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dalgursbate · 4 months

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Dame Aylin's Home for Wayward Girls (5/?)

Summary: Isobel swears she didn’t mean to start a commune. She’s not so sure about Aylin, though. Or, how a celestial and her reanimated girlfriend help the heroes of Baldur’s Gate process their trauma.

Rating: E WC: 13,812 Pairing: F/F, Isobel/Aylin/Shadowheart

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

Isobel wakes slowly, eyes blinking blearily against the darkness. She has no idea what time it is, and the windowless room they are in defies any attempt to judge the hour by the light. Isobel reaches within herself to probe at her connection with Selûne, plucking at it like a lyre string to see how it resonates; she always feels the Moonmaiden more when it is night.

She finds that Selûne’s presence is waning, but strong still; Isobel presumes that it must be approaching twilight. She awoke early, then.

As she comes more fully to consciousness, Isobel takes stock of her surroundings (thank the Gods for darkvision): she is lying on her side, body curled like a crescent moon to face the center of the bed. Her arms encircle someone, her leg sandwiched between theirs and their silver-haired head pressed against Isobel’s collar. At first, Isobel’s sleep-addled brain assumes this person is Aylin, but as her faculties return to her she realizes that it is not.

Right, Shadowheart stayed with them last night. Isobel swallows roughly at the thought of it.

She looks past Shadowheart’s sleeping form and spies Aylin wrapped around the other woman, arms holding her around the middle. Her body is in the same crescent shape as Isobel, waxing to Isobel’s waning. Shadowheart fits neatly in the space created by Aylin, back pressed against her chest. Aylin’s chin is tucked over Shadowheart’s head, her face only half a foot away from Isobel’s.

Isobel removes her hand from Shadowheart’s hip to jostle Aylin’s arm, hoping to wake her. She watches as Aylin’s eyes open, becoming conscious and alert in only an instant. Isobel smiles at her, finding the way Aylin springs so quickly to wakefulness charming. Another perk of being a celestial, she supposes.

Upon seeing her lover, Aylin closes the distance between them to press a kiss to Isobel’s lips, the same as she does every morning. It is not chaste, because Aylin rarely is. Rather, it is something hot and desperate, like alchemist's fire before it erupts. Isobel longs to put her hand to Aylin’s jaw, to deepen the kiss, but they can't really touch each other with Shadowheart between them as she is. Besides, the more rational part of Isobel reasons, it would be untoward to get lost in passion when there is a person sleeping so near to them. Isobel pulls back from the kiss and treasures the expression on Aylin’s face as her lover attempts to chase her lips. Isobel longs to greet the morning as they usually do, by pouncing on Aylin and kissing her utterly senseless. Amongst other things.

Usually, though, there is not a disgruntled cleric in between them.

“Shhh…M’sleeping,” Shadowheart whines, barely intelligible as it is muttered against Isobel’s shirt. She nuzzles deeper into Isobel's neck, which does nothing to quell her desire. “Kiss later.”

Isobel had not realized she was awake, the steady rise and fall of Shadowheart’s breathing suggesting unconsciousness. Isobel hopes, then, that her stillness indicates comfort. She feels the fingers pressed against her chest curl reflexively and grab two loose fistfuls of the fabric there.

“Are you not the one who wandered into our bed, little cleric?” Aylin says in an amused half-whisper (and what a miracle it is she managed even that, Isobel thinks). “Yet you believe it is your right to tell us when to kiss.”

Shadowheart pulls back from Isobel’s chest enough that she can level Aylin with her most put-upon expression. Her hands still hold onto the fabric of Isobel’s shirt.

“I did not wander into your bed like some stray cat, Aylin. I am an invited guest,” she huffs, voice full of faux affront. Isobel thinks it is possibly the first time that Shadowheart hasn’t referred to Aylin by her title, and the sudden informality warms her. “And as your guest I believe I am entitled to your courtesy.” Shadowheart does not whisper her response the way Aylin tried to, yet to Isobel’s delight she thinks that Aylin was still louder.

“Most definitely, and I will dutifully show you every courtesy under the moon and stars,” Aylin says, and as it becomes clear that they are all quite awake she does not bother to lower her speaking voice, “except the courtesy of deciding when I am allowed to kiss.”

“What graciousness,” Shadowheart says sardonically. She rolls over onto her back between Aylin and Isobel, looking up between the two of them in turn. One of her hands leaves Isobel’s shirt, but the other continues to grasp the fabric. “So does that mean you’ll grant me the courtesy of deciding who you kiss?” She smiles coyly then, and something wicked and electric alights in Isobel.

“I will certainly take your suggestions under advisement,” Aylin replies, and she is staring with eyes half-lidded at Shadowheart’s face. No, Isobel corrects mentally, at Shadowheart’s mouth.

Shadowheart says nothing in response, but leans up to connect her lips to Aylin’s. Aylin snakes a hand to cradle the other woman’s head and pulls her in closer, deeper, almost as though she hopes to consume her. Shadowheart sighs into the kiss, and the sight of the two of them makes Isobel shiver. She feels feverish, painfully aware of the heat that has gathered to her cheeks and even more painfully aware of where it has gathered elsewhere.

The two of them kiss hungrily, greedily, like it is the last kiss either of them will ever have. Isobel intends to make sure that it isn't.

Shadowheart eventually pulls away from Aylin, obviously in need of air. The breath she exhales comes out in a shudder, and Isobel loves how red and plump her lips already look. How her silver hair is in disarray, loose from its usual braid and cascading down her shoulders all tousled and pretty. How she already looks so debauched when they have hardly even touched her.

Then, Shadowheart turns to Isobel and uses the hand fisted in her shirt to pull her closer. Isobel follows readily, and soon their lips meet in a frenzy. Her tongue entwines with Shadowheart’s, and her mouth is flooded with the taste of this woman, unfamiliar but intoxicating. Isobel has read many a novel where the author describes the lovers’ tongues moving in a graceful dance. She thinks this more closely resembles a tavern brawl with the needy, messy way Shadowheart explores Isobel’s mouth. Dancing is overrated anyway, Isobel thinks, as Shadowheart’s kiss sends fire up her spine, into her stomach, and down further to the core of her.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Shadowheart whispers against Isobel’s lips, sounding awe-struck. Isobel did not need Shadowheart to tell her this; she can feel how it is pounding an angry rhythm against her ribcage. “Is this the effect I have on you?”

“Yes,” Isobel replies, voice almost a hiss with how quickly the answer escapes her lips. She wants to be embarrassed at how urgently she craves Shadowheart, but it is hard to be when the cleric is right there, kissing her as though Isobel’s lips can offer her salvation.

Shadowheart releases Isobel’s shirt and uses that hand to drag her fingers up the underside of Isobel’s breast. Isobel gasps against Shadowheart’s mouth, and Shadowheart uses the opportunity to kiss her even deeper. Isobel bites on Shadowheart’s bottom lip in retaliation and is rewarded with a delicious noise for it. She pulls back just slightly, enough to inhale, and she adores the way Shadowheart’s breathless panting mixes with her own in the space between them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Aylin begin to shift, and soon Shadowheart is pulled into Aylin’s lap. It reminds Isobel of how she sat with Shadowheart when they dyed her hair, but infinitely more intimate.

Aylin begins pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to Shadowheart’s neck, who instinctively tilts her head to grant better access to the skin there. Isobel can see her smile as Aylin drags one hand over the flat plane of Shadowheart’s stomach and up to cup her breast. She squeezes gently, rubbing her thumb over Shadowheart’s nipple through her shirt. Shadowheart squirms from where she is seated atop Aylin, making more noises that burn up Isobel’s insides.

“My darling,” Aylin says, and Isobel takes a moment to realize that she is speaking to Shadowheart. Isobel is flooded with a wave of affection at the pet name. “Pray tell what you would like us to do for you.” The hand that is not teasing Shadowheart’s breast drags down her side until it reaches her hip, fingers kneading the skin there.

“Touch me,” Shadowheart gasps. “Please.”

The way Shadowheart begs is divine, Isobel thinks. Looking at her lovers intertwined makes the need building inside Isobel grow exponentially; she fears that if Shadowheart does not get naked immediately, she might combust.

Thankfully, Aylin seems to be on the same page. She drags her hands up and under Shadowheart's shirt to pull it off of her, and Shadowheart cooperates hastily to finish the effort. Soon, the garment is thrown somewhere in the dark room, to be worried about later. Her pants are a little more challenging, and Isobel moves quickly to help Shadowheart rid herself of them. Aylin seems reluctant to allow Shadowheart to leave her lap, but evidently realizes that it is in service of a greater good. Soon, Shadowheart’s pants join her top on the floor, lost to the ether for all any of them cares. Her smallclothes, too, are quickly tossed into the abyss and forgotten, and Shadowheart sits on Aylin’s lap gloriously naked.

By Selûne, Isobel cannot imagine how Shadowheart ever served the Goddess of Darkness when seeing her like this, exposed and wanton, feels so perfectly holy to her.

Aylin resumes kissing her neck, hands roaming Shadowheart’s body and mapping out the feel of her skin. Isobel knows she is testing to see which parts of Shadowheart are most sensitive, where best to kiss and caress and bite and scratch. Aylin is deeply thorough as a lover, Isobel knows, and watching Shadowheart experience that for the first time is heady and exhilarating. Shadowheart cries out at Aylin’s touch, back arched and head thrown back to rest on Aylin’s shoulder. She seems to be falling to pieces already, before Aylin’s clever fingers have even begun to play with her sex.

It is obvious, too, that Shadowheart is growing desperate with desire. Isobel watches the way she whimpers and whines every time Aylin brushes her fingers up her inner thigh before dragging them back down, close to where Shadowheart wants her but never close enough. Shadowheart spreads her legs wide, hooks them over Aylin’s thighs, opening herself and writhing as Aylin once again teases her with her fingers.

Isobel sees the opportunity and refuses to let it pass her, crawling toward the two of them and bowing down to breathe hotly over Shadowheart’s already-dripping cunt. Shadowheart keens, bucking her hips toward Isobel’s face.

“Please,” Shadowheart begs again, and Isobel would need to be much crueler than she is to deny such a request. She licks from the hot, wet core of Shadowheart up to circle her clit with her tongue, relishing the way Shadowheart nearly shrieks at the contact. She relishes, too, the exquisite taste of her, voracious in the manner that she drinks Shadowheart in. She could get addicted to that taste, she thinks. Perhaps she already is.

She looks up to see Shadowheart with her eyes closed in ecstasy, a look of intense concentration on her face, head thrown back and left hand fisted in Aylin’s hair as Aylin bites and kisses her neck. Shadowheart’s other hand is braced on Aylin’s thigh as she begins to grind into Isobel’s tongue. Isobel wants to paint this picture in her mind, needs to see it every time she closes her eyes.

“By the nine Hells,” Shadowheart swears, “do not stop.”

So Isobel does not, electing instead to suck Shadowheart’s clit into her mouth, savoring the way Shadowheart cries and moans at the touch of her tongue.

It must be overwhelming, Isobel imagines, with the combination of Aylin’s wandering, mischievous hands and the way Isobel roughly grips her thighs to spread her open. With Aylin’s mouth at her neck and Isobel’s tongue buried in her like she’s trying to drown in Shadowheart’s cunt. Shadowheart can do nothing but try to arch into the contact, try to get more of it, mouth dropped open as she alternates between cursing and saying their names.

“Oh, Gods, Aylin, Isobel,” Shadowheart pants as her release finds her, shivering as it rolls through her body. Isobel and Aylin do not stop, fucking her through her climax until she begins to twitch from the overstimulation. They still their assault on her then, and Aylin pets Shadowheart’s hair as the other woman comes down and begins to return to her senses. Her body is loose, practically boneless, supported as it is by Aylin’s chest.

Aylin gently maneuvers her to the head of the bed, and Isobel places some pillows behind her back. Isobel kisses her temple once, sweetly.

“You are rather precious, you know,” Isobel whispers in Shadowheart’s ear, and she feels the other woman whimper in response.

Isobel turns back to Aylin, who is smiling serenely at her and Shadowheart. Isobel wonders whether she’s thinking the same thing Isobel thought earlier, about never wanting to lose the image of this experience. She will ask later, but for now there is an imperative to tear her clothes off hurriedly. She is pleased to watch as Aylin does the same, and even more pleased as Aylin kneels naked on the bed before her. Isobel gives herself a moment to take in the sight of her lover, appreciating how strong and vital Aylin looks. She feels the way Shadowheart's eyes track their movements, greedily raking over both of their naked forms.

“Lover, I have great need to cum all over your face,” Isobel says plainly, walking on her knees over to Aylin and gently pushing her down on the bed. Aylin offers no resistance, happy to be manhandled by Isobel. Shadowheart makes a small noise at them then, and Isobel turns her head to shoot a toothy grin at the cleric.

“You once said you were more envious of our love than our passion,” Isobel says. “Let me show you how wrong you were then.” She proceeds to climb on top of Aylin, straddling her face so that Isobel is facing the gorgeous, lithe expanse of Aylin's body. Aylin’s tongue greets her readily, and she sighs at the familiar decadence of it.

For a moment she simply enjoys as Aylin works her over with her tongue, gasping and moaning at the expert dexterity of Aylin's movements. But she cannot sit still for long before she is leaning down, bracing her weight on her forearms on either side of Aylin's hips.

She can still taste Shadowheart, rich and heady, on her tongue, and she moans at the way it mingles with the taste of Aylin as she begins eating her out. Isobel knows better than anyone that Aylin prefers it rough, and so she devours her lover's cunt like a starving gnoll at a butchery. Before too long, both Aylin and Isobel are crying out wantonly against each other's flesh.

Then, Shadowheart's own moans join into the chorus, and Isobel pauses briefly in her work to spare a glance at the cleric. She bites her lip at the sight that greets her, Shadowheart's eyes half open and hazy, staring intently at the two women in front of her, her fingers rubbing and pinching her own clit.

It is, Isobel thinks, unbelievably hot.

It does not take much for Aylin to unravel Isobel at the best of times, and with Shadowheart's heavy gaze hungrily taking them in, it is a matter of moments before she is riding her own release out on Aylin's face. Through it, she does not stop in her efforts on Aylin's clit, savoring the complex, godly flavor of her like one might a glass of smoky whiskey. Aylin follows her soon after, bucking up into her face while her hands grip in Isobel's hair and hold her exactly where she wants her.

A few moments later, as Aylin and Isobel shudder and twitch against each others’ mouths, Isobel hears Shadowheart cum again to her own fingers. She looks up to watch it happen, to drink in the rapturous expression on Shadowheart's face as they lock eyes.

Moments later, while they all pant in the afterglow, Isobel grins at Aylin and Shadowheart.

“Praise be to Selûne that we still have an hour before sunrise,” she says, and crawls over to where Shadowheart sits against the headrest to kiss her again.

#bg3 #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 aylin #bg3 isobel #moon lesbians #moonmaidens #isobel/dame aylin #isobel/nightsong #my fic

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thequietmanno1 · 5 months

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Thelreads, MHA 285, Replies Part 2

1) “tell me Horikoshi, what happened to the other kid the one that had a flying quirk tell me you didn’t, for example, turn him into a nomu and then killed him without us realizing, right? tell me because not showing us the other kid here would make it seem like you don’t want us to remember him”- Honestly, given the shit the kids already have to deal with in the current situation, and just how many people Garaki has no doubt transformed into Nomua, I’m not sure if that will ever be clarified to the kids. It’s another traumatic event for them to deal with when they’re already being subjected to so much trauma in the present, and just like All Might’s withholding information for Izuku’s wellbeing – and Mic is no doubt gonna have to do the same for Aizawa concerning the truth of Shirakumo’s death – they simply might not tell the kids if it ever gets found out.

2) “Bakugo, is it just me, or are you just having your whole life flash before your eyes as you approach the two calamities locked in a duel to the death? I was joking about it before you know, you don’t need to actually jump there and die, you know?”- He took that as a personal challenge.

But here, we see both the good and bad that’s come of OFA, how it allowed Izuku to stand up to Bakugo’s bullying, even when he went as far as taunting him to jump off a roof, and make him acknowledge his rival’s strengths….

3) “jesus fucking christ look how battered my kid is”-

…Contrasted against how he’s become from indulging in that strength without limitation, pushing himself into a ragged mess out of his mania to save everybody, beleivng it’s all on him and no-one else can do it. Blessing and curse, both in one.

4) “Yeah Bakugo, you always knew he would turn out like this, didn’t you? There was never a way to keep Midoriya away from this fate, quirkless or not.”- When Izuku gained the power, he gained so much from it.but he never gained enough self-respect to properly control himself when his emotions are pushed to the breaking point. For all the good he’s doing in damaging Tomura and holding him back, he’s taking on irreversible damage with every blow, all without thinking it through. Bakugo’s face shows all the concern that Izuku should have for himself, but doesn’t, in part because of how worthless he’s been made to feel from being born Quirkless.

5) “AND HE GRABBED HIM TARGET SECURED, NOW IT’S TIME TO BURN LIKE THE FUCKING SUN LOOK AWAY FOLKS, THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET… SHINY”- The backup plan was to use float and OFA as propulsion to launch Tomura into the sun, but why go that far when Endevour can just make his own?

6) “IT’S HIM IT’S FUCKING HIM HE’S TAKING OVER SHIGARAKI NOW THAT HE’S ABOUT TO DIE JESUS NO”- The dramatic irony present from the heroes not realising that Tomura’s effectively the one fetter holding back AFO and his decades of experienced handing of his Quirk from running amok with his new and very durable body. They tried their best to beat Tomura. They succeeded.

7) “WELL AT LEAST HE WASN’T TURNED TO DUST, JUST IMPALED WITH LETHAL FORCE.”- That’s how we know who’s in command. Tomura would just dust Endeavour, but AFO will make the execution bloody and painful.

8) “OH GOD OH FUCK THAT’S NOT SHIGARAKI ANYMORE THAT’S DEFINITELY NOT SHIGARAKI ANYMORE HE TOOK OVER”- And as Tomura’s control slips away, so too does his face, leaving only the black human-shaped being that is AFO in command, his exterior a mirror of his twisted soul within, faceless and malevolent as always, no matter the age of his current target.

(MHA ch 261) 9) “What did he asked you? To make sure they were dead? Well, its not like you werent planning to give them the oldouble tap anyway, right? Nothing is dead enough that you cant kill it again.”- This statement only becomes more ironically appropriate as Tomura’s durability keeps holding him together despite everything. The man’s practically a cooked corpse here and he’s coming back from even that, and with his body staring to fall to bits like a literal Zombie’s.

10) “BAKUGO YOU BETTER NOT DO SOMETHING STUPID CONSIDERING WE’RE DEALING WITH AFO NOW DON’T JUMP IN AND GET YOUR QUIRK STOLEN, BECAUSE YOU FUCKING KNOW THIS CAN HAPPEN”- Hitting AFO in Tomura’s durable shell does nothing, but hitting the target out of the way….

11) “IS THAT ANOTHER FLASH OF YOUR LIFE BEFORE YOUR EYES BAKUGO I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IF YOU GET YOURSELF KILLED I’M GOING TO FUCKING SCREAM”- Better warm those pipes up, it’s time to hit the high notes.

(MHA ch 276) 12) “Oh wow this does not bode well for the new big three, considering how were seeing their family members… Its like one of them is gonna die, but considering how Shoto is away from the killzone, we have a 50/50 chance of it being either Midoriya or Bakugo. I vote Bakugo, because of course I would.”- Your vote was counted, the sacrifice accepted…

(MHA ch 276) 13) “Bye bye kids, have fun as far away as fuckily possible, we don`t want any of you two dying today. Wait until Shoto get here so we have a 1/3 chance instead.”- Well, Shoto arrived, and now Bakugou’s been shishkabobbed.

14) “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I CAN’T BELIEVE BAKUGO IS FUCKING DEAD AS IS ENDEAVOR AND SHIGARAKI BECAUSE AFO IS BACK THROUGH HIM CHRIST WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS ALSO, HA HA FOR THE TITLE. YEAH BAKUGO IS RISING, RISING TOWARDS THE FUCKING PEARLY GATES WHAT IN THE FUCK”-

“Rising”

The arc words used alongside “origin” to mark the point wherever somebody performs a truly heroic and selfless action that elevates the from being somebody who merely took the career of a hero to actually being one in the flesh.

And just in case the Bakuagnst in this chapter wasn’t enough, here’s the volume cover.

He’s been thinking about the wrongdoing he did to Izuku for a long time, wondering how different they could have been if he’d only had to courage to reach out to Izuku as well…. NOTE: Oh, before I forget, there was actually somebody on reddit named Doodlelotl who made a few MHA chapter summeries when these were coming out the first time. They only go up to like, 337 or so, but they're pretty enjoyable. Sadly i forgot to upload them when they first became relevant, but I can patch them in here.

@thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #mha 285

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kai-keda · 2 years

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tbh i feel like one of the reasons sandy hasnt had a big arc is because he as a character already kinda has it together y'know?

another reason i think is we haven't had a villain who specifically challenges his viewpoint (except huntsman i guess?), like lbd is cruel (in a psychological way) but not excessively violent.

i hope next season they introduce a villain who really opposes sandys viewpoints (in a similar vain to how lbd opposes mks viewpoints) and he gets more screentime.

(sorry if this doesnt make like any sense i have trouble articulating myself)

(sandy vash arc 2022)

You were already making sense to me and the “Sandy Vash Arc 2022” REALLY sold your point to me!

Yeah, I mostly agree with what you’re saying, especially all the stuff about how Sandy needs an antagonist to push him through some kind of arc.

The main part I disagree with is the idea of him already having everything together. I can tell you from recent experience that it can be very hard to grow out of trauma/neurodivergent-related reactions and even if you do somehow, it’s not that those feelings go away but rather you learn to work with them. (Cough-cough, me relying too heavily on my medication holding back my impulsivity and anger to the point of not actually working on developing the necessary skills to combat that so when my medicine situation needed a change, I suddenly went back to having those issues and had no way to cope. And I am 27.)

“To Catch a Leaf” showed us that Sandy STILL has those moments of almost going back to that mindset and to the kind of person he was BEFORE his big transformation. The kind of person he is ASHAMED of being. (Which, actually, holy damn I am suddenly resonating super hard with him ngl)

The issue I have is that we were introduced to that being a conflict for him and then it was completely dropped and left unresolved. And not only was it dropped and left unresolved, but nothing in that episode other than Huntsman getting a Thing™️ for LBD’s soup affected anything in the current story arc.

As a comparison: MK’s introduction to LBD affected the story arc by being a driving force in his frustrations, anxieties, imposter syndrome and other issues of self-worth which led to him jumping in and spamming his Monkey King Powers while not noticing/caring that they were only hurting him in the long run. (I think it’s comparable to when you’re playing a video game and you get stuck in this one spot so you get frustrated to the point of just mashing buttons for a bit even if that wastes your time and hurts you in the long run)

VS.

Sandy’s flashback and moment of weakness nearly causing him to break his pacifistic vow to himself has lead to… what exactly? Everything with him after that is just… cute, funny, silly, wholesome and general helpful friend stuff.

Because Sandy’s fight with Huntsman didn’t actually GO anywhere in the LBD plot-line, it should have been left for the next story arc. Or at the very least, that moment of weakness that we got to see should have been held onto for later.

I don’t care how awesome and cool and otherwise amazing it was (which, yes, the execution of the moment itself was all of those things and more) - it still should have waited.

Having an antagonist that specifically holds the “I’ve had to use violence to survive my whole life and that has made me strong” mindset I think would be a PERFECT foil to Sandy specifically (I think it would also work as a philosophy MK would have to work against which would be important as we can’t make a main series villain that doesn’t challenge the actual main character of the show and it would be more powerful if an antagonist that draws out Sandy’s flaws was a main villain).

For Sandy, I would really like to see him struggling with standing his ground with being a pacifist (like Vash). How even if he understands why and doesn’t condemn others who fight (unlike Vash), he knows himself well enough to not like the person he becomes when he gets any level of violent and wants to avoid it. And yet there will be times where he will be pushed by the nuances of the world to find violence necessary. If that happens, I want him to struggle with and yet learn to ignore those arguments by sticking to “Even if violence is the only solution for others, I can not let myself go down that path again and I never will!”

As a final note, as fun as it would be to make more comparison art between Sandy and Vash if this were to happen, I think having an antagonist like Knives whose philosophy is “People suck; Blow them up” would be too similar to LBD.

I like this ask a lot! Really got me thinking more about Sandy in ways I’ve never put much thought into before.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk sandy #lmk analysis #lmk character analysis #kai keda analysis #kai Keda character analysis

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pumpkinpaix · 3 years

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mdzs fandom, diaspora, and cultural exchange

Hey everyone. This post contains a statement that’s been posted to my twitter, but was a collaborative effort between several diaspora fans over the last few weeks. Some of the specifics are part of a twitter-localized discourse, but the general sentiments and issues raised are applicable across the board, including here on tumblr.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably seen a few of my posts about this fandom, cultural exchange, and diasporic identity. For example, here, here, and here. This statement more directly criticizes some of the general issues I and others have raised in the past, and also hopefully provides a little more insight into where those issues come from. I would be happy if people took the time to read and reblog this, as the thought that went into it is not trivial, and neither is the subject matter. Thank you.

Introduction

Hello. I'm a member of a Chinese diaspora discord server - I volunteered to try and compile a thread of some thoughts regarding our place and roles in the fandom expressed in some of our recent discussions. This was primarily drafted by me and reviewed/edited by others with the hopes that we can share a cohesive statement on our honest feelings instead of repeatedly sharing multiple, fragmented versions of similar threads in isolation.

This was compiled by one group of diaspora and cannot be taken to represent diaspora as a whole, but we hope that our input can be considered with compassion and understanding of such.

For context, we are referencing two connected instances: the conflict described in these two threads (here and here), and when @/jelenedra tweeted about giving Jewish practices to the Lans. Regarding the latter, we felt that it tread into the territory of cultural erasure, and that it came from a person who had already disrespected diaspora’s work and input.

Context

The Lans have their own religious and cultural practices, rooted both in the cultural history of China and the genre of xianxia. Superimposing a different religious practice onto the Lans amidst other researched, canonical or culturally accurate details felt as if something important of ours was being overwritten for another’s personal satisfaction. Because canon is so intrinsically tied to real cultural, historical, and religious practices, replacing those practices in a canon setting fic feels like erasure. While MDZS is a fantasy novel, the religious practices contained therein are not. This was uncomfortable for many of us, and we wanted to point it out and have it resolved amicably. We were hoping for a discussion or exchange as there are many parallels and points of relation between Chinese and Jewish cultures, but that did not turn out quite as expected.

What happened next felt like a long game of outrage telephone that resulted in a confusion of issues that deflected responsibility, distracted from the origin of the conflict, and swept our concern under the rug.

Specifically, we are concerned about how these two incidents are part of what we feel is a repeated, widespread pattern of the devaluing of Chinese fans’ work and concerns within this fandom. This recent round of discourse is just one of many instances where we have found ourselves in a position of feeling spoken over within a space that is nominally ours. Regardless of what the telephone game was actually about, the way it played out revealed something about how issues are prioritized.

Background

MDZS is one of the first and largest franchises of cmedia that has become popular and easily accessible outside of China. Moreover, it’s a piece of queer Chinese media that is easily accessible to those of us overseas. For many non-Chinese fans, this is the first piece of cmedia they have connected with, and it’s serving as their introduction to a culture previously opaque to them. What perhaps is less obvious is that for many Chinese diaspora fans, this is also the first piece of cmedia THEY have connected with, found community with, seen themselves in.

Many, many of us have a fraught relationship with our heritage, our language—we often suffer from a sense of alienation, both from our families and from our surrounding peers. For our families, our command of the language and culture is often considered superficial, clunky, childish. Often, connecting with our culture is framed as a mandatory academic duty, and such an approach often fosters resentment towards our own heritage. For our non-Chinese peers, our culture is seen as exotic and strange and other, something shiny and interesting to observe, while we, trapped in the middle, find ourselves uprooted and adrift.

MDZS holds an incredibly important place in many diaspora’s hearts. Speaking for myself, this is literally the first time in my life I have felt motivated and excited about my own native tongue. It's the first time I have felt genuine hope that I might one day be able to speak and read it without fear and self-doubt. It is also the first time that so many people have expressed interest in learning from me, in hearing my thoughts and opinions about my culture.

This past year and a half in fandom has been an incredible experience. I know that I am not alone in this. So many diaspora I have spoken to just in the last week have expressed similar sentiments about the place MDZS holds in their lives. It is a precious thing to us, both because we love the story itself, and because it represents a lifeline to a heritage that’s never felt fully ours to grasp.

It’s wonderful to feel like we are able to welcome our friends into our home and show them all these things that have been so formative to our identities, and to be received with such enthusiasm and interest. Introducing this to non-Chinese friends and fans has also been an opportunity to bridge gaps and be humanized in a way that has been especially important in a year where yellow peril fear mongering has been at an all-time high.

History

However, MDZS’ rise in popularity among non-Chinese audiences has also come with certain difficulties. It is natural to want to take a story you love and make it your own: that’s what transformative fandom is all about. It is also natural that misunderstandings and unintentional missteps might happen when you aren’t familiar with the ins and outs of the culture and political history of the story in question. This is understandable and forgivable—perfection is impossible, even for ourselves.

We hope for consideration and respect when we give our knowledge freely and when we raise the issue of our own discomfort with certain statements or actions regarding our culture. Please remember that what is an isolated incident to you might be a pattern of growing microaggressions to us. In non-Asian spaces, Asian diaspora are often lumped together under one umbrella. In the west, a lot of Chinese diaspora attach themselves to Korean and Japanese media in order to feel some semblance of connection to a media which approximates our cultures because there are cultural similarities. This is the first time we've collectively found community around something that is actually ours, so the specificities matter.

There is a bitterness about being Asian diaspora and a misery in having to put up a united front about racial issues. Enmity towards one group becomes a danger to all of us, all while our own conflicted histories with one another continue to pass trauma down through the generations. Many of us don’t even watch anime in front of our grandparents because of that lingering cultural antipathy. When the distinctions between our cultures are muddled, it feels once again like that very fraught history is flattened and forgotten.

Without the lived experience of it, it’s hard to understand how pervasive the contradictory web of anti-Asian and, more specifically, anti-Chinese racial aggressions are and how insidious its effects are. The conflation of China the political entity (as perceived and presented by the US and Europe) with its people, culture, and diaspora results in an exhausting litany of criticism levied like a bludgeon, often by people who don’t understand the complicated nature of a situation against those of us who do.

There is often a frankly stunning lack of self-awareness re: cultural biases and blind spots when it comes to discussions of MDZS, particularly moral ones. There are countless righteous claims and hot takes on certain aspects of the story, its author, and the characters that are so clearly rooted in a Euroamerican political and moral framework that does not reflect Chinese cultural realities and experiences. Some of these takes have become so widespread they are essentially accepted as fanon.

This is a pattern of behavior within the fandom. It is not limited to any specific group, nor does it even exclude ourselves—we are, after all, not a monolith, and we should not be placed on pedestals to have our differing opinions weaponized against one another in fandom squabbles. We are not flawless in our own understandings and approaches, and we would appreciate it if others would remember this before using any of us as ultimate authorities to settle a personal score.

It is difficult not to be disheartened when enthusiastic interest crosses the line into entitled demand and when transformative work crosses into erasure, especially when the reactions to our raised concerns have so frequently been dismissive and hostile. The overwhelming cultural and emotional labor we bring to the table is often taken advantage of and then criticized in bad faith. We are bombarded with racist aggressions, micro and macro, and then met with ridicule and annoyance when we push back. Worse, we sometimes face accusations of hostility that force us to apologize, back down, and let the matter go.

When we bring up our issues, it usually seems to come with the expectation that there are other issues that should be addressed before we can address ours. It feels like it’s never really the time to talk about Asian issues.

On the internet and in fandom spaces, Western-coded media, politics and perspectives are assumed to be general knowledge and experience that everyone knows and has. It feels like a double standard that we are expected to know the ins and outs of western politics and to engage on these terms, but most non-Chinese have not even the slightest grasp of the sort of politics that are at play within our communities. We end up feeling used for our specialized knowledge and cultural background and then dismissed when our opinions and problems are inconvenient.

As the culture represented in MDZS is not a culture that most non-Chinese fans are familiar with, we’d like to remind you that you do not get to decide which parts of it are or are not important. While sharing this space with Chinese diaspora who have a close connection to the work and the painful history that goes along with being diaspora, we ask that you be mindful of listening to our concerns.

Cultural erasure is tied to a lot of intense historical and generational trauma for us that maybe isn't immediately evident: the horrors of the Pacific theatre, the far-reaching consequences of colonization, racial tensions both among ourselves and with non-Chinese etc. These are not minor or simple things, and when we talk about our issues within fandom, this is often what underlies them. This is one of the first and only places many of us have been able to find community to discuss our unique issues without feeling as if we’re speaking out of turn.

With the HK protests, COVID, the anti-Chinese platforms of the US election etc., anti-Chinese sentiment has been at the forefront of the global news cycle for some time now, and it is with complete sincerity that we emphasize once again how important MDZS fandom has been as a haven for humanizing and valuing Chinese people through cultural exchange.

Experiencing racial aggression within that space stings, not just because it’s a space we love, but because it feels like we’ve been swimming in rapidly rising racial aggression for over a year at this point.

Feelings

This is a difficult topic to broach at the best of times, and these are not the best of times. Many of us have a wariness of rocking the boat instilled in us from our upbringings, and it is not uncommon for us to feel like we should be grateful that people want to engage with something of ours at all. When we do decide to speak up, we’ve learned that there is a not insignificant chance that we’ll be turned on and trampled over because what we’ve said is inconvenient or uncomfortable. When it is already so difficult to speak up, we end up second-guessing and gaslighting ourselves into wondering whether there really was a problem at all.

We’d like to be able to share what we know about our culture and have our knowledge and experience be taken seriously and treated with courtesy. This is a beautiful, rich world built with the history of our ancestors, one that we too are trying to connect with. When we find it in ourselves to speak up about it, we would appreciate being met with consideration instead of hostility.

We don't have the luxury of stepping away from our culture when we get tired of it. We don't get to put it down and walk away when it’s difficult. But if you're not Chinese or Chinese diaspora, you get to put this book down—we'd like to kindly request that you put it down gently because of how much it matters to all of us in this fandom, regardless of heritage.

What we are asking for is reflection and thoughtfulness as we continue to engage with this work and with one another, especially with regards to how Chinese issues are positioned. When we raise issues of our own discomfort, please take a moment to reflect before reacting defensively or trying to shut us down for spoiling the fun—don’t deprioritize our concerns, especially in a fandom for a piece of Chinese media. We promise most of us are not trying to start shit for the sake of a fight. Most of the time, all we want is acknowledgement and a genuine attempt at understanding.

Our hope with this statement is to encourage more openness and understanding between diaspora and non-Chinese fans while we navigate this place that we’re sharing. Please remember that for many of us, MDZS is far more intense than a typical fandom experience. Remember that the knowledge we have and research we do is freely and happily given, and that it costs us both materially and emotionally. Please don’t take that for granted. Remember too that sometimes the reason for our discomfort may not be immediately evident to you: what seems culturally neutral and harmless might touch upon specific loaded issues for us. We ask for patience, and we ask for sincerity as we try to communicate with one another.

We are writing this because there’s a collective sense of imposed silence—that every time the newest round of discourse crops up, we often feel as if we’re walking away having created no meaningful change, and nursing new wounds that we’ll never get to address. But without speaking up about it, this is a cycle that will keep repeating.

This is not meant to shame or guilt the fandom into throwing themselves at our feet, either to thank us or beg for forgiveness—far from that. We’re just your friends and your fellow fans. We are happy to have you here, and we’re happy to create and share and play together. We just ask to be respected and heard.

Thank you. Thank you for listening. Several of us will be stepping back from twitter for a while. We’ll see you when we get back. ❤️

* A final addendum: here are two articles with solid practical advice on writing stories regarding a culture other than your own.

Cultural Appropriation for the Worried Writer: Some Practical Advice

Cultural Appropriation: Some More Practical Advice

The thread on twitter is linked in the source of this post. Thanks everyone.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #the untamed #the untamed meta #cql #asian diaspora #chinese diaspora #race #racism #mine #mymeta #once again my tag failing me because this is a collaborative work #but! for the sake of organization #statistically average #cultural appropriation #cultural erasure #what else do i tag this im so wired

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yukisohmasmokesweed · 3 years

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what are your opinions on the thought process that Shigure groomed Akito so he could have control over them?

i think this opinion is a massive oversimplification of akito and shigure's power dynamic that has roots in the latent sexist idea that men inherently have power over women, as well as the heteronormative idea that love between a man and a woman is inherently romantic.

first off, i think it's a pretty bizarre assumption that a child could have the wherewithal and foresight to enact a complex series of actions that relies on the aggressor having a working knowledge of children's needs and behavior and years of planning and execution. people like to cite shigure's childhood declaration that he "...want[s] to make that [love] last forever...to give it form and make it [his]" as a statement of intent to groom and control. not only is this an absurd thing to say about a child who can't be any older than 10, it disregards two vital facets of akito and shigure's relationship: the magic in combination with shigure's own trauma. in my opinion, these lines speak to the power of the bond and how shigure interprets it. hatori and ayame reject it, the former letting himself sink into despair over his lack of control and festers in resentment, the latter completely removing himself from family life in order to avoid it. shigure, however, copes with the curse by diving in head first; just like the rest of the zodiac, he knows that there is no way out, so he embraces the good things about it in order to cope. in addition to this, though we don't know much about shigure's upbringing, we can assume based on his short interaction with his parents that he came from an emotionally neglectful home (expanded on here), so the prospect of unconditional love from akito is something he craves. i think these are much more reasonable motivations for the beginning of shigure's obsession rather than positing that grooming a person he had never met before he even went through puberty was his goal.

with regards to gendered power dynamics, i think this take severely underestimates the amount of abuse shigure withstands from akito. the idea that shigure is somehow in control of the relationship is simply not true; their relationship is DEFINED by their power struggle, which is a game that akito was winning until the very end. it ignores that men can be abused (and we see him being abused by akito, both physically and emotionally), and it also ignores that, in many toxic and abusive relationships, there is not always someone who is purely a victim. shigure is undoubtedly horrible to akito back—he is vindictive, cruel, and cold towards them. he also knows full well that he is one of akito's most important emotional supports and uses this position to manipulate them. however, his gender and age does NOT give him power over akito. he must do as akito says, both because of the magic and akito's position as the family head. while their relationship is not necessarily a victim-and-perpetrator situation, the power dynamic clearly favors akito, who is literally all-powerful and a professional abuser.

with regards to the heteronormative idea that men and women who love each other is inherently romantic: the scene most often referenced for this opinion is the scene between teenage shigure and child akito in chapter 101 where he tells akito he loves them. i do not interpret this scene to be romantic whatsoever, and i actually think it's really weird and telling that so many people do. these are two people whose only comfort is one another and have known each other since early childhood; i don't think it's weird at all for shigure to tell akito he loves them in this situation. given fb's focus on familial and platonic love, how platonic love can transform into romance, and the fact that akigure is a parallel to kyoru, i interpret this scene as entirely familial/platonic.

i can understand why people have this opinion: shigure is a man, and he's older, and he is a manipulator. he gives people very visceral reactions because he's incredibly well written. his actions do also fit into some of the stages of grooming, but it falls apart upon closer look (source): he targets a child (ie, he becomes close with his cousin who he is supernaturally bonded to against his free will), he gains the child's trust (ie, they become friends), and he fills a need, in this case akito's lack of parental support, all of which he does as a child himself. he does not, and cannot, isolate the child because he doesn't have the power to—akito's status would prevent them from being completely isolated (a good example of akito's position inherently giving them more power). when it comes to sexualizing the relationship, we just don't know, there isn't enough textual evidence to argue either way. as for the last step, maintaining control, shigure does NOT try and make akito think he is the only person who can fulfill akito's emotional and physical needs. in fact, he's doing the opposite; he WANTS akito to meet and be changed by tohru, and he has no problem with akito's intimate relationship with hatori, who probably provides more emotional and physical support to them than anyone. you could argue that shigure is trying to isolate akito by driving the other zodiacs away, but i don't think shigure attempting to separate an abuser from their victims is what "isolate" is meant to reflect here. so, as we can see, shigure fulfills SOME of the stages of grooming, but i don't think they hold up to scrutiny if you're thinking about fb in a nuanced and world-appropriate way.

i can also see why people misinterpret shigure's bid for control as some sort of abuse, but he states that he wants to be equal with akito, not above. i do think there is an aspect of misogyny here; shigure's masculinity, and the role that masculinity grants him in society, is threatened by akito's control over him, but i don't think having fragile masculinity and making grabs for power because of it when you're in an abusive relationship is abuse in turn.

i'm not trying to absolve shigure of anything here. he is cruel, he is manipulative, and he does things to hurt akito on purpose whether it's in revenge or not. but i don't think shigure meets the standards of being a groomer, and i think this assumption, in addition to what i previously stated, is a symptom of fandom misusing buzzwords to gain points. it's not a nuanced view and i think a lot of it, in my experience, comes from projection; shigure, in all his awfulness, is extremely easy to project onto. however, i think that there are some things in fb that are just not analogous to real life, and that this aspect of akito and shigure's relationship is one of them.

#ask #meta???#takes a huge bong rip #csa mention #shigure #akito #shigure sohma #akito sohma #fruits basket

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tennessoui · 3 years

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18 obikin!! Amnesia fics are super fun 🍆

18. One of them wakes up with amnesia (Option A because two people sent in this prompt number and I liked both ideas I saw for it enough to not want to pick) this involves an Obi-Wan that got deaged as well as lost his memories so he's Phantom Menace Obi-Wan. no i will not be explaining. hand wavey drabble fic writing.

The man has not stopped staring, but something in his intense gaze makes Obi-Wan feel safe. Almost. Well. On edge, yes, but. Protected. He has the strange feeling that he’d rather be under this man’s stare than anywhere else in the entire galaxy.

But he knows he’s never seen this man before in his life, the same way that he knows he’s twenty-five and that Qui-Gon Jinn is his Master, that he’s a Jedi knight-in-training, that he hates teas with mint leaves in them, that he’ll never say no to a drink with Quinlan, that--well.

He supposes none of that stuff could be true anymore. Vokra Che, who’s a grown and certified healer master now, had told him what had happened. An older version of himself had touched something he wasn’t supposed to. The closest translation they could find to the runes on the object was that it would transform the user back to their most balanced state. Obi-Wan’s had, apparently, been at the age of twenty-five. He hadn’t recognized the name Anakin Skywalker. He had never been to Naboo.

He throws the rest of his drink back and waves to the bartender to pour him another. He’d gone straight here from the Halls of Healing. He’d had a shadow the entire way, but the man has yet to try to talk to him at all. It’s infuriating.

His Padawan braid swings into his field of vision for a second. He tosses it over his shoulder. He’d been told. Qui-Gon had died. Obi-Wan wants to not think about it at all.

There’s a brush of a Force presence that’s both familiar and completely foreign next to him. The man has finally moved to his side. Obi-Wan’s jaw ticks at his continued reticence, the way he’s observing him but not talking to him. It just simply won’t do, but Obi-Wan isn’t feeling his kindest. He doesn’t want whatever this man is offering him with his silent, dour stares and his suffocating Force signature that keeps trying to tangle itself with Obi-Wan’s own. It’s rude is what it is.

He waves down the bartender and orders a drink for the man. “If you got mint, put it in,” he tells the woman who raises an eyebrow but shrugs, one pair of her arms busy with the drink. When she gives it to him he slides it to the man next to him without even looking at him.

“What--” the man asks. “I don’t--”

“You do tonight,” Obi-Wan says bracingly, throwing back half of his own drink. “We’ve both just lost our Masters, haven’t we?”

The man beside him flinches as if Obi-Wan had skewered him with his lightsaber.

“You are him, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan lolls his head to the side to look at the man threw half-closed eyes. “My padawan.”

“Anakin,” the man says so quietly it’s almost lost to the noise of the bar. “I’m Anakin Skywalker, yeah.”

Obi-Wan takes a drink reflexively, humming in disbelief. “You don’t look like it,” he says consideringly. At Anakin’s confused look, he elaborates. “You don’t look like you could have ever been a Padawan.”

The man pulls himself up, face darkening at the perceived slight. It’s almost too easy to rile him up, but now that he has, Obi-Wan finds he has no interest in fighting this man. Quite the opposite, really. That’s...something. He can’t tell if that emotion comes from him now or the older version of him.

Either way, Obi-Wan has no desire to stand in the way of whatever storm this Anakin is building up in his head, so he turns to face him completely and pushes both hands into his blond hair, raking down the scalp gently before collecting the strands into a poor imitation of the Padawan ponytail. “That’s better, I suppose. The hair threw me off.” He lets go slowly, making sure to tug at one of the strands at the last second.

Anakin has a very strange look on his face, but he’s definitely not angry anymore. He’s even shielding much more tightly now. Obi-Wan smirks into his glass as he takes a sip. He definitely remembers that trick.

“Do you know who cut it?” he asks, catching sight of the end of his braid again. The drinks are going to his head much more quickly than he had intended. Must be all the trauma his body has gone through in the past few days. “My braid.”

“I.” Anakin stutters, caught off guard. “You did.”

Obi-Wan feels like laughing but also a bit like crying. There’s a terrifying emotion rearing its head in his chest. It threatens to swallow him whole. “Well, I suppose I never liked to stand on ceremony.”

“You cut your braid in the fresher and then called me in and braided mine,” Anakin says distantly, as if caught up in the memory. “You wouldn’t let me hold it. I thought you were so mean. But I understood at my Knighting Ceremony. It was a part of me in my hand, a...starmap of all the places I’d been and the things I’d learned during my training. And there was only one person I wanted to give it to in the whole galaxy.”

“Did you?” He asks, taking a sip to hide how important the question is, how devastating the answer could be.

“Well. Yeah. But I guess I don’t know if you kept it,” Anakin cuts his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s and runs his fingers up the long stem of his drink.

Obi-Wan chokes on a laugh. “He definitely did.”

The other man’s face settles into a frown. “You don’t know that. You’re not him.”

“I’m enough of him. I’ve got--some feelings. In my head. Impressions.”

“Of me?”

“Of how he felt about you.”

Anakin’s eyes widen and then narrow with a sudden intensity that makes Obi-Wan want to shiver. It’s like being in the eye of a storm. His hold on the delicate glass in his hand becomes dangerously tight as he leans forward into Obi-Wan’s space, as if he can’t get close enough to him.

“What do you feel when you look at me?” he asks almost breathlessly. Obi-Wan blinks, trying to figure out if he’s being seduced or not. It’s sort of working. It’s all that focus, directly on him. Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind if that’s how the night ended. But sleeping with his former padawan who he can’t remember right now doesn’t seem like the best decision he could make.

But Anakin had liked it when Obi-Wan tugged at his hair. He’d arched closer to him. And now, the distance between them has been eaten away until they’re almost pressed chest to shoulder.

“Safe,” he decides to say, even though the word feels too small. “Sad,” which is mostly true but also an oversimplification. It’s a sort of nostalgia mixed with sadness, mixed with acceptance and resignation. “Warm,” because even after being denied entry to Obi-Wan’s mind, Anakin’s force presence has curled around Obi-Wan’s like some sort of krayt dragon, content to wait and guard and treasure. He leans forward, just until his mouth brushes against the skin of Anakin’s ear. “Coveted.”

Anakin definitely shifts at that, and when Obi-Wan pulls back enough to see his face, his pupils are blown wide.

Swallowing a grin, Obi-Wan swallows the rest of his drink in one go. “Drink up,” he tells Anakin in his most demanding tone, reaching into his pockets to pull out his older self’s credits to settle the tab. “I want to go.”

Anakin obeys immediately, making a face at the taste.

They’re out in the street within a few minutes, Anakin smacking his lips as if still trying to rid himself of the flavor. “I just don’t know why you had to order me that,” he complains, falling into step on Obi-Wan’s right.

Obi-Wan pauses and leans against the very unsanitary wall of the building, spreading his legs wide enough so that Anakin can come in between them. The man doesn’t seem to notice anything different, just steps a bit closer as a crowd of loud party-goers makes their way past them.

“I wanted to see if I liked mint,” Obi-Wan shrugs, raising his hand to rest on the skin of Anakin’s neck. He can feel the way his pulse is beating incredibly fast.

“Why would my drink help you with--”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. He commends his older self for being able to teach this idiot anything, even though he seems to have skipped over important lessons like Recognizing When You’re Being Flirted With.

Before Anakin can finish the thought, Obi-Wan twists his other hand in Anakin’s robes and pulls him forward until their lips are a hair’s breadth apart. “May I kiss you?” he asks because it’s only polite to.

Anakin’s eyes widen and then fall shut as he gives a little nod, finally stepping forward until their bodies are pressed completely together.

At least someone, although he doubts it was the older Obi-Wan, taught Anakin how to kiss. Obi-Wan’s toes curl in his boots as Anakin takes control of the action, moving his hands so one’s pressing against the wall behind them and one’s running up his scalp. Obi-Wan takes his time licking into Anakin’s mouth, allowing Anakin to explore him in return. One of them moans, which seems like as good a time as any to break the kiss.

“Well?” Anakin pants, diving in to place a short kiss onto Obi-Wan’s lips. “What do you think?”

The short answer is that Obi-Wan isn’t. He noses back towards Anakin’s mouth hopefully, sliding his hand down from his neck to rest on his hip.

“About mint,” Anakin elaborates when Obi-Wan doesn’t respond immediately.

“Inconclusive. Need more data,” Obi-Wan tries to kiss him but Anakin’s smiling too hard.

“Then next time you can get the awful drink, and you can get me the Alderaan Sunset,” Anakin is complaining, but he’s laughing too and that’s nice. Obi-Wan thinks that making Anakin Skywalker laugh is one of the best feelings in the galaxy, and he thinks his older self would agree, if the warmth sparking up in his very soul means anything at all.

#asks #my fics #writing #tarantasina #i'm sure eventually they get obi-wan back to normal and he's just sooooo embarrassed that he got drunk and decided to seduce anakin #but like it worked out #anakin makes fun of him too until obi-wan remembers that he kissed back #prompt fill

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hood-ex · 3 years

Text

This is a fic written for @stxleslyds! The prompt was: a fic with Dick, Roy and Lian spending time together in the Outsiders era. Thanks for the donation, Tati 💙.

Important: This fic takes place a week after the events of Outsiders (2003) #19.

“We could use you here,” Roy says. Even with his voice coming directly through the comm, Dick almost doesn’t hear him say, “I need you here.”

A soft wind blows through Blüdhaven, ruffling through Dick’s sweat-matted hair. What a filthy night it is for a Friday. Thunder rumbling in the distance with hot, humid air filling Dick’s lungs. It’s the kind of air that isn’t natural for a place like the ‘Haven. It’s here for whatever reason, and it’s no better now that the sun has been replaced by pink and purple neon lights flashing across the strip. It’s nights like these that Dick can admit to missing his red tunic and green shorts. It was shit to wear them in the winter but an absolute godsend in the summer.

Dick sighs deeply, moving away from the ledge of the building and away from his view of the herds of drunk people whose laughter echoes between the bars and casinos. There’s a tall HVAC unit in the middle of the building that he walks over to and sits against. The fabric of his suit rubs against it, and he squirms a little at the uncomfortable position. He bears it because this is a conversation that requires a little support.

“Dick.”

“I know,” Dick mutters.

He should be under the streets of Brooklyn the same as all the other Outsiders should be. Considering the circumstances, it’s no surprise that some of them have deserted the ship for the time being. Licking their wounds in private so to speak. Dick’s not proud of it. He tacks it onto his mental bulletin board of shame where it sits up there all torn and ugly like the rest of his deplorable moments.

“I’d feel better if you were here to watch Lian when I step out of the room,” Roy says in Japanese. Dick’s brow furrows. Either Lian is in the same room as Roy and he doesn’t want her to know they’re talking about her or there’s an Outsider nearby that he doesn’t want listening in on his personal issues. “She hasn’t started therapy yet and her separation anxiety is still high.”

“High for both of you,” Dick points out. He thinks back to a few days ago when Roy had called him in a panic because he’d left all of his groceries in the middle of the store after his paranoia got the best of him and had him running back to the base to check on Lian.

“Tell me about it,” Roy laughs dryly. “I feel like I’m going fuckin’ nuts, dude.” The strain in his voice sends a full body shiver down Dick’s spine. “All I can think about is whether she’s okay and if the base is protected enough, and if I can really trust everyone here. You and Kory are the only ones I feel okay leaving her with.”

You shouldn’t trust me like that, Dick thinks bitterly. Lilith and Donna trusted me with their lives and look where they are now.

“Everyone else is… I trust them as teammates. I trust them with my life. But I can’t—"

“Trust them with Lian’s,” Dick says, knowing how much this whole situation has fucked with Roy's ability to trust anyone and everyone. Except him and Kory, apparently. Probably Ollie and the rest of Roy's family too.

He thunks his head against the HVAC unit and stares up at the dark sky. Not a single star up there, he thinks, and something like guilt burns in his chest. You took them all with you, didn’t you, Donna? Put them in your pockets and faded away. “She might not be comfortable with me there,” he says after a moment.

It pains him to think that Lian could be scared of him. Scared of him because he looks similar to one of the blue-eyed, dark-haired kidnappers who murdered her babysitter and then branded her like cattle. That type of trauma association doesn’t go away after a week.

“Kory told Lian you might stop by, and you know what Lian asked her?”

Terrible things flash through Dick’s head. Things like words born of fear or disgust. He hugs his arms around his knees and squeezes them tight.

“No, what did she say?”

“She asked, ‘Is Uncle Nightwing gonna bring Blue’s Clues with him?’”

A smile tugs at the corner of Dick’s lips and his eyes start to sting. He can’t believe that’s the first thing she thought of. It only seems like yesterday that he was watching Blue’s Clues with her in Titans Tower. Sometimes he would pause the show and ask Lian questions about each of the clues just to hear what kind of outlandish answers her kid brain could come up with. Other times the detective in him couldn’t help but steer her towards a logical answer. Roy used to always roll his eyes and tell him to stop trying to turn her into a mini Nightwing.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be okay seeing me in person and you know it,” Dick reminds him.

Roy’s sigh is soft and muffled in his ear. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dick’s not one to wait around.

“Let’s cross it now.”

“You’re coming over?” Roy asks, and even though he mostly sounds neutral, Dick can hear the disbelief hidden under it all.

If there was an award for the world's most shitty friend, Dick would probably be in the lead to receive it. Here Roy is dealing with the fact that his daughter was abducted and almost trafficked, and what’s Dick been doing for the last few days instead of sticking by his side? Working himself to the bone in Blüdhaven, that’s what. Hiding away from the fact that he almost lost another important person to him. Trying to avoid the crushing weight of failure that clings to him like a second skin.

Pathetic. Some safety net he is.

“Yeah, give me an hour,” Dick says.

The commute from Blüdhaven to Brooklyn isn’t bad at this time of night. Most of the traffic is packed downtown where all the bars are lined up. Dick takes the highway to avoid the worst of it.

The roar of the city dies off once he goes underground. Down here the HQ looms over him in all its steel glory. Dick’s always thought of it like one giant elevator. It’s all hard angles and sleek, silver walls. Hardly a place one would describe as homey, but it was home to a few people nevertheless.

Dick goes inside after getting his eye and hand scanned by the computer. He heads down the hallway, keeping his footsteps light and quiet out of habit. So far there’s no sign of Jade, Indigo, or Rex in any of the rooms he passes. They’re the most likely to be here around this time. From what Kory told him the other day, Grace has been spending most of her time clubbing, and Anissa has been staying with her dad. He hates to admit it but it’s almost a relief that he doesn’t have to worry about running into either of them.

He ends up finding Roy and Lian in the rec room. Lian is sitting on the leather couch in the middle of the room. She must have had a shower not too long ago because her hair is a little damp and she’s wearing a pair of purple pajamas with unicorns on them. A Cinderella blanket is strewn across her lap and a stuffed rabbit sits discarded on the floor by her feet.

Roy looks small squatting in front of her. His pants are the only sign of his Arsenal gear, and it makes Dick feel slightly out of place since he’s still decked out in full mask and suit. It’s the first time Dick’s seen Roy in person since they brought down Tanner’s operations a week ago. He looks how Dick would expect any parent to look after being targeted by a major sex trafficker: stressed and exhausted.

Those tired eyes of his shift to the doorway where Dick stands, and Dick can see the way Roy looks him over from head to toe, assessing Dick’s condition. He can look as hard as he wants, but he won’t find anything. Dick keeps his face blank and unreadable.

“It still hurts,” Lian whimpers, and both Dick and Roy's attention immediately snaps back to her.

She wraps her arms around her stomach and bends over her lap like she’s going to throw up all over the floor. Roy doesn’t move to try and avoid any possible bouts of vomit. Nothing happens as the seconds tick by. No retching or anything. There’s only the sound of Roy’s hand rubbing up and down Lian’s arm.

“Me and your Uncle Nightwing are gonna get you feeling better soon,” Roy assures her in a gentle voice. “And guess what?”

Lian makes a questioning sound in the back of her throat.

The look Roy shoots Dick is somewhere between caution and amusement. “He’s been playing quiet mouse behind you this whole time.”

Dick braces himself as Lian shoots back up like a rocket. “He’s behind me?” she asks, twisting around in her seat. Dick’s heart starts jackrabbiting because what if she’s scared of him? What if he accidentally triggers her PTSD? What if— “Uncle Nightwing!” Lian shrieks.

Relief shudders through him because she sounds happy to see him. Not scared or angry or disgusted like he feared. She’s looking at him like he just told her he brought her a bag of candy, and that revelation is enough to make him take a breath and finally enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick says, hurrying over to the couch so that she doesn’t have to get up. “I missed you.”

Lian reaches for his hand and holds on to it. It’s not like the hug Dick usually gets from her and maybe that’s because she doesn’t want anyone touching her back after the incident. Dick will take anything he can get. His much larger hand closes over her own and he swings them back and forth lightly.

“Me too,” Lian says. She squeezes his hand three times. “Why do you still have your gloves on?”

“My hands are cold,” Dick lies. “Why were you bent over like an accordion just a minute ago?”

“Her tummy’s been hurting,” Roy says with a frown.

“It’s because tigers used to try and eat people,” Lian tells him matter-of-factly. Roy looks like he’s about to correct her but she quickly hurries on. “My brain says there’s danger and it makes my tummy stop working.”

A lightbulb goes off in Dick’s head as he realizes that she’s describing anxiety. A simplified explanation of how the digestive system shuts down and sends blood to other parts of the body when there’s danger.

“My tummy does that too,” Dick says after a pause. “I get a lot of anxiety sometimes. Do you want me to show you how I try to make it go away?”

Lian scrunches her nose. “Do we have to take medicine?”

“Nope. All we need to do is sit up straight and breathe. Breathing really deep helps our brains calm down and makes our tummies feel more relaxed,” Dick explains. He sinks down on the plush couch and demonstrates how she should be sitting. “Now move back until you’re sitting like me.”

Lian does as she’s told and scoots back until she’s resting against the back of the couch. Dick only remembers how short she is when he notices how her feet stick out straight in front of her instead of dangling over the edge of the couch.

“Now tell your daddy to get in position.”

“Daddy,” Lian slaps the free cushion beside her, “sit next to me.”

“Magic word?” Roy prompts.

“Please,” Lian pouts.

“That’s better.” Roy’s knees pop when he shifts out of his crouched position. The whole couch rocks when he falls back against it. “What’s the strat here, Wing? We need to close our eyes or what?”

Dick wants to ask him why he’s acting like he’s never done this before but the playful words stick in his mouth like glue.

“We’ll close our eyes in a second. Lian, I want you to watch how your daddy and I take really deep breaths, okay? Then we’re all going to do it together.”

“I can take really big breaths!” Lian insists. She scrambles out of her pose and gets on her knees. Her little fingers wrap around Dick’s bicep as she leans in close to him. “I can take one million breaths as big as an elephant!”

The tired and apathetic part of him tells him to ignore her kid logic and to get back on track. The uncle part of him is another story. It wants him to be fun and helpful. To distract Lian from the worries and fears she has.

In the end, he does what he always does best: puts on a performance.

“Oh yeah?” Dick challenges with a grin that hopefully doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “I can take five billion breaths as big as a planet.”

“Elephants are bigger than planets,” she says.

“I think maybe the elephants are only bigger in your dreams.”

“Yeah, they are,” Lian agrees because she’s a typical kid who will support anything that proves she’s right in some capacity.

Roy looks amused when he puts his hands on Lian’s shoulders and steers her to sit back on her bottom. “Alright little missy, no more talking. We’re gonna do what Uncle Nightwing says now, okay?”

“Okay,” Lian agrees, looking over at Dick expectantly.

Coaching Lian through the exercise is easy. The most important part is making sure she’s taking breaths that are deep enough to make her stomach expand like a balloon. Dick has her place her hands on top of her stomach so he can see them rise when she inhales.

Roy follows along and Dick can tell that he’s taking advantage of the exercises for his own benefit. His face looks peaceful and relaxed as he follows along with Dick’s instructions to suck in a breath on the count of one and exhale up until the count of ten.

“Keep focusing on counting,” Dick tells them while they exhale. “We don’t want any other thoughts in our heads. No bad thoughts or funny thoughts. Only think about counting to ten.”

They run through a few more cycles. Dick’s pleased when he hears both Lian and Roy’s stomachs grumbling as they exhale. It’s a good sign that the deep breaths are massaging their organs and decreasing any kind of stomach pain.

“That’s it,” Dick says. “We’re all done.” He opens his eyes and sees Lian slumped against the back of the couch. Her hands are still resting on her stomach, but she looks languid instead of tense like she was when he first saw her.

“I’m tired now,” Roy says. His movements are slow as molasses when he slides forward to the edge of the couch and bends over to rest his arms on his thighs. He looks at Lian. “How about you, princess? You feeling any better?”

“Mhmm. My tummy doesn’t feel really uh…”

“Tight?” Dick offers.

“Yeah, it’s not so tight anymore.”

Roy pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. Mine feels a little better too.”

“Can we do Uncle Nightwing’s breathing thing again tomorrow?” she asks through a yawn.

“Sure thing,” Roy nods. His attention shifts to Dick. “Are you gonna still be here to lead us through it?”

This isn’t some kind of test but it feels like one. It feels like if he says no then he’s only proving that he’s a bad friend. That he can’t be relied on. He doesn’t want to give Roy that impression because it’s not true. Roy can rely on him the same way Dick relies on Roy. He hopes showing up here tonight is proof of that.

“That’s the plan,” he says, voice soft.

Roy leans over the couch and squeezes Dick’s knee gently. “You sure?” he asks, and his eyes roam over Dick’s face like he’s trying to find evidence that Dick is lying.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He pats Roy’s hand reassuringly in the same way Alfred's done for him and Bruce a hundred times. It's only now that he realizes it's a habit he's picked up.

Lian suddenly leans into Dick’s side and presses her weight against his arm. She pats both his and Roy’s hands.

“I’m sure too,” she says, and this time Dick can’t help but smile.

#Dick Grayson #Roy Harper #Lian Harper #tw: mentions of sex trafficking #tw: mentions of past kidnapping and child abuse #my fic #fic commission

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fangirleaconmigo · 2 years

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Building Witcher Characters for Fic

Hey it's Friday. How about some musings on building characters? I'm going to talk about witchers, but it could be about any characters.

We fic writers have a particular challenge. We have to look at an already existing character, and get to the core of them. We have to get inside a house someone else built. (TV writers do this too. But I'm not a TV writer so this will be for fic writers)

We are trying to understand them in a way that allows us to put them in new and novel situations. We may transform them from there, or not. They may end up being pretty far from canon. BUT having a starting point helps.

So, first I try to identify a core trait to anchor the character. To do that, I approach the character through the lens of trauma. I ask...what is left after the trauma? Here's what I mean.

We all change in response to trauma, for good or for bad. It's like iron stuck in a fire. Something about you is rearranged. Sometimes people become softer. Sometimes they become harder. But you cannot stay exactly the same.

So, all of these characters with horrific backstories, whatever part of their personality is left that is uniquely them, is such a core part of who they are, is so inseparable from their spirit, that no horror they went through could take it away. It was not melded into them later in life. It was a part of the original whole and it was inconceivably stubborn.

It becomes a frame of reference for how they make decisions in specific scenes.

So for example, the witchers.

The Kaer Morhen witchers all went through the most horrific trauma one can imagine: abandonment, betrayal, torture, loss on a massive scale, pain, powerlessness, and grief. What is left in each one of them that is distinctive and almost inhumanly tenacious?

For Geralt it is his desire to help people. Sometimes other characters in that world see his need to be the hero as self righteous or self important. And maybe it was a little bit when he was young (he fully admits this). But as experience and wisdom and exhaustion washes away the ego part of heroics, it is boiled down to who he is fundamentally. And that is, Geralt is person who needs to help. He is a person who is deeply attached to his beliefs about what is good and what is evil. And no matter what happens to him, no matter the cost, he cannot stop trying to do good. And to him, good means helping. It is his core.

We have a lot less time with the other witchers in the books, but what jumps out to me for each of them, are parts of their characters that still feel like small miracles, considering all they have been through.

No amount of physical abuse, roughness, death, or pain could snuff out Eskel's gentleness. More on Eskel here.

No amount of cruelty or injustice could eradicate Lamberts sense of fairness and justice.

No amount of murder and evilness in the power structures around him could take away Vesemir's sense of moral leadership.

And even though his childhood was stolen, nothing could take Cöen’s boyishness. His joy. His sense of play. It persevered and he offered it to Ciri, another frightened, traumatized child.

How did they hold onto these things?? (Gimme a moment I need to have an emotion. Ok, I'm back.) They held onto them because it is who they are.

Now, does this mean that Geralt can ONLY be good? Eskel can ONLY be gentle? Lambert is ALWAYS fair, or Cöen will ALWAYS be cheerful or joyful?

God, no. No, no, no.

We all do things that go thoroughly against our own natures. We all have days in which we are tired, or angry, or spiteful, or even bitter. Writing someone who has gone through pain and is acting outside of their nature and who has to then contend with that is good, juicy storytelling.

It also doesn't mean that these traits cannot have weaknesses imbedded in them. You can look at those traits and imagine what the drawbacks would be and start there. For Geralt it IS sometimes self righteousness. Perhaps for Lambert it is inflexibility and assholery. Perhaps for Eskel it is that too much tact can be dishonest. I'm just spitballing here. Just ideas.

And of course none of that covers the entirety of who they are. I could add two or three other minor traits and go from there. But it's as good a start as any.

My first few fics were pretty much just...I made a list of the words they seemed to use a lot in the show, and I wrote a fic where they kissed (among other things). And that was a lot of fun. But I keep trying to challenge myself to grow as a writer. And as I do, I dig a little bit deeper.

(Though I will never stop writing fluff where they just get to laugh, snuggle, be happy, and kiss because they deserve it and frankly it makes me feel better.)

But thinking like this helps when I throw these characters into scenes and situations. What is going to be their first instinct? What about their second instinct? How do all of their natures clash in the same situation? Having this starting point helps.

So, anyway, I don't know if that helps or is interesting. But I was thinking about it, so here we are. Happy Friday, and happy writing.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #eskel #lambert #vesemir #cöen #coen #writing fic #writing tips

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druigswhores · 3 years

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what died didn’t stay dead

(originally posted by vormirjumper)

dedicated to @starsvck and @artipotter hope u enjoy this <333

summary: the last thing you remember was fainting in wakanda thinking you saw your own fingertips turn to dust only to wake up in a world where natasha romanoff no longer existed. inspired by marjorie by taylor swift

content warning: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, set after endgame, angst, mentions of death, trauma, their relationship ending on a bad note, trust issues & previous steve x nat, (WANDAVISION SPOILERS AT THE END)

‘моя любовь’ = ‘my love’ in russian <3

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (please lmk if anyone written something similar to this! & if you want more nat content lmk!)

masterlist

PART TWO

You forced your eyes open.

Pulling yourself up from the ground you glanced at your arms in confusion. You swore you saw your own hands turn to dust before fainting. You glanced around to take in your surroundings eyes widening in shock as you saw the hundreds of Wakandan's you fought beside minutes ago appearing out of dust. You stared speechless as you watched people materialise out of thin air, the dust forming into fingers, then a whole hand and eventually becoming a person who's mirroring your exact reaction.

You felt guilty about the first thought that came across your mind.

'Is Nat okay?' You panicked while rushing to look around, ignoring how you spent the last few years loathing her to hide your heartbreak.

You were an avenger since the beginning. The two of you were on the same team during the airport fight which wasn't surprising due to your history together. Despite the slight age difference between the two of you, your personalities worked well together which is why you got along well, so well in fact that those platonic feelings you thought you had for her developed into something more and somehow you found yourself in her bed many times in her arms with your bodies pressed against one another's, struggling to catch your breath, bliss written all over your face. Your legs were intertwined with hers as you embraced the warmth radiating off her. You refused to acknowledge the unspoken tension in the atmosphere due to the fear of speaking out about your feelings and end up ruining what you had. You couldn't help but let the insecurities build up as you gently caressed her cheek, her eyes met yours back in adoration, full of what could've been love.

But you knew she once looked at him in the same way.

"I love holding you in my arms моя любовь." She muttered, as she stroked your hair gently, you hummed in response, not trusting your own voice. What you both had felt right, you didn't want to ruin it, you didn't want to label what you had together due to the job you both have. Being an avenger doesn't exactly mean stability, anything could happen.

You remember the panic you felt when Ultron took her, the chance of losing her filled you with dread, but you also had faith. You knew how strong Natasha was. Your faith gave you strength and it kept you alive, Nat admired that about you.

The two of you fit together well, whether it was on the field or outside of the field. You could predict each other's moves and although telepathy isn't either of your powers, you know what the other was thinking. You made her better. You helped her wipe out the red in her ledger and when everyone's files was exposed to the globe you were right there by her side comforting her as she feared the reaction from everyone. You were there for her when nobody was and you stood by her side no matter what. Those feelings were reciprocated, you knew Natasha would've done anything for you.

She would even sacrifice herself for the possibility of you coming back.

Then the Accords happened and Nat betrayed the Accords, ending up on the run with Steve, Sam, Wanda and Vision. You were left alone at the compound with an injured Rhodey.

"How could you do this?" You spat out, voice full of hatred as you watched Natasha let Steve and Bucky get away. Your pistol shook in the palm of your hands, pointed directly at Natasha who lowered her own onto the ground, allowing herself to be defenceless.

"It's not that easy моя любовь, you out of all people should understand that." She explained, and you scoffed in response. The pet-name which once caused a flutter in your stomach now fuelling the fire that's building up. All the insecurities you felt during your relationship suddenly turned to hatred. You should've expected this, you should've expected that after all this time she would've chosen Steve over you.

"I guess you'll never change." You responded flatly, admitting defeat. You silently walked passed her and climbed out of the rubble that was created, allowing a wall to be in between the two of you not knowing you tore a piece of her heart as you did so.

That was two years ago.

You thought you'd never have to see her for a long time. You hoped you wouldn't have to see her. Clearly things never go the way you wanted it to go as you found yourself staring back at the person who once owned your heart.

"Well, you guys look like crap." Rhodey teased, wrapping the fellow avengers in his arms as you stood to the side, awkwardly watching the scene in front of you while fidgeting with your fingers. The atmosphere in the compound was comforting, it's been a long time since you've heard so much laughter in one room despite the war that's brewing.

Natasha, who was now blonde but as gorgeous as ever, hesitantly approached you. The two of you stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the next move.

"Romanoff." You nodded, greeting her before moving away to greet the other Avengers, missing the way she muttered the now bittersweet name she specifically picked you.

"моя любовь..."

Did she really love you? Or was it just for revenge? You believed that love blinded you, you managed to convince yourself that your love wasn't enough for her and that's why she left you. Your relationship with her died. It was over. You thought you buried it all, all your feelings. But you were wrong, when your eyes met her green eyes all those feelings came back to life, flowing through your veins.

After all this time you still loved her.

But your feelings for her weren't the only thing you couldn't bury.

Within an hour of reuniting with the Avengers, the team found themselves on the quinjet travelling to Wakanda. You wouldn't have said this out loud but you had faith that everything would be okay, Nat was finally by your side after all these years.

You felt as though nothing could go wrong.

That was a couple hours ago you estimated, you glance at Wanda who appeared a couple feet away from you the tears were evident on her face.

"Where is he?" Wanda cries out, clenching her fists, you saw the scarlet red energy glowing around her. You knew she must've been talking about Vsision who should've been on the ground next to her. "Wha- why does everything look different?" You realised, noticing the damages caused by the battle has disappeared. The grass was greener as ever. The corpses of the creatures you fought were no longer on the ground.

It looked as though the battle never took place.

You ran over to Wanda, helping her up from the ground when you hear someone call your name out. "That sounds like Sam." Wanda points out as the two of you held each other up.

"Wanda!" Sam called out.

"Come on, we gotta go! They need us! The fights not over yet!" He shouts from a distance, the two of you made your way to the direction you heard his voice come from, you saw all the superheroes surrounding him and a man in a red cloak. "What about Nat? Or Rhodey?" You questioned, looking for them in the crowd. You missed the sympathetic glance the man shot you before waving his hands up in the air, creating a yellow ring in the air that transformed into a portal.

"We're going to fight beside them right now." Sam confirms before flying through the portal.

The compound was completely destroyed. Your home was crumbling apart. Thor looked completely different, Tony had grey hair and Natasha was nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to finally tell her, tell her that you loved her with all of your heart.

You fought beside hundreds of Avengers that day, but you couldn't help searching for one specific Avenger. You ran over to Clint who was on the ground struggling to fight off a bunch of creatures, saving him within moments.

"Thanks kid." He pant, out of breath from all of the fighting. You smiled at him in response, reaching your hand out for him to take which he gratefully took, lifting himself up. "Have you bumped into Nat on the battlefield yet?" You asked, hopeful. There were hundreds of people fighting so you didn't expect to find her easily. The smile on Clint's face fell.

In that moment he relieved everything that happened moments ago. Flying to Vormir with Natasha, climbing the cliff with her, reminiscing about Budapest. And the way he witnessed her body hit the ground, the crack echoing so loudly he managed to hear it more than just once. He glanced down the cliff and saw her lifeless body faced towards his.

His closest friend. The person he trusted with his entire life. The person he named his son after. The Godmother of his kids.

Gone.

Just like that.

"I need to do this for her Clint, she's моя любовь." Nat whispered to him before smiling back at the oldest friend she had, pushing away from the cliff and inevitably falling to her death.

You found out what happened to Natasha, hours after.

The Avengers won, but at the cost of the lives of the people you cared the most about, the person you'd do anything for and the person who owned your heart the minute you met them. Clint broke the news to you, he felt as though you deserved to hear it from him.

"She loved you till the very end." He finished after explaining what happened on Vormir. You felt as though you couldn't breathe, like your soul was crushed and pulled away from you.

Natasha Romanoff was dead and there was nothing you could do about it.

She never got to hear that you felt the same towards her.

"I didn't think the ending to be so soon." You struggled to hold back a sob, holding the letter Clint gave you tightly in your arms. Scott somehow found a letter on the ground while trying to save Clint, it was slightly damp and covered in mud. But it was written for you in Natasha's handwriting.

You couldn't bring yourself to read the letter even nine days after the blip. You had to live in a world without her, a world where people drag her name through the mud even though she is the reason they're still standing. You adjust to a world without Natasha Romanoff and reading a letter she wrote for you months ago wouldn't help.

You regretted everything. You regret spending those last few years in anger, you should've stayed with her, you could've told her how much she meant to you. You could've told her you loved her, you could've held her in your arms once more. You would do anything to have her in your arms once again.

Sometimes it felt as though she was still there, laughing at something she saw on the TV. You always felt her presence around you after she passed away, it felt as though she never died. It felt as though a part of her lives through you.

You sat in the passenger seat of Wanda's car, staring at the Sword logo plastered on the side of the building, you could feel the letter in your back pocket, dying to be read. Wanda made her way back to the car, face flared in anger, tears threatening to spill.

"Wanda?" You called out as she got into the car, turning on the ignition but not pulling out of the car park. She sniffled quietly, wiping her eyes before glancing back to you. "I saw him." She responded, her eyes glancing to the folded paper on the backseat of the car, she could see the faint colour of red that was in the shape of a heart. "But they're not letting him have a funeral." You realised, looking back at your friend, heartbroken. "I figured at least one of them deserved a funeral, it's not fair. It's not fair that the world can just go on like nothing happened and we don't get to mourn the people we lost." Wanda rants, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to drive.

"They both deserve a funeral." You agreed solemnly, remembering the fact that Natasha's body is at the bottom of a cliff in space in 2014.

"Where are we going now?" You asked, wanting to distract yourself from that thought. You felt as though you and Wanda were left to mourn your loved ones alone as the rest of the avengers scattered across the country.

"To the only thing I have left of him."

The two of you sat in silence as Wanda drove, you stared at the shrubbery outside the window before closing your eyes and resting your head on the window, allowing yourself to drift off.

It felt like it was only seconds later when you felt the car turn harshly, you opened your eyes and glanced around in confusion when you saw that you pulled into a quaint town, you had only just missed the town sign plastered with the words "West View." You watched the pedestrians walking by, noticing how some of them sat on their own with no one to comfort them similarly to you and Wanda.

The two of you pulled up to a plot of land with the foundation of a house on the ground, it looked at though the house never had the chance to get completed.

"Stay in the car, I won't take long." Wanda reassured you before reaching towards the back of the car to grab the folded up sheet of paper and getting out of the car. You nodded, staring at the built house next to the plot of land.

Your mind wanders as you stare at the home. You think about Natasha. You think about the future you could've had with her, living together in a quaint home like the one in front of you. No stress about being an avenger, just the two of you and your family. You softly smile as you imagine Natasha's reaction to wanting to adopt 5 cats, knowing she was more of cat person. You imagine holding her hand while walking down the street and watching movies with her in your shared bed. You wanting to stay in for the day and watch movies to ignore the real world outside and her letting you.

You think about what could've been.

A heart wrenching scream snaps you out of your thoughts, you rush out of the car and look for Wanda but is blinded by a scarlet red light that knocks you unconscious.

Your eyes open on command.

The room you stood in was black and white. It was a nicely decorated living room with a dining room connected to it, you couldn't pinpoint which decade the interior was from, too preoccupied by the woman standing in front of you.

Although the lack of colour in them, you could recognise those eyes from anywhere, that smile that you've wished to see was right in front of you. The dress she wore matched the decade and decor of the room, her hair curled up neatly. Natasha stood in front of you, reaching her hand out towards you waiting for you to take it.

You hesitantly reach out towards her, happiness flooding your emotions. She pulls you closer to her, welcoming you into a hug. The palm of her hands are warm as they rested on your back, you could feel her heartbeat as you laid your head on her chest, melting in her arms.

"Welcome home моя любовь."

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marauderundercover · 3 years

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This Side of Normal Ch. 5: The Battle

AO3

“Absolutely not.” Jason says, crossing his arms, an offended look on his face.

“Please!” Marinette begs, doing her best to show her anxiety without having to spell it out in front of Adrien. Although they’d only known Jason for a month, he was really good at reading their facial expressions and body language to see when they were upset. Marinette needed Jason to see that now. She needed him to take a Miraculous. He may work in security and have a bunch of battle training, but they’d still be going up against someone with magic. Someone that wouldn’t hesitate to hurt all of them to get what he wants.

“Come on Jay, it’s just a bracelet.” Adrien says, his shoulders tense. Marinette takes in a deep breath, frantically shoving her panic deep down where hopefully it’ll stay until after the battle.

“It’s not that it’s a bracelet, kid. It’s that I don’t need it.” Jason argues, much as he had for the past ten minutes.

“If not for yourself, do it for them.” Wayzz says, speaking up for the first time. Jason shoots a weary glance at the kwami and quirks an eyebrow.

“What d’ya mean?” He asks.

“The Guardian wishes for you to use my Miraculous. I am the kwami of protection. When my wielder says ‘shelter’, they are able to cast a shield around both themselves and anyone nearby that they wish to protect. If you follow Ladybug and Chat Noir into battle with my Miraculous, you will be better equipped to help them in an emergency. That is, you wouldn’t have to choose who to save.” Wayzz explains. Marinette raises an eye at the last part of his rant, but it seems to solidify something with Jason.

“Fine. Gimme the damn bracelet.” He grumbles, and even though he’s acting annoyed, Marinette can see the hint of relief in his eyes. So he was worried about being able to protect them. Marinette blinks for a moment. Even though he’d only know them for a month, he still seemed to care more than Master Fu did. Nothing against the man, he did the best he could but….it wasn’t enough. And that was painfully obvious the more time they spent training with Jason.

“Jason- I just realized I don’t know your last name.” Marinette says, pouting slightly before shaking her head. “Whatever, Jason Dupain Cheng, Adrien don’t you start. You and I both know that you hate your last name so it just makes sense that we all take my name. Now shut your damn mouth so I can do this!”

“Me-ouch.” Adrien mumbles, crossing his arms as he pouts. Jason snickers, but stops immediately when Marinette turns her glare to him. She smiles and nods, clearing her throat before starting her speech again.

“Jason Dupain Cheng, this is the Miraculous of Protection. I am granting you this Miraculous to use in the battle with Hawkmoth. Once the battle is complete, you will return the Miraculous to me. Can I trust you?” Marinette finishes her speech with a small smile, one that instantly drops when she sees Jason snort.

“I’m sorry Pix, but it’s weird to see you so serious.” Jason apologizes with a snicker.

“I’m serious!” Marinette argues, tugging the box back away from Jason. “In fact, I’m so serious that now I’m taking it back. No bracelet of protection for you, ya meanie.” She adds.

“Isn’t that exactly what he wanted to begin with?” Adrien asks, making Marinette pause in her tug of war. Huffing, she shoves the box back at Jason.

“Just put it on.” She grumbles, pouting when he snorts.

“Whatever you say, boss.” He says, sliding the bracelet onto his wrist. Wayzz looks between the two, the Kwami’s face almost amused.

“Hello.” Wayzz says, nodding as he bows at Jason. Jason just awkwardly waves.

“Hey.” He says, his easy smile falling. Marinette starts to ask him if he’s okay, when she realizes. He’s worried. Of course he is. Now that he has the Miraculous, it’s time. They were going tonight to take Hawkmoth-Gabriel’s- Miraculous. This would all end tonight. One way or another. This was ending.

---

This was ending. Soon. Gabriel is sure of that. It would not be ending in Ladybug’s favor though. On the contrary. Gabriel was certain that the insignificant bug wouldn’t make it past this final battle. The idea of Chat Noir facing the same fate made him falter slightly, if only for that small amount of time where he thought his own son held the ring. Although he no longer thought that, the idea of killing him was out of the question. Hurting him, though, that was perfectly acceptable. Especially if it meant he hurt that pest in the process. Finding a spell in the small bit of Grimoire he held, a spell powerful enough to penetrate the Miraculous suits, was not easy. The Grimoire wasn’t easy to read and was mostly filled with healing magic. But that wouldn’t help him. Not at all. Not like this would. Grinning down at his cane that now held a wicked glow, Gabriel-Hawkmoth- grinned. This will end soon.

---

Taking in a deep breath, Marinette tries hard to ignore the dread settling in her stomach. Something is going to go wrong, she can feel it. And yet, it feels like it has to be tonight. That if they wait for another night, another day, they won’t have any chance to win at all. She had told both Adrien and Jason about the feeling, and both had encouraged her to do what she thought was best. They trusted her. And she was terrified that that would end up getting one, or both, of them hurt. Shaking out her hands to try and calm the energy bubbling up inside her, she watches Adrien’s window carefully. She had wanted the three to go in together, but Adrien had pointed out that he lived there. He could just open his window for the other two, allowing their entrance to be almost undetectable. Marinette hated it, hated feeling like she was using Adrien’s situation to their advantage, until Jason pointed out that- in the end- it was helping Adrien. Seeing the flashlight flicker- the sign that the coast was clear- Marinette swings over the fence and smoothly into Adrien’s room with Jason following closely behind.

“Hey kitty.” She says softly, squeezing Adrien’s hand in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey bug.” He says softly, squeezing back. Jason hangs back, keeping an eye on the door while the two take a moment to gather themselves. This could be it. The end of a battle they’d been fighting since they were barely teenagers. Over three years of their lives was dedicated to protecting Paris, and that could be ending soon. Taking in a steadying breath, Marinette lets go of Adrien’s hand.

“I brought Kaalki, like we discussed. They should be in your father’s office right now, looking for any incriminating evidence. If they find anything, they’re supposed to come get us so that we can go check it out ourselves.” She says their plan going as planned so far. A few minutes pass before Kaalki comes charging in, a disturbed look on the Kwami’s usually cheery face.

“I found Hawkmoth’s lair.” They say, in lieu of a greeting.

“Well shit. That’s the confirmation we need.” Jason whistles lowly, filled with a tension that wasn’t there before.

“I kinda figured. I didn’t really have any hope left that it wasn’t him. So how do we get in there?” Adrien asks, setting his face with a determined look.

“We use a portal. It’d be the easiest way of making sure Hawkmoth doesn’t hear us coming.” Marinette says, sliding the glasses onto her face and calling for the unified transformation.

“Are you two sure about this? I could go in alone. I’m sure I could take him by myself.” Jason offers, his jaw obviously clenched. Marinette glances at Adrien, who nods, before turning back to Jason.

“This is our fight, Jay. And as much as we appreciate your help, we have to be there too.” She says with a grim smile. Jason huffs, but nods.

“Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that. Let’s get this shit over with. I’m ready to go angrily punch a punching bag without being scared that I’ll wake up holding your Miraculous.” Jason says, making Marinette flinch slightly. She felt awful that Jason, like many Parisians, felt like they weren’t allowed to feel negative emotions. She knew how draining that was, how hard it was at the end of the day. And even past that, because you couldn’t even have negative emotions while you slept. But Jason was right. It’s time to end this, time to end the emotional trauma, time to end having to suppress feelings just to get by.

“Voyage!” Marinette calls, silently stepping through the portal with Jason and Adrien close behind her. Silently calling off Kaalki’s transformation, she moves the horse Miraculous into her yoyo as she glances around the room. Butterflies, everywhere, an odd glowing and-

“Ah, Ladybug and Chat Noir. How kind of you to make a personal visit to deliver your Miraculous.” Hawkmoth taunts, twirling his cane around. Marinette’s eyes narrow as she looks at the cane and the very obvious blade sticking out of the bottom of it.

“We’re actually here to ask for your Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Yours and Mayura’s. We know who you are, Gabriel Agreste. Give up now.” Marinette demands, her posture tense as she refrains from standing in a fighting position, instead situating herself so that she’s standing in front of her brothers.

“I think you’ll find me to be someone unwilling to negotiate, Ladybug.” Hawkmoth sneers before lunging towards her with his cane. Tossing her yoyo at him, she manages to knock his cane out of his hand, causing him to rush after it. He picks it up and whirls around, a wrathful look on his face as he charges towards her once again. Their fight doesn’t last long before Mayura is suddenly there, a sentimonster at her side. Resisting the urge to curse out Nathalie, Marinette pours all of her focus into the battle. Between her own hits aimed at the sentimonster and dodging the neverending attacks aimed at her by Hawkmoth, it’s getting exhausting. But with Mayura and her sentimonster still active, it’s too soon to call any of their powers. Momentarily distracted by Jason taking out the sentimonster, Marinette doesn’t see Hawkmoth’s blade coming at her throat. But Adrien does. Being shoved harshly out of the way, Marinette stumbles slightly before glancing back at her partner. And letting out a horrified scream. A scream that’s drowned out by Adrien’s own agony filled scream. Because Adrien took the hit meant for her. And now Adrien Agreste was lying on the ground, sobbing, his eyes clenched shut. Why was he Adrien? Why was he in his clothes? Why is there so. much. blood. Falling to her knees, Marinette tries desperately to stop the bleeding. Ripping Adrien’s jacket off, she attempts to tie a tourniquet, barely able to hear Tikki’s voice in the back of her head. Cast the cure. Of course, the cure. The cure. Tossing up her yoyo, she attempts to cast the cure, screaming in frustration when the ladybugs only stop the bleeding. Marinette jumps up, glaring furiously at Hawkmoth who had frozen, a stricken look on his face.

“You!” She screams, attempting to lunge towards him to kill him. Hurt him. Torture him and make him scream like Adrien currently was. Only to be stopped. Turning her head to glare at Jason, she realizes that he’s also frozen in place, cursing up a storm as he seems to fight his own body.

“You son of a bitch!” He roars, his entire body tense as he fights against invisible binds.

“Let me go, Tikki! Let me go!” Marinette screams, sobbing as she desperately tries to move, to do something. Kill the man and take his Miraculous. Because that’s what he deserves for hurting her partner. Her best friend. Her brother.

“Drop the transformation, goddamnit! The bastard deserves it! Fuck you, Gabriel Agreste!” Jason screams, obviously unable to remember the words for him to drop the transformation. Marinette has no such qualms. Opening her mouth to say the words, she sobs in frustration when she realizes Tikki has now blocked her from speaking. He deserves it! She thinks furiously, trying to get Tikki to agree to it. Wanting nothing more than to hurt this man, and hurt him good. There is no satisfaction when Gabriel takes both his and Nathalie’s Miraculous and sets them in front of her before backing off and sitting on the ground. There’s only anger as he tries to sit next to Adrien, who has since passed out from the shock, only to be scared off by a hissing Plagg. Staring at Adrien’s tear stricken face, contorted in pain even in sleep, and his- his arm, she realizes with a wave of nausea, that’s his arm lying next to him. She feels every single muscle tense as she continues to fight to break free. To beat the shit out of Gabriel Agreste. Even as her thoughts start to betray her. Even as she realizes….This was all her fault.

---

Tag List (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #fanfic #ao3fic #platonic jasonette #platonic maribat adrienette #This Side of Normal

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fairytale-poll · 7 months

Text

ROUND 1C, MATCH 11 OUT OF 16!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure:

It technically doesn't play a Cinderella role despite its name, rather it has Fairy Godmother-like abilities. However, its name is still Cinderella so I think it counts.

Persona 5:

[Mod's Note: Warning for Persona 5 spoilers]

Her Persona is Cinderella. Her story is about disguising herself as another person to gain acceptance.

Her persona is Cendrillon, the French name for Cinderella and the name of an opera based on the story, and it mirrors her arc in the game. When you boil her down to the essentials, she essentially made a wish that was granted by her....... fairy godtherapist to go from pauper (bland and talentless depressed Sumire) to princess (her dead sister Kasumi, bubbly, personable star gymnast). As far as she sees it, even, it's this transformation that helps her 'get the prince' (read: befriend the protagonist). Why should she win, though? Umm because she's my baby my angel my sweetie my cherub specialist character in fiction and most important girl in the universe. Out of love in your heart for me, tumblr user [REDACTED], vote for her.

GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH ok ok ok everyone here's my autism. Major spoilers as you get closer to the end btw! - She has three personas, in order they go: Cendrion, Vanadis, Ella. The first and last are taken from Cinderella, with Cendrion being the german name for Cinderella, and of course Ella just being a shortened form of Cinderella. - She does gymnastics, although a lot of her phantom thief design is heavily based off of ballet as well! In particular the black swan mimicking the white swan, and while of course that's not cinderella, it does remind me of how Cinderella was treated in the beginnings of the story - Cinderella and her both have major sibling trauma! It's a huge point about her character. Major spoilers, but she pretends to be her older sister Kasumi for most of the game; the sad truth is that she's in fact the younger sister Sumire. She's pretending to be her older sister because she can't deal with the trauma of that day she ran out into traffic and her sister got hit instead of her. (It does not help that her therapist uses eldritch god powers to gaslight her into thinking she is her sister.) - They're both pretty and also I love sumi so much she's everything to me. unironically the character of all time NOT FOR PROPAGANDA but for mod: image because it can be awkward to find one: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UyOsg26GnZU/maxresdefault.jpg also!!!! if you're interested in not potentially spoiling people you should call her Kasumi Yoshizawa. If you aren't worried about that though and want to be accurate, Sumire Yoshizawa is better. Or just call her Violet because that's her codename!

Initially introduced as Kasumi, she is a dorky and sweet first-year student who looks up to the protagonist as a mentor and eventually joins the Phantom Thieves in figuring out the fake reality they're trapped in. However, it's revealed that she's actually Kasumi's sister Sumire, who was always stuck in her more talented sister's shadow and yearned to be Kasumi. Unfortunately, she got her wish when her sister died saving her and her therapist brainwashed her into believing herself to be Kasumi. With help from the protagonist, Sumire realizes she was holding herself back and breaks free from her false identity, embracing her true self and rebelling against the hollow utopia. Her initial Persona--an embodiment of her true self--is Cendrillon, and her third tier ultimate Persona is Ella.

Sumire dosen't just pretends to be her dead sister, she was brainwashed into believing to be her by the final act's main villain/her fairy godfather figure, because that was her (misguided by trauma) wish as she believed that her sister was better than her. The final acts has a lot of 'making wishes come true' theme that connects her to Cinderella even more, also she does have a bit of 'save by the prince' thing going on with the game's protagonist

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

broken (part 2).

san x reader

word count: 12k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)

(part 1)

no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.

you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.

you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.

you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.

but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything.

underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.

six months ago:

“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom.

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical.

hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts.

talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had.

making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal.

you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring.

this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this.

“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months.

you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this.

willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic.

admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet.

without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe.

you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.

but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that.

it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.

san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.

“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink

he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week.

“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car.

“san, are you-”

“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment.

because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two.

and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry.

that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.

that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong.

but there’s a lot wrong.

a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it.

a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life.

that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.

it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours.

there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you.

“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own.

it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence.

but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee.

a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner.

the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.

you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be.

even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard.

you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted.

but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching.

you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe.

the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him?

see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be.

that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-

you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name.

you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.

“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.

he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.

you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state.

you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning.

“i-i’m sorry.”

the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time.

when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.

when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.

when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off.

he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room.

he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them.

“i wish...i would stop doing that.”

he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks at you questioningly.

he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.

“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you.

he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him.

not even with a plate of fucking cookies.

“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content.

“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”

“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.

“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here.

bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much.

he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.

“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”

“stop.”

he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you.

but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you.

“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up.

“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”

your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you.

“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining.

the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night.

but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been.

“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”

you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out.

but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder.

you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep.

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.

“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face.

“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest.

a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him.

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”

“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap.

“did you eat yet?”

you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you.

his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care.

“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you.

and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better.

pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover.

because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night.

stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.

watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.

it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together.

you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist.

he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.

“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case.

you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you?

“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”

“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.”

because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again.

his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod.

you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office.

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you?

would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?

or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.

you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.

“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”

san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?”

the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed.

he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence.

“i don’t know if i can do it.”

the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied.

more so than usual.

“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”

“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe.

“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”

“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”

tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it.

it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long.

because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside.

you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days.

“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously.

“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-”

your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth.

“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”

"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.

you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.

"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."

and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did.

you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that.

“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”

and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances.

your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this.

you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly.

you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately.

no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with.

but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe.

at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial.

it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger.

you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee.

the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies.

“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth.

“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy.

he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times.

mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table.

“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys.

the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now.

you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-

“are you gonna be okay tonight?”

he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months.

not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.

san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work.

but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together.

“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him.

and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay.

you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie.

but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes.

behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook.

how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset.

and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making.

it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom.

at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.

but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get.

you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class.

“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?”

the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop.

he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.

you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you.

you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.

he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much.

“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough.

you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously.

“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days.

you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him.

and now he seems to know it, too.

maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next.

because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls.

“have i been annoying?”

your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks.

his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.

you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.

but you certainly don’t mind.

you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what.

that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you.

they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.

“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”

the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde.

“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise.

he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?

“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”

your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.

“i missed you too.”

boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot.

“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.

he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough.

you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days.

you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you.

you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.

but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again.

you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life.

but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of.

she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance.

she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back.

the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement.

and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school.

“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?”

your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education.

you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.

that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.

and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time.

“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?”

“yes but i-”

“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.

“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”

you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers).

tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing.

she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle.

“what are you crying about?”

the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat.

“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”

“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.”

a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college.

it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible.

getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form.

but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.

you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school.

was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.

but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery?

you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.

but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.

and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval.

“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.

a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly.

he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face.

“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm.

you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy.

“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad.

he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod.

you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out.

“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...”

his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter.

“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”

you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised.

there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all).

but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.

it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on.

“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”

your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously.

he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?

your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him.

whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else.

“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.

“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?”

you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest.

he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair.

“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.

because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care.

they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end.

it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.

the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.

that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look.

he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing.

maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you.

it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?

but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault.

and with you, he was always even more clouded.

now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe.

and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face.

but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.

he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure.

“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over.

he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.

even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips.

you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach.

he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“hi, baby. i’m back.”

“i love you.”

the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words.

because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence.

never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another.

but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return.

and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you.

“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.”

san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence.

“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”

“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”

“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”

the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out.

hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time.

“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?”

san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder.

he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.

“san! you’re finally home!”

you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.

classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much.

you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.

you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them.

unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out.

your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch.

it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands.

but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body.

“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap.

you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face.

“’course love, why do you ask?”

“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”

“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”

“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.

“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?”

happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.

“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.

he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.

but you’re so happy tonight.

you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously.

“are you sure you’re okay?”

he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it.

and that alone is scaring the shit out of you.

the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere.

“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble.

the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him.

“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head.

you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious.

the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you.

“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad.

because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time.

“i-i know...”

he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet.

“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”

you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.

“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”

he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again.

tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life.

“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”

and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately.

that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience.

but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore.

he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less.

it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up.

“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”

did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade.

san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first.

but he loves being here and that’s the problem.

he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe.

you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him.

“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”

“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”

because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it.

“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him.

he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.

“how could you think that?”

“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”

“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively.

“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?

“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?”

you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.

restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house.

“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”

that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured.

“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.”

but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty.

his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.

he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you.

it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.

weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again.

this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything.

you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with.

so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.

and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.

because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-

“y/n?”

his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.

hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you.

but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset.

and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel.

“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.

it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through.

what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.

but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.

"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.

san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.

but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.

he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.

"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"

"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."

“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.

“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”

one year later:

you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.

you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through.

it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.

you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7.

and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.

it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.

you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes).

you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san.

there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived.

but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck.

you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face.

the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours.

his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more.

“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.”

you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him.

heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.

"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door.

you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.

your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.

"thank you."

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @minbinwhore @chrryhwa @chogiout @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa

#the italic flashbacks always get messed up on mobile!!!#srry hope its not confusing #san #san angst #san fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #san scenarios #ateez imagines #san imagines

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femalehumanoid · 3 years

Text

Fluff Alphabet - Keevan

A ctivities – What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Keevan likes to spend an occasional evening simply talking to you. Let’s face it – the list of his psychological issues and traumas is a lengthy one, but he adamantly refuses to see a counselor, so that leaves the only person he can trust – you. He tells you stories from his past, ranging from funny and entertaining to tragic and horrible; for the most part you just listen, offering an appropriate comment here and there or squeezing his hand in encouragement. You have long since learned that tearing up and trying to hug him outright is a bad idea in such moments – he sees it as pity and closes up immediately, refusing to reveal anything remotely close to personal for weeks afterwards.

But your talks are not always about his past – in fact, your discussion topics are vastly varied. He’s lived many lifetimes and knows a lot, so he has an opinion on just about everything. He relishes finally being able to discuss his true thoughts without having to constantly look over his shoulder and filter which opinions are safe to share and which ones could be used against him.

As for other activities, Keevan’s a bit of a hedonist, so he wouldn’t say no to a day at a holosuite spa or a short trip to the pleasure planet together. Freedom from the Dominion didn’t make him any less of an asshole, so when you’re in public – say, lounging at the beach on Risa – he’ll occasionally make scathing (and, unfortunately, quite funny) observations about the passersby under his breath. You feel bad for snickering at the especially insulting comments, but ultimately don’t have the heart to tell him off because he looks so pleased with himself when he manages to make you laugh.

B eauty – What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Being a Vorta, Keevan is of course devoid of an aesthetic sense as such. That doesn’t mean that he can’t deduce by the reactions of others that you are beautiful – and boy, does it stroke his ego to see people eyeing you with appreciation (and him with jealousy) when you dress up and go out in public together.

While he can’t fully perceive your beauty visually, he admires your lips for their softness, your hands for their warmth, your eyes for the way you look at him.

On a more general note, what Keevan appreciates most about you is your behavior towards him. Sure, you have many other admirable qualities – you’re fun, and charming, and intelligent – but he’s met a plethora of fun, charming and intelligent people, and you’re the only one who truly loves and accepts him.

C omfort – how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Before he met you, Keevan had very little experience in comforting another person or providing genuine emotional support, so he’ll be somewhat stiff the first few times you show this type of vulnerability in front of him. But as soon as he’ll realize you’re looking to him for comfort, he’ll soften and open his arms for an embrace. Next thing you know, you’ll be sitting on his lap, telling him your woes and being sweet-talked to death.

By the way, if the reason for your distress is another person, you can rest assured that they would regret what they did – Keevan would make sure of it.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Keevan is happy to leave the decision of where you’re going to live fully in your hands, but if you were to ask him, he’d recommend a smaller planet with comfortable climate and of little strategic value (so that it’d be left alone if another war were to erupt). But even though he’s mostly indifferent towards the finer details of your life together, it doesn’t mean that he’s not thinking about the future. The longer you are together, the clearer it becomes to him that one lifetime with you wouldn’t be enough. So, he starts to make discreet inquiries with his old contacts at various cloning facilities – is the Dominion technology suitable for cloning a human? How would one go about it? You won’t hear a word of it until Keevan knows for sure it’s possible, and one day he nonchalantly drops the offer on you like it’s not one of the most life-changing decisions with plenty of questionable ethical implications. In his mind, the decision has already been made, and he’s not above manipulating you into accepting if that means he gets to be with you forever.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or are they rather passive?

On the surface Keevan might appear passive, simply because he doesn’t expend energy caring about most things. You want to take an assignment on a different planet? Fine, he’ll come along - as long as you’ll have enough free time to devote to him, that is. You’re feeling frisky and want to explore your dominant side? Oh, he’s way into that.

In the past, when he was a servant of the Dominion, he had to constantly assert his dominance to keep his position, but nowadays he mostly reserves those impulses for the bedroom. However, there are some things he’s not willing to compromise on at all. You’re not going on that dangerous mission even if he has to tie you to the bed. That ex of yours that recently came into your life again and is behaving suspiciously flirty? Oh look, a week later they’ve decided to take a trip to another part of the galaxy and not return, totally of their own accord.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How is their fighting?

For both your sakes, let’s hope you’re more diplomatic than he is. Fighting with Keevan goes one of two ways – it’s either a nightmare because he knows exactly what to say to make it hurt, OR your heated exchange turns into an even more heated reconciliation and you both forget what you were fighting about in the first place.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Even if Keevan doesn’t often show it, he is grateful. He knows he’s not the easiest person to get along with, and he is aware of the effort you’re putting into the relationship and into helping him through his issues even when he’s being a total prick.

He does try to smooth his edges when he’s around you (around others, not so much) and takes note of the little things that make you happy – how you light up when he takes your hand, or when he remembers how you take your morning beverage – and consciously does it more often.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Keevan wouldn’t necessarily call them ‘secrets’, simply certain information that you don’t need to know. Some details of his past, for example – stories that could traumatize you – and why would he do that to a person he loves? You will rarely catch him lying to you outright, but some things he simply omits, like how he’s convinced your colleague to back off from that assignment you really wanted.

Also, he often has trouble sharing his emotions, partly because he’s been repressing them for so long that even he can’t get to the bottom of what he’s feeling at times.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Your relationship has transformed both of you in some respects. It might not have been smooth sailing, especially in the beginning, but it’s the healthiest relationship Keevan’s ever been in, and you’ve been gradually helping him heal and move on from a lot of trauma of his past. As for you, Keevan has taught you to be more assertive and you learned to accept the darker parts of your own psyche like you accepted the worst sides of his.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Keevan is extremely prone to jealousy, and he doesn’t bother to hide it. He likes to cultivate a reputation of a person who’s not to be crossed, and with his sadistic streak scaring people comes easily to him. That way, he can be reasonably sure no-one is going to dare take what’s his – namely, you.

But if he catches you being too friendly (in his opinion) to, say, some bar patron, he won’t hesitate to come up and insert himself into the conversation, only to artfully insult the unfortunate person, smirking and possessively holding your hip all the while. If you think getting punched in the face by a huge Klingon for such behavior would deter him, you’d be dead wrong.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He’s a wonderful kisser – and very intense. Your first kiss happened in the middle of a heated argument, one moment you were getting in each other’s face, angrily flushing pink and aubergine respectfully, and the next you’re furiously kissing and knocking down the nearby furniture in an attempt to pin the other to the wall.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Not in a healthy way, I’m afraid. For the longest time, he would be in denial as to the nature of his feelings towards you. Lust, he could understand – but you seem to behave in a way that implies deeper feelings. Out of curiosity, he would let himself get closer to you, and after a while he’d discover with great surprise that he has developed feelings towards you as well. Weaknesses like that tended to get one killed in the Dominion (and that’s the best-case scenario), and despite the big changes after the war, that fear would still be fresh in his mind. But even regardless of that, getting seriously involved with someone would bring out a myriad of other fears and insecurities. What if it doesn’t work out? What if he opens up to you and that scares you off? What if he becomes attached and something happens to you? It’s safer not to get involved. Without explanation, he’d start avoiding you, thereby hurting your feelings, and one night when you’re crying, drinking wine and nursing your broken heart, you decide that enough is enough and you deserve an explanation. You march to his quarters and barge in as soon as the doors slide open, to Keevan’s astonishment and slight indignation (since when are you so bold?). After that, there’s a lot of shouting, finger pointing and angry confessions, followed by passionate kissing. The next morning, you’d hear a whisper that sounds a lot like ‘I love you’ while you’re still half-asleep in his bed, but you’re not sure if that really happened or if you dreamt it.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

If you want to get married, you’re going to have to explain to him the significance of that ritual because Keevan doesn’t really understand why you need to involve the government, or even worse – god – in your personal affairs. Although your explanation won’t likely change his mind on the matter, if he sees that you really, really want to get married, he’ll concede. But under no circumstances will Keevan agree to a religious ceremony of any sort – his experiences with gods (i.e. the Founders) have embittered him to any form of religion, so he’ll never sully the matter of such intimacy and importance as your union with mentions of any god, be they real or imaginary.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Pet, darling, sweet thing. Princess, in certain situations (😉). He starts out using the nicknames sarcastically, but at some point it becomes one of his ways to show genuine affection towards you.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

At first, Keevan in love seems even more aloof than usual. His thoughts keep returning to you, thinking and overthinking everything, imagining all the ways your relationship could go wrong and even more ways it could go right.

The others truly start to notice the changes in his behavior only when he’s with you. His movements gain a bit more grace and sensuality, he doesn’t pass up an opportunity to make a clever snarky comment where he otherwise wouldn’t have bothered. He subtly puts himself in your personal space and holds your gaze for meaningful lengths of time. In other words, he is infatuated with you, which is obvious to everyone present.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

PDA? Yes, please! Keevan’s displays of affection border on exhibitionistic. If you’re too embarrassed, he’ll tone it down, of course - but not by much, so you might as well forget about having any shame at all when he’s around. While he doesn’t tend to be too clingy in public, he thinks nothing of groping your ass if the mood strikes him, undressing you with his eyes or whispering suggestively into your ear and making you blush. Bragging about you and showing you off is par for the course.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship

Keevan has an uncanny ability to stay level-headed in dangerous situations, and years of serving as a field supervisor have taught him to always have a plan B, C and ideally ten more, just in case. So if anything happens, you can rely on him to get you both out of trouble.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

While not romantic in a classical sense, Keevan does try to keep you happy in his own way. He prefers to hide the true amount of effort he puts into the seemingly little things he’s doing for you – what it’s like to hear the whispers about his race when you’re on a date on a Federation planet, or how draining it is to socialize with your friends (you have to threaten not to talk to him for a week if he doesn’t behave civilly).

Aside from that, Keevan likes to make an occasional grand gesture to impress you – there’s nothing he loves more than seeing the awe and admiration in your eyes and hearing you praise him. Basically, flattery will get you anywhere with this Vorta.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He knows that you’re talented enough to excel at anything you put your mind to. If you want to advance your career, he can offer you plenty of useful (if sometimes unethical) advice on how to do that quickly. But if you want him to actually do something to help, you’re going to have to ask veeery nicely. In rare cases he does help without being asked - but don’t get used to it.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Over the iterations, Keevan was known to be, shall we say, adventurous, so there isn’t much that is truly new to him. The only thing that’s actually novel is the significance of the relationship. Did he ever wake up in bed with an attractive stranger? Sure, many times. Had he ever woken up next to the person he loves? You are the first. He wants to relish every new thing he gets to experience with you, so he isn’t in a hurry to try out everything all at once.

U nderstanding - How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Keevan isn’t terribly empathetic, but he can read the cues pretty well if he wants to – a skill that is essential for any Vorta to acquire if they want to survive past their first iteration. For all his supposed indifference, Keevan has learned a lot about you pretty early on after you’ve first met, and if you weren’t so love-struck, you’d have probably found it suspicious. At times, it can be irritating how well he knows you, especially when he’s acting smug about it.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Once upon a time, Keevan had a career, and a rather successful one at that. Unfortunately, it was a career in a fascistic interstellar empire serving merciless gods – this kind of thing gets you disillusioned sooner rather than later. Still, his work had its moments, and having left the Dominion he had been missing the opportunity to apply himself.

But the freedom has granted him a choice – for the first time, he could decide what he wants to do. That freedom is just as important to him as your relationship, and the fact that you’re supporting him and helping him discover the new possibilities means more to Keevan than you can possibly imagine.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Keevan is a very tactile person by nature, which may come as a surprise because due to his past he’s had to learn to survive without closeness. At the earlier stages of your relationship he’d be pretty wary of platonic affectionate gestures, but as he becomes more comfortable around you, you’ll notice the casual touches becoming more frequent – he’d put his chin on your shoulder from behind to see what you’re reading on your PADD, thoughtfully trace your brow with his finger or play with your hair. Also, good luck trying to get out of bed without waking him – if you try to wriggle out of his embrace, he’ll only tighten his arms around you and mumble something unintelligible in Vortawa.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

By making everyone around him miserable. By moping around in your quarters and passive-aggressively destroying the knickknacks on your shelves (and later claiming that it was an accident).

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Oh yes. Great, borderline creepy length. Out of the two of you, you are the only one who actually has morals (and the longer you are with Keevan, the more the lines will start to blur), so he won’t have any qualms doing whatever needs to be done for your relationship. The only thing that could give him pause is if he knows you might not forgive him for doing something particularly amoral - but on the other hand, what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

dedicated to the wonderful @stay-neurotic , the originator of Keevan thirst on tumblr dot com

#Keevan #Vorta #fluff alphabet #keevan x reader #star trek

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marsbutterfly · 3 years

Note

Hey ! Can I request something ? It's an Hanji x reader imagine. This would take place after the chapter 132, you saved Hanji in extremis, brings her back safe and sound on the plane, the alliance wins the war against Eren and right after that they all come back to the Paradis Island. Hanji and her wife are lying on a field and reader think about all the events. They're finaly free, happy and living together 😌! I really like your writtings and especially the way you depicted Hanji ! Stay safe !

Note: Hell Yes. I actually wrote two versions for this story but this is the one I liked best, so I really hope you like it. It hurt me greatly to write this, but I poured my heart and soul into it.

WARNING: MANGA SPOILER!

Daydream

Summary: In which you save Hanji before she has the chance to go ahead with her suicidal charge.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

As Jean drags your body into the aircraft, you feel your throat burning from all the screaming. The pain in your lungs is unbearable but not enough to stop you.

For a split second, he loses his grip on your body and you are able to escape.

Using your gear, you find yourself taking down a colossal titan standing next to Hanji.

“Y/N??” She looks at you, fear in her eyes. Rage takes over your body as you slice the nape of yet another titan.

“How DARE you leave me!” You say before grabbing Hanji’s cloak. As you tighten your grip, the hook of your gear hits the aircraft just barely taking flight.

As she tries to struggle, you throw her body into the moving vehicle as you follow closely behind.

All eyes on you as you lay on your back, trying your best to catch your breath.

“Hanji! Y/N!” You hear Pieck’s voice echoing through the ship as you silently sit up on your elbows. Once you can get your lung movements under control you look over at Hanji, who’s sitting against the wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?” You yell at her. Rage and sorrow clouding your mind, all you can do is let your feelings out in the most aggressive way you can possibly think of.

From her hands to her face, you notice burns and scratches covering her skin. Hanji doesn’t move. All she can do is stare at the ceiling quietly, warm tears running down her face.

Armin extends his hand, helping you get back on your feet. No one says a word as you make your way towards Hanji.

You kneel by her side, watching as she covers her eyes with her arm.

“I just wanted to protect everyone.” She whispers, hiccups erupting from her body.

You gently place your hand on her arm, slowly moving it out of the way so she can look at you. “And leave me behind?”

“Leave you alive.” Hanji finally looks in your eyes, you see the amount of pain she’s in.

“I would rather die with you…” You say, moving her glasses so you can treat her injuries. “Then to live without you.”

As Reiner hands you a small bowl of water, you take out a small piece of cloth that rests in your pocket to clean her burns, making sure no debris is left on her open wounds.

Hanji’s face writhes onto a pained expression. She bites down her lower lip and allows a few pain filled tears. As soon as you’re done, you wrap her wounds in the best way you can and finally, you decide to break the silence.

“I don’t care if you are the Commander or a cadet” You make sure she’s looking into your eyes before finishing your sentence, an unusually serious expression takes over your features, “Don’t you dare try to leave me again.”

“I won’t go anywhere, I promise.” She tries to smile at you, but among the tears, a smile simply won’t appear on her lips. Instead, she flashes you a pained smirk as her bottom lip quivers.

Slowly, you start brushing your lips against hers, wanting nothing more but to feel her breath against your mouth. She pulls you close, destroying any space existing between you. Her breathing against your lips is all you wished for.

“Oi, can you two focus?.” Levi says, destroying the sweet moment between you two. Without turning your head, you flip him off.

“Let’s come up with a plan.” You say, flashing Hanji a sad smile..

“We’re out of fuel” Onyonkapon screams, “I’ll crash land this plane, but please make sure you win this war!!”

The cold wind hits your face as you stand above Eren’s massive body. You hear Armin screaming his name and the others follow close behind.

Pieck and Reiner jump a few seconds after the others, giving them enough time and space to transform.

You feel your hands shaking slightly, fear going through your veins as you take a deep breath. Before you can jump, you feel Hanji’s hand wrapping around yours.

“Together?” She says, a serious but soothing expression on her face.

“Together.” You reply. You both nod and jump off the plane, praying the pilot would be ok.

As you land on top of one of the ribs, you notice the Beast Titan has appeared out of nowhere, but something was off about it.

Not only was it connected to Eren but Its fur was white, looking almost exactly as the War Hammer titan.

You look at Hanji for a moment and you see the excitement in her face as she watches Reiner’s fight. Shaking your head, you pull her closer to the now decomposing corpse of the Beast Titan.

“No wonder he’s not putting up a fight.” Levi says, grinding his teeth, his body filled with rage.

“But how is this possible?” Hanji asks while looking at you seconds before dozens of other titans appeared. Empty eyes stare at you while they prepare to attack.

As you look around, trying to figure out where all the titans came from, you can see a small girl from the corner of your eye as she stands on Eren’s massive body, not too far away from you.

“The Founder.” You whisper as goosebumps travel through your body. Your eyes widen when a weird-looking titan comes at you, ready to swap you away.

In a second, Armin takes your place. As he pushes you, the hook of your gear gets stuck to another titan.

“ARMIN!” You scream before slicing the monster in front of you, trying to catch up to the blonde boy but your effort is useless.

“Y/N, are you all right?” Hanji asks before placing her hands around your hips. You nod but even though your legs shake slightly but you know you can’t afford to stop fighting.

“Everyone calm down!” Levi says, you can barely hear his voice with all the noises around you. “We are in no condition to make a charge here.”

“Captain Levi.” Pieck says, her titan clinging onto one of Eren’s bones. “These enemies… they are the nine titans of times past.”

Before you can have a reaction, you feel a large hand squeezing the air out of your entire body until your vision turns black.

By the time you wake up, you can’t hear or feel the massive titans flattening everything in their path. Deafening screams no longer fill the air around you.

You watch the blue sky above you as you sit up. On your left lies a very injured Captain Levi. Part of his leg was bitten off and his hand bandages are covered in dried blood.

You crawl to him, gently touching his chest. You place two fingers against his jugular and feel his heart beating approximately 50 times a minute. A bit too slow, but at least he is still alive.

A figure comes towards you from your right. You shift your face, trying to see the person’s face against the sun. Her body comes crashing against yours in a tight hug. As the smell of her hair hits your nose, you wrap your arms around her neck.

“I’m so glad you are alright!” Hanji says, a few tears streaming down her face as she touches her forehead to yours.

“What happened?” You ask quietly. In the distance, you can hear Mikasa’s screams, quickly followed by Armin’s sobs. You feel every hair in your body quickly stand up as you start to realize what has happened.

“We found Eren.” Is all she needs to say. A sad expression takes over your features. Deep down, you wished for him to change his mind and find a way back to his old self, but it was nothing more than that, just a wish.

Your eyes scan the scene folding in front of you. Annie has her arms wrapped around Mikasa’s torso, tightly hugging her as the black-haired girl screams the contents of her heart out.

Jean and Reiner tend to Connie’s wounds. A pool of blood forming underneath his head as the other two boys desperately try to stop it.

Armin simply stares at the sea, his hands covering his ears as sobs abruptly leave his body.

Pieck hugs the two kids tightly, making sure they won’t be able to leave her grasp anytime soon. Gabi holds Falco’s hand as both of their small bodies shake in a mix of relief and trauma.

And lastly, your eyes wander towards the lifeless figure lying on the sand. The water hits his foot ever so lightly but enough to cause it to move. The sand trapped in his hair shines in contrast with the sun.

“What happened?” You finally work up the courage to ask. Hanji lets out a sigh, her hand moving from your skin towards her hair, placing a single loose strand behind her own ear.

“After you passed out, Annie flew in to save our asses.” She giggles, looking down before lacing your right hands on hers. “His jaw titan could fly! Can you believe that?”

A spark appears in her eyes amongst all the sadness around you. You flash her a small smirk, “I didn’t even know that was possible!”

“I didn’t either! Isn’t it amazing, though?” She raises her voice before bringing it to a low volume once again. Her features return to seriousness as she continues, “After that, Pieck destroyed the Attack Titan’s neck, forcing Eren’s body out of there.”

As Hanji speaks, you finally notice the smell of blood and smoke surrounding you. Taking your left hand to your heart, you clutch your own shirts, fighting back tears that threaten to fall against your wishes.

“How did he die?” You whisper, looking down at your legs.

“His body never recovered after Gabi shot him.” She takes a small break, trying to find the right words. “The explosion inflicted by Pieck was enough to expel his body..”

Your lips part but no words come out so she simply continues, “He was able to heal enough so he would have parts of his body back before Armin stabbed his heart.”

“The Founder?” You interrupt, suddenly remembering the small girl that watched the whole fight from afar.

“She’s gone. Somehow Eren was able to lock the Founding powers within him before dying.”

Confused, you look at her, hoping she would have any answers for you. “But…”

“We don’t understand how yet…” her voice breaks, a mixture of pain and happiness, “but all the titans are gone.”

A gasp escapes your body. Thoughts rush through your head at light’s speed but all you can do is shove your head on the crook of her neck as you cry.

Clinging onto Hanji’s now soaked shirt, you try to breathe but air simply won’t enter your lungs. Was it pain for the loss of someone you cared about and loved deeply? Was it relief for how the monsters that have threatened you through your entire life have now disappeared?

You look up at Hanji, her hair floating in the wind as her hand rubs your back in a soothing manner. You place your left hand on the back of her neck and pull her in for a kiss. Tears drip from your eyes onto your lips but you can’t find the strength to pull away.

As her lips leave yours, a quiet whine escapes your throat.

Once again, you focus your attention on Eren’s body. “What happens now?”

Sitting in a blanket, you watch as the breeze moves the newly bloomed flowers around. The sun setting behind the mountains casts an orange light above you.

From behind, you hear footsteps making their way towards you. Your lips curl into a smirk and you shift your body, putting all of your weight on your knees.

“You look beautiful.” She says before sitting beside you. You quickly change your focus to her face, taking a few seconds to admire her.

Hanji’s hair is in a messy ponytail, a few strands rest against her cheeks. She’s wearing her daily glasses instead of her old combat ones, and her skin smells like freshly used soap, meaning she finally showered. Whether it was willingly or if Levi forced her to, you don’t dare to ask.

As you adjust your dress, a blush takes over your cheeks and you can help but smile at her.

Wrapping your arm around her neck, you place a quick yet gently kiss on her lips before resting your forehead against hers.

“It’s been a year.” You whisper, your voice barely audible against the wind.

She nods, “A year of freedom.”

As you look up at the sky, you notice a few stars have begun to show up. One in particular catches your eye for it has a greater shine than the rest. Hanji quietly follows your gaze.

“They are watching over us.” She says, taking your hand towards her lips and planting a love-filled kiss on the back.

“I hope they are happy we can finally be free.” You finally find the courage to speak. “Truly, utterly, completely free.”

In a second, you let Hanji go and allow your body to fall, colliding with the grass. The green speckles tickling your skin as the aroma of the flowers hits your nose.

A sneeze escapes your body suddenly and all you can do is laugh, for you are now truly happy.

You feel Hanji’s head on your shoulder and you quickly wrap your arm around her head, quietly playing with her brown locks.

“Thank you for coming after me.” She says. You can feel her eyes piercing you, carefully watching for your reaction. The corner of your lips gently curls into a smile as you roll your eyes at her.

“I will always follow you.” You whisper, making sure no one else will be able to hear you but her, “Even if it gets me killed.”

You simply lay there, watching as the sun goes down behind the mountain. No words are needed but you can feel how calm she is with you.

Looking back on it, you realize your decision to chase after her once she got off the plane was reckless and dangerous to say the least, but if it meant spending your life with Hanji, you would do it again and again.

Your body shivers abruptly, a reminder that the cold breeze is once again taking over the atmosphere. With a smile of her own, she lifts her head up, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ready to head back?” She says, steam coming out of her mouth as the words fall from her lips.

Simply you nod, watching as a giggle leaves her body. Before standing up, you pick a small, pink flower that rests by your hand and place it on her hair.

Planting a kiss on her cheek, you take her hand, starting to make your way towards the city.

Your comrades' sacrifices weren’t in vain. Freedom was finally a reality rather than just a dream.

With Hanji by your side, you can finally appreciate being alive and for now, that’s all you could ask for.

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