthusiasm for it.

While she and the other members answered questions from fans and paparazzi about how she was doing, she just waved and forced a smile, saying she was fine. Mingyu, attentive the whole time, touched her back in a supportive gesture.

The journey was safe, and Daisy spent the entire time listening to music on her headphones, memorizing the choreography.

In the backstage, before the start of the show, Hoshi attempted to talk to Daisy to resolve the grievances before the performance. However, she didn't want to talk to anyone, not even her dear little brother, Dino.

As the vocal team performed, Daisy's heart raced, especially because she was very anxious and nervous about her team's performance. That's when she was surprised by Minghao, who hugged her without saying a word. The other three members of the performance team also joined them. "Sorry, Daisy, we won't ignore your perspective anymore," said Hoshi, and she accepted the apology.

The members of the hip-hop team, watching from afar, felt proud of their colleagues.

Despite the apprehension about the new song, Daisy was incredible at memorizing choreographies and shone on stage. Even with everything going perfectly, Hoshi promised her that he wouldn't subject her to stresses like that again. The experience, although challenging, served to strengthen the bonds among the group members, highlighting the importance of communication and mutual support.

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #svt #seventeen fluff #seventeen series #scoups #jeonghan #hoshi #jun #the8 #wonwoo #mingyu #dk #dino #joshua #choi seungcheol #yoon jeonghan #kwon soonyoung #wen junhui #xu minghao #jeon wonwoo #kim mingyu #lee seokmin #lee chan #hong jisoo #woozi #lee jihoon #vernon #hansol vernon chwe

[nd-of-a-manatee]

I know this isn’t quite how ranks work in Psychonauts canon, just go with it.

[Image ID: The following is rendered in fuzzy digital pastel. Razputin Aquato–in his late teens, tall and skinny–lies breathless on his back on the ground, covered in sweat. He’s wearing sweatpants, a striped undershirt, and sneakers. His hair is disheveled, pushed back by his signature goggles. One of his eyes is a little higher than the other, now that he’s older. He stares upward with eyes wide, at his wit’s end. He lies in a white space, his colors graded dull blue. The foreboding cyan shadow of a three-digit number is projected over him: 206. End ID]

Raz has a problem.

He trains so hard to rank up his prowess as a psychic. He’s been training since the day he learned what a Psychonaut is. Now that he’s one of them, he sees diminishing returns for his efforts. That’s normal, they say. It gets harder over time. But he’s only 15, and it hasn’t changed in months. He’s way behind the other cadets his age, all approaching the 300s in their psychic specialities. Here he is stuck at 206.

This isn’t normal.

It’s not just about the number. There isn’t supposed to be a ceiling. A person can always improve, always extend themself to reach closer to their full potential. His mentors–his heroes, all well into the 1000s themselves–gave him a chance to be a Psychonaut because they saw so much of that potential in him. They were impressed that he picked up his first set of powers so quickly and used them to save the day nearly by himself–twice. What if that was the trick? He picks up a new discipline right away, then can’t advance it past a certain point. Hydrokinesis should be what he’s good at, but he’s barely better with it than anything else. That’s it. This is his potential. It was all a trick.

He lies awake at night, frantically weighing in anything that could be related to why. Anything he could do about it. He has often looked back on himself and thought that autism or ADHD or both could explain whatever being an enthusiastic little psychic nerd couldn’t. What if this is part of that? What if he can’t change it? His heart sinks.

He can’t hide it. They’ll all find out what he really is. What will they do if he can’t live up to the position he’s been awarded?

An old anxiety stirs. He doesn’t belong here.

Suddenly, Raz can’t concentrate. His performance falls below even his mediocre rank in practice, in study, in everything. He can’t even walk without tripping. His peers and mentors notice, though he insists that he’s fine.

It reaches a point where a couple of his teachers stop in their busy schedules and call him to sit down with them. That’s when the truth comes out. He tells them everything.

He waits nervously for their response.

They answer easily and say that he’s already proven his worth as a Psychonaut beyond any kind of rank or measure of raw power. His sense of duty, determination, willingness to learn from his mistakes, inventiveness, and compassion are what maximize the effectiveness of his psychic abilites–not to mention his unique skills as an acrobatic. If strength were all that mattered, none of them would be worthy of the abilities they wield.

[Image ID: Raz sits up. The hole in the zero makes it look like the shadow has retreated until it’s almost all the way off of him, lingering at the top of his head. His eyebrows are raised, but he’s calmer–having made an epiphany. End ID]

He hadn’t thought of it like that.

After some rest, Raz goes looking for new psychic sensitivities–not in a desperate attempt to find the thing that will bring him up to par, but with all the curiosity of an adventurer in search of new discoveries. By the end of the year, he has achieved adequate command of a wide, wide range of disciplines and has begun experimenting with using them in tandem. “Power juggling” is a difficult art for most psychics. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and lose control. As it turns out, Raz thrives in that kind of chaos and is able to compartmentalize his focus enough to practically create new powers unto themselves, if for a very short time. He shakes the dust off of his acrobatics. It’s no longer a grueling requirement to please his family. It’s his now. Fun and challenging, a test of dexterity and flow. He quickly renews his skills and finds new ways to wrap his powers around them. The other cadets come and watch him practice just to see what wild shit he’s up to that day.

He feels alive. He feels like himself, now more than ever.

[Image ID: Raz sprints out from under the shadow, turning to raise a middle finger at it with gleeful disdain. End ID]

[Image ID: The story shifts to a comic book sequence, also graded blue-green. Morceau Oleander has a green psychic shield raised to protect him, Milla Vodello, Adam Gette, and Norma Natividad from blue psychic needles that threaten to skewer them from above. The others use their own powers to try to fight the needles off, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. Someone talks over them. “Miserable fools.” A lanky white woman in a housecoat, plain shirt, sweats, and slippers with long billowing silver hair commands the scene from the center of some kind of pump room. Her arms are outstretched like a conductor. Her needles press buttons on control panels and hover menacingly over tied and gagged hostages. “I’ve had to devote my life to perfection to get this far,” she declares with triumphant superiority. We see her up close. She’s in her late 50s with sharp facial features and a high hairline, and she’s wearing a small earring on each ear. Her teeth gleam in a wicked smile as she shouts. “You have no idea of the sacrifice. The fortitude. I alone am qualified to correct the modern world’s failure to compete. Content weaklings like you don’t stand a chance. Just look at you.” She turns to face a shadowed corridor within a tangle of pipes behind her. “You can’t even sneak up properly.” Someone with angular shin-high boots runs down some steps deep in the corridor. That person– wearing black gloves and Sasha Nein’s old green jacket–uses orange psi power to draw water in the shape of a hand from a pocket-sized bottle. The hydro hand leaps forward toward the woman with its fingers outstretched. A coil of orange lighting snakes around it. Then, the hand freezes into an electrified claw. The hand is suddenly shattered on a horizontal needle that pops into existence. The woman sneers. “Ha!” The person uses the needle to swing forward and lunge out from the shadows feet-first. It’s Raz in his cool spy mission outfit. His boot folds the old woman in half by the stomach. She makes the dumbest surprised face, having been caught in her most confident moment. Raz looks determined and focused. Ice shards tinkle in the air around them. Raz then has her pinned on the floor. He has produced a helmet that looks like a Geodesic Psychoisolation Chamber from his jacket and plunked it on her head. “Did I break anything?” he asks, deadly serious. “My worldview is shattered,” she answers, bewildered. Raz pops into his excitable mode. “Oh! We can help with that.” He takes out a psi-portal. She turns to him and says, “Ok.” End ID]

------------

I keep rewording my commentary on this idea, so here’s the jumble:

I love the idea of protagonist syndrome. Main character kiddo is the specialest one of all who overcomes impossible odds or has a big cool unique ability. You see it all over magical/superhero kid cartoons. And then, that all collapses when they get older and change or can’t measure up and have to learn how to detach from the initial self-image and explore who they want to be (Steven Universe & Future, Venture Bros, my actual life experience if you can’t guess). I know it’s a little weird to poke holes in fun kids’ media and should be done with care. But I’m super interested in how protag syndrome applies to real life post-straight-A/sports star/Good Kid TM imposter syndrome. I wanna use this kinda thing as a framework to explore ways to be kinder to and happier with ourselves.

And just look at the boi. He’s doing so good.

Special guest appearance by the Noodler’s mean aunt, the Needler.

[Image ID: The Needler–the woman described before–is depicted in an initial sketch in black and white. She looks annoyed, standing with her hands and fingers splayed out in an “evil wizard” kind of gesture. The image is a little simplified. She has no nose. End ID]

#psychonauts headcanon #razputin aquato #raz psychonauts #pn hc #psychonauts hc #psychonauts 2 #psychonauts fancomic #psychonauts fanfiction

[jisunghannie]

Healthy and Happy

PAIRING: Bangchan x fem!reader

WARNING: Mentions of death, gore, car crashes, injuries, blood, hospitals, reader in a coma, reader, reader being called jagiya, swearing, and Chan getting hurt, physical contact (slapping, etc).

SUMMARY: You and Chan were trying to get to the car but you kept waking up in a dream after every death you had experienced. Was it a dream? Apparently it was, a dream of life or death.

WORD COUNT: 2,436

A/N:

.°•○>><<○•°. = POV switch

.°• ✿ •°. = Flashback/Present time

`○°.• ✿ •.°○` = Timeskip

-ssi is used to describe someone older (Maknaes, Changbin, and Hyunjin use this to address you!)

-ah is used to describe someone younger (Lee Know uses this to address you!)

It was another day as you and Chan had another date. It was like date after date after date. It wasn't a bad thing. You loved it. You loved being spoiled by him and being shown off by him. He never wasted a moment with you.

All the STAYs were oblivious to your relationship with Chan. You had always taken his pictures for him in public. He loved them and posted them on his instagram. He was so happy he could barely keep himself from kissing you after every picture you took. You loved it though. After the last date. You were on your phone admiring the pictures and next thing you knew, you heard Chan yell out.

"Y/n! Watch out!" You heard Chan's voice as you got hit with a car. As everything went black.

When you woke up. You woke up in a cold sweat. Scaring Chan awake he listened to your dream.

"But you don't get it Channie! It felt so real!" You told him as you were pulled into a close hug. "If that were to happen I think I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that I just watched you die." He told you seriously as you kissed his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere Channie." You said as he hugged you tightly. "I know jagiya... but it feels like you are..." You laughed at your silly boyfriend as he looked at you with his big eyes.

You and Chan had more time as you watched him perform and dedicate songs to you. You smiled every time you thought about all of the songs.

"Y/n-ssi, how long have you and Chan been together?" Jeongin asked as Chan wrapped his arm around your stomach. "Since high school. She's been with me for a long time." He said kissing your cheek as you giggled. "Since his senior year and my sophomore year." You said as Felix's eyes widened. "Holy crap, Chris you are a preda-" Before Felix finished his sentence Minho jabbed his elbow into Felix's side. "Relax, if you think about it y/n-ah is just 3 years younger than Chan."

You smiled realizing that moments like this would never get old. Realizing how long you and Chan had been together had made you feel like you were the luckiest ever. You were with your first love since high school and he has even been your high school sweetheart. You couldn't believe time had passed so quickly. You wanted to have time stand still. So you could be with him forever.

"Jagiya, you okay? You look deep in thought." Chan asked as you looked at him kissing him.

Jeongin and Seungmin turned away, Felix and Hyunjin were eating so they didn't pay much attention, Jisung was play-flirting with Minho again and Changbin just stood there. "Real mature Bangchan." Changbin pouted as Chan smiled at him after the kiss. "You're just mad that you can't find someone as good as y/n." Chan said, sticking out his tongue to tease Changbin. You smiled as Chan put on your shoes for you. "We are gonna head out." He said as he took your hand and helped you up.

After you hugged everyone, you told Chan that you were going to go across the street to get to the car first. He nodded as he took out his keys.

When you walked, you saw on your left a car was speeding in your direction. You were halfway down the street. You ran to try and reach the next half of the road but you didn't.

You ended up getting hit.

Your last memory before you blacked out was Chan hugging you, drenched in your blood, begging you to stay with him. And then.

You woke up again.

You had the nightmare again. Chan once again woke up and you explained your nightmare to him. You told him how you had a dream in your dream that you had also been hit by a car as Chan hugged you. Just like he did in the dream.

"If that happened, I would be there for you and quit my job and, and-" You kissed him to make him shut up. "Channie, I'll be fine." You said as he sighed. "I think we should go to a hospital to get it checked out." He suggested as you sighed, "Will that put you at ease?" You asked as he nodded smiling. "Then let's go." You said as he got up and got ready.

On your way to the hospital, you and Chan were hand in hand the whole time. Once you guys had got there the doctors there had told you guys that nothing was wrong and that you were just stressed. You guys then left.

"I told you it was nothing Channie." You told him as he smiled. "Sorry, I just thought it was concerning." He said embarrassed as you laughed. A crowd passed you guys and you guys had gotten separated. You planned to cross the road, you were careful this time and pressed the button waiting for it to let you cross. Once it shined to let you pass. You walked across. And just then. You saw a car. Speeding. Chan had seen you and ran to you pushing you out of the way.

When you hit the floor, you turned and Chan had gotten his right arm run over. "Channie!" You yelled out as you ran to him. Hugging his body with his gushing arm. It wasn't torn up but it was very bloody. He smiled and kissed your cheek. "It's okay. I'll be fine." He said as you cried and hugged him.

"Just wake up jagiya... I just need you to wake up..." Chan said as you woke up from another nightmare.

What the fuck was happening.

Again, you continued your constant cycle of being hit by a car or Chan getting hit or something. But it's always involving someone getting hit by a car.

The last nightmare was horrible. You knew that it was just a nightmare but why was it repeating?

One of the recent nightmares wasn't as bad, just slightly weird. You had woken up and washed the dishes that were flooding up your sink.

"Hey lover," He said, hugging you from behind as you did the dishes. You smiled. This was like your everyday routine. However, the more you thought about your normal routine. The more sad Chan looked.

"What's wrong Channie?" You asked as you caressed his cheek. As you felt tears drop on your cheeks.

.°•○>><<○•°.

Chan knew that it was a nightmare. He held you close to him as he cried. "Please wake up... don't be stuck in this coma forever..." He cried as you were in a coma, hooked up to different machines and everything. He had been banged up in the car accident that sent you in a coma.

.°• ✿ •°.

You guys were in JYP Entertainment and had to go back home to get rest for the concert the next day. As you guys had walked to the car, a car flew by you guys, hitting both of you. The impact was so hard. Chan was knocked into the car and you, into a lamppost. You're head hit the lamppost causing you to black out and Chan to black out.

The next thing he knew, he woke up in a hospital a week later. You were unresponsive but still alive. Chan ran over to your room with the little strength he had as he looked at you. You were unconscious for a week just like Chan yet unable to respond. He was heartbroken. "Bang Christopher Chan," The doctor said as he looked at the doctor. "Be aware that Ms. l/n may not wake up for a while. It'll take her some time." He said as Chan looked at limp body.

Over time he recovered and had to perform again, but these days he was stressed and tired. He slept less and less the more worried he became.

"Bangchan, you should take it easy." Hyunjin said as shook his head. "If I do who will take care of y/n and... and who would make sure she is okay and-and" He was stuttering, he was extremely stressed out as Minho grabbed his shoulders. "We can deal with y/n-ah. She would be heartbroken to see you like this." He told Chan. Chan understood what he meant but it just didn't feel right. "Just relax." Changbin said as Jisung nodded and smiled. "We can always help you out too Bangchan." Jisung said as Felix smiled and Seungmin hugged Bangchan.

For the first time, he cried. In front of his members. He cried.

You were so important to him and losing you was like losing his whole group. Even more. All of you guys were important to him. He didn't want to accept the fact that you could be in a coma forever.

.°• ✿ •°.

It had been exactly 10 months since you got into your coma. Chan didn't know how to feel, he covered your medical bills but didn't know what else to do so he read to you every day and showed you his new songs.

He hoped that you would wake up. He always wondered why it had to be you. He wondered why it couldn't be him. He knew you didn't deserve it so why did it have to be you? That he didn't understand. He just-

"Bang Christopher Chan?" A voice called out as his eyes darted to the door. It was your sister. She never approved of him. He held your hand tightly. "I'm sorry... I really-"

He was cut off by a slap to the face.

"I knew you were a bad choice the minute my sister introduced me to you!" She yelled as she hugged you, tears welled her eyes. Begging you to recover. "Why didn't you tell me or any of her relatives!?" She asked, screaming. He knew that it was his fault for not reaching out. But he knew it was better than them being stressed out.

Once she realized the eyebags under Chan's eyes, the puffiness of them, the books by him, the scar on his eyebrow, the tears that stained his cheeks, along with the red mark from the slap she covered her mouth in horror.

"Did... you...?" She hesitated as he nodded.

"I didn't see the car and when I did it was too late... I blocked her but," His voice cracked, "The impact was too strong and I let go once the crash happened, but..." His voice breaking as more tears rolled down his cheeks. "I should've just thrown her out of the way if I would've just woken up a week later..." He cried as your sister looked at you. "How long has she been here for...?" She asked as Chan inhaled, "She's been here for 10 months!" He yelled out horror painting on your sister's face as he bit his lower lip, biting back his sobs.

Your sister hugged you tightly. "Come back little sis... I know you're in there... please... I know you can hear me... wake up if not for me... wake up for your boyfriend of damn near 10 years..." She said as Chan chuckled lightly and held your hands, kissing them.

.°•○>><<○•°.

You continued to have these nightmares. You didn't know whether or not it was because you were stressed or if something was seriously wrong. Whatever the reason was. You were suffering and you could barely keep it together. If this is what torture felt like. You'd rather die.

"You can't leave me, not like this!" Chan yelled as you cupped his cheek. Closing your eyes, wondering when the next time you'd wake up.

Except this time, you woke up in a hospital. You were taken aback to see a sleeping Chan. You caressed his head as he woke up and hugged you tightly.

"Oh jagi!" He tripped over his own feet. You giggled weakly as he helped you up and took you to the doctor telling him that you guys we're going home. The doctor nodded which you thought was weird. You were more cautious this time. And this time you were right to be cautious. A car, speeding by as you pulled Chan.

"It's like you knew that car was coming." He said, impressed as you sighed, "I kind of did..." You admitted as Chan laughed, "That would've been bad if I got hit like you did wouldn't it..." He said jokingly as you looked dead serious. He then cleared his throat and took you to the car. "Shall we?" He asked as you giggled. "We shall." You replied.

You drove home happily with Chan until. You guys got into yet another crash. You sighed waiting for the next awakening, you wanted this to stop as you closed your eyes. Hoping it would just stop.

.°•○>><<○•°.

Chan looked at the heart monitor as he noticed less and less beats from your heart. "No, no, no, no, god no!" He yelled as your sister started screaming for a doctor.

Doctors came in as they performed different things on you to keep you from passing on.

Chan comforted your sister as she cried. In the waiting room. She sobbed for about a day. When the doctors came out they sighed and told them that you were fine but the next time that happened you might not be so lucky.

This broke Chan's heart. He didn't want to see you pass. He wanted to be with you, he wanted to see your laughs and smile, but he just knew it wasn't going to happen. At least not yet anyway.

He was still optimistic and wanted to have you close by his side. He knew that much.

.°• ✿ •°.

More time had passed, Chan was still very much sad that you hadn't woken up yet. He couldn't believe that it had almost been a year since you went into a coma. He was so hurt, unknown to what could happen next. He changed the water from your flowers and picked the ugly petals. It was one of your habits. A habit that never quite left him. He smiled as he looked at you, hoping you were sleeping peacefully. He smiled.

As he looked down, his tears hit the soil that had been buried over you as he was on his knees.

"I love you jagiya... happy 10 year anniversary..." He said as tears poured down his cheeks as he sobbed and choked out all the tears and cries he could in that moment.

#skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids #skz angst #skz bangchan #skz bang chan #skz chris #skz channie #skz chan x reader #bangchan x reader #christopher bang #bangchan angst #bang chan #bangchan imagines #christopher bang chan

[iamnotshazam]

On Cassiopeia the First, Grand Lysis and the Locked Tomb

Spoilers for Nona the Ninth: This may be an important theory for Alecto the Ninth.

In Harrow the Ninth's conversation where Harrow tells John about the Ninth House infanticide, John says something interesting-

[John addressing Harrow] "You generate too much light, or too much darkness, for me to look at you [. . .] You were awake during your first time in the River, and you performed necromancy, and believe me when I tell you the only one other person has ever done that their first time in. Keep in mind that she was an adult necromancer who went on to found the Sixth House. [. . .] How did they get you?"

I think John may have been speaking more literally about light and dark than I assumed at first. Gideon saw weird auras during one of the trials at Canaan House. But more importantly, Cassiopeia kept awake and used theorems during her first time in the River, too. But her connection to necromancy and death cannot have the same origin as Harrow's, because Cassiopeia was born before the rise of John as God and the death of the Earth. She was a lawyer and Nigella was an artist.

John is taken aback by Harrow's explanation. He wasn't expecting anything to do with eggs, birth, or possibly even thanergy:

"This was . . . all so different . . . before we discovered the scientific principles." "[. . . ] your mother and father committed a type of resurrection," he said. "They did something nigh-on impossible. I know, because I have committed the same act, and I know the price I had to pay. Thalergetic modification of an embryo is difficult enough, but to achieve the same thing with thanergy . . ."

Was Harrowhark Nonagesimus already a Lyctor? There's more than one type. Palamedes called his theory the Grand Lysis or megatheorem, and Harrow rejected it out if hand at first, possibly because she was already familiar with a similar concept and thought it couldn't be that. Her own existence would have been open for discussion if the joining of many souls into a true new soul was possible - so it can't be that, because she's an ordinary necromancer, right?

John ends the topic with:

"Harrow, nobody has the right to know," he said fiercely. "Nobody has the right to blame you. Nobody can judge. What has happened, has happened, and there's no putting it back in the box. They wouldn't understand. They don't have to. I officially relieve you from living in fear. Nobody has to know."

Is God panicking about Harrowhark revealing something to other people? Is God projecting some of his own justifications and anxieties onto Harrow?

The Body (Alecto) is very quick to tell Harrow to lie about her age to Mercymorn. This would have kept Mercymorn from asking questions about the plot to create a child of God to break into the Locked Tomb, but on the first read it's assumed it's Harrow's mind hallucinating a self-defense against investigating the infanticide. But if the true answer might have led to Mercymorn unraveling the success of Dios Apate Major, why would Alecto want her to lie? Why would Alecto want to hide a key to her Tomb? Alecto can't lie. Does Alecto like Harrow that much, to continue her own imprisonment?

Why?

What we know about Cassiopeia as of Nona the Ninth could barely fill a page. She:

Was gay with Nigella but had to keep it secret (why in near future 21st century NZ, though? The nun?)

Was in the original followers, witnessed everything at the cryo-lab, was resurrected, and had her memories erased

Married Nigella, as officiated by John, then turned right around an hour later and told John he was making bad choices

Was at Canaan House with the Lyctors and the Cavs researching how to . . . Lyct. The wiki said she worked closely with Anastasia (?), who had a more complete idea of Lysis, a tripod theory.

Ate Nigella and became the Fourth Saint

Founded the Sixth House, a research library

Left the Sixth House a note 6,000 years ago that eventually led to the Sixth House seceding from the Empire. (Blood of Eden made contact with the Empire 5,000 years ago.)

Is heavily implied to be another Lyctor source for BoE at one point (TV tropes, can't confirm)

Spirit magic and Resurrection Beasts were her specialty

Died in the River fighting a Resurrection Beast, lasting seven minutes under - except Palamedes while being ~mysterious~ implied maybe she didn't die

I'm wondering if pre-resurrection Cassiopeia (truth-teller, secret-keeper) made a note somewhere about how concerned she was about John's mood and possible actions. If she somehow found it again after the Resurrection. If the note was vague in hindsight and she didn't understand the full implications until after Lysis. If she was the first person to understand John was hiding something but also learned that he couldn't read their minds. If she created a moveable research facility and library that held itself separate physically and emotionally from the rest of the Empire, with the ability to move with enough stele, for a reason.

She wasn't like the rest of the Lyctors. She checked in on her House every now and then. She left them a note. Maybe she didn't have to avoid Dominicus like the others. Maybe she didn't have to fear the madness of a Resurrection Beast, where other Lyctors did. The first, broken type of Lyctor. Gideon the First and Harrow both managed to unintentionally make a bodge of their attempt at Lysis. Did anybody else? Would they know how to pick up the pieces and put them back - in a different way?

And was Cassiopeia doing something else during those seven minutes in the River?

There's a backdoor from the Tower in the River that connects directly to the Locked Tomb. Paul-amades thought he knew how to get to the Locked Tomb via the River. Harrowhark began walking towards the Tower as soon as her conversation with God ended. And in the conversation about her parents committing infanticide, Harrowhark told God:

"I am assured they had no previous research to go by. They came up with it themselves."

When her parents learned their daughter had brought Armageddon upon the Nine Houses, they reacted eerily calm. They killed themselves and may have expected her to as well. About a decade before, a person in a haz-mat suit appeared on the Ninth with a baby assumed to be named Gideon. Where did she land, outside of the airlocked Ninth? Who would have gone out to get her? Who gathered up the baby? Who eventually learned this was the same baby that lived through the nursery massacre?

"You remain - what you are," said Crux. "A worthless millstone hung around my darling's neck. You were born to make her suffer. You died as you lived, Gideon Nav - a disappointment to me - and to God."

Did someone put the idea in the heads of Harrow's parents that they needed a necromantic heir so assuredly they would risk the slow death of their house with no children? That maybe the survival of their House would soon not matter? Was there an indication using necromancy that way was even possible?

Mercymorn and Augustine had abandoned Commander Wake after Dios Apate Major. Space is big and stele are hard to come by. Was there someone transporting Wake to the Ninth? Someone with access to the River? Someone with the ability like Nona or Paul

Anastasia was locked in the tomb, as ordered by John. Samael died and Alecto was sorry for him. An oath existed to bind Alecto to Anastasia's blood.

What have Cassiopeia and Anastasia been planning?

#the locked tomb series #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth spoilers #alecto the ninth #i have no idea what im doing #tlt theories #john gaius #cassiopeia the first #anastasia the first #pyrrha dve #commander wake #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #marshal crux #horrible god man #oh yeah it's all coming together #nona the ninth #the locked tomb

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 10: What Keeps You Up at Night

Summary: When Loki’s nightmares keep him awake, he discovers he might not be the only insomniac around.

Author's Notes: This chapter has a song-within-a-song/bonus song/song-ception (get it, like Inception, but with songs? Okay, I’ll see myself out). My parents listened to the vinyl record of James Taylor Live ALL THE TIME when I was a little kid (and that was when records were the norm - cassettes were considered “the hip new thing” lmao) and I fell in love with the live version of Sweet Baby James. The original recording just feels so stiff and rigid in comparison. Anyways, even if you don’t normally listen to the accompanying songs, I’d really recommend it for this chapter - Ghosts is actually a really soft, dreamy track, and Sweet Baby James is a delightful lullaby. 

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: None? 

Word Count: 4,890

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Ghosts - Lydia

Bonus Track: Sweet Baby James (Live) - James Taylor

I saw Jesus on your back, he's starting to scream He's screaming no, oh, oh no, you've got to believe me So I whispered softly I got this girl here by my side, what else do I need? You got your wars up in their minds so they can hardly see But I'll be singing for free…

Nightmares plagued the Avengers.

Between the nature of their work and the baggage they brought to their roles, it was practically a prerequisite to suffer from nightmares. 

And yet, for all the brains and knowledge among them, no one had devised a method to get rid of the damned things.

Loki tossed and turned in bed. The mad titan haunting his sleep wasn’t new, but for some reason it left his mind racing in a way he wasn’t used to. He was restless - stretching his legs out and contracting into a ball and twisting every which way in hopes of finding a tolerable position for sleeping. And yet, he could not find anything remotely comfortable. 

Eventually, insomnia claimed its victory, and Loki accepted defeat. Uninterested in dwelling on his night terrors, Loki climbed out of bed; if nothing else, perhaps a change of scenery might calm his racing mind. Regardless, it was preferable to remaining in his quarters like a caged beast.

Loki stalked down the hall with a book in hand; in the dark, only the rustle of fabric as Loki’s clothes brushed together with each step filled the air. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner that he detected any sign of life - delicate, soft chords from a piano, coming from another room. Before he realized it, Loki followed the sound, each chord growing louder as he approached a door. When he was only a few steps from the door, he heard a lilting, floating voice dance above the music, though the melody sung was unfamiliar. 

Despite the dark, Loki recognized his location - it was the entrance to Theo’s quarters. He stopped in front of the door to listen. Was it truly Theo performing, or was the music just recorded? The pitches and rhythms were far more precise than one typically heard with live music, and even without understanding the words, emotion poured out from each note. It seemed too perfect to be live, but something about the way the sounds echoed from beneath the door maintained a special sort of quality that could not be captured with Midgardian recording technology. Was this a recording, or was this what she sounded like when she performed?

For a moment, Loki debated whether or not to investigate. Would it be appropriate to knock on the door and satisfy his curiosity, or should he continue on his way, perhaps asking about what he heard at a later time? 

However, barely a moment passed before he went from pondering the appropriateness of knocking to debating if he was even capable of social interaction. There had been too many nightmares and sleepless nights as of late, and he knew too well that the approaching anniversary of the Battle of New York likely was at the source. When exhaustion wore him down, he had a tendency to be rather irascible; pressing that upon someone else would be cruel.

Immersed in the jumbled mass of thoughts, Loki was so distracted that he did not notice the sudden absence of piano, or the footsteps approaching. 

At the sudden movement of the door swinging open, Loki startled. Across its threshold, Theo offered an inquisitive look.

“I thought I sensed your magic.” Theo offered a quick, sheepish smile before glancing down the darkened halls. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry - I can be quieter.” 

“No… I couldn’t sleep,” Loki admitted, keeping his voice low. “I heard something coming from your quarters while on my way to the sitting room to read. I was debating whether to investigate the source.”

“Ah,” Theo nodded, then pursed her lips. “Do you want to come in? It looks like you were going to go read on your own, but, uh, sometimes company can be nice when you can’t sleep.” She stepped a bit further into the hall, still watching Loki. 

Loki paused for a moment, unsure of whether to accept her offer. If she was inviting him to join, she likely had no intention of seeking out sleep herself. He might be expected to carry on a conversation. With how tired he was and the tempest in his mind, the risk of his shortened temper rearing its ugly head was high enough that he wondered if entering would put the tentative friendship they struck up at risk. 

“We don’t have to talk - you can read your book and I’ll go back to playing piano–” Theo stammered, her eyes widening as she spoke. “– Or you don’t have to come in. Sometimes people like to be alone. No pressure.”

Ultimately, the friendly, nervous look she held was enough to draw him in. 

Attempting to give the impression that he was not taken aback by her offer, he simply shrugged and nodded, then allowed Theo to lead him into her quarters. 

Each team member’s quarters provided a unique snapshot into who they were, and Theo’s quarters were no exception. Stepping inside, Loki took the opportunity to soak in every detail. What he found was a far cry from what he expected – in fact, it seemed to be a sharp departure from how she presented herself around other people whatsoever. 

Soft, golden light bathed the room, creating a relaxing ambiance. Notes of vanilla and something spiced filled the air, likely from the assortment of candles strewn about the room. 

In one corner of the sitting room stood an upright piano, with sheet music scattered across the top and stacked next to the piano bench. Perched atop the piano was a turquoise vase full of sunflowers - the combination seemed familiar to Loki, although he couldn’t quite place it.  Next to her window, a drawing table sat covered in sketch pads, paint tubes, paint supplies, and pencils, while an easel sat to the left with what appeared to be a first layer of paint. 

Along one wall, a trio of guitars hung; below the guitar trio, there were shelves with assorted cases, stands with instruments, and assorted microphones, as well as crates of records and a record player. Her shelves were jammed full of books that had post-it notes marking pages. Loki couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a book open on the coffee table, pages filled with notes scrawled in the margins. 

Unlike her wardrobe, her space burst at the seams with rich, vivid color - a deep teal sofa sat in the center of the room atop a burgundy Turkish rug, while bright paintings adorning the saffron yellow walls. Throughout the room, wildflowers in vases decorated various surfaces, while lush plants hung from the ceiling by elaborately knotted macrame hangers. Draped across the sofa was a thick, plush, forest green blanket, while a rust orange throw pillow sat in the corner; based on their position, it looked like Theo spent most of her time sleeping on the sofa.

Loki picked up the pillow and raised an eyebrow at Theo.

“What? It’s a comfy couch for naps.” She shrugged before turning away from and sitting down at the piano bench. Loki set the pillow aside before taking a seat of his own, stretching his legs out and opening his book.

“Your quarters are very… vibrant.” Loki observed. 

“You sound surprised.” Theo chuckled, turning to give him a bright smile - something he hadn’t seen much of. Many clever, wry, and playful smiles - but not one that was bright.

“I simply wasn’t expecting quite so much color.” He shrugged, allowing his eyes another tour of the space. 

“I think I have enough color in here to make up for the rest of the tower’s lack of color.” Theo laughed, spinning around on the piano bench to face him. “I wanted a place that would make me feel happy. So when I was told I could design my own suite, I tried to think of things that would lift my spirits - and well, it’s hard to be sad when you’re surrounded by rich colors and things that feel cozy.”

“How did you decide what elements to include?”

“I tried to think of good memories.” She gave a shy smile, pointing to the plants. “My roommate in college was a huge plant person - had dozens of plants in our cramped dorm room. I loved my high school art classes, which introduced me to my favorite painter, so I tried to pick colors that he would use in his paintings.”

“And who is your favorite painter?”

“Van Gogh.” Theo smiled, pointing at a book on the coffee table. “Post-impressionist. He’s amazing.”

Loki nodded, continuing to absorb the room around him. 

“I see…” Loki trailed off. “Well, it certainly is a cozy space.”

Theo beamed. “It’s my little oasis.”

After a beat, Theo spun back to the piano, leaving Loki to read. Even without discussion, the discord that plagued Loki was long forgotten, instead replaced with a sense of peace that felt almost foreign. Frankly, there weren’t many places that Loki could think of that felt quite so comfortable.

Eventually, his attention fell to a pair of curtains. While each Avenger’s quarters was unique, they all shared a similar layout, which meant Loki knew where all the doors and windows were located; there should not have been any doors or windows where the curtains fell.

“What is behind those curtains?”

Theo stopped playing for a moment and glanced over her shoulder.

“The secrets of the universe.” She shrugged casually, her nonchalant tone a pleasant change from her usual wariness. “Jokes aside, it’s a portal to my grandma’s farm. She lives far enough away that even taking an airplane to visit her would take a full day, and she needs a lot of help keeping up the place. Keeping a portal like this makes it easy to go back and forth between places quickly, especially if there’s an emergency.”

Once she resumed playing, it wasn’t long before Loki’s eyes began to droop. Meanwhile, Theo’s fingers danced across the keys; after a little while, Loki caught her singing softly.

“Now the first of December was covered with snow / yes and so was the turnpike between Stockbridge and Boston / now the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of bad frosting / with ten miles behind me, and ten thousand more to go, you know…”

She played with such tenderness, each note tumbling from the piano with delicacy as her voice floated through the air. Listening to her play felt like he was being let in on some kind secret – he didn’t even need to listen to the words to get a sense of what the songs were meant to be about.

“There’s a song that they sing when they take to the highway / a song that they sing when they take to the sea / a song that they sing of their home in the sky / maybe you can believe it, if it helps you to sleep / but singing seems to work fine for me…”

Despite his best attempts to stay awake, he began to slide down to lay on the couch as he read. It wasn’t long before Loki’s eyes fluttered close, resting his book on his chest. He told himself that he was just taking a moment to soak in the music. After all, Theo was incredibly talented, and the music was far more effective at soothing his weary mind than reading.

“So goodnight all you moonlight ladies / and rockabye sweet baby James / deep greens and blues for the colors I choose / won’t you let me go down in my dreams / and rockabye sweet baby James…”

He may not have been ready to sleep, but for once sleep won him over. 

I just followed the birds right to the coast Hoping she would follow my footsteps like some kind of ghost Whispering close We're not here for long, let's live for this week ‘Cause I'm so goddamn sick of losing my sleep Yeah, she'll be my defeat

There was an Asgardian prince out cold on Theo’s couch.

The realization seemed almost absurd - Theo nearly laughed aloud when she considered the situation in that way. Most of her life seemed absurd, to be fair, but this was one of the absurd moments that seemed almost funny. 

In a less absurd sense, her friend crashed on her couch. 

It was nowhere near a surprise to find Loki lurking about the halls late at night - given the number of times they hung out after Theo finished work, Theo kind of assumed Loki was a night owl. But something about the bags that hung beneath his eyes and the hint of tension wound up in his shoulders gave Theo the sense that Loki’s nocturnal tendencies weren’t exactly his preference. 

That was to say, Theo suspected that Loki had nightmares.

Nightmares were a phenomenon Theo intimately understood. Beyond experiencing more than her fair share of them, she learned about the neurological and psychological processes behind them as a student. Sometimes it was comforting to think about nightmares in a clinical sense - having an explanation that removed the emotion from the experience made it easier for Theo to distance herself from what waking up in a complete disarray actually felt like.

Silently rising to her feet, Theo carefully retrieved the book from Loki’s chest, jotting a quick note on a piece of paper before using the note to mark the page. With the book deposited safely on her coffee table, she covered Loki with the blanket that sage left draped on the couch. Loki didn’t look like he was going anywhere, so it seemed like the polite thing to do. She stole a glance at his face, but found her gaze lingering. Inky black curls spread on the velvet pillow, porcelain skin that held no tension, the perfect pout of slightly open lips - it was something out of a renaissance painting. 

If it hadn’t been weird, she’d have taken a picture so she could try and paint it later, but he was, at best, a friend - the request would have certainly creeped him out.

A quiet snore interrupted the thought.

Yes, the prince was definitely out cold.

With a quiet sigh, Theo returned to her seat and resumed playing. She let her fingers dance along the keys, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she tried to steady herself.

She wasn’t sure where the impulse came from to invite him in, but once the offer tumbled from her mouth she knew there was no turning back. Really, she was lucky he fell asleep so fast, because she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to have a conversation.  A gnawing, frenetic energy had been collecting in her chest ever since she moved into the tower, and trying to explain it would have been a nightmare in itself. 

After three nights of waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding in her chest and gasping for air, Theo’s solution was simply to avoid sleep.

Was it healthy? Absolutely not. Would it come back to bite her in the ass later on? Of course it would. But for the time being, it was better than the alternative.

She had, at one point, debated using the portal to go home - sit out on the dock, stare at the Michigan skies. But that carried the risk of running into Max or Mémère, and they would immediately know what she was trying to do. Max would remind her that she was a doctor and she knew better, that she had to take care of herself and practice what she preached, all in a tone that danced between exasperated and condescending. Mémère would take a different approach - she would try to inquire about what the nightmares were about, try to make sense of them. The woman was a seer, so it was inevitable that she’d try to divine something from the nightmares.

Theo regularly tried to remind Mémère that seeing and divination were not powers she inherited, but oftentimes Mémère would offer a coy smirk and say something that would make Theo try to divert the conversation. 

She certainly had a knack for making Theo squirm.

The first hints of sherbet in the sky came far too quickly for Theo’s liking. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the world came to life, and she’d have to tamp down her anxieties for a bit longer.

In the meantime, maybe she’d finally make use of her balcony for her morning coffee, and for once try to actually enjoy the sun coming up.

Either way, she needed to figure out what to do so things wouldn’t be awkward in the morning.

‘Cause when I'm dead and I'm gone, Just burn me up to the sun I've got a couple more years here, I want nothing but you, dear When I stare at the ceiling at 5 o'clock in the morning I got one thing that's on my mind - got so much to do before we die  Yeah if I survive So live it up, kid, live it real good, As you should We both know, could be gone tomorrow So tell me what keeps you up at night,  Keeps you from closing your eyes Keeps you alive

Rich, golden light that bathed the room greeted Loki when he awoke. The first thought that came to mind was that he was not in his quarters; after a moment, the events of the previous night returned to his memory - Theo inviting him in, listening to her play the piano as he read… and then nothing. He must have dozed off while reading.

Despite how the first half of the evening played out, Loki awoke feeling as though he’d slept peacefully through the night, with no nightmares, no tossing and turning - nothing. Just peaceful sleep. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well.  

Loki glanced down to find the plush blanket that originally sat on the back of the sofa now covered him, and it appeared to have been tucked in, as if Theo covered him before she went to bed.

The concept brought an odd warmth to Loki’s chest.

Without any distraction, Loki used the opportunity to reexamine his surroundings. In the light of day, Theo’s quarters burst with even more life; it was as if the sun magnified new details in the elements which Theo pointed out to him the night before. The half-finished paintings in the corner shared stylistic elements with her favorite artist. Between the scattering of music, note-filled novels, the mismatched assortment of plants, and surfaces cluttered with odds and ends, there lived a certain sense of homeliness that seemed intentional in how it countered the often sterile, cold nature of the hospitals in which Theo worked and of Avengers Tower.

On the coffee table, Loki spotted the book he fell asleep reading, appearing perfectly at home amidst the assortment of items covering the table. Amidst the pages, he found a note jotted on a piece of paper and stuck between the pages as a bookmark: 

“See? Comfy couch. :)”

Beside the book, he noticed another note.

“I’m on the balcony with two cups of coffee. One’s for you if you want it.” 

Loki took the second note as an invitation. Once he folded the blanket and draped it neatly over the back of the couch, he made his way over to the balcony door and slid the glass to the side. 

A plethora of plants, as well as a bistro table and two chairs, adorned the balcony; the contrast of the greenery to the concrete of the city felt lush, a true oasis amidst the urban environment.

Sure enough, Theo sat there, two mugs of steaming coffee on the bistro table. She hunched over the table writing in some kind of book, oblivious to Loki’s arrival.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning.”

Theo’s head shot up to find Loki standing there, watching her work.

“Oh! Good morning…” She smiled at him. “Sleep well?”

Loki nodded, stepping out into the morning sun. “Well enough.”

“You were out like a light,” Theo chuckled, a grin curling over her lips as her eyes sparkled. “Even snored a little-”

“Lies and slander.” Loki cut her off, trying to avoid the hint of a smile that was twitching at his lips.

“You did!” Theo exclaimed, now outright laughing. “You even had a little drool right there.” She pointed to the corner of her lip, winking at Loki.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I think I’d take my coffee to go, if you please.”

“Drama queen.” Theo pushed a mug towards him. “Grab a seat – it’s nice out here right now.”

Loki accepted the invite, sitting down and taking the mug from the table. Theo went back to writing in her book, occasionally pausing as she scrunched her face up in thought. Loki observed as she worked. On the page sat a grid, some parts filled in with numbers, while others were blank. Theo was filling in other numbers in some kind of a pattern – it must have been some kind of puzzle. 

“Have you ever done a sudoku?” Theo didn’t even look up from what she was doing as she asked the question.

“I’m not familiar.” Loki hesitated, wondering if she might tease him for the lack of familiarity with this ‘sudoku.’

“It’s a number puzzle,” she explained, flipping to a new page and showing him a blank puzzle. “The goal is to have the numbers one through nine in each row, column, and square without having any duplicates.”

Loki hummed, studying the grid before him.  “So that would be a four,” he pointed to one of the spaces; Theo filled the space in. It didn’t take long for him to have the majority of the puzzle solved - he would point to the square, tell Theo the answer, and she’d fill it in.

“You learn quickly.” Theo observed, leaning back in her seat as she wrote in the final number.

“In certain instances, I suppose I learn quickly,” Loki corrected her, “There are other puzzles that I’m still learning to solve.” 

Theo certainly was a puzzle - one that Loki found himself trying to solve. Perhaps that was what drew him to her: every time he thought he figured out something about her, she’d show him something new and a layer of complexity would be added to the mix.

Theo gave him a hesitant smile, glancing back down at her puzzle book.

“You’re reading the Blind Assassin - what do you think?” Theo spoke up, apparently familiar with the novel that Loki fell asleep reading.

“So far, it’s intriguing.” Loki took a sip of coffee, allowing his attention to move to the skyline. “Have you read it before?”

“I have - once you get through it the first time, read it again - it’s amazing how much more you pick up.” She glanced up from her puzzle, setting down the pencil as she picked up her own coffee and took a drink. “Atwood is brilliant like that - spins so many subtle clues into the story and so many layers. Everyone talks about the Handmaid’s Tale, which is good, don’t get me wrong - but I’ve always enjoyed The Blind Assassin more myself.”

This tidbit of information was certainly enticing - both regarding the story, but also regarding Theo’s taste in literature.

“I look forward to finishing,” Loki glanced over at her, smiling as he dipped his chin in a nod. “I’ll certainly let you know my thoughts.”

“What’s next on your reading list?”

“I’m not certain…” Loki shrugged, stretching out a bit in the chair. “Do you have any recommendations?”

“I might, but given you’ve been around for a millennia I suspect you’ve already read everything I’ve read and then some…” Theo pointed out, which brought a wider smile to Loki’s face. “Maybe you can make some recommendations. I’m guessing you have a variety of favorites that I’ve probably never even heard of.”

“Perhaps I will make you a list.” Loki said, giving Theo a quick wink. 

After a bit more back-and-forth on literature, the conversation reached a lull. The bustle of the city echoed from below, creating a quiet wash of sound between the pair. They’d reached a point where they were comfortable with silence between them, and that morning was no different. Still, there was something about the quiet of the early morning, the personal nature of the space they occupied, that felt different in a way Loki couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

Even if he couldn’t explain it, he found he didn’t mind. It felt… Natural. Easy. Comfortable.

Loki caught himself studying Theo. She focused on some spot in the distance, staring off as though deep in thought. Even though she offered a warm, bright smile to him the night before and some light, playful banter when he first stepped outside, as she sat in the morning sun there was something heavier in her demeanor. There was a certain slump in her shoulders, and the bags beneath her eyes were obvious.

She hadn’t been sleeping either. What was it that kept her awake at odd hours? Was she like Loki, suffering from nightmares? Or simply unable to fall asleep?

It wasn’t the sort of question he could outright ask - she would undoubtedly shut down.

“You are quite the musician,” Loki remarked, hoping to direct the conversation in a manner where he might glean something notable regarding her nocturnal schedule. “Do you always rehearse at such late hours?”

“I’m not that good, but thanks.” Theo blushed, but kept her eyes on the horizon. “I don’t always wait until it’s that late, but things have been busy lately and it helps me unwind… I figured it was my best chance at avoiding interruptions.”

He interrupted her.

“I apologize, I did not mean to–”

“Oh no, I invited you in.” Quick to dismiss him, Theo flashed a nervous smile. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

At surface level, it did not seem to be a lie - and yet, Loki couldn’t help but sense there was more to it than simply not wanting others to notice.

“You play quite a collection of instruments,” Loki remarked, hoping the continued conversation might distance them from the uneasiness. “Most Midgardians only play one instrument, if any. Why is that?”

One corner of Theo’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Came from a musical family.”

“You have quite a bit of musical talent,” he observed, “Am I remembering correctly that you’ve been nominated for awards for your performances?”

Theo’s expression shifted to something more pensive. She leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees as both hands wrapped around her coffee mug.

“I was a backing musician on a pop record.” She let out a dismissive chuckle, then brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “It wasn’t my talent that got the grammy nomination. I needed some cash when I was in my residency and a friend connected me.” 

She wasn’t telling the full story, but he refrained from pushing the subject; perhaps at a later date, he could revisit the matter.

“Do you play any instruments?” Theo turned the questions back to Loki, a curious glint flashing in her eyes. 

“I play the violin and piano, among other instruments,” Loki answered, “All nobility of Asgard were expected to study music in some capacity. Thor was an atrocious musician, but I rather enjoyed myself, so I studied a few instruments and vocal performance.”

“Maybe sometime I can hear you?” Theo suggested, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’ve now heard me twice - first at my band’s show, and last night. Turnabout’s fair play.”

“Perhaps.” Loki conceded. It had been a considerable time since he’d entertained an audience, and starting with someone with Theo’s talent seemed like a risky proposition. “I would like to hear you play again sometime, ideally on your own.” He gave her an earnest glance. “Perhaps not in the middle of the night though…I do apologize for falling asleep on you, by the way.”

“It’s fine - we both know sleep is important, and you looked pretty tired. Besides, I may have switched to playing songs that were good for falling asleep… So if anything, that’s on me.” Theo dismissed his comment with a smile and a wink. “And who knows? Maybe the fact you were half-asleep helped me sound better.”

“No,” Loki countered, leaning forward to rest one hand on her knee before he could stop himself. “I’m quite certain you sound wonderful regardless of when you play. Besides, you deserve to have an audience who’s awake for the full performance.”

Theo stilled, tugging her lower lip between her teeth as she mulled over Loki’s request.

“Maybe if there’s another day where the rest of the team is out… maybe then.” On the surface it didn’t seem like much, but Loki knew it was as generous as it was important.

Loki beamed.

“I look forward to it.”

Love, happy, my love Got this all in my blood Need her close enough like ohh— Love, happy, my love They said it came from above Ha, yeah that's where it's from

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki slow burn #when everything's made to be broken #loki x oc #loki x ofc #wemtbb #loki odinson #loki fic #avenger! loki

[milfgyuu]

Love of My Life Pairing: Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Fem!Reader Series: SVT x Harry’s House Tags: 4.4k, Angst, Rekindled Romance Summary: “Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it. It's not what I wanted, to leave you behind. Don't know where you'll land when you fly, but, baby, you were the love of my life.”

Roaring crowds, cheering, chanting, bright lights, crowded walkways, blacked out car windows, sleeping in tour buses, screaming fans, signings, recordings, performances, television shows, interviews, concerts. It was loud, bright, busy, thrilling. It was the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins hearing people sing along to his songs, calling out his name - and then it at some point, for at least a brief period, it all stops. 

Abandoning his suitcases by the front door, Jihoon shuffles into his home, slippers scuffling along the brilliantly shining floors, lights automatically coming to life as he enters the open space. It’s silent, empty. Such a stark contrast to the life he’s been living non-stop for the past few years and now all he wants is a break. 

A moment to breathe. 

With the end of his latest tour, Jihoon had decided to take a few months off - go home, re-evaluate things, find inspiration where he’d been burnt out and lacking. 

Looking around his barely lived-in space, he huffs inwardly. There is not a speck of life within these walls. A place to eat, sleep, store some of his things but there was nothing more to the white walls and black furniture. There were no stories, no echoes of love and laughter ringing throughout the halls. Not a single thing to re-ignite his drive nor passion. 

It seems very ‘woe is me’ for a famous musician to complain. He had wealth, respect, notoriety, and he was loved by people all over the world but there was a hole in Jihoon’s heart that he could never seem to fill and that had been abundantly clear when he’d begun shuffling through some un-opened mail his housekeeper hadn’t attended to. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, he flips through a few things before a cream colored envelope slips from his hand and hits the floor loudly. He bends down to pick it up and notices a familiar scrawl on the front. He blinks and sets everything else back down, staring at the writing in shock. 

Carefully opening the seal, he slips a small note and heavy piece of cardstock from the envelope and stares down at it for so long his mouth runs dry and his legs nearly give out on the way over to the couch where he drops down, mindless of his own movements. 

The note simply reads, “I thought you should know” signed by his old friend Jeonghan but it’s what is written upon the cardstock that truly stops his heart.

It shouldn’t be a shock given he’s just broken into his thirties and many of his friends were engaged, married, or starting families but he wasn’t ready to see your name on the invitation in his hands. Your name, intimate and ever familiar, elegantly scrawled in gold letters just above the date, time, and address of your wedding to someone that isn’t him. 

And he thought that perhaps, after sitting on it for a few days, he could be happy for you. He could be supportive and congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials, send his well wishes but he can’t get rid of the lump in his throat nor the ache in his chest because day and night he sits awake in his empty, lifeless house and he thinks about you. 

Jihoon remembers the first time he saw you, sitting across the bar with your friends, twirling the straw in your neglected drink as they all chattered around you. He just so happened to be playing a small gig that night and the moment he’d locked eyes with you as he played his guitar, he knew you were something special. 

Just a couple of kids running on store-bought coffee and ambition, the two of you navigated the murky waters of early adulthood at each other's side. There were tough times. Times you both hardly made enough to cover the rent. Times you were both so exhausted those few hours of quality time turned into the two of you passing out on the couch in each other's arms. 

But it wasn’t always like that. The good had outweighed the bad tenfold. You laughed until you cried, sang until your lungs gave out, spent quiet afternoons letting Jihoon teach you to play his guitar and long nights tangled in each other’s warm, loving embrace. Those were the times you knew that no matter how hard things got, you would always love Lee Jihoon.

Eventually, things got easier. 

You found yourself steadily climbing in your career and Jihoon had been getting more attention for his music. He’d been playing local gigs, and sometimes traveled to play at larger venues and festivals. You were thrilled for him and supported his work, traveling along with him whenever possible, attending every gig you could while trying to balance your own work life. 

Then, he was handed a business card for a record label and that’s where things begin to change. 

It always starts out as this big, shining opportunity and then the grueling work and the sacrifice come into play. He begins traveling more, coming home later, holing himself in the studio for days on end to meet deadlines, missing date nights, empty beds, empty hearts…empty conversations and then the first tour is announced and you can’t go.

Jihoon remembers the fight so vividly, a whirlwind of hurt and anger. Words spoken without truth, laced with malice and lethal consequences. That was the beginning of the end. 

He stares down at the invitation he can’t seem to throw away and grits his teeth, those same feeling bubbling up and out of his control. He hopelessly grapples with the news, spending his evenings in a drunken stupor, his manager and only trusted friend coming in to drag him into bed each night. Sleeping all day to avoid his own reality and then doing it all over again. 

In the three weeks leading up to your wedding day, Jihoon has come to one irrevocable conclusion that leaves him gasping awake in the middle of the night, desperately crying out your name and then, he’s on a plane the next morning.

His family and all his old friends are so excited to see him again that he briefly forgets why he’s back home in the first place but the moment Jeonghan lays eyes on him, that sad knowing smile reminds Jihoon that it’s all real. You’re getting married tomorrow and he has to tell you. 

It’s incredibly selfish and he hates himself for it but he finds you outside of your café - the one you bought and re-built from the ground up. He stares at you from afar, watching you tidy up the shopfront and hang your beautifully decorated sign on the door that explains the joyous reason your shop would be closed for the next two days. 

The way the sunlight touches your skin and the breeze blows the little ties of your apron make his throat close up uncomfortably. You’re so close and if he just took a step forward, called out your name, he could tell you what he’d needed to say so desperately but he can’t. 

He can’t do this to you. 

You’re glowing, radiant…happy. 

His return would do you no good now and what good would it truly do him? You’d have every right to spit in his face and he’d deserve it, the way he gave up on you, selfishly chose himself and his career over you. He takes a step back aiming to leave undetected but it’s too late because as soon as he turns away… 

“Jihoon?”

Your eyes meet from across the empty street and the small clay pot in your hands slips through your fingers and goes crashing to the ground. Jihoon nearly bolts out in front of a car in his haste to cross the street and then he’s kneeling in front of you cursing and apologizing, picking up the pieces like he should have done so many years ago. 

He doesn’t hear you call his name over and over until your hand falls upon his shoulder and he looks up in astonishment. He hadn’t stopped for one moment to think about what it would feel like to see you again. To look into your face and realize he’s forgotten how to read you when he used to know your pages even better than his own. It’s a stark reminder that he shouldn’t be here and yet…

Jihoon stands, dusting his hands off on his pants and he clears his throat but can’t think of anything to say other than, “Hello.” Genius mind of a song writer. 

“What are you doing back in town?” 

Your words are short and to the point but the quiver in your voice betrays you and splinters Jihoon’s nerves even further. “I just uh…” his hands wring together as he lies, “I’m done touring and I just wanted to come back home to visit.”

There is a pause and suddenly all the background noise fills your ears and you open the door of the café, silently inviting him inside. He passes you carefully and you follow him a moment later, spinning to ensure your closed sign is hanging properly. 

With a respectable distance between your bodies, you still, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. “Just a weekend off then? I’m sure you’re busy trying to fit everything in.” 

For some reason it still stings - these brief little visits that last a day or two before he’s back on the road. You hadn’t missed the long lonely days that had always followed. 

“Uh, no, actually.”

His words surprise you and your posture borders on being noticeably rigid as he continues. 

“I’m done touring.” The words don’t make any sense to you and seem to mix and cross in your brain, making them sound like nonsense. There isn’t any way he could possibly mean it.

“What do you mean you’re…done? As in finished with this tour? Right?”

Jihoon shakes his head slowly, eyes downcast because he isn’t ready for your reaction. His label had a fit but Jihoon was the one pulling in the money, he was the one making the decisions and he was done. He’d continue to make music as he always had but no more would there be months on the road, spending a few days in each city across the map. 

“This was my last tour,” he nods, finally looking up to gauge your response. He’s not sure what he was expecting or hoping for but your face is devoid of emotion…at least that’s what someone might think if they didn’t know you as well as Jihoon did. “I’m not retiring or anything…I just feel like I’ve put the work in and now it’s time to…I don’t know…live my life?”

Your nails bite into your arms but you’re numb, unable to release the tension in your fingertips until Jihoon reaches his hands out as if to stop you from hurting yourself and your hands drop to your sides, arms hanging limply. You force a smile to your lips that makes Jihoon uneasy. 

“I’m glad to hear you’re taking time for yourself, Ji-” your breath catches on his old nickname and his own does as well but you brush past it, “-Jihoon. Your fans will be sad but I’m sure they’ll get over it when you put out the next hit song or two.”

He smiles and nods his head toward the floor bashfully and it’s quiet for a few minutes. He picks his head up to say something and you speak at the same time causing a fumble and awkward shuffling to decide who should speak first but he takes the lead. 

“You uh,” his hand slips up the the back of his neck anxiously, “You look really great,” he compliments and then quickly turns the attention to the space around you, “And the shop…it’s amazing…exactly like what you were day dreaming about back in the day.”

A small smile unfolds and you bite at your lip. “Thank you,” your eyes flit around the quiet space, “Sometimes I look around and I still can’t believe I did it after all this time.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

When your eyes reach Jihoon’s face once more, it’s incredibly nostalgic and a swirl of emotion gathers in the pit of your stomach uncomfortably. “A lot has happened since you left.”

“I know.” He smiles sadly and you tuck your hand behind your thigh with the burning sensation of guilt and shame for feeling compelled to hide it in the first place. Jihoon takes a tentative step forward and reaches around you, tucking a single finger beneath your palm, pulling your hand out of hiding. Your engagement ring shines brilliantly and Jihoon’s eyes meet your own.

“It’s beautiful,” he says softly, thumb lingering on your ringer finger for only a moment. “I’m sorry I’ve missed so many milestones. Wait, don-”

You pull your hand from his and wipe errant tears from your face in embarrassment. Seeing Jihoon so suddenly, the day before your wedding it’s like….a cosmic ‘fuck you’ of epic proportions because as much as you’d like to say your closet isn’t full of skeletons and unresolved emotional bullshit, you can’t and the proof is staring you dead in the face. Looking at you the same way he did all those years ago and you feel lower than ever. 

The tears fall faster and Jihoon flounders. He shouldn’t have said anything, he shouldn’t have come inside, he shouldn’t have even come back home in the first place and this is why. He is your ruin and there is no escaping the feeling of guilt and desolation in his chest for the overwhelming amount of hurt he continues to push you through. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry for showing up like this,” he apologizes gently and you’re nodding, wiping your face like a small pitiful child. Your eyelids burn and lashes hold on for dear life as you hastily rub your eyes, attempting to laugh things off. 

“It’s ok! It’s fine!” you lie, rounding the counter to grab a napkin, “Just a little jittery is all. There is so much to do between now and tomorrow that I’m just…I’m in a little over my head.”

“Hey-”

Jihoon attempts your name but he can’t manage it and you’re waving him off as if you’re totally fine though your reflection says otherwise. “Jihoon, really, I’m okay and it’s nothing to worry about. Let me just go clean myself up and maybe we can…catch up?”

Jihoon presses his lips together tightly, like some semblance of a smile and nods his head but there is a moment when you’re just standing there, staring at one another, waiting. 

When neither of you speak, you look at the floor and force an amicable smile, excusing yourself to the restroom. Only then do you allow yourself to sink to the ground, knees tucked tightly to your chest, back against the wooden door. You hope it’s far enough away that he doesn’t hear you sobbing into your hands, sniffling and carrying on. 

You hate the fact that in that moment, before you walked away, you wished that he might say something. You don’t even know what you had hoped to hear nor what difference it would make because the reality was that Jihoon is a part of your past and you have a future. 

You’re getting married in the next twenty-four hours. 

You’re settling down and making a life for yourself with someone you love, someone who is good to you. Who treats you right and is a constant support at your side. Someone you were so sure you wanted to spend the rest of your life with for the past two years up until now.

So, why are you suddenly on the bathroom floor wondering if you’re making the wrong decision?

You’re not sure how much time has passed but by the time you drag yourself up and over the sink, fix your face, and walk back out into the empty dining room, he’s gone. 

You stare at the space he’d occupied moments ago and tried to convince yourself he hadn’t been there at all but the crisp white envelope on the counter argues otherwise. Taking it between careful hands, you consider not opening it at all. All you have to do is walk around the counter and throw it in the trash and you can put this behind you. 

Like a fool you tuck it away in your bag instead. You’ll throw it in a box and keep it in the highest corner in the back of your closet and maybe one day, when this encounter is nothing but a distant memory, you’ll have the courage to read the contents. 

You wouldn’t have gotten the chance to open it anyway with the reality of the tasks ahead of you between now and tomorrow afternoon. Last minute catering details, a meeting with the coordinator, a hiccup with the linens. It feels as if the moment you crash into your pillow you’re sitting right back up, hitting the button on your alarm. 

It’s surreal to be standing in front of the full length mirror in your bridal suite, the finished product staring back at you like an entirely different woman with silken hair, perfectly set face and painted lips. Your gorgeous white dress elegantly shaping your figure, lace bodice striking and breath taking to behold. Something is missing though and it takes a few minutes to realize you’ve left your earrings in your bag. 

With the rest of your bridal party in the middle of photos, you’re alone in your suite and cross the small, crowded room to retrieve your missing jewelry but instead, your fingers recognize the crisp envelope you forgot to hide away and you pull it out slowly, staring down at your name in Jihoon’s ever familiar scrawl. 

You can’t force yourself to put it back and your hands move before your mind can catch up and then the seal is broken and you’re slipping the letter from between it’s protective encasement. Falling into the plush armchair, you carefully unfold the thin paper, smoothing it’s delicate creases. Four words in and your hands shake.

Jihoon is accustomed to private flights and being escorted to his gates by body guards and staff around him at all times but right now, he only wants to be alone. It’s quiet in the west wing of the airport and the seating is all but empty with there still being another hour before his flight leaves. He pops in his headphones and shuffles his playlist, tipping his head back against the seat as he closes his eyes. 

He tries to think about anything other than you. How beautiful you probably look right now with your dress and your bouquet, walking down the aisle to someone he doesn’t even know. Jihoon hopes he makes you happy. That he loves you fiercely on your good days and bad days. That you will always come first in his eyes and never feel lonely for even a moment in time. 

That your husband will love you just as much as Jihoon himself will always love you.

Steadily the seating around him begins to fill up as he gets closer to departure time. He can see the plane and staff are beginning to gather near the gate to check passengers in but he sits and waits until the majority of people have formed a line before finally getting up and joining the queue. He keeps his cap low, mask on and eyes downcast but most everyone is too busy to notice him anyway. 

The line shuffles along and he patiently moves with it. Glancing out the towering glass windows, he get’s distracted by a frantic reflection. The ghost of someone moving quickly down toward the terminal, cloak or dress of some sort billowing out behind their figure and then the sound of loud clacking of heels against tile hit his ears just before…

“Jihoon!”

The shout causes heads to turn this way and that but his eyes laser focus in on the sound and he staggers a single step forward, “My god…”

He’s got to be imagining it - the vision of you in your wedding gown running as quickly as you can toward the gate, calling his name with tears streaking down your face. The crowd of people stop moving as the staff get distracted and he hears chattering and whispering, people wondering what’s happening and others recognizing his name excitedly. 

Jihoon takes another few steps forward, dropping his bag and calling out your name to make sure it’s really you and you’re really there, and then he’s rushing to meet you halfway. You slam into his chest wrapping your arms around his body so tightly you’d be hurting him had he even the sense to feel such a sensation. He spins his hat around and haphazardly tucks his mask into his back pocket.

His arms automatically come around you, wild eyed in disbelief and then he’s pulling you back to peer into your tearful eyes, cupping your cheeks because the need to touch and feel is so overwhelming it stands to devour him whole. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“How could you write me that letter and then leave again?” you sniffle angrily, wiping carefully beneath your eyes to rid the blurry mess from your sight. 

Jihoon stutters, unsure of what to say other than the truth.

“I’m a selfish man,” his fingers are so warm on your face, pads just a little rough from his guitar playing, “I shouldn’t have come back just to turn your life upside down again but I couldn’t help myself. I needed you to know that not a day’s gone by that I haven’t thought about you.”

One of his hands tentatively drop to your waist, keeping you close and your conversation low knowing you have an audience. “You will always be the love of my life and I want nothing more for you to be happy, even if that’s not with me.”

You collapse against him, one hand ringing the back of his shirt and the other in his hair. He holds onto you with all his might, heart shattering in his chest for being the reason you're crying for the millionth time. Over you shoulder in the distance he sees Jeonghan in his suit, leaning against a wall as he watches on. He twirls his car keys around his finger and nods once which explains how you got here but he still doesn’t understand why. 

“I called the wedding off.”

Your words shock him and his body shakes with the force of the implications. Surely you can’t mean to tell him that you’ve run out on your own wedding because of…him?

Jihoon shakes his head, cheek brushing against yours as he whispers your name, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want you to throw away your happiness away on me, please-”

“Jihoon,” you lift your head, eyes glistening as a smile spreads over your lips, “You are my happiness. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you until now and I’ll still love you when we meet again in the next life. I can’t go into a marriage with someone I can’t give my whole heart to. I don’t deserve that and neither does he.”

He can’t help but smile in the moment even though his happiness is another man’s terrible misfortune. “I can’t believe you’re here right now.”

You huff out a small watery laugh, “What? In the middle of the airport in a wedding gown? Can’t say it’s something I had imagined either.”

Jihoon laughs in return and presses you closer by the small of your back, “In my arms,” he gently corrects you, “I never thought I’d get the chance to hold you again.”

As you somewhat expected, there are phones and cameras hidden in the crowd and you sigh bemusedly, “I can already see the headlines now, ‘Famous musician, Lee Jihoon, kisses runaway bride in the middle of hometown airport’.”

“Does he now?”

The joyful grin on his face is so beautiful it takes a moment to answer. “Yeah, he does.”

Forgetting about the world around you, it’s startling when a man’s voice comes over the speaker from the staff podium near the gate check-in and says, “You may now kiss the bride, sir!”

Laughing and cheering fill the terminal and Jihoon blushes before pulling out some of that stage persona and confidence. He pivots and dips you back, eliciting a joyful sound out of the small crowd and then he’s planting the longest overdue kiss upon your lips, grinning into it knowing he’s the luckiest man in the universe in this very moment. 

You blink your eyes open as he steadies you back on your feet and hide your face in his shoulder as those around you applaud. Jihoon waves and bows at the crowd politely and takes your hand walking away from the gate to your surprise. You giggle behind your hand, still high off endorphins. “What do we do now?”

Jihoon nods at Jeonghan across the way who winks in return and pushes off the wall silently and walks off ahead of you to pull the car around. “Now, we should probably get you out of that dress and into something more comfortable.”

“Jihoon,” you tease as if you’re scandalized and not thrilled about whatever lies ahead.

He pulls you onto the escalator, sharing a step so he can pull you hard against him with a mischievous smile. “Then, I’m taking you somewhere, wherever you want to go.”

You push forward and kiss him again, already missing his lips on yours. “Take me somewhere pretty enough to write a song about.”

He thinks about the little island he visited for a few days last year when he needed a weekend to hideaway, recharge, refocus. He couldn’t imagine a better place to restart, to spend days on end doing nothing but tracing your outline, relearn everything inside and out. 

No one can ever know all that the future holds but he does know that whatever it may offer kindly or throw at you without warning, he would be at your side through it all.

The sunlight that spills upon your faces as you walk outside warms you from the inside out and it’s like a new beginning washing over the two of you. Jihoon looks over and you know this is the way things were always supposed to be when he smiles and parts his lips.

“I think I know a place.” 

Thanks for reading! 💗

SVT M.List | Main M.List

→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Milfguu, 2019. ©️

#SVT x Harry’s House #svthub #caratwritersclub #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #jihoon fanfic #lee jihoon fanfic #svt jihoon fanfic #woozi fanfic #woozi x reader #svt woozi fanfic #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt series #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfics #kpop oneshot #kpop series #angst #romance #exes to lovers #lana writes

[hezzabeth]

Nano days 10-13

“Of course, it does. Little Habi doesn’t have my figure,” Revati said proudly as the two feral children came bounding around her pink velvet skirts.

There was a quiet, embarrassed shuffling sound. Revati glanced over her shoulder and realized it was the lost boy.

“So, you’re going to steal my shoes and bracelet?” he asked nervously.

“Take the bracelet; we have enough boots,” Revati said, and Aurora timidly walked towards the boy, extending a hand.

“Do I really have to give her my bracelet?” he asked with a small, bewildered smile.

“We could send you back in there! I’m sure Big Hardie is awake and ready to perform,” Revati said, and with a vague shrug, the boy undid his bracelet, handing it over to Aurora.

“Let’s go,” Revati said to Aurora before snapping her fingers again, causing the feral children to fall back in line.

“Now hang on!” the boy cried, chasing after them.

Revati just kept marching on, holding her skirts up above her ankles.

“Look, did you just save my life? Were those actors really going to kill me? That’s a crime!” the boy pointed out, and Revati spun around, examining the boy.

The boy was dressed in a simple yet surprisingly new bright blue jumpsuit. His plastic boots barely looked worn, yet he had calluses all over his fingers. Revati’s eyes trailed upwards, briefly taking in the bruises on his neck.

“You’re on ungoverned territory; everything is legal here, technically,” Revati said ignoring the blood all over the feral children’s clothes.

“Well, that explains the naked people I saw dancing around a burning information screen in the wasteland,” the boy said as Revati and Aurora kept marching on.

“Oh, those are the Luddites! They were actors in the medieval section, and now they reject all forms of technology,” Aurora explained as they continued walking the streets, changing from thatched roof buildings to narrow brick townhouses.

“Medieval section? Where exactly am I?” the boy asked, and Revati snorted.

“I don’t have time to explain a confusing and contradictory society to you! Over there is one of the theme park's maps,” Revati snapped, gesturing to an old, large poster framed in cloudy glass.

The investors and creators of Olde Landon split each park section into separate areas. Each area was designed to be a tiny fun-filled replica of a “romantic” time period.

There was Shakespeare Lane that consisted of the theatre. It also contained abandoned rides such as “Hamlet’s haunted house” and “The Tempest Shipwreck adventure”.

To the left lay Medieval Faire. Medieval Faire’s most popular attractions were the giant jumping castle, clockwork-powered metal horses, and the tofu turkey leg stands.

Revati herself lived in Victoriana, which was mostly “true crime and mystery” themed. Revati’s street alone had two abandoned “murder mystery” dinner theaters.

Finally, there was “Whistleton”. Revati despised Whistleton. Whistleton, where the only thing to drink was old stale tea, and the food was always some form of bland cake. Whistleton, where every actor over the age of eighteen had to be “matched and married” by the end of September. Those who remained single were banished to the wastelands. Aurora, realizing she never wanted to marry anyone, had defected to Victoriana when she was twelve.

Whistleton, where the tourists who were trapped in that section ended up becoming indentured servants. Revati could see one of them now scrubbing at a cobblestone with a toothbrush.

Whistleton was the only part of the park with a connection to the outside world. A tenuous, terrifying connection Revati hated to think about.

“Oh, I see! This is one of those historical reenactment fun parks! We have one of those on my space station called Millennial land,” the boy remarked, turning away from the sign.

“I've heard of Millennial land; isn’t that the place with the museum holding the only remaining iPhone thing?” Revati asked as they turned the corner, entering Mayfair Street.

Unlike the rest of Olde Landon that was slowly rotting, Mayfair Street gleamed. Each of the white mansion facades had been trimmed with buttery gold paint. Glorious flowers grew in hanging pots from the street signs. Fashionable actors, wearing carefully taken care of costumes, strolled happily, taking in the jasmine-scented night air.

“Now isn’t this lovely?” the boy remarked, and Revati glared at him.

“Why are you still following me?” She asked coldly.

“Honestly, I have nowhere else to go! Look at those Persian buttercups! They’re the size of my fist,” the boy remarked, walking towards one of the hanging baskets.

One of the actors peeled away from her partner and glided towards Revati.

“So it was your Auntie who messaged us," and Aurora blushed, nodding.

“Mrs. Danfront,” Revati said with a small, curt nod.

Mrs. Danfront was a middle-aged, plump lady spilling out the front of her empire-cut baby blue gown. A lace-trimmed bonnet had been fastened onto her peach-pink corkscrew curls.

“Miss Revati! I see you and my niece are following the dress code! Delightful,” Mrs. Danfront smiled, snapping her fan open.

“Last time I visited wearing pants, you tried to lock me up; you said I had female hysteria,” Revati smiled back, and Mrs. Danfront chuckled.

“And you kicked the door down! You’ve always been so entertaining, Miss Revati,” Mrs. Danfront smiled.

Revati merely tied the children’s leashes to one of the lamp posts to prevent them from running away.

“I don’t have time for chattering and social pleasantries; I’m here for my sister,” Revati shot back, and Mrs. Danfront’s smile fell slightly.

“Ah yes, as my Aurora would tell you, I’m not normally one to mess with matters of the heart,” Mrs. Danfront said as she stepped over one of the children to link her arm with Revati’s.

Revati breathed in deeply, reminding herself that this was something all women did in Whistleton; it was as if they were incapable of walking alone.

“No one could ever accuse you of caring about a person's heart,” Revati replied smoothly as they began to stroll.

Here's the corrected version of your text:

That was another thing about Whistleton; one of the key forms of entertainment seemed to be mindless strolling.

“In this situation, however, I found myself having to throw discretion to the wind! Your sister has somehow managed to set her cap at the Duke of Io,” Mrs. Danfront gasped, covering her fan with her mouth.

“Amma said her boyfriend is some sort of charity aid worker! The sort who drops medical supplies on us from the sky once a month,” Revati replied as they passed the boy, who was now examining a bush filled with roses.

The air droppers were really the only people who cared about war refugees. No one knew which charity they represented, and they did have a tendency to drop off useless things like old t-shirts and near-expired food.

“He wants people to think that, but we all realized who he was the minute he landed! Mint skin and pale blue hair? So obvious,” Mrs. Danfront said.

So obvious. Revati hadn’t seen much of the outside world, but even she knew what the Io royal family looked like. The Io royal family's skin color was caused by an ancestor genetically splicing themselves with a houseplant. The pale blue hair was a popular color all royalty embraced.

“He could just be a rich danger tourist,” Revati pointed out.

“Oh no, he looks just like his great-uncle! Before you girls were born, the King of Io was forever in the papers! People thought he was having an affair with the lost princess,” Mrs. Danfront gossiped.

“And you said she was heading to the west parking lot?” Revati asked as they stopped strolling, reaching the end of Mayfair street.

Before them stood a cream sandstone building with a large domed copper ceiling. The steps were already crowded with young people, mostly the children of older actors. They were all dressed in the finest satins and velvets the park's costume department had to offer. Several of them shot Revati and Aurora filthy looks.

“Keep your eyes to yourself; we’re not here to steal your future spouses,” Revati smirked at one red-headed girl in green who was downright glaring.

“They’re mad at your sister, dear. It’s not often we get new people here! Everyone wanted a chance to snatch the Duke,” Mrs. Danfront remarked.

“Probably because without new blood, this entire place will descend into incestuous chaos,” giggled Aurora nervously, and her Aunt glared at her.

“Ladies discuss the weather and fabrics, not science,” she said, scolding her admonished niece. Then her eyes trailed behind Revati.

The boy was still following them in a vague sort of way, holding a red rose in one hand.

“Speaking of new blood, who’s the boy? I haven’t seen hair like that in over a decade! And he’s short! He must be off-world,” Mrs. Danfront remarked, examining the boy who had caught up to them.

“I have no idea who he is; the Habri boys picked him up in the wasteland, and now he’s following me,” Revati said, and the boy nodded at Mrs. Danfront, smiling again.

“Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Brigadeiro Bun! And you’re right, I am from another world,” he said to Mrs. Danfront.

“Really! How delightful, and how on earth did you get here, Mr. Bun?” Mrs. Danfront giggled, and Revati sighed, rolling her eyes.

“We don’t have time for this! You need to get me into that ball right now,” she said, and Brigadeiro Bun turned to Revati.

His name didn’t suit him at all. Brigadeiro sounded like the sort of grand name that belonged to a master swordsman with knee-high boots and a black velvet cape. And Bun... Bun sounded like it should belong to a cheerful grandmother in a bakery with flour up to her elbows.

Brigadeiro Bun was smiling at her, that same baffling, gentle smile.

“I was traveling during my gap year when I heard a story about solid diamond roses growing in the wasteland outside BritinduSarvadharma,” he smiled.

“So you’re an idiot then,” Revati pointed out as they approached the pantheon’s front doors.

An elderly man dressed in a three-piece suit was standing behind a small podium.

“I prefer to think of myself as an adventurer,” he replied, and Aurora squawked with laughter.

The elderly man’s saggy face shifted like an avalanche when he realized who was approaching.

His lips pursed together, and he shook his head like a tyrant deciding the fate of an entire galaxy.

“Oh no, Mrs. Danfront, I told you before, this ball is for the gentry and their guests,” he said, and Revati rolled her eyes, pulling out her solar gun.

“Just let us in already, Nuisanceworth,” Revati said.

“It’s Nancyworth, no invitations, no entry! You can kill me, but it won’t change anything,” Nancyworth replied, raising his thick eyebrows in a devastating display of power.

“You were always so droll, Nancyworth! Now, normally I wouldn’t ask you to make exceptions, but we do have a delightful guest with us,” Mrs. Danfront giggled.

“We do?” Revati asked, lowering her gun slightly.

“This is Mister Brigadeiro! And he is fresh blood,” Mrs. Danfront said, gesturing to Brigadeiro, who waved nervously with a small smile.

“Is he married?” Nancyworth asked, and Brigadeiro dropped his hand.

“I’m only seventeen,” he said, sounding faintly startled.

“So not married then, and what are your prospects? Are you a scavenger? A rebel? A psychotic killer?” He asked, and Brigadeiro’s eyes widened with horror.

“No! I just finished school, and next month I will be starting my Botanical genetics degree at the University of Sustainable tourism,” Brigadeiro explained.

Revati, who had only ever attended lessons in her kitchen, rolled her eyes.

“And your parents?” He asked.

“Well, my dad’s a tree splicer, and my mama is a flower surgeon,” Brigadeiro said, still looking faintly confused.

“Well, I suppose it’s better than working in trade! Fine your party may admitted, and your guest will be allowed to propose to any young lady below level three,” he said, allowing them to pass.

The opening foyer of the Pantheon had been carefully painted in shades of baby blue and tan. Vending machines that used to sell drinks had been turned into shelves holding salvaged fine china.

Severe posters of ancient members of both the British Monarchy and the Wadiyar dynasty hung from the walls.

“What’s that old lady holding? Some sort of shoe?” Brigadeiro remarked as he paused in front of a painting of Queen Lilibet the second.

“It’s a dog, a creature that existed before all animals vanished six hundred years ago,” Revati explained with annoyance as she brushed past him.

.

#comic #magic #doctor who #nanowrimo #science fiction #nanowrimo2023 #the star beast #one piece #modern #life on mars #saying farewell to Armageddon #art #gävle goat

[sukacheri]

2wink Week 2023 Day 1 - Nostalgic

A Quarter Past 2am [AO3 or keep reading below]

2wink | one-shot | 1.4k words

Though the size of his palm had changed, the portion of chocolate chips stayed the same. As if what Hinata had used as a child, with palms barely big enough to grab any sort of meaningful handful, was Yuuta’s preferred amount of chocolate. Or maybe it was what nostalgia tasted like. Or: Hinata makes Yuuta hot chocolate when he can't sleep.

a/n: yayy first 2wink week post!! this is an old fic i posted a few months ago but since the day 1 theme was nostalgia i feel morally obligated to post this here. i hope you enjoy!

@2winkweek

It was 2am.

Hinata didn’t fall neatly into being a night owl or early bird by any means, but this was definitely too late for him to be up. It would be one thing if he had just woken up from sleep and decided to get a glass of water before going back to bed, then it wasn’t “staying up”, it was an interruption to his sleep. If anyone walked into the kitchen at this hour and saw him, that was what he'd tell them. If there were even other people awake right now.

No, there definitely were. There were plenty of weirdos living at Ensemble Square.

Also, he like, totally did not snoop on his phone to see that Yuuta was active on social media right now. That would totally be violating Yuuta’s privacy. But it wasn’t like he was hiding it. Okay, well, he wasn’t posting anything, but it said his status was active! So, if he really didn’t want people to know then he’d turn that setting off.

It didn’t really matter.

Hinata already had a saucepan warming up on the stove. Milk and cocoa powder set to the side, waiting on standby to be added in. 

Yuuta’s lack of sweet tooth normally deterred Hinata from making something like this, and he knows countless spicy alternative recipes for other meals. He had even gone out searching for spicy hot chocolate recipes and begging Niki to teach him how to make them properly because while he had mastered the art of adjusting sweetness, mixing and matching spice wasn’t as intuitive to him.

And even with the special training, his spice palette was unsatisfactory, but it was probably better that way. Yuuta would hate it if Hinata was invading on one of his key personality traits. Even if, no, especially, if it were for Yuuta’s sake Hinata did so.

Hinata hovered his hand over the pan, heat seeping through his fingers, and decided it was warm enough now. He poured the milk in first, the white 2% of it all covering the bottom of the steel pan, with the cocoa mix following right after. He whisked them together with a practiced hand, muscle memory that knew a repetitive whisking motion used in most cooking, yes, but also this particular movement for this particular hot chocolate.

Everything about this recipe, routine, ritual, was ingrained in him, from his fingertips that spread the mix, to his arms that whisked the pan, and to his feet that had taken him out here to the kitchen in the first place. It might as well be a piece of his soul. 

It was pointless to wonder how much of his soul is dedicated to Yuuta. Sure, he tried nowadays to be himself, Hinata Aoi, through and through. Whoever that was.

The more thought-provoking and less existentially-dreading exercise was to scour through the pieces like a web and decide which ones didn't end up linking back to Yuuta in some way. 

Most of his hobbies started from a need to improve himself, not for his own personal self-satisfaction, but for Yuuta’s sake. Gardening was his one non-performance based hobby, but even that started as a way to save on groceries at home and grow the peppers his brother liked that hurt his wallet just a bit too much. 

A drop of milk splashed out onto Hinata’s arm as he whisked, drawing his eyes back into focus on the warm brown color [verb]ing in the saucepan now. He set the whisk down, feeling the beginning of a cramp in his hand but ignored it to reach across the counter and grab the sugar. He didn’t need to use a lot; Yuuta usually liked something a little sweet when he couldn’t sleep.

It took only a few seconds for the sugar to dissolve and for Hinata to grab a small handful of chocolate chips to scatter in the pan like saccharine hail. He started whisking again and tried not to dwell too much on the memory of a much younger him, one before all the growth spurts and near-constant sibling bickering, one that had his little brother fully rely on him. Though the size of his palm had changed, the portion of chocolate chips stayed the same. As if what Hinata had used as a child, with palms barely big enough to grab any sort of meaningful handful, was Yuuta’s preferred amount of chocolate. Or maybe it was what nostalgia tasted like for him.

Some things change and grow, like how Hinata wasn’t a child anymore, but other things remained the same, routines built into the soul like a code for design.

It was a quarter past 2am, and while the oncoming footsteps were soft, trained to be light on the floor at night, they were wearing slippers, not socks. This was a public building after all, and the twins weren’t living at home anymore.

Yuuta rounded the corner into the kitchen, and Hinata spied the stray hairs sticking up at the back of his head from tossing and turning in bed. The hunch of his shoulders could be mistaken as stress to anyone else that saw them, but Hinata knew his brother’s heart and behaviors, and not that he carried stress but a chill. It took a lot for him to finally drag himself up and out of bed, away from the warmth and comfort of his blankets.

It meant he gave up on sleep and decided to make the chilly trek without a blanket to the kitchen. And like any regular person, he would get a nice glass of water and then try once again to get some shut eye.

Being “overbearing” was a trait Hinata has yet to fully kick, and who says he should be rid of it completely anyways? He should always be able to spoil his brother.

Knowing Yuuta’s ‘I can’t fall asleep even after looking at my phone for several hours and switching which side I lay on so that my phone can keep charging because it almost died’ ritual is hardly a facet of being overbearing. They did share a room for years.

Hinata’s mouth twitched like he wanted to greet Yuuta, but maybe his brother’s eyes do look a bit more tired than usual (or maybe it was just eye strain. These kids on their dang phones..!). He kept quiet instead, and let Yuuta be the one to initiate any talking.

Yuuta paused when his eyes met Hinata’s, and he can see how Yuuta’s mouth is already forming words of interrogation for him. It took a moment for him to settle on his words, and they were less questioning than Hinata would’ve thought.

“... You don’t drink hot chocolate this late,” Yuuta said, walking to join Hinata at the counter.

Hinata didn’t respond, instead looking at the warm, light brown color of the hot chocolate in the pan. The perfect color. He turned the heat off for the stove with a click of the knob, and when he turned to grab a mug, Yuuta’s already beaten him to it.

Hinata accepts the two white mugs, the Cosmic Productions logo printed on the sides of each, that Yuuta hands him. He didn’t bother saying anything right now; if Yuuta wanted to press Hinata on why he was up so late then he could do that, but Hinata wasn’t going to open that can of worms if he didn't have to.

He poured the hot chocolate into both their mugs, steam rising as the liquid filled them. They would probably get stained brown, but that was on CosPro for deciding to get plain old white instead of a nice sleek black or something. Maybe they should’ve done a chrome color.

In the little momentary crease of Yuuta’s eyebrows as he picked up the mug, there was the lingering need to question how Hinata knew he was awake. Hinata can imagine the thoughts flitting through his brain as Yuuta tried to make sense of it. Was it a camera in his room? A parenting app installed in secret? Twin intuition? At least there was no need to question what comes after Hinata knew that his brother was awake, since this was a routine as old as they’ve been able to reach the stove by standing on a wobbly stool.

He had always been making hot chocolate for Yuuta to help him fall asleep. Hinata didn’t plan on ever giving up that level of care for him, because as long as it was impossible to beat up nightmares and bad dreams, then this would be all he could do to settle his brother at night.

Yuuta took the first sip, his face relaxing as he held the cup with both his hands, seeping in its warmth. It was a short sip, since it was too hot to properly drink right now, but his lips turned up into a small smile regardless. 

“Thank you, Hinata-kun.”

There was no need to question Hinata tonight, not over this familiar hot chocolate that had comforted Yuuta countless nights before.

“No problem, Yuuta-kun~”

#2winkWeek2023 #enstars fic #ensemble stars fic #2wink #hinata aoi #yuuta Aoi #my writing

[sweetlyocs]

Stars in Your Eyes 

synopsis: Zhouxia and Renjun get drunk and the conscious dreamies deal with the aftermath  Prompt 17 - “You have stars in your eyes. I like looking at it”

note: this does contain alcohol consumption so a warning for that & this also didn’t go how i planned but i kinda love it? 

Cheers filled the room as the Chinese members of NCT gathered in a single dorm, empty alcohol bottles and discarded cans of beer lay scattered around as music played through speakers. Rare moments when they would gather and live their lives as young adults who weren’t facing so much pressure from the outside made nights like these special. 

Towards the end of the night, Xia sat slightly buzzed as she watched Hendery and Yangyang perform what she could only interpret as some form of dance battle before the younger tripped the older and they fell to the floor. Boo’s cradled the air as forgotten playing cards were thrown at the two as they began blaming the other for the mess up in their routine. Kun pried the two off each other as he announced that the night was to come to an end, nudging a snoring Xiaojun off the couch, he began the attempt of trying to land his members into a suitable bed. 

Xia, picking up a half finished bag of chips, caught herself watching in amusement as Chenle and Hendery fought over who would get the bed whilst she saw Renjun sloppily place his coat on. “Planning on going somewhere?” The girl quizzed, noticing how he froze for a moment, “I have lunch with Jeno and Haechan tomorrow so I should head to the dorm”

His words slurred together slightly but she understood, Kun noticing the two by the door stopped in his tracks, “Renjun you aren’t going anywhere as drunk as you are, if you’re stressed about sleeping crash in Xia’s bed and she can crash with me. You’ve drunk too much to go anywhere by yourself” 

Shaking his head, he reached down to put his shoes on, half tipping over, only to be caught by her waiting hands. “I’ll walk him over, he wants to sleep in his own bed, you know how drunk people can be” 

Reaching for her keys, she patted him down slightly, groaning when she couldn’t find any keys of his own, “You best pray one of them are awake at this hour…”

The two began walking back to the Dream dorm in silence, although walking was a loose term. Zhouxia having to stop herself from swaying slightly and Renjun barely putting one foot in front of the other without knocking into something. As they reached the door, he simply huffed and sat on the ground, the door banging at his weight and the sound of his head hitting the door sending the two intoxicated idols into a fit of giggles. Knocking once lightly, he shook his head “Pfft no one will hear that, you have to do it like this” Giggling again, he started knocking harder, Xia soon joining in as they made a game out of who could create the best knock before the door was flung open by an obviously annoyed and very sober Jeno. The force of the door opening, sending Renjun flying onto the floor as the two let out howls of laughter, Zhouxia needing to lean on the door frame as she could barely stand. 

Jeno was mildly confused until he caught a wiff of just how much the two smelt of alcohol, their laughter prompting a freshly showered Jaemin out of his room noticing the three of them still at the door, one on the floor rolling from side to side. “Good god, how much have you two drank? You might as well have showered in beer by the smell of things” Jeno bent down to sit his friend up as Zhouxia tried to labour her breathing but failing as soon as the two made eye contact. “Honestly I think we drank the least out of everyone, minus Kun but he just holds his liquor better. This one wanted to come back home, it was adventure time” 

Jaemin simply offered his hand to the girl as she tried to navigate walking into the dorm over Renjun’s still collapsed body, leaving Jeno to deal with that mess. With how intoxicated she was, she had no problem with being so close to the other members of Dream, and that was something that Jaemin was more than happy to experience. Walking into his room to finish getting dressed, Jaemin noted how she sat on the floor instead of his bed, just like how they would when they were younger when she would always comment how the floor was more comfy. Jaemin sat at his desk as he watched her glazed eyes float over the room, his door left open so that if she came back down and wanted to leave the room she could walk straight out. 

Sighing, Xia sat up on her knees, swaying badly at how quickly she moved prompting Jaemin to lean down incase she lost balance. He watched her pick up the bunny from his bed, cuddling it to her chest, “Bunbun for Nana, it smells like Nana”

Her voice was even more slurred that what he thought, her state making her speak her thoughts aloud. A smile grew on his face as he shifted to sit on the floor across from her, 

“You got me that bunbun, remember?” Shaking her head, her glossy eyes lifted to meet his, “It was the last birthday present you ever gave me, it means a lot to me so if you’re holding it be careful” 

Nodding, she leant closer to his face, admiring him. Jaemin tried not to laugh at the look on her face, her brows scrunched and lips pouted as if she was trying to figure out math equations. 

Whispering to not break the quiet, Jaemin prompted her, “What’s on your mind pretty one?”

“You have stars in your eyes. I like looking at it. Your eyes make me miss you, I don’t like missing you” 

The smile dropped from his face as he noticed the sadness in her voice, patting her head he stood up, “Let’s get you back home, I’m sure your members are wondering where you got to”

#zhouxia.wayv #kpop female addition #kpop extra member #nct 24th member #nct female member #nct female addition #wayv 8th member #kpop oc #wayv fanfic #wayv imagines #wayv female member #wayv extra member #wayv scenarios #nct extra member #nct addition #nct imagines #female!kpop

[briamichellewrites]

26

Misty was on babysitting duty. She was supposed to be watching Cookies to make sure she didn’t destroy the house. Bon Jovi was with her. The kitten was doing okay so far. She was just playing by herself with the different toys the humans had left behind. Her food was in her food bowl for when she got hungry and she had fresh water. The litter box had been cleaned, so they had everything they needed. Mike also asked his neighbor to take Misty out for a walk before bedtime.

She was still getting used to the new kitten. Cookies was strange. That was the only thing she could think of whenever she saw her. They should have gotten a puppy. If she could talk like the humans, she would demand that they adopted a puppy! Cookies got into everything! She was like an annoying little sister, who followed her everywhere and took her toys.

She wished Bon Jovi would make her leave her alone, but she was concerned about herself. It was hard being the only dog and she had nobody to complain to. Maybe Cookies and Bon Jovi’s human would leave and take them with her. Then, she could have the house and human to herself. What about the little human? She could tolerate him because he was just a child. When he got to be too much, she went off by herself. Human, get a puppy!

But the humans left for the rest of the day. They wouldn’t be home until the early morning. She heard them talking about something, but she didn’t know what it was. It was human language. All she knew was she was on babysitting duty. She looked over at Bon Jovi to ask for help. Don’t even think about it. The kitten is your responsibility. She grumbled.

Bria and the band were on the red carpet doing interviews with the press and posing for pictures. They all looked very handsome in their outfits. She adjusted Mike’s tie before standing back, so the band could have their picture taken. They then went inside. Their nerves were on high! What if they won? That would be the most incredible moment of their lives! She had barely slept the night before because she was so anxious! Mike found her dead asleep. He had to shake her awake.

After eating breakfast, things went from zero to a hundred fast! She took a shower and washed her hair before getting dressed. A makeup artist came to the house and did her makeup. A stylist had chosen her outfit. They also talked about how she wanted to style her hair. They chose a side fishtail braid with natural makeup to match her floral dress.

“Bria, you’re wearing a dress”, Phoenix said in amazement.

“Don’t get used to it.”

They laughed. She looked gorgeous! They didn’t know that she could be more beautiful than she already was. But, she was. They found their assigned seats and sat down. The Staples Center was filling up with celebrities. Jon Stewart was hosting, so it was going to be an interesting show. She sat in between Mike and Brad. To calm their nerves, they joked around.

As the show started, there were awards and performances. Finally, they got down to the country music category. Best Female Country Vocal Performance. They all waited as the nominees were announced. Bria Michelle. Memoirs. She and Chester caught each other’s eyes. Bam! She then got up and gave a fist bump to Mike before going up to accept her award while everyone clapped for her. After hugging the presenters, she was handed her award.

“Oh, my god. I had a speech planned in my head but now I forgot it…”

The audience laughed.

“I would like to thank Mike, Brad, Chester, Joe, Rob, and Phoenix for helping me with this album and for believing in me. I would also like to thank everyone who inspired me to create music. Thank you.”

The band was extremely proud of her. She was finally recognized in the country music industry as the singer-songwriter she was. It had taken three years for it to finally happen. After going backstage, she posed for pictures with the media before going back to her seat. It was a commercial break, so the band congratulated and hugged her. Thank you! Her mind had gone blank when she was up there, hence the awkwardness.

Mike told her she was adorable. Celebrities around where they were sitting also congratulated her. Thank you! When the show was over, she won another award for Best Country Song. This time, she was a little more prepared for what to say. She again thanked the band, while also acknowledging everyone who dared to be different.

She again posed for pictures with the media before going back to her seat. When the band won for their song, Crawling, she congratulated them. She was thrilled for them as much as they were for her. When they got home, she and Mike were going to have to find a place where the cats couldn’t get to their awards. Preferably somewhere up high. After the ceremony was over, they could finally relax at the after-party. She was so hungry, all she wanted was food!

Misty had been taken out for a walk by the neighbor. She was so happy to get out of the house and away from the cats! Cookies was playing with Bon Jovi, who was also watching her. The neighbor gave Cookies her dinner since she had to eat special kitten food. She ate it happily. Where did their humans go? She walked around and couldn’t find them.

The little human was gone, too. Finally, the humans came home. She was excited to see them! You’re back! Hi, humans! They were very tired, but Bria said hello to her anyway. She petted her before going upstairs to her room. It was the best night of her life! She just needed to go to sleep as soon as she got dressed and took her makeup off. They put their awards in his in-home studio. He then closed the door. Cookies looked up at him. Meow?

“You can’t go in there. I’ll open it up later when I wake up.”

Okay, human. He petted her before going upstairs. Bria got dressed into her pajamas. She hung up the dress she had been lent, so it didn’t get damaged before going into the bathroom. Mike did the same by hanging up his suit. He got into bed but he was still high on energy to sleep. After years of hard work, Linkin Park was finally recognized! He had so many emotions.

Excitement and disbelief were the top two. Did this happen? He hoped it had! He imagined how proud his parents and his little brother were of him! Was he proud of himself? Yes, he was. He wondered if Otis had seen him on television. Daddy!

Though they didn’t televise the rock and country categories, he could still see him on the red carpet. That’s my daddy! He dedicated his award to him because he helped him come e out of his depression. One day, he would learn why he and Anna broke up. He didn’t want him to be angry with her because what happened was over.

The most important thing he wanted him to know was that his parents were there for him, even though they weren’t together. He wanted him to be proud of them for that. Before he knew it, the sun was shining in the sky. He heard the cats meowing and Bria’s voice in the hallway. It was noon. He laughed because he hadn’t realized how late it was. After getting the sleep out of his eyes, he got up and threw some pants on over his boxers before going downstairs for lunch.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[hyacinth2013]

Some people are just who they are. Quiet and soft, and they sway with the wind. Sometimes, there's very little room for conversation.

A drive you've taken before, and you thought you were okay, yet the last few minutes still eats and picks at your core. Pulling up, you're nervous, should you be here? Does it matter? It's not enough to hold you back, so you get out of the car and a million thoughts run through your head - Is he awake? Did you go to the right house? No, you've seen pictures, you know you are and you know where you are.

Are you suppose to be here? He invited you, just knock-

You step up to the porch and looking around, you try to distract yourself in those precious moments between the sound of your rap on the door and the second it opens. A tense awkward scene.

He opens the door.

What's on your mind?

Why did he have to ask? You can tell him anything, you always have, but you find yourself silent on that. What can you say? How can you even put into words what's been going through your head?

You're speechless, stuck between trying to decide what words to use and what you're willing to tell him.

What should we do? Why is it your choice? This isn't your house. That fact is abundantly clear, yet you try to ignore it. You weren't the one who initiated it, so why should you choose? He doesn't seem to be able to. You go with what you know, what you think he wants. What you think, might cheer him up. He persists, and you can't quite tell, but maybe resists. You start to over-think and provide a quick suggestion to end the mental stink.

A simple massage, running your hands along his skin. Your fingers glide down his arm, pressing into the tension. Can he feel the longing in your touch? You're conflicted on whether you hope he does.

You don't want to waste all your time on this, so now what. Not that you mind, but you start to feel like you're intruding.

Play a game.

That's what you always do.

You want something else instead, something you can't get just anytime.

So then, you instantly decide.

It ends up being a relaxing time on the couch with a movie. Living out a scene from your fantasy. Getting comfortable, there's no more 'inside' to dig out. You are who you are, fidgety and anxious, barely speaking. But that's you, quiet and soft, and you sway with every verse of the performance in front of you.

You hear his voice, but you wouldn't dare turn to see. How could you be you, if he saw the amazement in your eyes? You're embarrassed enough as it is with your singing in front of him. If that's how it has to be, you can manage to not see his face. A small sacrifice to maintain your comfort in the situation.

It's almost time to go, what else can you do? You think of what the old habits were, wondering if that's what he's wanting. He always says it so suggestively 'What do you want to do?'. How can you answer that?

He locks in your eyes, you aren't capable of lying now. 'What do you want?'

'You can't give me what I want' you breath back, unsure you even want to answer. Is he talking about that? When he asks you that? You answered for something so much more. Everything around you, starts to weigh heavy. It's almost time for you to go. Your mind starts to run, tripping over itself in a panic. It's almost time to go, and you don't know when you'll see him again, and - and -

Your words are fitting, so you agree to let them be.

He holds you, like he was made to. You can't tell what he's thinking through his tired eyes. There's so much left you want to do, so much more you want to say, so much... more. But it's time for you to go, and as much as you're against it, you sigh a little in relief from it.

There's something your missing, something you passed over in your panics. Something you didn't say.

{ I love you}

It crosses your mind but you push it away. You say to yourself, that's not okay. What else is in your head? You ask yourself, reviewing the last few moments - he's not that, his presence helps you breath, you want more, you've fucked up-, and after a moment you answer with something in ridiculous surrender to the frustration of your thoughts. ‘What do you want me to say?’

[inmyblueparadise]

Omg hi you replied to me! That made my day I love your work! Can you do an imagine where you’re sick with a stomach bug and the guys all take care of you and baby/Pamper you?

Hi love ! Sorry it took me some time to write this. But I hope you like it xx

Life on the road is not easy. Especially when you’re performing every night, recording overnight and filming a documentary. You and the boys were currently in the middle of the UK leg of the Where we are tour, and you were dead tired. You'd just finished a show in Manchester, and you were currently in your bunk on the bus, starting to fall asleep. Everybody was sleeping, so the bus was very quiet when suddenly you heard a voice.

Y/N I’m sorry to wake you but I need you in the recording booth. Damn ! Even in your dream you were still thinking about work ! Except that this was not a dream. You felt a hand, shaking you awake, and Julian your producer, spoke again. You could hear in his voice that he was sorry. Angel I’m so sorry for this, but can you wake up ?

Hmm, what time is it ? You rolled around, almost falling out of the tiny bed, your eyes still closed.

It’s a little after midnight, you’ve been asleep for 20 minutes. I’m sorry darling

It’s ok, I’ll get up.

I appreciate it. I’ll wait for you in the room. He said, walking away and exiting the bus. The recording room, was, actually a hotel room. You could have slept in one of them but you had been so exhausted after the show that you stayed on the bus parked outside the hotel. Getting out of bed was torture, your head was killing you and your body was screaming at the effort. Looking up you saw Ben, with his camera, filming you for the This Is Us documentary. You gave him a tired smile.

Is it ok if I film this ? He asks

Yeah yeah, it’s ok, gosh I’m so tired you said speaking quietly to not wake your bandmates, who had the same idea as you and were currently sleeping in their bunks. As you exited the bus Ben asked you a question to film some content.

So angel what is happening now ?

We’ve just finished a show in Manchester a few hours ago, and now it’s my turn to record my parts for the new album, so I’m going to our little studio on the road, most commonly known as Julian’s room to do that.

You kept walking, until you reached the room, to be honest, you were extremely tired, it was the 3rd night in the row that you had to do a show and then record because management was dead set on having the album finished as quick as possible. And the barely 9 hours of sleep in the last 72 hours were starting to take a toll on your body. You had felt nauseous all day, and had barely eaten a thing because of that. But that’s life on the road you said to yourself, you’re living the dream, don’t complain.

As you entered Julian’s room, you were greeted by him and the sound technician.

I need you for Best Song ever and the chorus of Happily babe.

You nodded, grabbing the headset and getting behind the mic. You recorded for 3 hours, singing at the top of your voice. Best Song Ever was a bitch, you couldn’t seem to get the high note right and you were getting extremely irritated because your throat was starting to hurt.

I’m sorry J you said with tears in your eyes, your stomach hurting.

It’s ok babe he said turning around but his eyes widen when he saw your face, Y/N are you ok ? You look really pale !

Yeah, yeah, I’ll try it one more time if you'd like, your voice cracking at the end.

No, no you’re exhausted, your going to damage your throat, it’s ok you go get some sleep and we’ll continue that tomorrow.

You let out a sigh of relief. When suddenly your stomach churned and you ran to the little bathroom. You barely made it to the toilette before you started puking your guts out.

Julian was quick to be by your side and pull your hair back, just has another wave of nausea hit you.

Ok, babe, breath. He said running his hand on your back. I’m going to get someone to help

Please don’t it’s OK it’s just the fatigue of the last few days I’m going to go to bed and I’ll be better by tomorrow morning

You slowly made your way to the bus your stomach empty and your head killing you. Once inside, you crashed into your bunk making as little noise as possible knowing that the five boys were sleeping.

After what felt like 20 minutes of sleep, you heard Paul’s voice inside the bus

Guys it’s seven you need to wake up you have a radio interview to do in an hour !

You couldn’t help the groan that came out of your mouth. Your entire body was hurting, your throat felt like it was on fire and you wanted to puke just thinking of getting out of bed.

The curtain of your bunk was opened a few seconds later, Paul's face bearing a concerned expression.

Y/N, darling, Julian told me what happened last night, how do you feel ?

Not that good…You said, but you couldn’t recognize the voice that came out of you. It was raw, and when you talked it felt like the inside of your throat was scratched with sandpaper. Paul gently places a hand on your forehead.

Darling you’re burning up ! I’m going to call a doctor, and we are going to take you to the hotel to rest, I’ll be back ! Paul left with his phone already near his ear. And I started to close my eyes again, but a soft voice brought me back, along with a hand brushing a few hairs away from my eyes.

Hey Angel, what’s wrong ?

Lou, you shouldn’t be near me, I think I’m sick

It’s ok darling, he kept his hand in my hair gently massaging it, making you close your eyes, You’re going to be fine.

Completely exhausted, you fell asleep very quickly not knowing that the other 4 boys were standing right next to Louis, watching you.

Liam was the first to break the silence of the bus. We should get going and let her rest. Not making a move to go, still watching you sleep.

It wasn’t until Paul came back to the bus, forcing the boys to leave and get ready, that they left you.

A doctor came an hour later, checking on you, and taking you to the hotel room helping you to bed with Paul’s help and placing an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated. His diagnostic made Paul boil in anger. Exhaustion.

According to the doctor, all you needed was a lot of rest, and you should be better the next day. But the big brother/babysitter knew that when the boys found out about that they’ll be pissed. Like him.

-

Meanwhile, the boys were being interviewed. And of course, the first question was about your absence.

After the boys told the man that you were resting because you had been sick, they answered the other questions, but none of them were really focused on the interview, but mostly on the girl lying in bed at the hotel.

Niall was the first to apologize to the man. Sorry we’re a little distracted, it’s early in the morning and it’s weird not having Y/N with us.

Yeah, when any of us is sick or feeling down she’s the one who takes care of us, we just want to get back to her quickly. Zayn added

Harry chuckled before adding And she’s also the one usually keeping us in check during interviews

This made the boys laugh, because it was true. You always took care of them whether it was during interviews that made them uncomfortable or on the tour bus and even on stage when they fell.

The interview lasted one hour. The longest hour the boys ever had to sit through. Finally, the last question came.

So what are you going to do for the rest of the day, your next show is tomorrow so you have a day off today. Anything exciting planned ?

They didn’t need to talk to each other to know what they were going to do after this.

Zayn was the first to speak. Well we are going to see Y/N obviously

Yeah we’re going to nurse her back to health and then probably sleep all day, because we had to get up really early, Niall haded.

They all got up, and started walking back to the parking lot to get back to the cars. They were surprised to see Paul waiting for them outside.

Hey Paul ! How is Angel ? Harry asked pinching his bottom lips between his fingers

The look on the tour dad, made them all fear the worst. Boys I’m going to need all of you to stay calm. Y/N is fine, she is resting at the hotel right now.

Well that’s good no ? Why are you asking us to stay calm ? So does she has the flu or something ?

No Liam, she doesn’t have the flu, according to the doctor she suffered from exhaustion. And I talked to Julian, Y/N has been recording all night for the past three days. According to him she barely slept, and her body couldn’t handle it.

To say the boys were shocked was an understatement. They knew first hand that management has been pressuring them for the next album, but this pressure was costing you your health and that pissed them off.

Those fucking wankers ! That was all Louis could say. We are touring, filming a fucking movie and recording an album they need to give us a fucking break !

Yes I know, that’s why I called Syco and told them that you will be taking a two weeks break on the recording of the new album. Now let Y/N rest, I’m going to take you back to the hotel.

Before we go back, can we make a few stops ? Niall asked a smile making it's way on his face.

-

Your head was pounding. Your throat was dry. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve said this was a bad hangover. You opened your eyes, well-tried because as soon as you opened them you had to close them again, the room was too bright. Too bright. With your dry throat the only thing you could say was a small Ouch. But it was enough to alert the five boys present in the room.

You opened your eyes a second time, feeling pressure on your hand. A hand with an anchor tattooed on the wrist. Hey you, Harry softly said, smiling at you.

Hey Angel, Liam said gently on the other side of the bed. Handing you a glass of water. How are you feeling ?

Did we go out drinking last night ? Because if we did I drank way too much you answered with a smile after drinking a bit of water.

Babe, it would have been way funnier if you didn't look like shit Louis said smiling at the end of the bed.

Oi ! That what I thought ! What are you five idiots doing in my room while I’m sleeping ? It’s creepy !

Niall was the first to roll his eyes, but walked to the bed to offer you a cookie that you took, grateful, because you were really hungry. We are here to nurse you back to health Angel.

Well the service is disappointing, considering the lack of sexy nurses costumes. That brought a smile to the boys faces. What should we do then doctors ?

Well, we got you food, movies, and our delightful company darling, what do you want to do first ? Louis asks with a smile sitting at the end of the bed.

Well right now I going to use the bathroom, you said getting up. Your movement alerted the five boys that all got up to help you. Alright boys, as much as I love you, I don’t think our friendship extends to helping me pee.

But what if you fall in there ? Harry asked frowning

I’m a girl, I sit down to pee, I’m not going to fall. Give me 2 minutes and I’ll come back to bed. You took the IV pole and rolled it to the bathroom. True to your words, you were back in the room 2 minutes after. Opening the door, what you saw brought a smile to your face. Liam, Harry and Niall were laying on your king-size bed, surrounded by cookies and sandwiches. Louis was sitting on the edge of the bed watching Zayn working on the TV.

Louis got up and walked the few feet to you opening his arms, and hugging you tight. How are you feeling Angel ?

Tired but better than last night you said keeping your head on his neck. He brought you back to the bed, where you laid down in between Harry’s legs, your head resting on a small pillow.

So what are we watching ?

Disney movies babe, Zayn answered while he took a place on Niall, while Louis did the same on Liam. You were sandwiched between them.

You spend the entire Little Mermaid, eating cookies, drinking water and joking with your boys. Harry was gently stroking your hair, while Louis and Zayn were each holding your hands. By the time Aladdin started on the screen you were asleep. And so were the boys. That’s how Paul found you a few hours later, all cuddled up on the bed.

Your adoptive father on the road couldn’t help but smile, at the sight. His five grown boys and angel, finally getting some rest. The song you all wrote together couldn’t be more true that day. « If you ever feel alone, don't. You are never on your own. »

#imagine one direction #one direction #louis tomlinson #zayn malik #niall horan #harry styles #liam payne #imagine 1d #1d imagines #imagine one direction x reader #fem!reader #singer!reader #One Direction x reader #one direction x fem!reader #"fluff #directioners #reader #imagine #1d

[blu-joons]

When They Find That You’ve Fainted ~ NCT 127 Reaction

Taeil:

After you promised for the thousandth time that you’d be alright in his studio whilst Taeil went off to a meeting, he finally made his way to meet with the staff, trusting that you’d been alright. However, midway through his meeting, the sight of Yuta barging through the door instantly caused Taeil to jump. “You need to come!”

“Why? What’s happened?” Taeil yelled, chasing after Yuta who refused to speak, saving his energy to make sure that Taeil could get to your studio as quickly as possible. His heart stopped when he walked through the door and saw you laid out.

Yuta took a step back as Taeil knelt down beside you, resting his hand over yours. His eyes closed as he tried to warm your hand up, whispering down to you to open your eyes, staying by your side until eventually you did just that.

“What’s going on?” You questioned, noticing Taeil leaning above you straight away, “aren’t you supposed to be in your meeting by now?”

“Do you not realise what’s just happened?” He asked, rolling his eyes as your head shook back at him. “Y/N, you fainted, I had to leave the meeting and come and see you. Anything could have happened, are you alright?”

You nodded back at him, “don’t worry about me, you should probably get back to your meeting before you get in trouble.”

“The meeting doesn’t matter, making sure you’re alright is what’s important.”

Taeyong:

His body felt numb as Taeyong watched you fall in front of him as the two of you began to prepare for your evening together. He placed the plates he held onto the table as quickly as he could before kneeling down to your side. His hand brushed over your face as he tried to figure out what was going on to cause you to faint.

“What’s happened,” he whimpered, laying your body out into a position that he hoped would be more comfortable for you. Taeyong had picked up on your body failing you a few times, but never did he imagine that it would amount to this.

The guilt struck him hard as he stayed by your side, waiting for you to stir. After a few minutes, tiny groans came from you as a result of the throbbing pain in the back of your head and the aches that ran down your body.

“It hurts,” you whispered as your eyes locked with Taeyong’s. His hands moved around your waist to move you to rest into his lap.

“What’s been going on?” He asked, running a hand through your hair, “I knew that you’d been struggling, but I never realised that things could have ever got as bad as they have done for you Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

Your head shook back at him, “you have no reason to be sorry, I guess I should have been taking better care of myself.”

“I’m going to take care of you now and make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Johnny:

As soon as he came home, he was met with yells of his name and scolding after scolding for having his phone turned off throughout the day. Haechan and Taeyong took both of his hands and pulled him through into his dorm where your body was laid out on his bed. “We found her on the floor, we tried to call you.”

“She fainted?” Johnny questioned, almost as if the situation that was unfolding in front of him wasn’t real. He took an anxious step closer to your body, barely able to look at you. “I’ll take care of it from here, thank you guys.”

The boys all filed out of the room, closing the door behind themselves whilst Johnny made his way over to the bed and sat beside it. He sat and waited impatiently until he spotted a wiggle in your finger that started your movement.

“J-johnny?” You questioned, feeling a warm hand rest over the one that you were trying to move as your eyes slowly opened to see him.

“I’m here,” he assured you, trying to give you as much space as he could. “Just take things slow,” he added once he noticed you trying to move your body. “You’ve fainted Y/N, just give yourself a moment to settle.”

Your head nodded back at him, “I didn’t realise that I fainted,” you whispered, “you must think I’m a right idiot at the moment.”

“Not at all, these things happen. Just take a moment, you’ll be alright.”

Yuta:

A strange pair of arms caught your body as you tumbled at the side of the stage of the performance, with several members of staff trying to shield the sight from the boys. The quick eyes of Taeil however had clocked the commotion immediately, racing over to get Yuta and push him in the direction of the exit.

“Why?” He questioned, but Taeil didn’t reply, instead he turned him around to see you laid out on the cold floor with the staff all around you. Yuta turned to head back on stage, conflicted, but Taeil told him to go, and not look back.

The staff all took a step back as Yuta appeared, taking a seat beside you. He threw his microphone to one side, replacing it with the feel of your hand in his as he sat and waited until your eyes opened to relax himself.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered as soon as you noticed that Yuta was beside you, “you’re supposed to be on stage.”

“The stage doesn’t matter,” he chuckled, brushing the hair out of your face, “the fans can survive without me on the stage, but you’re the one that needs me right now. You’ve just fainted after all Y/N, you need me.”

You closed your eyes shamefully, “I’ve ruined your performance, Yuta, I’m so sorry. You probably hate me right now.”

“I don’t, I love you, I just wish that this didn’t have to happen.”

Doyoung:

Everything he found from the internet that was suggested to help someone who had fainted was by your side as Dongyoung sat down and played the waiting game. It was torture for him, he had no idea how long he had to wait for you to wake up and was clueless as to how you’d be when you woke up too.

“Come on,” he whispered, sitting back down once everything was set for when you’d wake. Whilst he knew your body would stir when it was ready, it didn’t change the pain that Dongyoung felt having to wait for you.

After what felt like an eternity, sitting around and waiting for you to wake and move, Dongyoung let go of a sigh of relief when your eyes opened and looked around at all the items that were around your body.

“What’s all this?” You questioned, trying to take it all in, “why have you got all of this about, I’m not hurt or anything.”

“Y/N, you fainted,” he frowned, shaking his head down at you. “I’ve been sat here worried sick for ages. I searched up all of the things that I could to help you when you woke. Do you want a drink, it’s supposed to help?”

You held your hand up as Dongyoung tried to pass you the glass, “I know you’re worried, but just give me a minute, please.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I need to stop worrying so much, you’re right.”

Jaehyun:

There was an uncomfortable silence in the apartment as Yoonoh walked through the door, noticing that the television was on standby. His eyebrows knitted together as he walked further into the room to try and find you, feeling his stomach drop when he walked down and saw you laid out across the middle of the room.

“Y/N Jagi!” He yelled, leaping over the sofa and down to your side. He reached from the sofa to pull down one of the blankets and drape it delicately over your body to try and help you in any way that he could.

He didn’t move at all, with his eyes firmly watching you as he waited for any sign from you. With steady breaths, he waited as patiently as he could for the first sign from you, as your eyes slowly opened and looked around.

“Why am I on the floor?” You asked once you were able to speak, noticing Yoonoh at your side. “Why’s there a blanket on me too?”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss against your forehead, “I came home, and you’d passed out Y/N, that’s what happened. Are you alright? Do you need anything? Water? Food? Do you want me to turn the light off?”

“I don’t want anything,” you whispered, biting down on your bottom lip, “I think I just need a minute to process what’s just happened.”

“That’s alright, take all the time you need, we’re not in any rush at all.”

Jungwoo:

The light on in the living room caught his attention as soon as he walked through the front door. Jungwoo called out your name, excited to finally see you, however as he was met with silence, he felt his heart sunk. Jungwoo followed the trail of light, however as he did, he was sure hoping that he decided not to.

“Please,” was the only word he could mumble as he noticed you laid out on the ground with your phone and water bottle beside you, having fallen from your hands. Jungwoo moved them out of the way, replacing them with himself.

His eyes shut for most of the time whilst Jungwoo waited for you to wake up, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you until he felt the squeeze of your hand against his, opening up his eyes to see you looking back at him.

“Are you tired?” You asked as if the last few minutes hadn’t occurred. “I’ve been awake for ages, and you were fast asleep.”

A gentle chuckle of relief came from him, “I just couldn’t look at you in the way that you were, if I closed my eyes, I hoped that none of this would be real. But how are you feeling, do you want me to get you anything.”

Your head shook back at him, “I was on my way to get lunch when I fell, but I think I’ve lost my appetite a bit now.”

“You still have to look after yourself, I’ll sort you something out Y/N.”

Mark:

The moment he got the text from Taeil to let him know what had happened, Mark raced back to the dorm as quickly as he could. His heart settled slightly when he arrived to see that the boys had helped you as best as they could, with a pillow under your head and a blanket draped across your body to keep you warm.

“I should have been here,” he sighed, taking a seat by the top of your head as he finally looked at your blank expression. “She told me she felt unwell earlier, and I just ignored her as if it was no big deal, and now look at her.”

With the comfort of his members, Mark anxiously sat and waited for the first sign of life from you. He’d never been more relieved than he was when he noticed your hand move and your left eye slowly open up.

“When did you get home?” You asked as you spotted Mark sitting above you. “What’s happened? Have you been crying?”

“No,” he lied, wiping quickly underneath his eyes, “but I got home because I was told that you were passed out in the middle of the dorm. I tried to get here as soon as I could, I’m sorry that I didn’t get here sooner.”

You smiled weakly up at him, “there’s no need to apologise, thank you, all of you, for taking such good care of me.”

“Yeah, thank you guys, you’re all amazing for what you’ve done.”

Haechan:

The whole room fell silent at the sound of Donghyuck’s calls. Each of the members ran through to his room, freezing when they saw Donghyuck sat beside your body that laid out on the cold floor of his bedroom. His eyes were filled with fear, desperate to try and search for the answers as to what he could do.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whimpered as Johnny was the first to step into the room. “I’ve never had anyone faint around me before,” he frowned, taking a step back as his elder members began to sort things out.

With his members taking a step back, Donghyuck stayed as close to your side as he could until he saw your eyes open, not only looking at him, but the eight other pairs of eyes that were also watching with great concern.

“It’s cold down here,” you noted as you began to come around to your senses, “why are you all looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“You fainted; do you not remember?” Donghyuck asked you, flinching as your head shook back at him. “I came back from the toilet and you were out cold on the floor Y/N, can you really not remember any of that happening.”

You sighed across at him, “I wish I could, but right now I’m just as confused as you are as to why I’ve ended up on the floor.”

“Come on, let’s get you onto the bed before you catch a cold down there.”

---

Masterlist

#nct #nct imagine #nct 127 #nct 127 imagine #nct reaction #nct scenario #nct 127 reaction #nct 127 scenario #taeil imagine #taeyong imagine #johnny imagine #yuta imagine #doyoung imagine #jaehyun imagine #jungwoo imagine #mark lee imagine #haechan imagine #taeil #taeyong #johnny #yuta #doyoung #jaehyun #jungwoo #mark lee #haechan #nct one shot #nct drabble #nct fluff

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 29

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L Warnings: Language, angst, insecurities, blood, darkish thoughts (self-hatred), fighting, violence Author's Note: heavy chap. if you’re having a bad day, take a moment, be kind to yourself and put off reading this until you feel better 💜

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Playlist 】

Chapter 29: That Pet You Just Couldn't Keep

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

Remus woke up to a bright, white light. He squinted, head lolling to the side of his lumpy pillow. The chair near his bedside was empty, saved from a pitcher of water along with a few potions Madam Pomfrey must’ve left for him, were placed on the stand beside his bed.

Something wasn’t right. Peter or one of the other Marauders were always there waiting for him after his transformations.

Too hot for a blanket in June, he ripped off his covers and noticed the bumpy, large material hiding beneath his nightgown. He licked his lips, letting air whistle down his dry throat while a sharp, burning sensation flooded his abdomen. Remus winched, groaning out while stretching to drink the potions and water. Although, as he brought the glass vials to his lips, he noticed that his arm was littered with scratches and bruises. Curious, he lifted the slit of the gown to see a large wrapping across his lower stomach and bruises in the shape of lopsided circles and rectangles travelling across his body.

Remus felt his face scrunch. Ever since the Marauders had become animaguses, he hardly sustained any injuries aside from the occasional limp or flimsy scratch. There was usually an absence of pain nowadays, not an overload of it.

What caught his attention was the scent of human blood. His senses were always heightened the week leading up to the full moon and the week following, so it was particularly strong. It caused his head to spin like planets performing a celestial dance.

Preoccupied with the scent, Remus didn’t notice someone slipping into the room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” A fuzzy Peter came into view. He went to sit on the edge of his bed sporting a nervous look.

“Was wondering where you were.” Remus relaxed at his appearance.

“Yeah… Erm — been busy.”

Soon enough, another sharp pain stabbed at his abdomen again. “Fuck — what happened last night?”

Wormtail sucked in sharply as he wiggled in his seat uncomfortably. “I… something terrible happened. Bollocks, Moons — I’m sorry...”

Remus felt his spine prickle with needles. “What?”

“We should wait until Dumbledore or James comes back.”

“Dumbledore?!”

Ghostly pale, Peter was on the verge of fainting. Remus took another deep inhale. This time, he smelt blood, but it was coming off of Peter and a few other foreign scents lingered on him. Was that… Y/N? And… Snape? Remus scanned Peter, noticing the droplet of red on his shoes.

“Pete,” his voice dropped to an icy whisper, “Whose blood is that?”

He remained quiet.

Remus moved to prop himself up on the bed. “What happened?”

As Peter spoke, every word made Remus recline into himself and he was left unsure of how to feel. The overload of information put him into a state of complete shock. His vision faded in and out, suddenly feeling very cold and dizzy compared to the hot weather.

He distantly heard Peter trying to gain his attention but stared blankly at the metal bed frame.

“Say something,” his friend tried, sounding desperate. He didn’t even know how long he’d been quiet for.

Remus worked through the betrayal in nine steps. It helped make sense of his emotions. To categorize them — making it easier to file away.

1. Shock & denial

“No,” he said, barely moving a muscle in his face. “That's impossible! Padfoot would never…”

Peter watched him pitifully. Remus’ eyes blinked rapidly, heart pounding. “I’m sorry.”

2. Process what happened (or try to)

“He… told… Snape?” He asked despite Peter repeating the story multiple times.

“Sirius was mad at Sniv — Snape, and he was provoked by —”

“I didn’t hurt him, did I? I didn’t hurt anyone?”

“He’s fine.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what happened to me? Why was I bleeding?”

He refused to look him in the eyes and Remus felt terror ebb it's way through his skin. “Answer me!”

“As I said, L/N and Snape got into a row… she heard Sirius tell him and she went to save him…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Wormtail took a deep breath. “You… nicked her a bit and James’ antler broke off in you because… he was trying to get you off of her…”

Remus was rooted in place. What Peter just said was unreal. His stomach twisted painfully. He blinked. “Y/N’s hurt? I hurt her?”

“Yes — no! That was Snape —” “Is she here? Did I bite her?”

“You didn’t and yeah but —” “Move out of my way.” He pushed himself up wobbly.

“You lot a lot of blood, sit —”

“Get out of my way!” He threatened. Remus pushed Peter to the side, clambered to his feet. Remus gripped the bed tightly and felt a few seams rip open and blood began to faintly seep through his white bandages.

He staggered around, ripping back the curtains until he saw Y/N. Limping up to her bed, Remus almost burst into tears when he saw her. She looked so tiny, curled up and engulfed in blankets and pillows. Her ankle was propped up, head bandage and skin dull.

It felt like Peter had poured a bucket of freezing cold water on him.

He hurt her. Almost got her and Snape killed or infected. Could have hurt Prongs and Wormtail…

He was a fucking monster.

He should be put down.

From how loud he was, running around the wing, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. She attempted to stretch, groaning out in pain. But then, her eyes flickered up to him and she froze. Her hand shot up protectively to her chest and face as instinctively went for her wand but stopped. Genuine fear flashed through her, making Remus instantly want to cry. It felt like an eternity passed as she gripped her sheets and opened her mouth.

She was going to scream — to take him away — call him a monster — to cry or yell for Madam Pomfrey or —

But Y/N’s body relaxed. A tried smile twisted and gaze dissipated with fear, replaced with nothing but understanding and softness; she even went as far to touch his hand but Remus wrenched it back.

“Ta-da!” She croaked. “I lived.”

Remus didn’t smile, only staring horrified.

“Yeah, that was a hit or miss...” Peter interjected. He stood behind him, ensuring that if he fell, he’d be there to catch Remus. He continued to stare like she grew another set of eyes.

“What?” Her grin deflated. “Am I that irresistible?”

That pulled a breathy laugh from Remus as he shook his head. Why wasn’t she disgusted with him?

“Thank Merlin, you’re both awake.” All their heads turned to James’s floating head before he pulled off the invisibility cloak.

James moved to pull Remus into a large hug, whispering an ‘I’m sorry’ into his ear. He held him for a while before breaking off, going to embrace Y/N who wheezed.

“Ouch.”

“My bad, my bad!” He pulled back and slipped into bed with her. Peter forced Remus to sit on the edge of her bed while he stood.

A million thoughts ran through his head. He wanted to get away, to run — not even be in the same room as her. Remus wanted to think, to make any sense of what happened.

What the fuck happened? He couldn’t even process it.

She remembered everything, right? Surely she wouldn’t be this calm had she.

“Oh, wait — Lupin, are you alright? I swear a deer came at you last night.”

James chuckled out loud, breaking Remus out of his thoughts as he looked at him and Peter. “I guess there’s no point for secrets anymore.”

Y/N looked at them questioningly, her eyes squinting from the bright light before Peter went to close the blinds shut. James got off the bed, smiling widely at Remus and Peter got onto the bed instead.

“Ugh — Pete? James? What —”

A loud gasp ripped from her mouth as she jerked away from James who turned into a very large stag and Peter into a fat brown rat.

Remus could almost cry at how comical her face looked.

James was so large that he had to take a few steps back to prevent his antlers from poking one of their eyes out and Remus noticed that one was gone.

He felt sick again. A hand drifted to his stomach.

“Holy shit! Oh my god!” Y/N went to graze a finger on Peter’s fur before turning to James with shaky hands to touch one of his antlers and patting him on the head. She was speechless as her mouth open several times before forcing out, “You're really Bambi!”

James turned back, taking his glasses off to clean. “I wanted to be a lion — for Gryffindor, y’know.”

“You can’t choose, I wouldn’t be a rat.” Peter grimaced.

“They’re highly intelligent. Nothing to worry about.” James reassured and ruffled his hair.

“When did you guys learn to do this?”

“We’ve been at it for three years now. We finally were able to do it in August before school started.”

She shook her head, staring in awe.

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Dumbledore came to speak to everyone later that day.

Remus had been dreading it once he came into the wing and began speaking to Y/N, a buzzing sound filling his ear. All Remus was left to do was twiddle his thumbs, waiting and completely disoriented.

When he finally approached him, Dumbledore lost his usual twinkle in his eyes. He made sure to close the long vertical blinds and again, the room filled with a low buzzing sound.

“How are you doing?” He asked. Remus, had he been in the right mindset, would have prevented the scoff escaping him. Dumbledore didn’t react but continued. “Miss L/N is recovering well and Mr. Snape didn’t receive any injuries. Just a fright.”

Remus nodded, that was good, but he remained quiet.

“Snape’s been persuaded to act accordingly for the best interest of his fellow pupils and L/N gave her word.”

Remus choked back a laugh. Snape was going to, no matter what, let his secret slip somehow.

“You’re also exempt from the Transfiguration exams, both you and Miss L/N. You’ve both sustained a degree of varying head injuries and you’ll be graded on a cumulative from McGonagall.”

Dumbledore was forcing Remus to the edge as he bit down on his inner cheek. It was useless to listen to him. “Are you expelling me?”

“No. You should not bear any blame.”

“Dumbledore, no offence, but are you mental?” Remus sputtered adding, “I endangered four students last night.”

“Yes but —” “The next time we won’t be so lucky. I’m a monster, sir. I should be.”

The headmaster sighed. “Remus, give yourself a bit of credit. Think highly of yourself.”

Remus gave a dry laugh, almost baffled at how Dumbledore was acting. Did he just gloss over the fact he could have gotten students infected? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself had he. “How can I?”

“Well Y/N seemed to think very highly of you. She made you a very compelling case along with your friends, Potter, Pettigrew and Black.”

“Black’s not my friend,” Remus countered. He didn’t care about how rude he was being.

“Remus —”

“Is he expelled?”

“No.” The answer had Remus wheeling, anger spiking. “He’s not.”

“Why not? If it isn’t my fault, that I’m not to blame then why isn’t he? He told them how to find me.”

“I understand that this is a very difficult situation and rest assured, Sirius will be punished. I can promise you. But expulsion isn’t the answer.”

Remus refused to look at Dumbledore and he must've realized he was getting nowhere with him. He stood but before leaving, he gave a pitiful look.

“I have done terrible deeds, indulged in foolish pranks that I have lived to regret, but each has been a valuable learning experience. It’s a pity that it came to this. Learn in your heart to forgive, Remus. The world is already filled with too much hate.”

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June 16th, 1976

3. Sadness & pain

Remus had been avoiding the Marauder’s dorm. He’d gone as far as begging Madam Pomfrey (who’d taken pity because she knew what happened) to let him stay another two nights before getting kicked out. Remus always healed physically faster and his wounds were already healed by the third day. Pathetically, he’d been sleeping in dingy passageways or the prefects’ bathroom before relocating after being harassed by the ghosts.

Remus had a plan, avoid them; skip classes, get longer prefect duties, never staying in one spot for too long. He wouldn’t know what would happen if Snape saw him. Although, whatever Dumbledore told him, it kept Snape quite so far. But tonight, he got tired of Moaning Myrtle sobbing.

Before curfew, Remus made it a habit of visiting Y/N, who was still stuck in the wing; both out of guilt and because she was his friend, but he couldn't stay for long — seeing her like that made him wallow in guilt.

Similar to him, Lily had visited, along with the other girls, every day. Today, Lily stayed a little longer, bleeding into the time Remus usually dropped by. He watched as Lily whisper into her ear, causing Y/N to laugh and Lily blush madly as she sat snug by her side. Not wanting to ruin their moment, Remus went to leave before they had the chance to see him.

Remus had another pressing matter anyway.

He entered one of the nearest bathrooms to give himself some sort of pep talk and stared at the mirror.

You can do this. A voice echoed in his head.

Typically, memories from the full moon came back to Remus a few days or even weeks later, his brain usually too foggy a couple of hours after and even then, he would never fully remember everything. He vaguely remembered seeing a flash of Snape’s face and Prongs but Y/N’s screams were one of the clearer memories from that night.

“REMUS! PLEASE REMUS! STOP!”

Remus looked to stare at himself in the mirror. He observed the scar on the bridge of his nose, feeling bile rush up his throat at the sight.

He was a freak, littered with scars covering himself.

He was disgusting.

Ugly.

Pathetic.

Dangerous.

A monster!

4. Anger

Sirius Black had always been loyal, so what changed that night?

He needed to leave. It was no good staying here anymore.

Remus was shaking with rage, twinged with hurt. He paced outside of the common room door and had a few options running through him. Either start a huge fight with Sirius or just… ignore it.

Avoidance.

Maybe he could ignore Sirius forever? Impossible, surely. Sirius would get bored, anxious within a couple of weeks — that was too generous — a few days sounded right.

With his mind made up, Remus crept up to his room. He could hear the faint shouts of James and pondered about just sleeping in the common room or prefects’ bathroom. Even if he did have to listen to Moaning Myrtle.

Maybe because his senses were still coming down from its peak or James was just brash, but Remus didn’t even have to press his ear on the door.

“— done ENOUGH! — hear me? You better — why are YOU crying? You bloody — understand? Understand?! You will not talk — him — best friends my —”

The only person he's told he was coming back was Wormtail and it sounded like he told Prongs.

Remus didn’t care to listen anymore as he pushed open the door. Pete was sitting on his bed, eyes wide at Remus’ presence surrounded by unwrapped wrappers. He always tended to eat while stressed.

Sirius was looking down at the floor as James stood in front of him, scolding him like a child. But, his head shot up once he walked through the door. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his eyes bloodshot, puffy and circles dark. He didn’t dare look at him.

Remus didn’t acknowledge them, instead moving robotically to the bathroom, changing into his holey yet comfortable clothes before scurrying off to bed, swinging his curtains shut before casting a silencing spell around.

He’d plan to adhere to his avoidance strategy. It worked so far.

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June 18th, 1976 | 1:29 am

“Psst… Moony.”

Remus turned over to face him. “What do you want Peter?”

“Just wanted to check up. You okay?”

“What do you think? Please, leave me alone.” And then closed his bed drapes.

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June 19th, 1976 | 11:37 pm

Peter had crept up to his bed again as Remus laid there awake, thoughts swarming him.

“I’m not in the mood. I’m tired.” He moved to turn over and forced his eyes closed.

Peter had been nothing but amazing. Always thinking about him and his needs but what Remus wanted most was to be alone and Peter's pity and worried features did nothing but make Remus feel like shit.

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June 21st, 1976

In life, there are few things that are certain. Getting older, death, taxes… No matter how hard we try, no matter how good our morals are or our intentions, we all will eventually make mistakes. It’s either as small as burning your food or writing the wrong answer down on a test, but you’re also going to fuck up pretty bad and hurt people. Say something — do something you don’t mean and it’ll end up with both sides hurt. If you want forgiveness, there’s multiple solutions to gain that back, but the two words — obvious, there, waving in front of your face — can be the hardest words to say.

“I’m sorry.” Black muttered for the hundredth time that night. His voice was pushing Remus to the edge as he kept his face straight. Dead. Not once taking Sirius’ shitty apology baits. He continued to stare down at his book, reading silently in his dorm. His teeth hurt from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Remus was right, of course, he was fucking right. Black had grown anxious as he ignored him.

“I’m sorry.”

Remus never really considered himself violent. Sure, he’s gotten into rows that ended with a punch or hex here or there, but Remus didn’t have violent thoughts. If anything, he prided himself on not being a bonehead like Black and Prongs. But, it took every ounce not to beat the shit out of Black right there and then.

Bastard. Scumbag. You mother fucking betrayer.

Remus never liked not being in control. Not having it scared him too much, feeling more animal than man. He did everything to avoid being violent, the wolf was already violent enough and had too much control and Remus refused to let it dictate human him. There was already too much violence, he never wanted to contribute more.

He did everything not to be a monster. But it's like the wolf roared from deep within, scratching and begging to let him pounce.

Remus wasn’t violent — anyone who met him would vouch for that. Fuck, if he saw a spider, he would open a nearby window and release it. But now, he wanted to slam Sirius against a wall and wrap his hands around his neck and squeeze.

You piece of shit. Wanker. Twat. I want you to feel as much pain as I do.

“Moony, please let me explain —”

All the words suddenly blurred before Remus slammed his book shut, causing to become still and quiet.

Sirius trying to explain — excuse his actions — pushed him over the edge. Remus sent a venomous glare at Sirius, waiting for him to talk. His quietness made everyone uneasy.

Selfish bastard.

Any sympathy Remus held for him this past year, along with any logic, evaporated to the point where he felt a rabid thump spread through him. There was a desperation to relieve himself of it — lash out, scream, cry —

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” the rest of the Marauders watched the scene, knowing not to get involved. “It was a mistake and —“

“A mistake?”

Sirius perked up at this. That was the only word he’d spoken to him since the incident. “Honest. I did it because —” “Shut the fuck up.” Remus stood, tall and loomed over Sirius. He could almost smell the fear off him.

He had never been so mad before.

“I — I… I,” stutters Remus. But instead of it being out of shyness or nerves, it was out of pure wrath that he wasn’t able to articulate his emotions properly. He took a deep breath in, attempting to regain control over his emotions but failed as he burned with deep, seething hatred. “I am the monster that mothers tell their children to keep them in at night.”

“Moony —”

“Don’t call me that!” His voice boomed so loud that everyone in the room had to take a step back and shrink down. Remus was always so reserved, only ever lashing out in annoyance close to the full moon but nothing more.

“Living up to your name, aren’t you?” There’s a sarcastic, bitter humour lilt to his voice.

Someone so in control of his emotions, someone with an unbreakable exterior, the only glimpses they’d ever seen of Remus losing control was him snapping at someone close to the full moon but would later apologize within mere seconds. But to see him like that… it was an intrusion, something the Marauders hadn’t ever seen or wanted to before.

“Please, just calm down so we can talk.”

Remus paces around the room. “You — y’know I’ve never understood why everyone lets you get around treating others like shit. First, it was Marlene, James, me, Peter, Lily and Y/N — we all let you get away with it. Outburst after outburst, we all sat back because you were going through shit. But I can’t? I’m not allowed to get angry?!”

Sirius wouldn’t look at him.

“Look at me.” Remus kept his voice low throughout the ordeal, only ever raising if Black interjected. “You coward, look at me!”

5. A lot of anger

He couldn’t meet his eyes so he settled to stare at the scar across his nose. It only angered him more as Remus picked Sirius up and pushed him against the wall as he fisted his shirt.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry is nothing but a word to you. I gave you my most trusted secrets. I confided in you. I was there for you when you needed it. I loved and cared for you like my own brother but I was nothing more than a pet that you discarded when you got bored. You’re only guilty because of the repercussions you’re facing. Your guilt isn’t nearly enough. Bastard. I trusted you. You’re a Marauder. My best friend. I would’ve done anything for you. You fucking ruined it.

“You did this! You did!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He laughs, mocking and loud, void of any emotion. “No, you aren’t. You’re never fucking sorry!”

Stupid fucking selfish arsehole.

“For years you’ve told me that you accepted me — cared for me — loved me like your own brother! That what I am — a-a monster — that it didn’t matter!”

“It didn’t mean anything, I promise! It was a shitty, fucked up prank —”

“A prank?! You used me as a weapon! A toy because how could anyone ever love a werewolf?” Remus’ voice was so low. “You’ve never respected me. If you had any, you wouldn’t have — you - wouldn’t....”

Everything came crashing on Remus at once.

6. The realization settles in

And after nine days, Remus Lupin had finally realized what Sirius Black had done. Before, everything he felt had been true but he hadn’t fully realized the gravity of what happened, as silly as it sounds.

Sirius turned his worst fear into a living nightmare.

In the background, one of James’ Quidditch posters, encased in glass exploded, shattering into millions of pieces from the amount of pure magic radiating off Remus. He didn’t even flinch at the sound.

James finally interjected, placing a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Lay off him… He isn’t worth it.”

Remus eased off Black instantly. “You had no right… no right…” He pointed. Remus turned his face down as he felt tears build up.

“I trusted you,” he whispers. “Every bit.”

Remus stormed out of the dorm, going to sleep in the common room.

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June 22nd, 1976

7. Depression

When Remus finally let himself cry, he didn’t make a move to leave his bed. Even skipping meal times, leaving James or Pete to bring him food.

Everything felt suffocating, a gnawing feeling that made every part of him ache. Remus couldn’t handle anymore pain or emotions from ‘the prank’ as he felt himself slip into a temporary void.

He hugged his pillow tighter and closed his eyes once more.

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June 23rd, 1976 | 11: 37 pm

Remus had gone straight to bed again, effectively shutting up the rest of the dorm. James was ignoring Black, leaving Remus surprised that he hadn’t made a move to defend his actions. Nonetheless, he was appreciative still. Peter had been trying to appease everyone, not taking sides but still must’ve thought Sirius was in the wrong because he hadn’t talked to him much.

He didn’t ask James to choose between him or Black. Remus was never one for ultimatums but even then, it seemed like James picked him. He was beyond furious, seemingly more than Remus at this point who pathetically wallowed in his depression. He wouldn’t spare Black a second glance, wouldn’t talk to him, shut him down if he tried to speak to him. Hell, he’d even gone as far as to make it very clear to the entirety of Hogwarts that they were no longer friends, making sure to not sit with him, ever. Always choosing to sit by Remus.

They chose his side and a part of Remus felt elated to know they had his back.

This left Black alone, looking at them through tearful gazes. Remus had been ignoring all of them and they seemed to be understanding, avoiding crossing the wordless boundary Remus set in stone.

But, both James and Peter had been checking up on him nightly, always there and he could tell they were getting impatient.

When the lights went out, he heard James crept out of bed. Usually, Remus would find some sort of comfort in knowing who was approaching him, but now, it only left him feeling uneasy.

And then he felt the bed dip and James muttered out a spell.

“Hey, Moony.”

Remus didn’t face him. “Prongs?”

“Hey,” there was a loud sigh, “Do you need anything?”

What was he supposed to say? A hug? To talk? He’d much rather use his avoidance strategy, although he realized it left him alone with too many thoughts and nobody to confide in.

“M’good.” He felt James place a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll always be there for you. That’s what Marau - that’s what friends are for, no?”

Remus didn’t answer and felt James move to leave. But before he had the chance to slip out, Remus peeked his head from the drapes, announcing just loud enough for Sirius to hear.

“Thanks for saving all of us, James. You’re a true friend.”

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June 24th, 1976

People had their poisons.

Alcohol can make you forget. It blocks out everything and makes the rest of the world fade away until you can’t remember. People gambled to feel a rush, only to realize they dug themself into irreversible debt. Shopping, food, the high from risky behaviour…

But how we manage our poisons is up to the person.

People love to deny that they have addictions. They deny they’re hooked, they deny that they can’t put it down, they deny that they’re scared or want to stop. People only see what they want to see, believe what they want to believe.

And then the truth becomes muddled with lies that it’s hard to recognize the poisons sitting right in front of us. And all we want is more.

For Remus, his poison, his bright red self-destruction button, was smoking.

Granted, he never was a big smoker, typically only smoking when stressed or bored. But he still did it, filling his lungs with poison. But maybe he was wired like that. Besides, what werewolf lives past thirty? Might as well die revelling in the poison that brought him ease…

Remus conjured a ball of bright fire from his hand; fishing out a pack of cigarettes, slipped it past his lips and lit it. He inhaled, feeling the familiar, comforting feeling before dragging it from his lips, blowing out the thick cloud of smoke that left him wanting more.

He’d been sticking to his avoidance tactic strictly now. The Marauders were hovering over him, worry evident on their faces. A few times, Lily and James both invited him to sit. They never fought anymore, or at least in front of him, and it probably was his doing — a group effort into getting him to talk.

So even Lily knew something was wrong… Snape probably told her…

The door clicked open and Remus didn’t have to turn around to know how it was.

“Leave me alone. I’m not ready to talk.”

“Wasn’t gonna make you.”

He spun around, that wasn’t James or Peter. His face softened.

“Well… I’m not,” Y/N said simply, “But the others are about to.”

Remus groaned at that but Y/N smiled and turned around, ushering him over with a little wave. In one hand, she raised the Marauder’s map. “C’mon, I know a place and that they won’t be able to find.”

Remus was intrigued. He stepped out the butt of the cigarette, flicked it into the trash and followed her. Surely he’d already been there but being with Y/N seemed ten folds better than being around the other Marauders.

He followed wordlessly, passageways flying through his head but she never stopped by them. Instead, she climbed onto a ledge, slipping into an area under a large curtain. He followed, eyes lighting up in awe. He’s definitely never been there before.

“Get comfortable,” she said, flinging him a pillow and lighting a few candles.

They sat opposed to each other in complete silence. Y/N flicked back and forth, watching James and Peter scrabble around the castle looking for him. A few times, they passed by, each time leaving Y/N amused.

Remus tapped his leg anxiously. The question remained: Why wasn’t she disgusted with him? Why was she helping him? Why wasn’t she afraid?

Now alone together, those questions dangled on his tongue.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

She looked up at him, finally putting down the map. “Because you’re Remus.” She said, like it was the most obvious answer. “You’re not scary.”

8. Hold onto doubt

The answer irritated him. Another memory unfolded then and he blurted it out. “Why didn’t you cast any spells at me?”

Her brows rose, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m dangerous.” His voice was bleak and cold. “Why can't you grasp that?”

She stays quiet for a long time, her head turning to look out the large window. Y/N watched the owls and labyrinth of ancient trees of the forbidden forest and Remus was painfully aware of time slipping by.

“Do you remember that night on the astronomy tower on Halloween? I said that there’s bound to be someone looking at the moon at the same time?”

It takes Remus a moment to remember, but he does. “Yeah. You said that it’s like you’re not alone.”

Y/N turns around to face him. “Exactly. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

He looked away, deliberating. “It’s one thing for me to be alone but then drag you and others down with me.”

“Remus, I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t scared. I was terrified. I thought that was it.” He gulped. “But I could never be scared of you. The real you - the you right now. I don’t care about what you are. You are more than just a werewolf. I feel safe with you.”

The dark shadows surrounded them as she reiterated herself. “You don’t have to be alone in this.”

He soaks in her words for a while. This time, peering out the window as he breathes in deeply.

Okay. He decided.

“Do you want to know how I got —” he pointed at a scar on his upper forearm. “— this?”

She nodded her head.

“When James turned into his animagus form to show me for the first time, his antlers pierced my skin. I had to lie to Pomfrey and say I fell while playing Quidditch.”

Any invisible barrier between them crashed instantly as she smiled brightly and laughed. So infectious, Remus couldn't help but flash a real grin.

He never realized how beautiful her smile was.

“Oh, and if you ever tell anyone about this place, I’ll skin you.”

“I would never.”

Remus scouted over to her, pressing his back against the cool stone as they sat together in a comfortable stillness. But then she shifted, opening her arms wide. He lent in without hesitation and her arms flung around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He felt salty tears stinging in the corners of his eyes and let himself soak in her warm.

He really needed that.

Over her shoulder, he returned to watch the stars.

9. Acceptance

Remus learned from a young age that it was better to keep people at an arm's length. Get too close, they’ll dig, find out his condition, fear him and run.

He hates to say it, but he’s not surprised that his secret slipped out. He got too comfortable, got too close... It’s just that the Sirius component was surprising.

But maybe it wasn’t surprising. Ever since the beginning of the year, especially since winter break, Sirius had been reckless more and more lately, and he probably should have seen it coming. He was wild as a result of being freed from the confines of his rigid upbringing.

Sirius Black was unpredictable.

Sirius Black was dangerous when it came to secrets.

Sirius Black was one of his best friends.

Sometimes betrayal is so profound that there’s no way to fix what was lost. The damage is done, irreplaceable, unfixable.

If Remus was sure of anything by the end of that week was that,

a) James Potter and Peter Pettigrew were still his best friends,

b) He almost killed Severus Snape and Y/N L/N,

c) Y/N knew his secret and despite everything, continued to talk to him, support him, be there for him — she accepted him,

d) His walls went up a higher, became stronger and insecurities ran deeper,

e) Lastly, Remus Lupin would never, ever forgive Sirius Black for what he did. Never.

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【 Next Chapter 】

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