#one only pulls inward one only sees outward neither is alone a complete life

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

[IMAGE ID: A tweet by “minh tâm h. 🌾 on concrete” @HAEDRAULICS on Apr 20: “everything everywhere all at once had me writing down english class notes in the theatre” with two drawings of sets of two nested circles, one black with a white center, one white with a black center. They are respectively labeled, “the bagel (yin) // -life is mostly dull and bad // -joy is fleeting and ultimately meaningless” and, “the googly eye (yang) // -life is mostly good and worthwhile // suffering is transient and fixable” END ID]

#everything everywhere all at once #eeaao #daniels #@haedraulics #on twitter #daoism #taoism #theology #one only pulls inward one only sees outward neither is alone a complete life

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Don't Leave Me This Way

Word count- It's a doozy at 3500

Warnings- language, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, penetration (vaginal), angsty romance

A/N- After a decade together, Honey and Leon have come undone. But on the anniversary of the day their lives changed Leon decides to mend them. For @forenschik 💋  Part One

Part Two:

Leon wasn’t quite sure walking was the best choice. Lightning lit up the sky every few minutes, and Honey’s silence as they strolled at a leisurely pace worried him. He knew, if anything, she was contemplating what he had said about traveling.

After a block, she finally looked at him and took a sharp breath in. Then all she could exhale was the damn kids.

“We still need to decide about Sunny going to school! Can he control himself around other kids, or should he be homesch-”

“HONEYYY!” Leon let loose his familiar whine. He stood firm so that as she kept going he yanked her backwards. “Enough about the kids! I love them, but please. Can you even make it back home without talking about them for one bloody minute?!”

Honey turned to face Leon. She planted her fists on her hips. This was a move he had watched Selina make a hundred times, but thought she swiped it from Wonder Woman. Now he knew it was from the bad ass chick he lived with. His wife popped one hip out to the side and curved a brow.

“Is that a challenge, Kostas? Care to wager.”

“Whot? No. I suck at gambling.”

“Bingo! Whatever you’re going to say, if I win, I get to sleep with Klaus.”

It was as if she had been thinking about this for ages. Just waiting for an opportunity to ask her husband, or maybe bait him. Spurned on by the heat and mundanity she never believed would settle in her marriage.

Leon wouldn't bite. Not really. “Even if you win, that'll never happen. You'll take one look at the bloody stupid problematic tattoo on his stomach and get unnerved.”

“Whatever. Either way, top that bitch.” Honey only had a hint of seriousness in her voice. Her smile reached her eyes.

Leon made a huff noise and rolled his eyes. Like he was disgusted. He threw his arms up and shrugged. “If you lose, ANYTIME or ANYWHERE, no matter what is happening, when I ask? you've got to kiss me.”

“That's not a punishment. I kiss you all the time.”

“But do you really, love? A nice one before work or when we get home or before we go to sleep. I'm talking about deep, passionate kisses like we used to.”

Honey’s shoulders sagged. Here she was wagering a night with a knock off, literally, of her husband. And all he wanted was that fire they once had. Both of them worried it had become embers just begging to be stoked and lit ablaze again.

Honey held out her hand, “Deal.”

Leon took it and turned it over. He raised it up to his lips and kissed her wrist, “Deal.” His hand encompassed hers and they started to walk as the wind picked up. They, however, strolled leisurely down Mulberry Street.

Honey was rather quiet, and Leon smirked. His wife would rather keep her mouth shut than risk mentioning the kids if she opened it. He didn't mind talking about them, not really.

Leon joked to Johnny once that his “Littles” were like acid trips that had come to life. Except they needed emotional guidance. He was glad that they had at least a few more years until they had to explain Sunny didn't just resemble his father, but his mother had her suspicions.

“Leon, where have you gone off to?” Honey was snapping her fingers in his face. “I asked you why a week isn't enough to reset?”

“How often did your parents go on holiday without the six of you?”

Honey was silent for so long as they sauntered along that Leon thought she was either worried she would mention Selina and Sunny in her answer. But she was thinking and couldn't recall. She responded with, “It's more like WHEN did my parents go on vacation without the six of us.”

“Alright.”

“1969. Wait no. That was the holiday you paid for to see me. Oh.. I don't know!”

“Exactly. My parents never went away without us and then not alone until my dad got sick. I don't want to wait until it's our last holiday together. So we go home,” he put his arm around Honey's neck and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head, “and just close your eyes and pick.”

She let her hands enclose around his as it hung down over her chest. “And we go there.” Honey brought Leon's hand up to her mouth so her lips just brushed his knuckles.

Leon’s instincts took over when she let him go. He slid under the fabric of her dress between her breasts. His fingers traced a lazy circle over Honey's nipple then teased it pert.

He went around. Quicker. This time he pinched it gently. When her breath hitched, he did it a bit harder. His eyes on the people milling about the streets of Lower Manhattan. His touch never waned.

Honey looked up at her husband. She studied the way his lip curled a bit like Elvis. How his nose curved subtly to the left because of a youthful accident near Kensington Gardens.

“Never trust a boomerang. They bloody well do come back!” he declared one night during their first years together.

Present Honey let her nail trace over it, and snickered unexpectedly. She watched Leon's eyebrows meet in the middle with thoughts of what was on with his missus. His eyes shifted a sideways glance at her, but his lip turned outwards in the tiny pout that preceded a smile.

“Whot?!” he exclaimed when Honey retraced the old break. She giggled a little more. “I WAS SEVEN! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS GONNA WORK!” Leon shouted. “Dad told me I ruined my Greek face with a Roman nose.”

Honey stopped dead and gasped. Her jaw fell open in feigned shock. “Excuse me!? Romans took the Greeks, and we made them better!”

Leon reached his hands down over his wife’s ass. Their bodies flush with each other so he could knead it. “You certainly made this Greek better.”

Honey raised up on her tiptoes (despite her four inch heels) to throw her arms around Leon's neck. He was taken aback when Honey did a little hop so her lips could meet. He lifted her off the ground while her mouth opened enough for him to slip her his tongue. Hers fought back.

Back and forth their tongues went while they kissed on Bleecker street across from the apothecary. A few cars drove passed and whistled. Honey let go enough to flip someone off. Leon laughed in her mouth.

His oxygen became hers, and Honey remembered what it had all been like. When was the last time she and Leon sparred with their mouths? Were desperate to be inside of each other?

She was the first to break the kiss. Back on the ground. She took Leon and led him off the street in a doorway to a shuttered bodega. Honey pushed him up against the brick wall then began undoing his dress pants. She delved in to grab his cock which easily hardened in her grip.

“Want a blow job?” she purred at him. Her touch stroked along his shaft.

“We're.. We're not that far from the flat. I.. can,” Leon moaned. He glanced down to see Honey lowering herself to her knees. “You'll ruin your dress.”

She had freed his cock to lick at the head. “I'll buy another.”

Honey took Leon completely in her mouth so that he hit the back of her throat. She gagged a little; his hips shuddered. He bucked and she created a vacuum with her mouth. She let go before letting the tip of her tongue run the length of his erection and around the tip. She looked up at him from where she knelt while spreading the foreskin to lick at the sensitive part inside.

“People know us around here,” Leon whined. His hold on the back of her head tightened and twisted up in her hair.

“Oh no! Local sexy Columbia professor gets sucked off by his goddess-like wife and East Village club owner.” Honey punctuated every few words with a swipe of her tongue on his cock. This was followed by soft sucking motions over the head and further down. “Wait until they find out we met making a porno.”

She stopped suddenly and stood to lead her husband back out onto the sidewalk towards home. Leon whimpered; Honey laughed. “Now that's for the restaurant! But you're right, a few more blocks and we're home. Then we're gonna fuck good and hard all over the flat.”

Leon picked up the pace.

----

Honey stumbled backwards into the stairwell up to their apartment. Leon invaded her space as he bent over to mesh his mouth with hers. He blindly fumbled for the zipper to her dress as she unbuttoned his shirt. He kicked his shoes off, then his pants and tugged the dress off his wife's body so she was naked in the foyer except for her wedged heels.

Honey took a step back to catch her breath. She pushed the shirt back off Leon's shoulders and kissed them. Once he stepped out of his boxers, she let her mouth hurry along his collarbone. She stopped only to nibble and bite at the base of his neck.

He sighed letting his hands run up and down her bare back. They settled where the small of her back curved inwards. Leon held her to his chest when Honey reciprocated.

Another instance lost to their busy schedule. Neither could remember the last time they embraced like this. Not just a hug. Luckily they were affectionate with each other if only in passing. But not like this. Just touching one another in their nakedness.

Leon backed Honey onto the stairs where he sat her down on his shirt. Like her dress, he could buy another. He just wanted a clean place for her to rest. He lifted her ankle thanking the gods her shoes had laces around it instead of those damnable straps even she had a hard time with.

Honey sat forward to stop him. “I want to leave them on.”

Leon frowned, “Whot?”

Honey laughed and got up to face him as she made her way up the steps. She bit her lip as he followed. The light in the well helps her see every inch of her partner.

The erection she created out on the street as it strained and twitched for her. His muscular arms couldn't quite catch her because she remained out of his reach the further up she climbed. His sly smile with the curved top lip. A smile that reached green eyes that transformed from indescribable colors to a shade darkened by desire.

Honey wasn't paying attention to the pile of troll dolls that were set up just outside their door. She was too busy squealing when Leon finally caught up to her. He growled and snapped his jaw at her thigh from a few feet down. She couldn't see anything but her 34 years flash across her eyes when she tripped and toppled and cried out.

“DAMMIT, SELINA!!”

Leon practically flew to snatch her up in his arms before she could properly fall. She had opened the door at least and instead of down the stairs they tumbled on to the front hallway floor. Leon cushioned her as best as he could when they landed.

“I told her if she left those creepy things out there someone was gonna get killed! OOOO!” Honey let out a frustrated scream.

“Are you alright?” Leon pretended to inspect his wife’s body. “No lumps?” He distracted her by capturing one of her breasts in his mouth while they laid side by side on the hardwood and throw-rug. He crawled on top of Honey and snuck a hand inside of her thighs. His fingers dove inside of her like back at the restaurant. “No bruises?”

Honey felt her sex throb. Her back arched with one leg thrown around Leon's waist. “If you finger fuck me harder, I'll forget all about it.”

Leon complied. He slid them easily in and out; she had grown so wet for him already. His wife twisted and dug her nails into his back. Her hips bucking now like his had outside.

“Your ego is going to bruise,” he said low in her ear.

“Whhhhyyyy?!” She replied in a high pitched moan.

“You mentioned our daughter before we got home.”

“WE WERE IN THE STAIRWELL!”

Leon rolled off of his wife and got to his feet. He helped her up and made like he was going to kiss her. Honey ducked out of his way. “We don't live out on those stairs do we?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You lost, and I want my first snog.”

Honey dodged him once more and slithered out of his arms. “Cheeky bastard. That's cheating!” She moved towards the living room.

“That's not! It's called tactical. One again, WHO’S CIA TRAINED NOW?! NOW COME BACK HERE AND SNOG ME, WOMAN!”

“BUGGER OFF!” Honey screamed but launched into hysterical laughter as she gave chase through the apartment.

“Minx!” Leon shouted. He ran after her out on to the fire escape where she was out of his grasp once more.

He chased Honey to the roof. Once up there he looked around the garden they had built. Their own secret away from Manhattan created by the two of them, The Littles and Klaus. Ivy and wildflowers and a patch for vegetables and fruit. It wasn't much, but wildflowers always blossomed where they were planted and the bees that followed made honey tended to by his own sweet, sticky woman.

“Grazia, dove sei? Te voglio, ma donna selvaggia.” Leon called out to his wife in Italian. Then Greek: “Μου χρωστάς ένα φιλί”

Gracie, where are you? I want you, my wild woman. You owe me a kiss!

“Sono qui amore mio!” Honey called back from under the Bougainvillea covered arbor. “Say te voglio bene, Leo.” A nickname her father teased him with. “I want you always.”

“I DO want you. From the moment I saw you. Your hair was all plaited up around your head with this crown of daisies in your hair. Like Khloris, the goddess of flowers.”

Leon finally found Honey laying on the bench under the wooden structure. She was twisted at the waist with one leg curved, the other stretched out. She was propped up on her elbow. Her long black hair covered her breasts down to her sides almost. The rest of it splayed out on the seat.

He stood by her side now. “Now you're Aphrodite, aren't you?”

Leon let his touch trace over her olive skin curves. He studied her dark pubic hair between the softness of those curves. Brushed his fingers through it before sitting down next to her. He kissed the thickness of his wife’s hip.

Honey rolled on to her back. Her fingers in Leon's hair encouraged him to move his lips to her stomach and chest. He captured one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked till it hardened. Then he bit it gently until she cried out.

Leon laid on top of Honey. She drew his mouth to hers when he attempted to head back down her body. She craved the battle their tongues waged before. So they did.

Honey locked her ankles to Leon's hips and begged for him to push inside of her. She took the head of his cock to guide it inside of her slick entrance. “Please?” she beseeched.

Leon pushed up so he could look at her. “You don't want me to go down on you?”

“I do. Later. We can reenact that scene from our film debut. I just need you inside of me. I want to remember what we used to be like. Before we raised the moon and the sun and became mortal.”

Leon kissed Honey. Then again. And again. Small, quick, innocent kisses. He took her wrists and pinned them to the bench above her head. His free hand did with his cock what she had been doing moments before. He taunted her entrance with the first inch or so of his cock.

Honey pleaded for Leon to just do it already. He pressed his forehead in the crook of her neck just as he buried himself in her walls. “We are the pantheon wrapped up in human bodies. We will never be mortals.”

Honey cried out. She dragged her nails over Leon's shoulder blades as he lost himself up to the hilt with each thrust. The friction and movements grew steadily faster. Harder. Not quite violent, but their bodies crashed together repeatedly. As if the pain of Leon's pelvis slamming into Honey’s reminded them of who they are.

“Leon.. Stop,” Honey said breathlessly.

All movement ceased. “Am I hurting you?” he looked down at her apologetically.

She pushed the sweat soaked hair back from his forehead. The smell of sex and sweat and rain in the air coursed through Honey’s veins. She littered Leon's chest and neck with tiny pecks.

“No, I feel really good. I want to switch positions?”

The way she asked was almost sheepish. It made Leon smile as he pulled out of her and helped her up. Now he laid down so she could straddle him. The bench wasn't wide enough for her to kneel like she usually did, so Honey would quite literally treat Leon like a horse.

She positioned herself over his cock. Used the head to caress her slit. Honey watched Leon bite his entire bottom lip. His chest heaved with heavy breaths that only quickened when she finally sank down on to him. His fingers dug so deep into her curves, he was practically up to his first knuckle.

Honey found a pace that was slow and steady. She balanced herself with palms flat on her husband’s chest. She drove forward so that he filled her totally. Then back until only the head stayed inside. She thrust forward swift and vigorous until every inch was covered by her sex Honey felt herself pulsate around Leon.

She let herself be physically manipulated by her husband now. He rocked her back and forth until their rhythm was breakneck.

Neither of them realized the skies had opened up and it started to pour. The rain cascaded through the arbor on to them as they discovered each other on the bench in the middle of their own Garden of Eden.

And Honey understood as she arched her back and anchored herself on Leon's thighs. Her body was undulating with abandon. The two of them fucking; their bodies crashing together like the thunder. She understood what it meant to gain knowledge from the forbidden fruit.

Somewhere, in some ripple in time, or flip of the coin, she and Leon had been split in half. Honey was made from him. Pulled from his soul and fashioned for him. He had been taken from HER soul and fashioned for her. This was what she meant the night Selina had been born: their stolen pieces would always mend together in every generation.

He spilled into her, crying out her name. Her real name. She threw back her head and released a cry a few minutes later drowned out by the sound of a storm. They twitched and sighed and smiled in that lazy post orgasmic way.

Now they stood, Honey a bit off balance and giggling as Leon righted her. His hair a matted mess stuck to his face and neck which she tried desperately to manage. But he kissed her instead like the night they met and the night they fell in love. How they would kiss for the next fifty years.

“I think a hot bath is in order!” he bellowed over the noise.

For the second time that night, Honey couldn't resist.

Tag: @magic-multicolored-miracle @love-is-dirty-baby @a-ghoulish-tale @elliethesuperfruitlover @neuroticpuppy @nightmonsters @super-unpredictable98 @duck-noises @falloutby @vonkimmeren @bisexualnathanyoung @rob-private @maerenee930 @messengeronthemoon @frogs--are--bitches @firstpersonnarrator @feed-davis-and-steve

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan character fic #leon x honey #moonbrella universe #robert sheehan fluff #robert sheehan smut #100+ followers event #klaus hargreeves

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

IPKKND & Angst - Top 9 Scenes

Angst: A feelings of anxiety and frustration that isn’t specific.

In the serial verse, this is exactly why “kyun dard hai itna, tere ishq main?” (why does it hurt to be in love with you?)

Words fall short to praise the writers, actors, production team for the moment they were able to express anguish and sentiments through the facade of denial and ignorance. 

“Angst is not the human condition, it’s the purgatory between what we have and what we want but can’t get.”  ― Miguel Syjuco, Ilustrado

1. The first promo. Nafrat paas aane na de, mohabbat door jaane na de. This is angst, personified. 2. She tells she’s leaving for Lucknow, forever. He hears she’s leaving him, forever. (S1, E45) 3. He tells her it’s his engagement, and whether it happens or not, how does it matter to her? She tells that it doesn’t matter, with tears stinging her eyes. (S4, E10) 4. When he compels her to marry him. And she agrees. (S6, E4 - S6, E8) 5. When he passionately dances with his wife. The woman he supposedly hates. (S6, E33) 6. "Khushi, please stop crying. Khushi I... I love you.” (S7, E27) 7. “That I love you damnit!” (S8 , E30)

8. “No, Arnav ji will come. I have faith in him. Today is our wedding.” (S9, E30 - S10, E2) 9. “Arnav and Khushi will always stay together.” (S10, E30)

Read more for in-depth thoughts.

“Nafrat paas aane na de, mohabbat door jaane na de.”

“Hate prevents us from growing closer, love forbids us from growing apart.”

This promo had me hook, line and sinker. It was refreshing to watch a rich romance drama, sans any fanciness, that delved deep into symbolism and almost added a sense of forbidden in their love story. In the first image the power play - the financial and status difference is highlighted (brilliant framing) because Khushi literally looks up to Arnav, him unaware of her. And you’re sure that this might be an innocent love, a hidden attraction that is not returned. 

Yet, once Arnav leaves the elevator (and is aware that no one is looking at him), he turns to catch a glimpse of her. So he was aware, very much so, of her gaze. And boy oh boy, the feelings aren’t just returned - they’re intensified! And it’s this continuous push and pull that sets the course of IPKKND. She is wary of his approach, but does not believe his arrogance is all to him. He rebuffs her, but is always pained by her despair. 

She wishes to love him, despite his apparent flaws. He wishes to hate her, despite her apparent perfection. 

Let’s take a moment to appreciate that the shadows of rain fall on her, putting the torn photograph together. She treasures it and holds it against her heart, her eyes wide, afraid and lost. 

While he is in the middle of nowhere, drenched in rain, holding a photograph in his hands. Unable to look more, he crumples the photograph, his eyes tightly shut as if he’s crushing something that’s causing him immense pain.

*chef’s kiss to this promo*

What does a person want apart from two rich characters in a rich storyline with rich layering? You are not just invested in the day the confess their love to each other, rather the journey that takes them there. 

*dreamy sigh*

"Nafrat hai na aapko humse? Humari aukaad se? Humari shakal nahi dekhna chahte hai na aap? Toh khushi ho jaiye, hum aapki nazron se hamesha ke liye door jaa rahe hai. Lucknow jaa rahe hai hum, hamesha ke liye.” (S1, E45)

“So you hate me? My status? You don’t want to see my face, right? Then rejoice! I’m going to be out of your sight, forever. I’m leaving for Lucknow, forever.”

This sounds like a woman wobbling on the edge of feelings for a man. And it awfully sounds like a breakup (which is funny because the story hasn’t even started, or technically it did when their eyes met?)

One of the most interesting thing about this exchange is the way Khushi words her departure. She never says “I hate you,” or “I am leaving with my family to go back home,” or “my stay in Delhi has come to an end.” It’s almost like as if she lived in Delhi all along as was leaving to a new city because of him.

Her departure is attached to his hatred. To her, her status, her face - three things that has hurt Khushi the most. She literally says that she’s going away from his sight, forever.

It’s no wonder Arnav hears something else, that she’s not going home, she’s leaving him. In most waysIPKKND has been heavily biased to Arnav’s point of view - so when she declares the bg score quickly shifts to a soft, instrumental Rabba Ve.

The impact? His world stops for a second and he literally just says one thing, trying to get a hold of her, “Khushi, you can’t leave like this. Khushi!”

This conversation haunts Arnav till no end. He spends every moment henceforth playing everything wrong that he did with her. 

This episode is my favorite because their inner struggles are so visible.

When Lavanya asks Arnav if he loves her the way she is, Arnav looks at Khushi’s desk and says “Yes, I like you the way you are.”

This is the first time Arnav and Khushi develop their sixth sense towards the other - something that manifests deeply over the months to come. Khushi tells herself not to look at Arnav but she does, and is unable to look away. Her feet gives away at his voice, her logic abandons her (talk about pushing a door outward when it opens inward).

When Shyam, over the phone, tells her how much he thinks about her she’s immediately alarmed until he covers his words. With Arnav she’s not afraid of the physical intensity but of his anger, definitely his anger.

It’s the first time Arnav sees how much he affects her, negatively as well.

And their romantic, delicate moments is a scene stealer. Her self respect does not allow him to take his extended hand. His awareness of her pulls him to return her dupatta to him, a gesture that means so much. When they’re both quiet, something else happens altogether.

And then both are disturbed by the thoughts of each other. She’s stunned by his softness. She had noticed when he stopped his rant. And the first woman Arnav thinks of when Anjali tells her about love is Khushi. It’s his anger and personality that prevents Khushi from thinking more about Arnav. 

And it’s also his personality and beliefs (that are now on very shaky grounds) that stop Arnav from accepting the corner of his heart that has, unexpectedly, softened for Khushi. He only allows himself to completely think of her when he’s alone.

*double dreamy sigh - eating butter popcorn for the sigh*

“Khushi meri sagai ho ya na ho, kal ho ya ek saal baad ho, tumhe usse kya farak padta hai?” (S4, E10)

“Khushi, whether I get engaged or not, whether it’s tomorrow or the next year, how does it matter to you?”

The first thing that Khushi replies if, “Why should it matter to me if it’s your engagement?”

It’s not a no. It’s a question she asks him in turn. What does he expect? Why is he asking her this? Why… when it’s too late? And she quickly covers it up with “No, it makes no difference.”

It’s a lie. The minute she looks at him she knows he knows it’s a lie. Big props to the background scorers. We know the question hits Khushi hard because it’s the question she has been avoiding all along. We know that even though Arnav knows it’s a terribly hidden lie, he cannot help being hurt - a big credit to the soft, painful background score apart from the fantastic actors.

And when Khushi justifies her actions with scattered sentences and tears stinging her eyes, Arnav knows the truth. She knows the truth. And they both wait for the other to acknowledge it. And they both know neither can do so. 

The most beautiful, painful and almost tragic part of this scene is that they’re both completely aware and struggling with the weight of their denial. His desperation, perhaps, is a mirror image to Khushi’s desperation when she wanted to know why he nearly kissed her on Diwali. But his desperation is also triggered by the fact that she is engaged to another man. 

One might also wonder that once she can validate her emotions, perhaps break her loveless engagement (which he correctly assumes is forced), then he might get the strength to break his? One might also wonder that Khushi, at this point, has lost all hope for whatever it was between them - yet at his prodding she can only hope if he can ever speak up his mind. And his inability to do so pushes him farther away from her. 

One of the loveliest things about Arnav and Khushi is that they can be interpreted a thousand ways. In one way Arnav’s fury post that scene does not really come from him believing that he does not matter, but rather on her denial. And he’s clearly not thinking clearly. Not ever since he learned her engagement. And Khushi, on the other hand, seems to have accepted her gloomy future, and seems to be sinking onto the thorn she has held onto. 

If you see one of the promo posters, the creatives modified it to Khushi holding a thorned rose that injures her hand (so it’s bleeding) but her gaze is transfixed to the man behind her who’s staring at her too. 

I think that is Arnav and Khushi’s journey. Poetic tragedy. 

A story you’re almost afraid will not have a happy ending. A story where everything wrong happens. So it’s only a bigger pay off that they do end up together, in their happily ever after. 

And honestly, Khushi’s refusal to accept her feelings post their marital status kind of prevents Khushi from seeming immoral or as the ‘third’ woman in Lavanya’s life. Also - I love Anjali at this time who is really the only person constantly worried about Khushi’s lack of happiness for her impending wedding. Not even Lavanya senses Khushi’s despair. 

*I always, always tear up at this scene.*

“Haan ya na? Haan, ya na!” (S6, E4 - S6, E8)

“Yes or no? Yes, or no!” 

The elopement episodes legit kill me. It’s so painful, and it’s painful because it was avoidable! And it’s all built of misunderstandings! There’s so much regret and what ifs that stem from here that this phase alone has inspired so many fan fictions across the world. 

This moment reminds me of Shakespeare’s Othello on how Desdemona was painted as a lose woman by a jealous Iago. And convinced the Othello who had loved his wife endlessly that she was having an extra marital affair with Othello’s best friend and right hand man, Casio. 

In IPKKND, Casio and Iago is built into one Shyam Manohar Jha - a man Arnav trusts immensely. A man so manipulative that it’s almost impossible to believe his vile side until we see it ourselves. It often makes me wonder what if we, the audience, never saw the conniving side of Shyam Manohar Jha? It’s frightening to realize that like Anjali, a lot of us might have had difficulty to understand what could be the truth. 

There are so many reasons why this episode hurt. Khushi expected a proposal. Arnav wanted to propose. And it wouldn’t just be a confession of love, it would be marriage - it was hinted all along with the mehendi, haldi, new bangles for a bride to be and his duty as a damaad to look after his in laws’ relatives. He had behaved so innately as if he were already married to Khushi that it hurt to see their dreams of marriage come true, as a nightmare. 

The push and pull between pain, empathy, betrayal is heartbreaking. Also, I believe it is also one of the few television shows to completely highlight the reason for a sudden, forced marriage. Yes, Arnav technically ‘gains’ agency of Khushi by claiming her as his wife - but that is never physical. 

To be physically close to her is what they both wanted and dreamed off so it’s the first thing he shatters between him and Khushi. They wouldn’t be in the same side of the room, forget the bed. 

Barun and Sanaya’s performance is impeccable in these sequences. Arnav’s constant shift from a cold, calculative monster a man whose heart breaks on his beloved’s tears is so visible. Khushi’s disbelief, to heartbreak to helplessness and ultimate ruin pulls the most of us to run and hug her for the longest time.

When Arnav asks Khushi to marry him, the pose is romantic - with her pressed against him, dressed in the similar shades - much like how they had danced a few nights ago. But it’s all a nightmare, the green tint adds the feeling of nausea, despair and gloom. 

Of course, most of the anger shifts to an Arnav who torments Khushi endlessly for the months to come but most of my hatred at this point is fixed on Snake Jha instead. That man, singlehandedly, destroyed the most beautiful relationship out of his own villainy. 

And if there’s anything I’m unsatisfied with in this serial, it’s how Arnav and Khushi never end up punishing Shyam directly for ruining their individual lives (and for perennially harassing Khushi over a period of seven months). 

When he passionately dances with his wife. The woman he supposedly hates. (S6, E33)

“Bheegi bheegi si hai raatein bheegi bheegi

Yaadein bheegi bheegi baatein bheegi bheegi

Aankhon mein kaisi nami hai,

Aa ha ha ha ... aa ha

Sapnon ka saya palkon pe aaya

Pal mein hasaya pal mein rulaya

Phir bhi yeh kaisi kami hai

Aa ha ha ha ... aa ha Na jaane koi kaisi hai yeh zindagani, zindagani

Hamari adhuri kahani.”

The nights are drenched, so are the memories, the conversations. My eyes are strangely damp. A shadow of my dreams flashed before my eyes. It made me laugh, it made me cry. And yet, there’s something missing. No one knows what this life is. The one of our incomplete story.

This is the song that ran in my head when I watched them dance, painfully similar to way they danced when they were deep in love, in their Teri Meri. The steps are hauntingly same, but the emotions are vastly different. 

For me in this moment Khushi is taken aback at her own feelings. She was so sure she had killed every memory, every feeling of that fateful night when he had danced straight from her fantasies into her heart. And boy she was wrong - those feelings rose back with a vengeance. 

And for Arnav, it’s funny how the dance almost seems like a move to claim Khushi for himself, to exercise his possessive right over her in front of that vile Snake. 

Once they start dancing though, everything fades away apart from the burning intensity they have for each other. This is something private. It’s the thin line between love and lust that they have always walked on. 

His eyes are sharp yet intoxicated, drinking her face like nothing else. Her body is soft, and fluid, melting at his slightest touch. The wonder never leaves her eyes, neither does the sudden hunger. 

Although the idea of the Delhi main Bali and Snake giving her roses *ewww, why didn’t she make an excuse!!!*  and a part of me really wished that Khushi wore a pink saree instead of a salwar (she carries those so well - in that sexy, naive way!), and I wish that Snake disappeared from the planet - this dance was worth it. 

The contrast between Akash Payal’s honeymoon night versus theirs does provide some much needed comic relief, it’s in the little moments such as a lit matchstick or them sharing a couch that kinda shows that the after effects of the dance lingered long in their heads. 

Would I have been happier to have seen them directly carry out the palpable tension and angst that simmered during the dance to the privacy of their room? YES

Would that be possible on Indian television? Probably no

Do I respect the writers’ decision? Yes

Is this a perfect combination of angst and sexual tension? Heck yeah, why do you think I’m writing this! 

Why do I love this scene - it has everything synonymous to Arnav and Khushi; the angst, passion, conflicted emotions and a hope that the fire hadn’t dimmed out. 

*totally fanned myself and mentally thought that they were gonna blow up in flames or sexual frustration or the angsty thing of this whole situation at this point*

"Khushi, please stop crying. Khushi I... I love you.” (S7, E27 - S7, E28)

This was not a confession of love. This was a man’s last words. Arnav knew he would never get another chance to speak to her. As they say, death often brings about the biggest realizations and the biggest regrets. Yet again, this was a situation that could have been avoided. 

If he listened to her.

If he had trusted her. 

If he had allowed her to take him back home. 

The ‘what ifs’ were too much. There was nothing more for Arnav to lose. And he couldn’t die without telling the only woman he ever loved that he never hated her. That he only, ever, loved her. Nothing else mattered. 

On the other side Khushi had lost every hope of ever getting her love returned. His acerbic words and accusations had clawed her insides so much that logic, reasoning and even his hatred had fated away. He had to have known that she had always loved him. But she was so afraid to say anything that she could only cry when she heard his voice. And even before she could say what she wanted, he said the impossible. 

He loved her. 

Despite everything. 

The angst is so heavy over here because Khushi’s joy and Arnav’s tragedy are so well put next to each other. On one end Khushi is floating with the thought of being loved and on the other Arnav is drowning for the very same reason. It’s one thing to verbalize your love, and another to never get the opportunity to live it. 

True, Arnav wouldn’t have confessed his love if his life wasn’t in danger. He definitely would have come to that conclusion long after. It’s just that his brush with probably death broke away every hesitation, fear, doubt, betrayal he faced. 

And nothing apart from an ‘I love you’ would’ve rendered Khushi speechless. It’s also disheartening that she realizes he would have never told her the same if things were normal. 

The frustration, the pain, it’s beautiful! 

Also one thing I found very interesting is that he cuts the call before Khushi can reply to him. Maybe her shock, her tears, her happiness (now that they are immensely in sync with each other), reveal that his feelings were returned (yup I’m an optimist!)? Maybe that’s why they didn’t need to say anything to each other apart from knowing that they’ve both been blind (once they meet each other into that legendary hug)? 

It’s interesting that out of all the things that haunt him when he’s kidnapped - it’s how he reacted after knowing her version of truth. And Khushi, dear Khushi, she sees everything at his one confession - and perhaps it tells us all what she ever wanted to hear all along. Just like Arnav could forgive her everything at the possibility of never seeing her again, Khushi could forgive his anything at the slightest chance of him loving her back.

Also, one quick side note - I love how this parallels to the first promo. There Khushi held the torn photo together and held it against her heart. Here, Khushi’s belief in their broken relationship gets a 180 turn and she grasps her phone against her heart. There Arnav crumples the worn photo and closes his eyes in pain. Here, he cuts the call and grips the phone and closes his eyes in pain, again. 

Full circle much? 

*nope, totally didn’t cry when this happened, just some water leaks on the glands outside my eye ok*

“That I love you damnit!” (S8 , E30)

Isn’t it funny that the two most angsty moments in the show are the two times that Arnav ‘confesses’ his love to Khushi. And in fact it’s not that he’s confessing his love, it’s something they both know, it’s always more than that. 

Totally negating the fact that there was an awkward-almost-forced-no-communication-what-the-heck-hate-it that-they-look-hot-weird-consummation sequence, let’s jump to Khushi overtly persisting Arnav about the necessities of marriage and rituals and Arnav finally breaking it to her that he loves her.

Given what happened (when he blamed her for everything wrong that happened in Anjali’s marriage) it’s perhaps easy to understand why Khushi would, again, need verbal assurance of who was she to him and what was her place in life.

In her mind it makes absolute sense that even if he proclaimed several times that he is her husband and she is his wife after that, she needed his words as his actions and words have contradicted a lot over time. 

In his mind everything also makes sense. He married her (terribly, might I add), things were going better, they have shared a bed and are used to each other’s physical spaces and were always pretty close to kissing, if not sex (to be canon compliant, we can always imagine a much more eager Khushi and less creepy Arnav actually ready to bang in the hut). 

So over here, in this scene, it’s the height of their frustrations and their differences in ideologies. Arnav has been a man of actions, Khushi has been a woman of words. 

We can see how different they are, fundamentally and in a way it’s hilarious because both want the same thing. It’s kinda crucial to see that despite wanting the same thing - they really can’t understand each other at this point. He wants her to act. She wants him to say. And neither are getting the other in this process. 

And even though he yells at her and stares at her with this intense release of their bubbling emotions - it was hot. Strangely it was because we’ve all heard of the calm before the storm, this was more like a calm after the storm. 

And what’s sweet is that Khushi is always stunned. She stares at him and slowly lets it sink in about what he said. (I wish Arnav stuck around than swagger walked away because she went back into the room and positively glowed).  So although this might not be my most favorite angst moment, the time when they just stare and Khushi goes through this phase of shock, understanding and a ‘why-didn’t-you-tell-me-before’ and he goes through irritation, understanding and then back to annoyance is the last bit of angst that they have against each other. 

And for some reason, he does leave before he can hear her reply. Again. 

*they looked so, so hot. Can’t believe this episode was nearly ruined by the forced suhaagraat. So glad she gets to tell him ‘I love you’ in this same outfit.*

“Jiji, agar woh waapas nahi aye toh hum kya karenge? Agar woh waapas nahi aye toh hum kya karenge?!” (S9, E30 - S10, E2)

“Jiji, what will I do if he never returns? What will I do if he never returns!?” 

In this context it can loosely be translated to what will happen to me if he never returns as well. 

Oh God these episodes tug my heartstrings so much. As I said, everything terrible seems to be happening to these two. And just as they resolved every bit of doubt between themselves, fate played them into the hands of the things that mattered most to them - family.

One of the reasons why I truly love this episode is because how ferocious Khushi is. She loves him, after the massive journey they’ve had, and heck will she allow anyone to destroy that. Her paranoia, fear and almost maddening level of love was such a refreshing change. 

It’s not that she was just sobbing - no, she was constantly shifting between anger, denial, cries, yells, silence - everything. She nearly lost her mind at the thought of never getting him back again. And YES! This is my most favourite Khushi - the passionate, determined, vulnerable, strong, vocal Khushi. 

And Arnav, oh God I truly cried for him. His struggles, his tears - I loved that he collapsed and cried his lungs out. I loved that he kept on trying to make sense of his life and collect the pieces of memory floating around to give an answer. 

The angst, the fight against the past, the ultimate payoff - completely worth it. He made the right decision and he was still shaken by everything. Khushi, despite yelling at Dadi when that woman had the audacity of orchestrating this event, still murmured her apology to Arnav - respecting his family relations. They’re both quintessentially who they are, but at this point of time they understand each other in a completely different level.

(Which is why the future tracks don’t make much sense. Neither does the situation of Ek Jashn because no way would Arnav forget this day, out of everything.)

This day could have gone so, so wrong. But it does not. The angst of the two episodes builds up so well that I was crying when Arnav met with an accident - because he running his way back to his Khushi. The symbolism is flowing so heavily in these scenes. 

It’s literally what keeps on happening in their lives. Khushi keeps her hope until it’s impossible and Arnav proves her wrong (delightfully so) by saying the most important things to her or even by making the most important decision. An optimist and a responsible decision maker - life looks good for them. 

Kudos to the sound team for the way they handled the music - especially when Khushi rubbishes her thoughts of the broken bangles, is over excited at Arnav’s arrival and rushes down the stairs to meet him (breaking every single ritual cause rituals actually didn’t matter) and despite all the joy the dread in the background score is so good and effective. 

Would I have liked if Arnav kept his hair up, if the phere flashback was omitted cause we just proved that pheres weren’t the issue and if the frothy pink white background was something different and darker - even like just the simple mandir as the mandir wedding aesthetic was prettier - definitely. BUT, that’s just minor irrelevant details. 

*lets out a soft breath when Arnav kisses Khushi’s forehead after they marry... yes, angst is gone... totally gone. Thank God*

“Arnav aur Khushi hamesha saath rahenge.” (S10, E30)

“Arnav and Khushi will always stay together.” 

Damnit, I’m getting emotional! Look at what the last angsty moment is between them. The first time I sensed angst, it was the impossibility of them getting together. And now, it’s the impossibility of them living apart. 

That’s exactly why I am in love with this series - this is called growth. 

I so sincerely wished the rest of the Aarav track was dealt with this much of maturity instead of the stupid comedy that was off putting. But you have to give the props to the writers, actors and production team for coming up with this soft, slightly angsty, emotional moment about the two characters who are so true to their nature yet fear another external force pulling them apart. 

It’s a beautiful insight to the future. That Khushi would accept her vulnerabilities. That Arnav would reassure her and have his life knocked back into him when she would be next to him. That Arnav and Khushi would discuss everything together, now their differences remained superficial and their understanding was skin deep. 

They understand all that without saying much. No humor, no belittling Khushi, no family harping on Arnav 2.0, no Khushi losing her maturity/intelligence/brains and no Sheetal becoming besties of Raizada for no reason.

This scene is such a beautiful moment between the both of them - precisely why the Mrs. India track felt like such a terrible downfall in their relationship. It didn’t make sense based on what was established in this episode. 

Arnav and Khushi need each other. There’s no ego, no pride, just a deep level of understanding and a connection that rivals almost everything else. Over here Arnav isn’t angry at Khushi for making crazy connections, he’s speaking the possibilities with her and how futile her fear is because they are married and in love - she should be with irrespective of the consequences.

Over here Khushi isn’t hiding her thoughts or lying to him, she’s exposing her fears and worry. As an orphan she feels the necessity of making sure Aarav has a parent - especially if his father is hearty and alive. And she allows herself to be strengthened from the faith Arnav has in them and himself. 

This one scene immediately made me empathize with both Arnav and Khushi. This is perhaps one of their very few soft conversations that happen on screen. Is there anything called soft angst? That hug made me weak in my knees. That’s love folks, that’s love. That’s how we envision Arnav & Khushi in future. 

*imagines the soft kisses and moments these two might have had. Cries because it’s fluff meets smut and feels and damn they’re gorgeous*

PHEW! THAT’S THE END AND THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR STICKING ONTO THIS ONE! One last, final, quick note - all of this is obviously from my point of view and no way am I even right in perceiving the show - everyone has their own opinions so feel free to add notes! 

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arnavsinghraizada #khushi kumari gupta #thought #hindi tv #tv analysis #too long #lots of thoughts

[justaramblingromantic]

Argentine Tango - Ballroom e Youkoso AU, EiRin Style

Characters/Pairing: Tsukasa Eishi, Kobayashi Rindou /EiRin

Type: Ballroom e Youkoso AU, Freestyle

Word Count: 3157

A/N: I watched SO MANY ballroom dancing videos on YouTube just to write this that my family thought that I was going to run off to become a professional ballroom dancer.  -__- @otakinu, I blame you for this monstrosity...!! :D Ah. Also, sorry if I butchered the sequence of Argentine Tango - I tried my best! 

She was testing him again.

It was in the devilish twinkle of her eyes, that secretive, vulpine smile teasing her crimson lips, the coy flutter of her dense lashes.

In the background, the sensual, jazzy notes of the violin and the piano started to play in accompaniment to their act, the wordless signal to kick off their latest bout, but one of countless many that had come and gone before it. Still, there was yet to be a clear, defined victor declared between the two...

Standing at opposing ends, they stared at each other, getting into positions, waiting for their cues. They could not look any different, their dramatic coloring setting them apart like fire and ice. As a pair, they attracted attention effortlessly, the fiery Red Queen and her pristine White Knight.

She made the first move, gliding onto the dancefloor with feline grace, drawing appreciative gazes to her svelte, willowy figure, sculpted to physical perfection thanks to the relentless, rigorous demands of their art. Her floor length sheath gown showcased her feminine charms spectacularly, hugging every lush curve and delineating every taut line, from the mesmerizing sway of her full, feminine hips to the deliberate strut of her long, toned legs, the daring hip high slit of her long skirt flashing slender, silken limbs with every languid, womanly gait. He mirrored her every advance with calm, deliberate strides, and they circled each other slowly, like a pair of sleek, prowling panthers, glittering gazes matching and clashing, closely scrutinizing one another like nothing else in this world mattered.

The music tempo quickened abruptly, and she stopped in tandem at the crescendo, struck a provocative pose, her chin raised in subtle challenge, her arms stretched upwards, body arching, perfect stance. He paused to watch her, the way her golden eyes briefly fluttered shut in languorous repose, her hips slowly undulating with lazy, serpentine motions, letting the passionate music sweep her inhibitions away. She drew her arms back down to herself, hands combing through her flaming hair, fingers sliding lower, running along that slender, swanlike neck, her full chest, that small waist…

Her eyes snapped opened suddenly, locked with his, and there was something proud and daring in the way she was looking at him, her arm extending towards him now, palm upturned, fingers slowly curling inwards, until she was beckoning with her index digit for him to come hither. He answered her wordless summon, stepping up with shoulders back and spine straight, his neck long, his steps measured, quietly confident. Dressed in unrelieved black, his suit was well tailored and precisely fitted to his whipcord lean build, showing off the subtle play of sleek but powerful muscles, broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips and long, strong legs.

Her gaze was appreciative as she watched his sure, steady approach. Her partner was a very beautiful man, and on the dancefloor, he possessed an immaculately arresting presence that was unlike any other she had ever known. His distant, aristocratic bearing was neither explosive like some nor broodingly charismatic like others, yet it was still incredibly compelling all the same. He commanded attention simply with the way he held himself, with perfect balance and noble carriage, all masculine grace and flawless movement.

He lifted his hand and took hers, drawing her in, his head lowering, lips brushing over her knuckles, the devoted Knight paying homage to his spirited Queen. Her smile was sphinxlike as their gazes briefly met, and then she pushed him away and pivoted on the heel of her back foot, the slinky train of her skirt flaring outwards at the dramatic spin, though before she could take flight, her partner quickly snapped out, hands spanning her slender waist, reeling her back first into his chest, tempering her rebellious feistiness.

She attempted to tug free but he was unmovable. The strength in his fingers held her completely still, not hurting her whatsoever, but also making it abundantly clear that she had been thoroughly caught. There was a slight pressure against her sides as he squeezed her before relaxing in cue, and she whirled around sharply. Then they were face to face and inches apart, so close that she could see the pupils of his lavender eyes, so close that their breaths mingled.

He drew her even closer into his embrace, until they were pressed intimately together, from chest to thigh. His large, lean hand rested over the small of her back with quiet possessiveness, pushing her up against him, not allowing her retreat. Her lashes lowered, concealing her thoughts from him…but she was smiling. Seduced into docility by his assertiveness, she slowly leaned into him, unfurling like a beautiful flower, seeming to yield. Her face turned into his, her temple pressed unto his cheek, hands coming together, palms lightly brushing, fingers grasping, intertwining. Her other hand rested lightly on his bicep, his arm curled around her back, both wordlessly slipping into proper position.

Three, two, one.

The music started to play again, and they danced.

There was none of the playful conflict and teasing as she fell seamlessly into him. He took the lead once more, and this time she was finally willing to accept his direction. They moved fluidly across the dancefloor, and she started to project her walk to the tempo of the music, prancing effortlessly even on staggering, four inch stilettos, showing off her deft footwork in agile kicks and deliberate twists and quick cross steps, her lithe movements impeccably elegant and graceful even as she gave into the flawless flow that her partner had created specifically for her. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure, eyes sparkling, red lips trembling in an effort to contain her pleased, feline smile.

He was the best leader anyone could wish for; extremely stable frame, his footwork, sense of balance and weight placement textbook perfect and always in line with hers, and she never had to find him – he was already there waiting for her. When she was with him, she felt on top of the world, like she could dance the rest of her life away and pull off the most challenging, flashy techniques with no care in the world, so long as he was there guiding and reinforcing her every step of the way. He possessed the intuitive ability to support and anticipate her movements, working in smooth, parallel concert to draw out and magnify all the expressions and nuances that she wished to convey during each and every performance, often pushing her to her limits and beyond, just to match that incredible, monstrous ability of his.

After all, an exquisite crystal frame could only be applied and exemplified to full effect only if it does not end up overpowering its subject.

Thankfully, Kobayashi Rindou was no wilting wallflower.

She was explosive, attention snatching, fiery, spirted. From the toss of her long red hair to her hot blooded, vivid demeanor, she overflowed with vibrant passion and an unquenchable zest for life. There was nothing too big for her. There was nothing too overwhelming, not even him.

Yes. His flower could very well hold her own even against his shining brilliance. If anything, she bloomed brighter, radiant, and absolutely dazzling every time they danced.

Look at me. You only need to look at me. Devote yourself to me. Make me so iridescent that I’m the only thing you can see.

When she demanded of him like that, he could not deny her.

Her cat slit eyes glittered with amusement as they spun and stalked sinuously across the ballroom floor; alluring appeal, enchanting enticement, seething seduction. Her lithe bare legs flashed provocatively from between the high slits of the sequined, glittering silk of her sapphire ball gown, the charming arch of her sleek, toned calves and bare ankles emphasized by her high heels, further adding to the incredible grace of her defined movements. Quick back kicks, limber side crosses, nimble circular cuts, open step turns, all performed in rapid, unhesitating succession. She switched her weight from one feet to another in a way that seemed so easy and effortless, as if she was so light on the dancefloor she was floating on air, as if gravity had no pull on her whatsoever, this young, fearless Queen holding court in this domain where she stood supreme.

There was nothing to be afraid of. She was not alone, after all.

Her gallant Knight paired her closely, their bodies never separated for too far and too long, like a lover zealously guarding his mate in ardent courtship, flawlessly matching her step for step, and she thrived and glowed even more beneath his focused, undivided attention. Dancers who had experienced Tsukasa Eishi’s sharply honed, masterful attention to detail often found that meticulous skill of his intensely, crushingly intimidating, but Rindou was only too happy to lap it all up insatiably, and then still greedily press him for more.

Dancing was a game of constant push and pull between two combatants, a subtle game of relentless pursuit and catch-me-if-you-cans as both parties did their best to alternatively outpace and chase after the other, showcasing every exhaustive drop of their physical abilities, flaunting, challenging, absolutely, exultantly reveling in this wondrous synergy and harmonious compatibility between two beings. Or at least that was the way Rindou had always seen it.

Whenever they danced together, it was so fun.

Maybe there was also the fact that they were partners for so many years already that whenever they stepped onto the dancefloor these days it was as if they shared an intrinsic connection, this intricate knowing of what each other wanted to do, that they might as well be moving as one entity. It made them incredibly mesmerizing to watch; his tranquil, stately dignity translated to beautiful and clean, precise movements, her euphoric, exuberant joy conveyed by eloquently expressive actions thrumming with that special, intoxicating brand of sensational vitality and playful, lively sophistication.

Individually, they were already amongst the top tier of ballroom dancers in their age group. Both incredibly driven, experienced and talented, well known in the local and international competition scene, their explosive and unstoppable growth over the years closely watched and anticipated by many in this bright, glittering world of competitive ballroom dance. Both could easily secure any partner they wanted, but yet they remained a bonded pair. They had known each other from a very young age, had danced together for so long that they knew each other just as well as they knew themselves-

This was the best couple in the entirety of Tootsuki Classical Dance Academy.

The music was swelling to its climax, the notes playing at an excited, feverish pace. Staccato steps kept up with the frenzied tempo with deceptive ease – only gleaming perspiration and barely perceptible, heightened breathing subtly revealed the true extent of their physical exertions, and even then, their expressions remained impassioned and focused, lost in the sizzling drama of the dance, enthralling their audience. There was nothing else that mattered, only scorching heat, simmering tension and each other.

She stopped, went off-axis and paced slyly, torso held still in his arms while her lithe lower limbs made languorous catlike turns left and right before him, sensual piquant steps and deliberate foot placements threatening to entangle him if not for his equally fluid counter maneuvers. He was subtly teasing her back, responding to her sultry advances.

Gold eyes lit up even more, shining brightly with silent laughter.

Her movements slowed further, rounded hips swiveling with languid flare. He watched her display for him with a narrowed gaze, his patrician expression schooled with deliberate calm, but his eyes blazed quietly with lavender fire. His large, lean hand slid down from the sleek taut muscles between her shoulder blades to settle against the small of her back, just where the elegant line of her spine curved at the level of her trim waist, and she reached out with her hand, palm cradling his cheek, allowing herself to give into him, surrendering into this embrace he was pulling her into. Her leg came up, the toes of her shoe brushing suggestively up the length of his clothed shin, her knee riding higher and higher, until her slender limb was wrapped around his lean hip. His hand grasped her thigh, steadying her, adroit fingers curled around the smooth satin of her bare flesh in a parody of lover’s caress as he held her there for a brief moment. Their gazes met-

In the next beat, she shifted her weight onto him, and he supported her easily, spinning as she flawlessly executed her highest back kick ever, arching with such breathtaking grace and briefly airborne, trusting her partner to keep her from falling and hurting herself. He set her back down lightly at the end of his turn and she was already moving into the next series of complicated forms and posturing, and he moved in effortless concert alongside her, completely in sync, supporting her small jumps and leaps and mirroring deft footplay in between quick steps as they glided across the dancefloor.

The music was reaching its end, cresting earlier but now going into decrescendo.

She swung around swiftly to him, or to be more accurate, he reeled her back in with a strong, controlled spin. They came together in explosive passion, her hands touching his shoulders and her body briefly clinging to his. Another quick weight shift, another spin in the circle of his arms, and then she abruptly sank towards the ground, one knee bending, the other long lean leg fully extended behind her with the tip of her toes resting against the floor, folding herself backwards just as he leaned over as well and dipped her the rest of the way, gracefully meeting the conclusion of the dance.

They held the pose for several seconds, as bodily still as possible safe for their rapid breathing, long enough for the rest of the music to fade, and were promptly met with wild applause and a standing ovation.

Rindou could not stop smiling.

Eishi straightened first, and then he slowly tugged his partner to her feet as well. Passively gentle again now that he no longer had to play the dominant, assertive role in this Argentine Tango, as expected of the male lead. He could so easily take on the colors of different dances like a chameleon, like a crystal prism easily reflecting all the different hues of a rainbow, and that was yet another overwhelming strength of his. They briefly looked at each other, the colors on their faces high, exhilarated from executing a perfect dance, both panting a bit, hands still interlocked.  As per etiquette, he executed a quick, graceful bow to the approving crowd just as she offered her own elegant curtsey. They swiftly vacated the dancefloor now that their performance had concluded.

Rindou could not help but let out a breathless, giddy laugh, the moment they stepped into the dressing room backstage to refresh themselves, no longer able to contain her bubbling, delighted mood. She wasted no time reaching over to her partner and looping her arm around his neck, catching him in a rather unladylike but friendly headlock, much to his sputter of dismay.

“That was AWESOME!” she declared happily, pulling his head to her chest and giving him an enthusiastic noogie, never mind that she was still in that slinky and sexy evening gown of hers. She was messing up his carefully coiffed hair, and he was protesting the abuse quite vocally.

“Hey!” he complained, pulling away the very moment he could do so, only for her to jump on him instead. He caught her automatically, too well trained now to do otherwise. She nuzzled into his neck happily, still drunk on adrenaline from the dance.

“Mannn, you’re the besttt!”

He flushed a bit at her praise, feeling even warmer under the collar. White Knight or not, he was also a seventeen year old teenager with raging hormones and now that he wasn’t focused on dancing, he was acutely aware of the buxom and extremely attractive female pressed up against him…never mind that they had been in so many different variations of embraces already. Though those were all for the sake of dance…

This was just Rindou being really, really affectionate, as she was sometimes wont to be whenever she got a bit too carried away…

He wasn’t particularly complaining, and this time, his pulse started to race a bit more all over again, not because of that tango earlier, but purely because of her. It had been that way for quite a while, much to his silent chagrin. It was hardly professional to harbor a crush for his partner…but then again, she was also his best friend. While he had known that he had feelings for her for years already, it was only recently that she was coming around to pick up his subtle cues and respond to him in turn.

“R-Rindou,” he stammered faintly, even as she pressed even closer against him. She was so soft…and he really, really liked her demonstrative demeanor.

She raised her head and peered at him, her golden eyes glowed with faint amusement at his flustered behavior. He was cute. “Hey, I’m hungry, so take me out for dinner later,” she told him. It wasn’t even a question. “But let’s get outta costume first. And I also wanna get rid of all this makeup, sheesh…”

He paused, distracted by her wording. “Take you out…” he repeated a bit dumbly. “As in a date?”

She cocked her head, slipping away from his loosened grasp. “Mm, yeah. Okay. An informal date, if you absolutely have to give it a name…?”

“I…uh…” His mind went blank in surprise for a moment there. Then he was trying not to panic. It was too unexpected. She had sprung this on him so suddenly. He was not mentally prepared. Never mind that they had gone out for dinner many times before in the past, as friends. This was the first time she was giving it a more defined label, though.

She must have noticed his visibly stumped demeanor, not that it was hard to. “You don’t wanna?”

“No! I mean, yes! I would love to-” He was comically quick to refute her. “I just-“ he broke off briefly, starting to look faintly dazed again. “A date?”

She was very amused by his response. If she had known that this was how he would react, she would suggested this sooner, just to watch him squirm. So cute. One would hardly believe that this was the same implacable White Knight of Tootsuki, if only they knew the way he often behaved off of the dancefloor.

“We’re just gonna have dinner – you really don’t need to have a panic attack over it,” she reminded him before he could start. She patted his cheek, grinning teasingly. “But oh, I also won’t mind if we end up making out too~”

#Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Shokugeki no Soma #Kobayashi Rindou #Tsukasa Eishi #Eirin #EiRin: Ballroom e Youkoso AU #my fics #freestyle

[wearesuchstuff1]

Five Times Cassian Sees Jyn Sleeping With Her Blaster And One Time He Doesn’t

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Thank you so much @rxbxlcaptain for all your amazing help and kind words of support

It’s his blaster, of course.  A quick search of his bags had revealed that after he had agreed – impossibly – to let her keep it, and yet, in the days, weeks, and months that followed Cassian was never once sorry for his decision.  He would never admit it to himself but, despite all of K2’s nagging, he was glad that a part of him would always be there to protect her.

1.

  It’s their third mission since Scarif.  He doesn’t know how long Command will continue to schedule them together on missions, but he’s not complaining.  He has lived long enough with the Resistance to know that any moment he is offered is not to be dismissed.

 Not that he values his time with Jyn, he reminds himself.  Yes, she is a good fighter and yes, he finds himself trusting her more and more.  He knows she will watch his back, just as he will watch hers, and if they are falling into a rhythm – an unspoken communication that allows them to anticipate the other’s next steps – it is simply because this is their fifth mission together.  He values her as an ally and a member of his team, nothing more.  

 So if he finds himself watching her occasionally, entranced by the way she tucks her hair behind her ear absentmindedly or bites her lip when she’s concentrating on their mission plans, it is only so that they can complete their missions better, faster, and with more ease.

 If that is actually the case, however, Cassian has failed because this mission has been neither better nor faster, and “easy” is the last word Cassian would use to describe the shit show he and Jyn now find themselves in.  Their recruiting mission had gone south when one of their potential recruits had turned informant for the Empire, which, Cassian thought it was safe to say, disqualified this man from being accepted into the Alliance.  Cassian and Jyn had gotten out in time, a glance out the window and a well placed back door the only reasons they hadn’t been captured in the bar they had been frequenting, but now they were pinned down, holed up in an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, waiting for Imperial shuttles to clear the airspace enough for K2 to pick them up.  Cassian figures it will be several hours before it will be safe for them to move.

 Cassian glances across the room at Jyn.  She sits with her back against the crumbling wall, her head leaning against it like her neck doesn’t have the strength to support her head by itself.  Neither of them had slept since the mission began.  He had caught a few hours on the trip from Yavin IV and had suggested she do the same, but she had been cleaning her blaster when he had fallen asleep and had been going over their orders – again – when he had woken up.  He doubted she had slept in the interim and the dark circles under her eyes help confirm his suspicions.  Adrenalin had carried her this far, but the crash would kill her yet.

 “You should sleep,” he tells her.  Her glassy eyes take a moment to find his.

 “I’ll sleep when we’re off this Force-forsaken rock.”  

 Cassian exhales sharply, half in annoyance, half resignation.  What had he expected?  He doubted Jyn had ever once in her life given in without a fight.  

 “You’re no good to anyone dead on your feet.”  While he has no doubt adrenalin would kick back in if necessary, a human can only function so long without sleep – a fact K2 loves to remind Cassian of at any hint of a restless night.  While Cassian more than willingly ignores the droid, he finds it infinitely more annoying when someone else ignores him.  

 And yet it isn’t annoyance that drives him to stand and cross the room.  He stops in front of Jyn, kneeling down so that their eyes were level.  “You need to sleep,” he repeats.  

 “’M fine,” she slurs.  Her eyes narrow and her mouth tightens.  A few weeks ago Cassian would have assumed Jyn’s anger was directed at him, but he can tell now that it is actually directed inward at her own internal weakness.  In this case, the need for sleep.    

 Cassian shrugs off his jacket while Jyn remains motionless, her hands loosely holding her blaster in her lap.  Slowly, half expecting her to attack him for it, he reaches around her and drapes the jacket over her shoulders.  She doesn’t attack him, and her stillness and acceptance are just two more signs of her utter exhaustion.  His fingertips tingle as they brush her shoulder but he ignores the sensation – just as he ignores the slight hitch in his chest – and straightens the jacket around her form.  He stands, and looking down at her he is suddenly aware of how small she is, her face pale and her body enveloped in his jacket.

 “Sleep, Jyn,” he tells her quietly.  “I’ll take the first watch.”

 He turns and retreats to the opposite wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms, as if an outward appearance of calm would silence the unwanted thoughts in his head.  He doubts that she will take his advice, but after a moment Jyn slides to the floor.

 He watches her for a few minutes.  Her breathing evens out and the small creases between her eyes soften.  She curls in on herself, one hand still holding her blaster, the other clutched around the edge of his jacket.  Despite everything, Cassian marvels that anyone – let alone Jyn Erso – trusts him enough to fall asleep in his presence.  Perhaps this small fact is just another step on the long road to redemption.

2.

  The beeping – constant and steady and seemingly without beginning or end – slowly worms its way into Cassian’s mind.  He floats for a while, somewhere between waking and sleeping, but the beeping eventually pulls him back to consciousness.

 The smell of medbay remains the same, no matter what Rebel base he ends up on, and Cassian Andor considers himself a bit of an expert on Rebellion medbays.  The stark white remains the same as well.  The harsh, unforgiving brightness of the lights falls on the sterile whiteness of the sheets.  Cassian is convinced that medbays are kept so clean just to make the blood look worse.  The shock of red against the white always startles Cassian, no matter how many times he sees it.

 This time, however, as Cassian takes a mental inventory of himself, he doesn’t feel as though he’s been shot with a blaster or stabbed through with a vibroblade.  While medical droids usually administer painkillers there is always a telltale tightness of a wound and pressure of a bandage to alert him to his injuries.  But he can feel none of that.  In fact, he doubts that there was much blood at all when he was brought into medbay.  Then why was he brought into medbay?

 The pounding in his head and the wetness in his lungs finally remind him.  They had been warned about the epidemic during their mission briefing before Cassian, Jyn, and Bodhi had been sent out on the reconnaissance mission, but no one thought the sickness had penetrated the upper levels of the city.  They had apparently been wrong.

 Cassian’s fever had started during their third night, but he hadn’t said a word to anyone.  Not that he had seemed to need to.  He could tell by the way that Jyn watched him – silently but intently, with steel in her eyes – that she knew something was wrong.  As they were getting their gear in order she had placed her pack by his side, riffling through it without looking at him.  When she spoke her eyes still did not meet his.  

 “You shouldn’t come,” she told him, her voice quiet so that Bodhi wouldn’t hear.  “I can do this on my own.”

 He sighed, wishing away the fog that was beginning to cloud his brain.

 “No, you can’t.  You have to get the security codes while I get the landing information.  You can do a lot, Jyn, but you can’t be in two places at once.”

 She had been forced to concede and, thank the Force, the mission had gone off with only one small hitch – namely that Jyn, cornered by two guards, had been forced to blast her way out of the intel office to meet him at the rendezvous point.  She had grabbed his hand and ran with him to where Bodhi waited with the ship, half dragging him as he stumbled over his own feet.  The ship doors had closed and they had taken off safely with the intel, but Cassian couldn’t seem catch his breath.

 Luckily it wasn’t until they were in hyperspace that he started coughing up blood.    

 A new sensation that does not fit the cold, impersonal surrounding of medbay brings him back to the present: a warm pressure on his right hand.  Cassian doubts there is much he can see in medbay that would surprise him – especially after his most recent and seemingly endless stay post-Scarif – but when he slowly turns his head to the side he realizes he was in no way prepared for this sight.  

 Jyn Erso sits in a chair drawn close to his bedside, her hand resting on top of his.  Her head lies next to their intertwined hands and she sleeps quietly, despite the crick in her neck he is sure she will have when she wakes up.  His eyes wander over her sleeping form, realizing she is covered in dirt and a bit of blood, still wearing the cloths she had on during their mission, right down to the blaster strapped to her thigh.  

 Heat blooms across his chest and Cassian knows that it’s not due to his illness.  He tightens his hand ever so slightly around hers and, as if on cue, she stirs.  She looks up at him with sleep filled eyes and smiles softly at him.

 “You’re awake,” she mumbles.

 “Yeah,” Cassian murmurs back.

 Jyn blinks several times, clearing the bleariness from her eyes, and she seems to become sensible to the situation.  She quickly sits up, pulling her hand away from his.  He misses it immediately.

 She clears her throat.  “It’s about time.  You’ve been asleep for –“ she glances at the clock – “a day and a half.”

 He raises his eyebrows at her and she quickly pushes past the subject.  “How are you feeling?”

 “Alright.  My head hurts a bit.”

 She nods.  “They said that might happen.  You should drink something.”  She hands him a cup off the nearby table, which he takes it.

 “I don’t remember getting here,” he admits, taking a sip.

 “I’m not surprised.  You were delirious.  Spouting all sorts of things.”

 Cassian freezes in terror, trying to imagine all the things he could have said – said to Jyn – without even being aware of it, thoughts he would beardy allow himself to think, let alone speak, under normal circumstances that could have fallen from his fever-loosened lips.

 Jyn must notice his agitation because she says, “Don’t worry, you didn’t spill any Alliance intel.  I still don’t know any of Draven’s super-extra classified secrets.  Yet.”

 Cassian nods and forces a smile.  While he is glad that she has misattributed his fear, he still doesn’t know what he said.  He resolves to ask Bodhi later.

 She is watching him again, remnants of fear still lingering in her eyes.  She had been by his side plenty of times as he recovered after Scarif, but this time is different, because this time –

 “Jyn, I’ve been here a day and a half?”

 He can practically see her throw her defenses back up.  “Yes,” she responds curtly.

 He pauses, wondering if he wants to ask the next question, afraid that he will drive her away yet desperate to know the answer.  “Have you been here that whole time?”

 Jyn’s eyes flicker to his and there is half a moment of vulnerability in them before she shrugs, the look gone.  “They’re keeping us in quarantine.  I was exposed to everything you were and I was around you for long enough.  They don’t want me wandering around the base potentially infecting people.”

 Cassian nods but internally he smiles.  While her words might be, and probably are, the truth, he is very aware that Bodhi – who was also on the mission and therefore would also have been put under quarantine – is nowhere to be seen.

  3.

  The mission had lasted almost a month.  Jyn tunes out the details of the debriefing as Draven drones on about undercover this and mission operative that.  She was on the mission, why do they have to go over it again?  

 Jyn has to admit that there are a lot of things about living and working with the Alliance that she likes – the regular food and the heat that mostly stays on, for example.  She will even admit that she likes many of the people she’s met here.  Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze, who all stand to her left, have become her friends – her family, even – in the few short months they have been together.  And Cassian, who stands to her right – well, every time she sees him she is filled with heat and an accompanying voice in her head.  Welcome home.  

 Despite her best efforts and all the training and experiences that have warned her against it, Jyn has become attached.  To everything, she reminds herself.  Not just to the man who stands so close to her side that his shoulder nearly brushes hers and whose eyes threaten to swallow her – just as a blaze of light almost had them both on Scarif – every time he looks at her.  

 Jyn will admit, begrudgingly, to liking many aspects of her new life, but the meetings and debriefings required by the Alliance have yet to grow on her.  Which is why she tunes out most of them and only snaps back to the present when she hears their dismissal.   

 They nod and turn, each of them more than ready for a shower and then, most importantly, bed.  Sleep is rarely ever deep or peaceful, especially on a mission.  Princess Leia’s voice stops them.

 “Wait a moment, we almost forgot.  Sleeping arrangements have been shuffled.”

 They all turn back with a sigh.  This is the third time since she’s been with the Alliance that their quarters have changed.

 “Recruits continue to pour in after Alderaan,” the princess continues, her voice steel as she names her former home planet.  Jyn admires her for it.  “Since the move to Hoth we can’t build quarters fast enough.  We’re asking people to double up until we can get more quarters built and heated.”  She glances at a datapad a droid has handed her.  “Imwe, Malbus, you two already share a room.  Your new assignment is in D quarters.  Rook, we’ve assigned you to two other pilots in B quarters.  Captain Andor and Sergeant Erso, we’ve assigned you a room in C quarters.  Dismissed.”

 Jyn feels Cassian tense next to her, but he doesn’t question his assignment.  Jyn, on the other hand, doesn’t hesitate to question.

 “I’m sorry, ma’am.  What about Captain Andor and I?”

 Princess Leia had already turned away but she glances back at her.

 “A room in C quarters.  A droid will show you the way.”

 Jyn just stares at her.  “One room for the two of us?”

 Leia raises her eyebrows.  “Yes.  Is there a problem?”

 Jyn is suddenly acutely aware of Cassian standing next to her.  She doesn’t have to look at him to know his eyes are trained directly on her.  “No, ma’am,” Jyn says, then turns and walks out of the room.

 She and Cassian follow the assigned droid to their new quarters, where it gives them their key code for the door and leaves.  There is silence as they both take in their tiny room and the single bed it contains, set into the wall across from a table with two chairs and a single wardrobe.  The only other door in the room leads to the ‘fresher.  Jyn hasn’t looked at Cassian since the meeting started and the tightness of the space on top of the warmth of his body next to hers catches at her breath.  She moves across the room, noting absently that the few belongings they had left behind on their mission had already been moved to the room.

 It is Cassian who breaks the silence.  “Jyn-“ he begins, but she cuts him off.

 “Do you want to take the first shower or should I?”  There is something odd in his eyes as he looks at her, but after a moment he relents, running a hand through his hair as his gaze drops.  

 “You can.”

 Cassian starts unpacking his things as Jyn pulls a clean tank top and a pair of shorts from her small pile of clothes and shuts herself in the ‘fresher.

 It’s not that Jyn has a problem with Cassian.  Just the opposite, in fact.  She likes him, and Jyn doesn’t like many people.  But liking Cassian is different.  Liking Cassian is more than just not minding if they sit together in the canteen or not wanting him to die on his next mission.  It is more than wanting to be by his side so that she can watch his back and protect him if he needs protecting, although she does and, often, is.  This feeling is her breath hitching in panic at the thought of him getting hurt.  It’s spending two days not leaving his side in medbay after he almost died of fever.  It’s waking to sweaty palms and a dry mouth when images of his broken and unresponsive body lying in her lap on the miracle flight away from Scarif play through her dreams at night.  This liking is dangerous and terrifying and new.     

 And yet the thrill of having him nearby, the tingle that goes through her body any time they touch, and the comfort and solace she finds in his eyes captures her.  It is all she can do to hold him at arm's length, to keep him just far enough away that when she loses him, as she has lost everyone else, she just might be able to do what she has always had to do: survive.  

 But here they are now; sharing a room and, very soon, a bed.  And Jyn begins to wonder just how long she can hold out against temptation.

 When she is done in the ‘fresher they trade places and it is Jyn’s turn to unpack.  Cassian has left her more than enough space.  Jyn came to the Alliance with nothing more than the clothes on her back and has acquired only a few items since.  The instinct to pack light, never knowing when she will have to run, is just another remnant of her previous life.  

 That being said, Cassian doesn’t have much more than she does.  Not that she was expecting him to.  She’d been in his room before, of course, but she’d never given his personal affects much thought.  

 She places her blaster on the built-in shelf next to the bed and sits in one of the chairs, noticing one of the blankets folded neatly on the other chair, one of the two pillows sitting on top.    

 When Cassian reenters the room in his sleep pants and tunic, his hair is wet and hangs down in his eyes.  The sight pulls at Jyn in a way she doesn’t think should be allowed, and yet a quiet smile tugs at the corners of her mouth when she sees it.  Cassian pretends not to notice, but somehow Jyn doesn’t mind Cassian seeing her smile.  If fact, she likes that he does.  

 There is a moment of silence in the room, then Cassian clears his throat.  

 “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he offers and Jyn suddenly realizes why the extra blanket and pillow had been removed from the bed.

 “No,” she says, more quickly than she should.  She continues, trying to cover for herself.  “Cassian, we don’t know how long we are going to have to share a room and Draven will have my head if you end up killing yourself because of sleep deprivation.”

 It’s only logical, she thinks to herself as her cheeks heat at the thought of climbing into bed with Cassian.  She isn’t doing it for any reason other than logic.

 Cassian watches her for a moment.  “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low and hesitant.

 His eyes rake over her body and Jyn can feel her skin flush.  She answers, her voice just above a whisper, and she knows in her heart that logic has very little to do with her decision.  “Yes.”

 Cassian crawls into bed first and Jyn gives silent thanks that she will not be trapped between him and the wall.  She never could sleep feeling trapped.  Not, Jyn admits as she turns off the light and slips under the covers next to Cassian, that she’s planning on getting much sleep tonight.  Heat radiates off Cassian, only an inch or so of space separating their bodies as they lay next to each other in the dark.  Jyn prays that Cassian can’t hear her heart beating although, given how loudly and how quickly it’s beating in her own ears, she finds it hard to imagine he can’t.   

 She reaches out and touches her blaster, making sure she can grab it easily if the need arises, just as she has every night for almost as long as she can remember.

 As predicted she doesn’t sleep much that night, although she drifts in and out and she doesn’t remember the moment Cassian’s arm unconsciously falls loosely around her in his sleep.  When her waking mind slips to the surface again and she registers the warm weight of his arm she can’t help but relax a bit into his embrace.  Maybe, she thinks, just maybe, living with Cassian Andor isn’t the end of the world.  She pushes away most of her thoughts, but in the dark she does allow one important one to slip through: she’s not planning on running, and neither, it seems, is Cassian.  This prospect is new to her, and while the thought of losing him still squeezes around her heart like a cold fist, it suddenly occurs to her that the positives might just outweigh the potential negatives.

  4.

  They had been sharing a bed for three nights.  Three nights of Cassian’s heart stopping every time his skin meets hers as they lay together under the blankets.  Three nights of terror that he would say the wrong thing, touch her the wrong way, and that she would snap and run.  And, inexplicably, three nights of the best sleep Cassian has ever had.

 However he doesn’t think the same can be said for Jyn, judging by the circles under her eyes and the tiered haze she seems to be living in.  It pains him more than it should that she is so uncomfortable sharing a bed with him.  He has offered each night to sleep on the floor, but each night she refuses and each night he relents far too willingly.  To be able to wake to Jyn’s warmth and breath, to be able to know, without even opening his eyes, that she is safe should be all Cassian could ever ask for.  It terrifies him that he wants more, but he knows that, for Jyn’s sake, he will never push for anything more than what she is freely willing to give him.  So he treasures her warmth and her breath, telling himself that it is enough.  It has to be enough.

 Her labored breathing wakes him.  It is harsh and irregular and a muffled cry catches in the back of her throat.  Cassian blinks out of the fog of sleep and rolls over to face her, propping himself up on an elbow.

 “Jyn?”

 Her breathing is becoming more panicked and in the half-light Cassian can see that her brow is furrowed and one hand grips the blankets tightly.  Her eyes are closed, though, and with a start Cassian realizes that she is still asleep.  He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking her slightly.  

 “Jyn.  Hey, wake up,” he whispers then, louder, “Jyn!”

 She wakes with a cry, her body jolting up, struggling against his firm hand, and she cries out again in fear.  Before he can even speak there is a flash of metal in the dim light and Cassian’s instincts take over.  He grabs the end of the blaster Jyn had, without a thought, seized from where she kept it on the shelf next to the bed and forces the barrel away from his chest, even as Jyn continues to struggle.

 “Jyn!  Jyn, hey, it’s me!  It’s Cassian.”  Her eyes flick towards the sound of his voice and she begins to still.  “You’re safe,” he tells her.  “You’re alright.  You’re safe.”

 She stares at him for a moment, eyes wide, chest heaving, then, with a shudder, she releases her grip on the blaster and collapses back onto the bed.  Cassian leans over her, replacing the blaster to its spot on the shelf.  Her body convulses under him, her slight frame shaking the entire bed with her gasping breaths.  Her eyes are wide with fright and her fear sparks something inside of Cassian; a voice that tells him that he would pull the galaxy apart if he could stop her from ever feeling such fear again.

 Without a second thought he pulls her into his arms.  She presses her face into his chest, balling her fists into his shirt.  

 “You’re safe now, Jyn.  It was just a nightmare.  It wasn’t real.”

 It is not that she is sobbing so much as drowning.  She is hyperventilating, her body dragging in breaths desperately, shuddering with the force of them.  Her whimpers are muffled by Cassian’s chest but each one stabs into his heart.  He rubs a hand up and down her back, hoping to sooth her.

 “Shh.  Easy, just breathe.”

 Her head rocks against the pillow, spinning with lightheadedness from the lack of oxygen.  Cries morph to words.  “I can’t – Cassian… I can’t –“

 Hovering over her Cassian shifts her onto her back.  “Jyn, look at me.”  His voice is calm yet commanding and she obeys him, her eyes dry but wide with panic.  Reaching down, Cassian presses a firm hand to her stomach.  He keeps his voice strong, knowing his own fear will do her no good.  “Jyn, I want you to breath.  In for six, out for eight.  But you have to make my hand move each time you breath.  Do you understand?”

 Jyn nods desperately, her eyes locked with his, but it takes a few moments before she is able to begin transferring her stuttering breaths from high in her chest to lower in her core.  Slowly her breathing begins to even and the necessity of catch-breaths begins to lessen.  With one hand still pressed firmly to her belly, giving her something to breathe against, Cassian uses his other to push the hair out of her face, running it along her cheek then stopping at her pulse-point.  Her heart rate is still rapid, but, like her breathing, it slows.  Finally she is able to close her eyes and Cassian feels her body relax under him.

 Silently Cassian pulls her into him again, and this time, while she does grip the front of his shirt tightly, the panic no longer rolls off her body in waves.  He presses his lips into her hair, one hand rubbing circles into her back.

 He wants to talk to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything will be alright, but he stays quiet, knowing that being there, solid and present, is the best he can do in that moment.  Her body is warm, flush against his, their legs tangled together and for a moment Cassian closes his eyes and lets the dark and silence surround them both.  But he knows he will have to speak eventually.

 She is still in his arms now.  Her breathing is regular and she could be asleep.  But Cassian knows she isn’t.

 “How often?”

 She pauses another moment before she answers.  

 “Most nights.”  Her voice is hushed.

 “This bad?”

 “No.  Not usually.”  She shifts slightly against him and he waits until she continues.  “Mostly it’s just the dreams.”

 Cassian nods his understanding.  He has his fair share of dreams.

 “I’m sorry for scaring you,” he apologizes.  She shakes her head against his chest.

 “It’s not your fault.  I’m not used to there being anyone… there….” her voice trails off and he lets the words sit for a few moments, steeling himself for the next question he knows he has to ask.

 “Jyn?”

 “Hmm?”

 “Have you been keeping yourself awake?  On purpose?”

 Her silence is enough of an answer, but after a beat her words tumble out.  “I didn’t want you to see.”  Her voice breaks but there are no tears, just raw emotion.  

 “Jyn,” he whispers, shutting his eyes to try and block out the pain her words bring him.  “You don’t have to be alone.  Not here.  Not now.”

 She releases a shaky breath and he murmurs his final words into her hair, so faint he’s not even sure if she hears them.  “I’m with you.”

 She falls asleep in his arms that night.  And the next night.  And the next.  They both sleep better for it and when one wakes from visions of pain and death the other is there with warm arms and a calming heartbeat.  They don’t address it by the light of day, not the dreams nor the comfort they find in each other and especially not the fact that, for each, the loss of the other plays a central role in their night terrors.  They don’t address it, but, a week later, Jyn is assigned her own room in the newly functioning E quarters.  Cassian tells himself – as he watches her pack her few belongings and transfer them quietly to her new room – that he shouldn’t have expected the closeness to last, that he always knew it was a temporary situation, and that he was fine without her before so he will be again.  But the relief that floods through him that night at the sound of his door sliding open and her quiet footsteps as she walks to his bed is unimaginable.  And he doesn’t sleep until she is folded once again safely in his arms.

  5.

  His hands are slick with her blood when he carries her onto the ship.  He cradles her to his body, one of her hands still clutching her blaster, arm slung around his shoulders, the other hand presses her scarf firmly to the stab wound a few inches above her left hip.  Despite her best efforts to stem the blood flow the front of his shirt is already soaked in her blood.

 Cassian hardly hears the blaster fire from behind them as he screams for K2 to get them out of there.  The ship is already in the air by the time Cassian lays Jyn on the floor of the cargo hold, propping her against the wall to keep her upright.  She bites off the cry of pain the movement brings to her lips.

 “K2!  Get us home, now!” Cassian shouts over the roar of the engines as he searches desperately for the medkit.  The ship lurches suddenly, shaking violently.  This time Jyn cannot stifle her cry.         

 “K!?”

 “The ship is being fired on, Captain,” K2 reports from the cockpit.  “Evasive maneuvers are necessary, but I believe I will be able to calculate the jump to hyperspace momentarily.”

 “Just get us out of here!” Cassian yells.  He runs, medkit in hand, back to Jyn who moans in pain, her eyes tightly closed.  He drops to his knees in front of her, being sure to avoid Jyn’s blaster which lays – covered, like everything else, in her blood and still clutched in her free hand –at Jyn’s side.  

 “Cassian.”  Her voice breaks around his name and her eyes, filled with panic, flick from his to the roof of the ship, fear covering her face.

 “We’re going to be alright, Jyn.  You’re going to be fine,” Cassian promises as he pulls open the medkit and starts searching for bandages to stop the bleeding.  A bacta patch won’t help if she bleeds out before it can work.

 The entire ship shakes again and K2’s voice is heard over the speaker.  “I’m making the jump.  You should hold on.”

 Slipping an arm around her Cassian pulls Jyn into him, her back pressed to his chest as he holds her steady with one hand, gripping at the shuttle wall with the other.  He feels the familiar pull of the jump to hyperspace but he cannot tell if it is the rattling of the ship or the stab wound that causes Jyn to shake in his arms.

 When the jump is complete and the ship has settled, Cassian’s attention flips back to Jyn and the amount of blood that pools around them.  With her back still pressed to him, Cassian lifts Jyn’s hand and peels away her bloody scarf from the wound.  A shudder runs through her and a low moan escapes Jyn’s lips.  With mumbled apologies Cassian lifts her tattered and bloody shirt away from the wound, exposing her bare skin and causing her body to arch against his with pain until she falls back into him, exhaustion and blood loss beginning to set in.  

 With a fresh set of bandages pressed to the wound Cassian is able to shift Jyn back to her spot against the wall.  Even that small movement, though, sends a fresh gush of blood seeping through the material.  Jyn grits her teeth and her breath catches high in her chest.  

 “Jyn,” he says, reaching for another bandage.  “Jyn, listen to me.  I need you to stay with me.  Try to keep calm.”

 Jyn’s eyes flick to him and he is relieved to see that there is enough life left in her for her to look annoyed.

 “I’m bleeding out from a stab wound, this ship is going to break apart around us at any moment, and you want me to calm down?”  Jyn isn’t normally a nervous flyer.

 “Bodhi said the ship should hold for at least another mission.”

 “Another easy mission, he said.  I don’t think firefights were included in ‘easy’, Cassian,” Jyn shoots back.

 Cassian applies a bit more pressure to Jyn’s stomach and her breath hisses through her teeth.  He wishes he could attribute his shaking hands to the jerkiness of the flight, but the ride has evened out and it is all he can do to push his panic away.

 “You’re going to be alright,” he promises, the hot blood leaking slowly through his fingers threatening otherwise.

 “You can’t know that,” Jyn whimpers.  The fear in her voice cuts through Cassian as easily as the knife had Jyn.  Their bloody hands are tangled together over her wound and he squeezes her fingers gently.

 “Of course I can,” he tells her, words falling from his lips in a desperate attempt to keep her calm, keep her awake, keep her with him.  “Haven’t you heard?  I am one with the Force.”

 “And the Force is with you?” she asks as a shuddering laugh escapes her.  The laugh, more than anything, tells Cassian that the blood loss is getting to her.

 “That’s right,” Cassian mutters, but when he glances back up Jyn’s eyes have closed.  “Jyn?  Jyn!”  He shakes her and she gives a small gasp, her eyes fluttering blearily back open.  “Jyn, I need you to stay awake.  Stay with me, ok?”

 “Ok, Cassian,” she slurs.

 He can tell shock is beginning to set in.  Her skin is cold to the touch and she doesn’t seem to be feeling much pain anymore, although she does cry out weakly when he pulls the bandages away.  Quickly, Cassian smooths a bacta patch over the wound and covers it with more bandages.  The bleeding has slowed but Cassian fears the damage may have already been done.  He looks back up at her and his breath, already betraying his panic with its frantic pace, hitches in his chest.  Her skin is deathly pale, her head rocks against the ship’s side, and, although her eyes are still open, she seems barely conscious.  Cupping her cheek with his hand, her own blood smearing across her face, Cassian tips Jyn’s chin so that she is looking at him.

 “Hey,” he whispers, voice shaking almost as much as his hands.  “You’ve got to stay with me, ok?  You can’t leave me.”  His voice breaks at the end, the tightness of his throat choking off his words.

 “Cassian,” Jyn says his name like she only just recognized him.  Her brow furrows in confusion.  “I’m so cold.”

 “I know,” he nods, trying to comfort her.  “But you have to fight it Jyn.  You have to fight it.”

 “I just want to sleep.”

 He leans closer to her, only a few inches of space separating them, yet from the way her eyes slip in and out of focus he knows that she is light-years away.  “You can’t.  You have to stay awake.  Be strong, Jyn.  Please.  For me.”  

 He will tell himself later – as he sits by her bed in medbay trying to work though his thoughts and emotions and trying not to consider the possibility that she won’t wake up, that she lost too much blood, that he couldn’t save her – that he did it to keep her awake.  He will lock away his own desire for fear of losing her, of pushing her away, just as he has for almost as long as he has know her and he will remind himself that, while Jyn means much to him as an ally and a friend, there are some things she does not – cannot – mean to him.  But in that moment on the cargo ship, with the coppery tang of blood filling the air and his fingers slick on her cheek, Cassian Andor doesn’t kiss Jyn Erso to keep her awake.  He kisses Jyn Erso because he has to.      

 Her lips are cold and almost unresponsive under his, but he thinks he feels her press her mouth against him with what little energy she has left.  When he breaks away he feels rather than hears the small exhale of air that escapes from her lips.  He sits back on his heels and sees a tiny smile playing on her lips.  Glancing back down Cassian places his other hand on Jyn’s stomach, adding pressure to the wound.  

 Jyn had almost died in his arms already once before, kneeling on a beach with a blaze of white light rapidly approaching.  Cassian had clung to her and wished for more time.  More time with her.  By some miracle he had been granted that and he knew he couldn’t let it slip by him.  Not again.  Not without kissing her.  Not on his second, and maybe last, chance.    

 His lips tingle and heat rises in his chest, only to be beaten down by panic as he looks back up at her to find her eyes closed and her head lolled to one side.  Unconsciousness had claimed her and Cassian didn’t know if he would ever get her back.

 ****

 Jyn remains in the medbay for days.  Cassian stays by her side every moment for the first two – watching over her through every blood transfusion as she sleeps in her medically induced coma – and every moment he can spare after Draven orders him to return to his duties.  He isn’t there when she wakes up, but Bodhi is and the pilot quickly finds Cassian to tell him the news.  Fear stops his feet just outside her door.  What if he had pushed her away?  What if she never trusted him again?  What if she ran?  But a soft shove from Bodhi pushes Cassian into the room and the sight of Jyn awake and sitting up sends such relief through him that his legs almost give out from under him.

 In the hours and days that follow Jyn never brings up the kiss once and she acts so much like her normal self that Cassian wonders if she even remembers it or if she had been so far gone that she hadn’t even registered the event.  

 Two days after waking up she is released under strict instructions of bed rest.  When Jyn crawls into bed with him, Cassian closes her into his arms, breathing in her sent, and finally relaxes for the first time since watching the knife slide its way into Jyn’s skin.  And yet, in the early hours of the morning, with Jyn’s warm body pressed to his, Cassian founds himself awake – with the tingling memory of a kiss on his lips – left to wonder whether he hopes that Jyn remembers the kiss and has simply chosen to say nothing, or if she can’t remember it at all.

  +

 1.

 Cassian’s mission was supposed to take four days.  By the sixth day with no word from him Jyn can no longer push away the growing anxiety.  She has hardly slept since her bed, only used when Cassian is away on a mission, is too big and too cold without another presence – his presence.  Jyn floats through her meetings; even her training duties bring no comfort.  She starts every time someone says her name, sure each time that the speaker will be bringing her news of Cassian, telling her that he is safe, that he is on his way home – to her.  She refuses to think of the other possibility.

 But when her door hisses open she only has to look at Bodhi’s face to know that his news is about the destroy her.  He stares at her, eyes wide, face stricken.  Fearing she will be sick, all Jyn can do is stand there, feet welded to the floor, and stare back at Bodhi.  The silence stretches between then and winds its way, like smoke, into Jyn’s lungs, choking her.

 “Jyn.”  Her name falls from Bodhi’s lips like a prayer, a whispered plea for him to wake up to a world in which the words he has to say are nothing short of fictitious.  But Jyn has lived through enough nightmares to know that they cannot be escaped with wishing.

 Jyn would have sliced her own ears off if it meant she wouldn’t have to hear Bodhi’s next words.  

 “It’s Cassian.”

 A harsh numbness creeps over Jyn’s mind, and she imagines momentarily that this must be what the hypothermia so feared by those living on Hoth feel like.  It is through this haze that Jyn hears Bodhi’s explanation.  He tells her of an Imperial transmission the Alliance had intercepted stating that a Rebel ship had been shot down by a Star Destroyer.  He tells her that the ship was thought to have been carrying Alliance intelligence recently gained on a covert mission.  And he tells her that there was only one Rebel ship in the sector the transmission originated from: Cassian’s.

 In short, Bodhi tells her that Cassian Andor is dead.

 Jyn hardly registers Bodhi’s tears or his arms hugging her tight.  She should ask questions, request verification, or at the very least march into Command and demand that she be dispatched immediately on a mission to avenge the loss.  She knows it would be a suicide mission.  She also knows she doesn’t care.

 But Jyn can do none of these things.  She can simply stand there as Bodhi speaks, offering her comfort he knows neither one of them can take.  After a few minutes Bodhi touches her arm, telling her he still has to find Chirrut and Baze and let them know what happened, if they haven’t heard already.  Jyn blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on Bodhi’s tearstained face, then nods.

 “Thank you, Bodhi,” she says, her voice tiny and very far away.

 He turns to leave, stopping at the door to look back at her.  “I’m sorry,” he tells her, his mumbled words squeezing at her heart almost more than she can bear.  Then he is gone and Jyn is left alone.

 ****

 A few minutes later Jyn stumbles into Cassian’s room.  She knows his key code; he never changed it after she moved out of the room, keeping it the so that she could let herself in every night.  She had passed few people in the halls, and those she had stepped aside without a word, having either heard the news already or, having seen her face, knew that she was not to be approached.  

 After Bodhi left Jyn had stood, looking around her room, for a few moments before the shuddering weight of the stillness had driven her into the hallway.  She followed the path to Cassina’s room, a walk so familiar she could have made it in the dark.  She had taken nothing with her, too incoherent to even grab her blaster – an item she was hardly ever without – leaving it instead in its customary place on the shelf next to her bed.

 The door to Cassian’s room slides back into place behind her and she leans against it for a moment or two.  The room is as quiet as hers, yet somehow the silence is different here.  With Cassian in it this room had held comfort for her, protection from her dreams and the real world alike.  Even with him gone, shadows of him remain.  His coats hang in the wardrobe – he must not have been sent to a cold planet this time – and a datapad and a few papers sit on his table, waiting for his return.  With a rush Jyn realizes that he won’t come back for his jackets.  Or his half-finished papers.  Or for her.

 She takes the few steps to his bed, sinking down onto it, her hands shaking in her lap.  She had spent her nights here curled into Cassian’s side, fearing that with each night she slipped closer and closer to allowing him past the walls of self-preservation carefully constructed around her heart.  She had kept him out because the thought that when she lost him – by his choice or hers or some other event beyond either of their control – she would not be able to survive, terrified her.  Sitting on Cassian’s empty bed, his scent still lingering in the air, Jyn realizes that it didn’t matter.  Trying to keep her heart her own had done her no good.  She would not survive this.  And now, instead of having known happiness all she had left was regret.  Regret, nights of fear soothed only by his gentle hands and words, and a blood soaked kiss that was so hazy in her mind that sometimes Jyn was forced to wonder if it had been a memory or a dream.

 Jyn doesn’t cry.  She can’t; no tears will come.  She simply lays on Cassian’s bed, her face pressed into his pillow, and screams.  She screams for the loss of the ones she had loved openly and the one she had loved secretly, and for all that could have been.

 Senseless noise to go with senseless pain.

 She doesn’t know how long she lies there.  At some point there might have been knocking on the door, but Jyn doesn’t care.  She hardly registers the sound if it does actually exist.  It stops eventually, so what does she care?

 Finally numbness takes hold again as her foggy brain begins to draw her towards sleep.  She allows herself to drift, her own relentless thoughts leading her towards oblivion.

 I should have told you.  I love you.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.

 ****

 She hadn’t been in her room.  Everything in the room, even her blaster, had been in its proper place.  Everything except Jyn.  He had only one guess as to where she would be.   

 The quiet hiss of the door is familiar, the room lit by the lights he knows he turned off before he left.  She lies on top of his bed fully clothed, as if she had simply collapsed into sleep without meaning to.  The sight of her brings breath back into his lungs.

 It is the sound of the door closing behind him that wakes her.  Her eyes flash open and she starts into a sitting position.  She freezes when she sees him, staring, and all Cassian can do is stare back.  He had been so intent on finding her he had never considered what he would do when he did.  Silence stretches between them, the four paces between the door and the bed suddenly a gaping chasm.

 “Cassian.”  

 His name is a whisper of disbelief and seems to drop from her lips unnoticed, but it is all the reassurance he needs.

 “Jyn.”  

 The sound of his voice seems to cause something inside her to snap.  In a blur she is on her feet.  He steps towards her, meeting her halfway.

 She throws herself into his arms and, before he can register what she is doing, she presses her lips to his.  Her kiss is frantic and she clings to him as if she is trying to remove every possible inch of separation between them.  He can taste the salt as her tears flow freely down her cheeks, but it is her need to breathe that finally breaks her.  After moments that seem to last into infinity, she finally pulls away, taking a shuddering breath.  Almost instantly she dissolves into sobs, her arms around his neck, one hand clutching his shirt so tightly in her fist he wonders if she’ll rip the fabric.  

 With his arms already around her Cassian lowers them both gently to the ground when Jyn’s knees give out.  He holds her as she cries into his shoulder, rocking her softly, one hand pressed into her hair.  He tries to soothe her, murmuring words from lips that still tingle with her kiss, the sound of her tears filling the small room.  You’re alright.  It’s alright.  I’m here.  I’m safe.  I’m alive.        

 The force of her sobs wrack her whole body and he tightens his grip on her.  He wonders if she has ever cried like this before, if even as a child – trapped in the dark with nothing but images of her mother’s death and a kyber crystal newly placed around her neck – she ever gave in to tears like this.

 “Shh, Shh.  I’m here, Jyn.”

 A fresh wave of tears overtakes her and her breath comes in irregular, stuttering gasps.

 “Easy.  Easy, just breathe.  I’ve got you.  I’m here.”

 His shirt is soaked through but he knows there is nothing more he can do other than be there, real and firm under her grip.  Her voice is muffled by his shoulder but her cries and whimpers are gradually replaced by his name, her voice breaking.  

 “Cassian.  Cassian.”

 Ever so slowly her breath begins to even out, the rise and fall of her chest falling in sync with his despite the occasional shudder that still courses through her body.  When she finally looks up at him, her eyes are red, the comparison stark against the paleness of her skin.  He shifts his grip on her, one arm cradling her against him, the other reaching up to push the hair that has fallen into her eyes back behind her ear.       

 Voice weak and shaky, Jyn asks, “Cassian, what happened?  They said- they said you were.…” Cassian knows she can’t bring herself to say the word.

 “It was a mistake,” he tells her, trying to remember the hurried debriefing he had been given.  “Another Alliance ship was shot down in the sector that we were in, but it was taken by the Empire before an ID could be made and since they weren’t supposed to be there and we were, Command just assumed it was us.  With the Empire there we couldn’t risk any transmissions.”  He hadn’t paid much attention to the briefing after he heard he was presumed dead.  All of his thoughts had been for Jyn.

 She’s still shaking slightly in his arms and her fist in his shirt has hardly relaxed at all, but she has quieted and she leans against him.  He rests his cheek on the top of her head and lightly runs a hand up and down her arm.  “It was a mistake, Jyn.  Just a mistake,” he repeats to her.  “I’m so sorry.  But I’m here now.  I’m here.”

 He tips her chin up and captures her lips with his.  He kisses her, slow and gentle, feeling her relax into him, the tension in her body melting away.

 While the first kiss of the evening had been desperate – an attempt to make up for everything that had seemed lost, all of the moments unexplored and all of the things unsaid – this kiss was full of promise and hope.  The first kiss had looked back, but this kiss looked forward to a future that remained uncertain but that had far more hope in it now that it had even just a few hours ago.  

AO3

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