#my real name is almost impossible to make a play on words for LOL so its very endearing to me to get nicknames on here 🙏

[starryeyedstray]

my thoughts on dbh as someone entering the fandom in 2024

so just got into the dbh fandom like in aug 2024. i have watched too much gameplay, read the wiki extensively, read an obscene amount of fanfics on ao3, and am in the process of writing my own. here are some of my thoughts (that no one has asked for):

every fanfic writer who started in 2018 and is still updating their works in 2024 are literal saints and some of the best damn writers i ever did saw and the dedication is fucking unreal. one fic had almost 2 million words??????? like BRUH. some are still ongoing and updated this year?? the dbh fandom in ao3 is not thriving as much as it was in 2018 (i say this purely as someone who's looking at the hits/kudos/comment ratios on older v. new works) but they are still alive!!!!

i am puzzled with the obsession with gavin reed. there are like a million fics that feature him and rk900. i am confused bc he did not seem like a redeeming character at all in my opinion and idk, i think he's just an asshole. i like the redemption arcs some ppl write for him but i just can't with him. i mean you ship who you wanna ship but i am not a reed fan and i am confused how he became so popular when all he did was bully our poor boi connor.

i personally don't ship hank x connor bc they give strong father-son vibes in the canon. however, i am obsessed with how jolli_bean writes the pairing on ao3 since its usually a canon divergence or an AU so the pair meet later in life. there are some fics that follow the canon and do a pretty good job with the pairing, but i just tend to keep it familial between them in my head. (but like i said, ship who you want to ship)

i am glad there's a vague consensus that we all wished alice stayed a human bc i feel like that lends itself to a more interesting narrative post-game. tho i guess her being an android is fine bc now kara, luthor, and alice can live as one happy family in canada forvever lol

i am literally obsessed with bryan dechart's acting as connor. like if you haven't seen him play connor in real life for the interactive #detroit2038 premiere event, then you gotta watch some of the live stream. like he doesn't break character the whole time and his physicality just screams connor and i just really appreciate how much effort he put in as an actor to really embody the character. just so impressive and i wish there was more bts of him acting as connor bc its just so nuanced and ugh *chef's kiss* if they ever made a live action dbh it would be impossible for anyone else to play connor

i love the 28 stab wounds meme. when i watched that scene for the first time it was so jarring lmao

i also love how everyone is like yes, we all know connor likes dogs but he also likes fish bc of that one fish you can save in the very first minute of gameplay hahahah. (his name is dewey and it is vitally important you save him). i also appreciate how the "i like dogs" line will undoubtedly find it's way into every fic possible lol

i think the love for simon is very good and well and amazing but i think josh deserves more love in fics too

it bothers me that when north tells markus "i love you" at the church, MARKUS DOESN'T SAY IT BACK??? LIKE BITCH SAY YOU LOVE HER BACK DAMMIT DON'T JUST WALK AWAY

i love how the fandom just latched onto rk900 and rk800-60 and fleshed out their personalities and i love reading ppl's interpretation of these characters and how they incorporate them into their stories. it's funny they only show up like one time and ppl just ran with it and it's so fun and creative and i love it.

i love the hc that chloe deviated when connor chose not to shoot her. that's the best hc. like it's canon in my heart idc

bless all the fic writers who have mastered the art of explaining how androids mind and bodies work bc there are so many gaps and possibilities left open in the lore and it's incredible to see what ppl come up with or interpret based off the canon. (i still feel 50/50 about when they make deviants feel pain cause like androids not feeling pain is such a big part of the canon and yeah i'll give it a pass if the fic does it for the whumps and the angst but i prefer when a fic finds a canon-compliant reason for deviants to feel pain, even if its just like they got a chip or software installed that makes them feel pain or something)

every pairing that i find in this fandom, i tend to be like... "yeah i can see that." (with the exception of hank x connor for reasons i stated in #3). i'm still like ehhh on reed900 or even gavin x connor bc i just don't think it makes sense in the canon but if it's written well i just shrug and say yeah i guess i could see that. some rarepairs i ended up absolutely adoring were chloe x north and rk900 x north (i realize they're both north but she has such good potential for character dynamics)

idk if it's just me bc i specifically look for fics centered around connor, but i feel like there's not a lot of love for kara at least fic-wise. ig it's cause she kinda just leaves so it's easy to not include her. tbh, i am quite well-versed in markus' and connor's stories but i haven't really explored a lot of kara's. i plan on playing dbh with my partner when i see them again in a couple months and i wanted us to take turn playing different characters and i wanted to play kara's storyline so i've been avoiding it for the most part so i can be surprised with my options. plus, in my wip fic, kara is in canada so she's not really relevant to my story which is why i have in depth knowledge about markus and connor and less on kara.

the music in this game fucking SLAPS. 10/10 kara's theme makes me wanna cry.

okay, there is a common trope in the dbh fanfics where connor loses his memory and that shit gets me everytime. i'm always bawling and anxiously waiting for him to fucking REMEMBER and i hate and love it and eat it up every. single. time. usually, the memory loss happens early in the fic and it's pretty expected but sometimes i get blindsided and i'm like FUCK not this shit again but i can't stop reading it and the angst is so palpable.

i think it's so interesting how ra9 is just like this mystery in the lore that never gets entirely explained in the game. it's like something you can totally kinda ignore but it does have interesting lore implications if you decide to really think about it.

i adore all the characters in dbh equally except for connor who is the certified best boi and my absolute favorite (no one is shocked by this declaration). and the characters on my shit list are zlatko, todd, and sometimes reed.

this is an obnoxiously long post and i apologies. i haven't been on tumblr in years and i just had so many thoughts about dbh and i have no friends to talk to so i decided to dump it all here. i still have more thoughts but those are the ones that come to the forefront of my mind.

tldr: i love dbh and its fandom and i have many specific thoughts about it and you should just really read my post if you care about any of it

[chakotaybodypillow]

CHAKOTAYS TRIBE !!!!!! PLEASE READ IF YOU WANT TO KNOW HIS TRIBE!!!! I'VE DONE RESEARCH TO TRY AND FIND THE ANSWER!! <3

What the hell even is Chakotays tribe??? Would it be a surprise that there is an answer to that? What tribe he was based on has been questioned for a while and I’ve only seen a few people come close to a proper answer. I’ve seen people say that he is of Navajo/Dine descent or Ojibwe. I wouldn’t say any of those are wrong as his “traditions” were all over the place it made it hard to tell. Our first bit of evidence is the location he and his father traveled to in the episode “Tattoo”. Now this is my least favorite episode in Voyager, almost as worst as TNG’s Code of honor lol. So, it’s always hard to watch and I haven’t done so in a while, but I do remember they said they traveled to Central America. Obviously, this makes up a few different countries and tribes, but the most predominant Nation in this area are the Maya. I’ve been doing tons of research on this matter, and its literally impossible to compare Chakotay’s tribe to an individual Maya tribe. This is where the writers used the “Hollywood Indian” stereotype because its just all over the place. Other than the location, a few things that gives it away is the name of his tribe. They call themselves the “Rubber Tree People”. If you are familiar with Mesoamerican history, you would know that this is what “Olmec” is roughly translated to. Linguists were able to translate it from the Nahuatl word “Olmecatl” meaning “the rubber people who live on this land”. The rubber tree also plays a significant role in Mesoamerican tribes. The rubber from the tree was used to make the ball for the sacred game of “ulama”. Which played an important role of in the creation story in the Popol Vuh about the Hero Twins. The Olmecs came before the Maya and Aztec, but a lot of Olmec culture influenced their own. Whether or not Chakotay’s tribe were direct descendants of the Olmecs is unknown to me. It wouldn’t make much since historically speaking, but it would fit the narrative of the episode “tattoo”. Another indication would be one of his decedents, Ce Acatl. Ce Acatl Topiltzin was a real person who was a ruler of the Toltecs. I’ve only read a lil bit bout him so I won’t speak on what he did or who he was until I’ve done more research. Finally, one of the other MAJOR indications to me was in his short background story of pathways. I am aware that these are not canon, but it gives a glimpse into what the creators had in mind while creating theses characters. The literal first page is his father recounting a story from the Popol Vuh, and he’s talking about the Hero Twins, Seven Macaw, and the Maize God. My mind was blown when I read that, cause I started research about this a few yeas ago and was using clues from the show and figured since I had read the book before and didn’t remember any significant information about his tribe, there wasn’t any point to open it up. I read the book again at the beginning of the year and lost my mind. All of my answers were there lol. But it confirmed what I already knew. I felt hella proud cause I took the long way to get an answer and was still right. Anyways there’s still sooooo much to say about this and I’m working on a well put together paper explaining why the customs and traditions they gave him were wrong or confusing. I hope people will read cause I put a lot of research into it. I also have what I think to be some good lore that could fix a little bit of the damage that was done. More on that later though 😊.

[lady-starbind]

One thing I look forward to about playing Pokemon Violet is learning more of that sexy Grusha lore! I’ve seen ppl on here talk about him, one person mentioned that they had read about the Gym Leader in the library of the game if I’m not mistaken? (ik one of my besties had said that there’s a library in the ingame school w books about the Gym Leader) I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT GRUSHA FJDBLFVNDLKVNFDL If any of you guys have pics of what the Library book says ingame or something... or literally any canon lore, I’m all ears! (idm spoilers honestly... The brainrot is so real and I need a better understanding about my fave fictional jock) ALSO HIS BACKSTORY?! SO SAD THAT THE BEAN HAD TO GIVE UP HIS DREAMS! ;w; ...I’m no expert on snowboarding, but ik that it takes a very fit and athletic person. Is his injury so bad that he couldn’t go back to being pro? ...You sure there isn’t a way that maybe, if he was determined enough, he could overcome impossible odds and snowboard again? Anyways I love Grusha.... he has a very special place in my heart~ (Lowkey he’s actually got me obsessed and brain rotting over my icy oc girl Cryo and her lil bestie Tom jkbvksbksbdssdjk) I definitely ship Grusha and Cryo.... maybe there’s an AU where they fall in love and smooch?! I already have a cute name for the ship: “Crusha” (I love how it has the word “crush” in it lol) ...as far as a proper Pokemon sounding ship name? idk lol... Ice Shipping? IcyLover Shipping? IceLover Shipping? StoicIce Shipping? kdvbdakjbvdskvdbjkss ....Also what dynamic would an icy jock w dashed dreams and an icy bookworm who hates everyone have? I even have a self indulgent character arc idea in mind for Cryo that she’ll go through, where she “almost” ends up with romantic feelings for Grusha. (but narrowly dodges it bc girl hates le romance lol) ...may even write fanfiction for it! :D tldr: I am obsessed w Grusha and would happily accept any canon lore on him, even if it’s spoilers bc the brainrot has hit me hard. Grusha reminds me of my oc Cryo, and I ship the two romantically even tho Cryo hates romance... May make fanfiction w my oc Cryo avoiding a crush on Grusha. PS: I love how Grusha’s name has Slavic roots.... I have Slavic in my blood as well, so that makes me very happy to see a pretty boy with a pretty Slavic name ;w;

[derekgoffard]

WORMETTE WOULD YOU EVER WRITE FANFICTION OF DEREK FLAT BUSSY ASS?? Like tbh I feel like you’d be giving to the culture ⛪️✨💦❤️🥰😘

GHGHGH OOOHGHGH HELLO!!! THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK!!! BHAHJ

While I would probably atcually enjoy writing a Derek fanfic- I'VE NEVER ATCUALLY WRITTEN FANFICTION ONCE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE LMAOO!! 😭😭😭 I've never been great at writing coherent sentences ( as you can all probably tell by now LOL 😭 ) so if I were to try it would probably be UNREADABLE GAHA!!! Ahh BUT ANON!! I SO DO APPRECIATE YOUR CONFIDENCE IN ME TO GIVE TO THE CULTURE!! 🥺🥺 THANK YOU FOR UR FAITH!! HAHA <33333!!!!🙏

Tbh tho, I have never given thought to writing ideas out before;; maybe I might be okay with just writing headcannons or smth haha! I really think about Derek a lot so I have a bucket load of ideas about him/scenarios involving him 🧎🧎

[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike–���”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

[xgryffinwhore]

Hey! Can I request a jaeden martell x reader where basically their charters are dating on a tv show and they are really really good best friends in real life and they they both go on the Jimmy fallon show and he keeps on asking if they’re dating because everyone thinks they are and when they say no he obvi doesn’t let it go lol and it ends up slipping up that jaeden did/ does have a crush on reader and they maybe end up sharing a kiss in front is Jimmy & audience & stuff😶just an idea i had 😂:)

i love this idea wow, thinking i’m going to put my own little twist on it but i think you’ll still be pleased ;)

just friends

warnings!: suggestive topics, fluff

word count: 2.1k

five

your face was being touched up with powder, the cotton pad dabbing at your nose as the white powder absorbed into any oil your face may have had.

four

you look over at jimmy, this wasn’t your first talk show, but it had been the biggest one with the most following. it was intimidating, you bounced your foot up and down and played with your hands.

three

behavior jaeden had grown to recognize. he knew you better then you knew yourself, your anxiety was worse then you put it out to be. “you ok?” he questioned, “fine, i’m fine” you painted a small smile on your face. but he wasn’t easily fooled.

two

he grabbed one of your hands and rubbed circles into your palm, this sent vibrations of relaxation down your spine.

one

his eyes locked with yours, you swore they were a different color each time you saw them. sometimes more blue, sometimes more green, sometimes dark with mystery, sometimes light and playful.

‘aaand where on air’

you wiped the hand that was interlocked with his off on your dress, it was clammy. the curtain came up fast, and your vision was soon flooded with bright lights and silhouettes of bodies.

making out the faces in the sea of people was impossible, but you knew your friends were out there. they had flown out to see you, a) they could go see new york and b) you were on national television, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

jimmy was talking, you knew that much, but your nerves took over and honestly you weren’t registering a damn thing he was saying. the crowd cheered, you snapped out of your daze.

“and here tonight, we have jaeden martell and y/n l/n from the new HBO tv series: turning tables”

he turned to both of us, and gave everyone time to clap. he tired to speak over the loud hands, moving on with his show, but the crowd made that difficult. eventually the clapping died out and he could continue.

“now, i’ve watched all of the episodes but, for the people who haven’t seen: can you explain what the show is about?” he looked a jaeden, you let go of a breathe you had held in.

“s-sure” jaeden turned to face the audience more, he was soft spoken and shy, so it was important he projected as much as he could.

“turning tables is a teen drama. it’s about families of poverty in the seattle washington area and how they struggle to go to school and work. my character, jennings cooper, is the main protagonist. the show is mainly from his point of view, and how he struggle to support his family.”

jimmy nods and smiles, he looks pleased with his explanation. i’m truth the show wasn’t that simple, he knew that. but, it would take so long to explain.

“and y/n, who do you play?” he knew the answer to this obviously, but you were becoming a crowd favorite. everyone loved your personality, and you were an up-and-coming a list celebrity.

“i play parker marlow, jennings girlfriend” you blushed at this statement, the crowd giggled and ‘ouuu’ed. jimmy rubbed his hands together, getting excited at the upcoming topic of discussion.

“so, your romance on season one was steamy” you thought back to the scenes you did together. all of the kissing, which felt normal at this point. he wasn’t a bad kisser, in fact- you didn’t mind it at all. your romance through the season built up to a sex scene, your mind flashed through the memories of filming it.

filming those scenes isnt half as steamy as you think it is. it’s awkward, you laugh a lot. you had never felt that exposed in your life! however watching it was different, it looked so real, so perfect.

you blurred out your thoughts, mr. fallon still speaking on the subject. “can we expect more -“ jimmy searched for your ship name, it was on the tip of his tongue. the combination of your first names on the show didn’t make an attractive combo. it was either jarker or pennings. your last names matched a little better.

“-carlow” jaeden finished for him. jimmy nodded and smiled “yes- carlow- can we expect more carlow next season?” you both looked at each other and smiled. the writers for the show already had the next four seasons laid out. you knew that carlow was a continuing relationship on the show.

“yes, you should expect more of that sort of content from us” you stated. the people in the crowd had a positive responce to this, the applause lapping until it died out once again.

“right, your characters have so much chemistry in the show. two struggling teens just trying to break even.” jaeden agreed “yes, our characters balance each other out, and being from the same background helps them associate. jennings is kind of a bad boy-as the ladies say- he’s a felon, he steels cars and sells them to counterfeit manufacturers and dealers for money. parker, y/n’s character, has a job at a diner. she shows him the light at the end of the tunnel if he chooses to go down a good path.”

“yes, parker gets jennings a job at the diner with her, and he falls for her sweet disposition even after everything she’s been through” you add.

jimmy licks his lips and pops another question: “so id imagine the chemistry in the show heightens the real life thing?” he cocked an eye brow, the group gasping at the intrusiveness.

“jaeden and i are just friends” you blurt out, your nerves working up again. it was hard, you liked jaeden ever since you had your first kiss with him.

“y-yeah” he stutters, he obviously wasn’t expecting this either “friends” jimmy shakes his head and puts his finger on his lip “recently, you both have been showing a lot of pictures of you two together on social media.”

the audience ‘awwwed’ at the photos that displayed behind you. on the screen, there were pictures of you and him that were on both of your instagrams. you two at gardens, getting food, even watching movies at each other’s houses.

“for just friends, these photos looks intimate , wouldn’t you say” a bunch of ‘yes’’s and ‘mhm’’s came from the crowd as both of your faces became red.

“we’re just best friends, honestly” jaeden laughed nervously, he fixed his hair with his hand has he always does.

“right right- can you tell me when this photo is from?” jimmy asked, the last picture flashing on the screen. it was of you both, you had just filmed your first scene together.

the first scene you filmed together was episode two, he saved you after you fell into ice cold water. it was how the characters met, and it was filmed at a cove on a windy august day.

the picture was a little blurry, but it added character. he had his arm around you, both of your hair soaked, and you share a huge towel. you remember how cold you were, your teeth chattered so rapidly. his hair was stuck to his forehead and more small pieces went up. and your lips were almost purple, half from the makeup, half because you swore that was the coldest water you had ever went in.

“that’s from when we first started filming, it was the first time we met in the show” you recited, re living the memory in your head. you remember jaeden pulling your head into his chest when the wind began blowing. you remember his thumb trying to create friction on your back to make you just a little warm.

“yes yes- you two look so adorable!” jimmy squealed, he was the most teenage-girl-grown-man you had ever met. his hand opened one of the drawers in the faux desk he sat behind, pulling out a small blue camcorder.

the camcorder.

you know how on tv shows, there is special footage? sometimes it’s just behind the scene specials but sometimes- sometimes - it’s footage the actors document when they were just having fun? yeah it was one of those camcorders.

the camcorder was brought in by the two other co hosts wyatt oleff and finn wolfhard (i know this cast is sooo original not really) they played jaedens two best friends on the show. while they weren’t filming, they’d dick around and talk about stupid stuff. you’d never seen what they filmed, but you had been featured quite a few times; their by them pranking you, or invading your personal space.

you looked over at jaeden, you watched his adam’s apple bob and a thin layer of sweat flush over his face. he bounced his leg slightly, a habit he had picked up from you.

“let’s just review our material here” jimmy teased, his tongue darting out between his teeth. the video began to play, the sound was loud; assumingely for jaeden quiet voice in the tape.

the video started with wyatts unsteady hand, him and finn were running around set, they stopped at jaeden, he was playing on his phone in his trailer.

“jaeden wesley we have come for you” finn yelled. you could see jaeden shoot up from his chair. “hey guys” he waved. they talked for around a minute, jokes and all. then finn started to giggle, wyatt zoomed in on jaedens face.

“so jaeden, how’s y/n?” he chuckled, jaeden blushed “she’s ok i guess dunno.” wyatt stopped zooming in when the only thing in frame was jaedens head. “the kiss was good hm?” wyatt asked. jaeden continued to play on his phone, he nodded. “yeah, she’s pretty cute too.”

the video cut to another segment, this was filmed after the sex scene. you knew because jaeden laid on the bed you, in the same underwear that he wore during the scene. the boys were jumping on the bed, and jaeden took the camera and talked to it.

“this is for memory and memory ONLY! h-hey y/nnn” he was talking to the camera like it was you “you’re amazing and cool” you could hear finn explode into laughter as he stole the camera back and started running “yeah! and he wants your babies and loves you so much-“ “SHUT UP FINN!!!” and jaeden chased him around.

the video was taken off the screen. your face had become close to ghostly white. it was weird, it was almost like he was dumb enough to think finn wouldn’t give jimmy this blackmail goldmine. you looked at jaeden, he hit his bottom lip until it was red, he itches his neck and laughed it off.

“yeah ok-ok jimmy, maybe i liked her back in the day” jaeden tried so hard to be casual, but jimmy hit him with a heart stopper: “but mr martell, the last clip was filmed less then a month ago!”

your mind flickered with memories and ideas of him.

your first time meeting, how good his hand felt in yours. when you wiped icecream off his chin, and him dotting icecream on to the top of your nose. the way his hair always fell perfectly above his eye brow. and SHIT how he always smelt so fucking good. how he let you fall asleep in his arms and how he never complained when you put on some stupid romcom and-

“y/n?” jimmy questioned. “huh?” you spaced, come on y/n you gotta stop doing that. “i asked how you felt about all of this.” “well, there isn’t a right word i can use.”

jaeden took this has a bad reaction, he did a small wave to the crowd and stood up to get off the stage.

you stood up, grabbed his hand, and laid one right on him. kissing him felt normal, but now that there was emotion behind it, it just felt so right.

you both stopped for air, the crowd went wild. jimmy was clapping too, you could barley hear them, your heart was pumping throughout your whole body. you swore jaeden could hear it.

after the show, you sat in your dressing room for a bit, contemplating the events of tonight, and how they were all broadcasted for your embarrassment. but it was only the beginning. only the beginning of what was to come for mr. and mrs. jaeden martell.

[writingonsaturn]

Better Unsaid

a/n okay this has been all over the place!! it was originally going to be a blurb and darker and closer to smutty (so keep your eyes out for that??? lol), but then I made it softer and the concept got away from me and it got soooo much longer than expected lmao and i still dont love where it ended so maybe part 2?? i have the idea i just dont know lol 

summary: Reader is a princess and Anakin has been her guard during the most public season for the past two years (not the most logical thing but just go with it lol, it gets explained better in the fic) and after a near death experience the two are conveniently forced into a....

ONE BED TROPE ONE BED TROPE *cough cough* ONE BED TROPE WITH ONE PERSON HAVING TO WAKE UP THE OTHER BC THEYRE HAVING A NIGHTMARE,, :)))))))

  --

His smugness is the only thing about him I can consider ‘ugly’. And because I am so desperate to not have feeling for Anakin, the Jedi who has been assigned to protect me through coronation season (which lasts for most of winter), for the last two coronation seasons, I hold onto my distaste for that side of him. Which is why I suppress my laugh as he waits for my reaction with that confident smile. 

“Come on, that was funny.” 

Rolling my eyes, I let myself sit on my bed. I can’t tell if he’s actually funny or if my evening has been so boring that his sense of humor has started to become appealing to me due to comparison. In short, the suitor I was forced to spend an entire evening with lacked personality so much I’m starting to find Anakin funny.

“You’re much more entertaining than this evening’s suitor.” 

Anakin’s expression shifts slightly, his assured grin dropping slightly. “Another miss?” 

“You have no idea.” I relax slightly, taking a moment to be glad that I completed my father’s request and now I can just enjoy the time I have with Anakin. “I know my father’s desperate to make sure my marriage is useful for our people and that he worries about this selection process because he always thought my mother would be here to help, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t rush it so much. It feels like all he wants me for is to marry me off in exchange of finance or weaponry or something diplomatic.” 

“You’re more than that.” His response is so soft I think I might have missed it if I needed it less. I curse myself for feeling so validated by him. His words shouldn’t mean anything to me. After all, he could easily just be saying that because agreeing with my father will just make me more unpleasant to be around. 

I smile politely while avoiding his eyes. I keep my hands on either side of me, fighting the urge to fidget. “Thank you, Anakin.” My words sound weak in my own ears, so I’m sure he notices my shift in mood. “I’m tired today, I think I’m going to go to bed early.” Normally, I’d be able to shrug off these kinds of things, but the beginning of Coronation Season makes me irritable. The anniversary of my mother’s death hits me harder each year. 

“Y/n.” My name comes out so velvety I can’t find it in myself to interrupt him. “You are more than someone meant to be used as some kind of royal currency, and I mean that as more than just a...friend.” 

I let his last word linger. We’ve tried so many titles that never seem to fit right. He’s the chosen one, one of the most powerful Jedi to exist, and the Jedi assigned to protect me each Coronation Season because that’s when my mother was assassinated. He’s my guard, but we’ve spent too many nights laughing together and talking about everything and anything. And I guess now he’s my friend, even though sometimes when he looks at me in a certain way or sits too close to me or reaches for my hand to guide me somewhere I can’t breathe right. 

“Anakin, you know I love when you’re here, even though sometimes you drive me insane. And I appreciate your kindness, but your words can’t change the truth. That’s how my father sees me and he’s not exactly wrong. I’m not a son, I haven’t been raised to lead an army or lead much, and--” 

“I’ve seen you in meeting after meeting, convention after convention. I’ve witnessed the way you handle real problems and I know how you care about your people. You’d make a great leader, you don’t need a husband to be valuable.” 

My chest swells, feelings I never let myself think about mixing with thoughts of Anakin that I’ve spent so long trying to avoid. “That settles it, you’re my favorite person.” 

He grins, the look warm enough to melt the odd lump in my throat. I fight down a smile as he steps forward. “And I wasn’t before?” 

“I take it back--your head’s big enough without the additional praise.” 

Rolling my eyes, I lean back slightly in order to recreate the distance he so easily destroyed. “And I thought you had finally warmed up to me, princess.” 

The use of my title makes me skeptical. The last time Anakin used it was when he was trying to ease me so that I’d walk around the palace garden so he had an excuse to do the same. It was beyond late and I was half asleep, but he had os much energy he was desperate and just needed to do one more thing. I felt bad that his schedule revolved so heavily around mine (and when he softens his eyes and says please, I’m left incapable of saying the word ‘no’) so I agreed. 

“What do you want?” 

Anakin dramatically clutches a hand over his heart. He throws his head back slightly as if he’s just taken a fatal blow. “When did you turn so cynical? I’ve been back for three days and I’m starting to believe you’re a different person now.” 

Yeah...he’s definitely getting ready to ask for something that’s more trouble than it’s worth. Then again, everything with him seems to be worth it in some capacity. Even if it’s just that one smile he gets when he’s truly content and doesn’t think anyone’s looking. 

“Mhm,” I mumble, still fighting a grin, “so you’re not going to ask me anything?” 

His lips part slightly as he exhales. I watch the way his eyes narrow at my victorious expression. “I don’t have anything to ask of you, but I do have a small request. A request so small you won’t have to do anything but say yes.”

Suspicious. Too easy. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“You just said I was your favorite person. Remember that.” 

I’m too tired for his coyness. I’d rather him make his ridiculous request now so that I can be in bed within the hour. Though I can’t pretend I don’t normally feel better after letting him drag me along on whatever ‘adventure’ he just needed to complete while also not letting me out of his sight. I used to tell him that I wouldn’t tell anyone if I wasn’t under supervision for an hour or two a day, but he dismissed the idea immediately. That’s been the cornerstone of everything. 

“What is it?” 

He sighs once, tilting his head slightly. The way his eyes soften tells me he’s already won at least half the battle. “They still haven’t caught the attempted--” Anakin pauses, something behind his eyes darkening. I know what he’s remembering. Last night, an assassin had gotten closer than they ever had. I had almost been shot in the garden, Anakin had barely pushed me to the ground in time. A fact he’s been beating himself up for since, especially considering that no one has been able to find my attempted killer yet. “They were so close to you. They were within palace limits and they disappeared like they never existed. Who’s to say they don’t work here and are waiting for the next moment you’re exposed? Who’s to say they aren’t here tonight, waiting for me to retire for the night?” 

I didn’t realize how my near death experience had been so personal to him. He, like everyone else, was beyond frantic after it happened. But my father put an end to verbal worry before it could truly begin. He said the best thing we could do was act like everything was fine as the assailant was searched for. Anakin hadn’t been particularly cheery after my father instructed the guards to focus their search on known enemies instead of prioritizing venting the staff closest to me. I comforted him as best as I could, but he didn’t feel like speaking about it and I had to worry about the suitor meeting my father wouldn’t let me cancel. 

“Anakin, you’re right next door to me.” I have to fight the urge to reach for him. “I was fine because of you, and I will be fine because of you.” 

He sighs once, his expression not easing. “And if the person is silent? The attacker could easily work in the palace, but no one wanted to direct the search inwards.” His words are more strained than I’ve ever heard them be. “I think it’d be smart for me to stay in here. I know you’ve refused having a guard stay in your room or outside your door, but...” Anakin sighs. “Your safety would be more assured.” 

Him staying in my room? The only line I’ve ever been allowed to draw, and I’m actually considering letting that go. If he seemed even slightly less sad, I wouldn’t even consider it. It’s not a good idea. I’m already too attached to him. “Anakin--” 

“I’d feel more assured.” 

Damn him. Stupid, extremely sweet Anakin who makes saying no to him impossible. I stretch my arm forward, letting my hand squeezes his forearm gently. “There’s no reason to not feel assured.” He doesn’t ease, the cloudiness behind his eyes remains stubborn. “You’re still worried.” No reaction, the haze that’s taken him isn’t letting go. “Fine--but tell no one or my father is going to take to posting guards at my door every night.” 

...I guess there are worse ways to spend a night. Which is kind of a problem since I’m trying to...enjoy Anakin less. Ugh, I even sound dumb in my head. “I promise, princess.” 

Ugh, he’s adorable. “You’re intolerable.” I stand from he foot of my bed and pull back the covers on my bed. He doesn’t reply, something dark still playing for him. I watch him move to face the door. Wait--is he doing what I think he’s doing? “No, you’re not going to stand there all night. You need sleep.” He has the audacity to give me an annoyed look. “I already didn’t want to do this so now you have to listen to my conditions.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together oddly. He’s trying to gauge something from my expression, perhaps he’s looking for buttons to press to get his way. I guess I look as stubborn as I feel because instead of arguing he just sits on the floor. What? I watch him cautiously, trying to figure out if this is some weird argument trick. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What you asked.”

And just like that I’ve put myself in a position that I will no doubt regret terribly the second common sense returns to me. There’s no way to deny that Anakin and I are closer than we probably should be. We’ve felt like friends first since the day we first met. I can’t think of any reason to not offer to let him sleep in my bed except those stupid budding feelings I refuse to label. 

It’s not like I actually like him. I can’t--I’m going to be married to some nobleman and he’s prohibited from ever forming attachments. I’m not even sure if we’re allowed to be friends. Having actual feelings for him would be so, so pointless. It would just lead to heartache and the ruining of the one genuine relationship I have. I’m just a tiny bit confused right now because he’s objectively really attractive and he’s always there for me. Always there to make a joke after a particularly rough meeting. Always there to offer me a supportive smile. Always there to humble me when I teeter on acting like my father. 

Anyone’s heart would flutter at that, so it doesn’t mean anything. And if it does, I need to squash any budding feelings now before I mess things up. Which is why I should keep him at arm’s length until I get it together. But is that fair to him? And what if doing that is making things worse? What if it’s just reinforcing the idea of having feelings? 

This is ridiculous. I’m going to get over this if it kills me. It’s just a bed and it’s only sleeping. I’m meant to be able to lead an entire union and I can’t sleep next to someone and act normal?” “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” 

The second the words leave my mouth I regret it all. What’s wrong with me? Did I seriously think I’d be okay?

I hear his soft exhale, “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places than on your marble floor.” 

His voice sounds so weighted I can’t help but feel bad for not noticing that he’s still bothered. Whether he’s upset about his near miss or the fact that my father didn’t take his advice, I don’t know. But something’s wrong. The easy thing to do would be to just let him sleep it off. The smart thing to do would be to leave him alone until tomorrow. 

I think of all the times that I’ve been upset and Anakin had refused to let me go to sleep angry or sad or overwhelmed. “I know, but it’s really not a big deal. It’s not like we don’t know each other. I mean, last Coronation Season you buttoned me into more gowns than my handmaid. And I owe you for saving me from one of the worst suitors I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m starting to think we need to develop some kind of signal.” 

The tiny bit of lightness that’s returned to his voice makes all of my internal struggle feel worth it. “You always seem to know.” 

“That’s because when you’re reaching your limit, that one line appears between your eyebrows.”

I didn’t realize I had such a tell. I try to remember the way that the suitor drawled on and on about how amazing he was and how he couldn’t wait for the day he had a bride to bear his children and plan (tedious) social events. My hand moves to my forehead, trying to feel the crease Anakin mentioned. Can everyone tell when I’m growing tired? Am I that transparent? 

Anakin’s slight laugh steals my attention. He’s facing me again, his elbow holding his head up on the foot of my bed. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t--I don’t think i get a crease between my eyebrows when I’m irritated.” 

I hear him stand. I don’t realize he’s approaching me until he’s so close I could touch him without even needing. to stretch. “No, when you’re irritated you raise your eyebrows slightly, because that’s when you’re at your most sarcastic.” 

“Really?” 

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “Just like that.” I force myself to keep my expression blank. “When you’re reaching your limit, your eyebrows crease here.” His finger taps the space between my brows so gently I almost don’t realize what he’s doing. “And when you’re trying not to laugh--which is often, because you refuse to admit that I’m funny--you press your lips together in a way that forms a dimple here.” The knuckle of his pointer finger brushes against the bottom of my cheek. 

I bite my tongue to fight the warmth spreading across my face. “I didn’t realize i was so transparent.”

“I can’t always tell what you’re thinking.” 

“I’ll take it.” Maybe if I was less tired, I’d argue a little more. “You know you’re not that difficult to read either.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, I can tell when you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it. I can see it in your eyes and you’re doing it right now.” 

His expression harshens slightly before softening. “Y/n--” 

“I’m not wrong.” 

He sighs once, stepping back. I watch him pace around my bed before taking a seat on the edge of my other side of the bed. “Are you happy now?” 

“Happy that I won? Absolutely.” 

Anakin halfheartedly glares at me. “Careful, add a crown and a robe that trails down a throne and I’d feel like I was speaking to your father.” 

“Careful, another side comment like that and I’ll ‘accidentally’ kick you off the bed in the middle of the night.” 

“Not if I kick you off the bed first.” 

I trace a thoughtless pattern on the fabric of my bedsheets. “What are you? Twelve?” 

“I’m older than you.” 

“Barely.” I continue the thoughtless pattern tracing as I fight the sleep from my eyes. “Your comebacks are usually more creative than that.” 

He exhales, relaxing slightly as he rests his back against a pillow. “I’m tired, like you claimed to be.” His eyes flutter slightly, a bit of his exhaustion showing. “Go to sleep.” 

I should. I’m too old to think I can put off a tomorrow I don’t want by just staying up. This is stupid. I’m too old to think I can put off the anniversary of my mother’s death by going to bed. She had been taken from us on castle grounds, killed by a revolutionist who viewed my mother as a class traitor. I still remember the way she slumped to the ground, her blood staining the snow beneath her. I remember the way the guards were so busy chasing her killer no one thought to keep me away from the body. 

“Y/n?” 

I scratch the back of my arm in hopes of banishing my thoughts. “Yes?” 

“You’re being quiet.” 

“You said to go to sleep, that tends to be a quiet thing.” 

I can feel his eyes on me. “Since when do you listen to me?” Not trusting myself to actually reply, I only offer him a hum of acknowledgement. “I know you’re not half asleep.” 

Folding my hands on my lap, I avoid his gaze. “It’s tomorrow.” 

I don’t know why I trust him to understand my vague response, but I do. His silence stretches over us like a thin blanket on a cold night. Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m implying. I can always correct him tomorrow, when my eyelids are no longer as heavy as my heart. The more seconds that pass in total silence, the more I think that maybe he’s fallen asleep. 

I wouldn’t be surprised, Anakin has seemed tired recently, like some additional weight he won’t share with anyone has been thrust onto his shoulders. A small part of me rolls in guilt. I need to be a better friend, just because I’m suddenly a little too aware of him doesn’t mean I can shrug him off and ignore him. 

My hand almost flinches away from the feeling of something surprisingly warm touching my pinky. When I realize that it’s just Anakin and that the contact was probably accidental, I force myself to ease. It’s not like we’ve never touched before, I don’t understand why I’m making it weird. Sitting in my bed in the dark doesn’t change anything. His hand turns slightly, pressing into mine a little more assuredly. Biting my tongue, I turn my hand slightly, exposing my palm. And just like that, our fingers intertwine. 

“She would have been proud of you.” His voice comes out so low I barely register the words. 

The words shouldn’t mean much to me--he never knew my mother and has no way to know what she wanted me to be.--and yet I find comfort in them. I smile, turning my head towards him. “You didn’t even know her.” 

He rolls his eyes slightly, relaxing further before squeezing my hand once. “Who wouldn’t be proud of you? You’re kind and smart and decent to be around when you’re not telling me what to do.” 

My heart swells in my chest so much I’m surprised it doesn’t burst. Could he be cuter? “Yeah...now I’m sure you’re my favorite person.” 

“Now you’re sure?” 

The smugness in his voice has me rolling my eyes. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“Maybe in the morning,” he says easily, “now go to sleep. There’s nothing worse than escorting you from meeting to meeting while you’re tired.” 

“I’m not that bad.” Even in this darkness, I can make out the way he raises an eyebrow. “Shut up--I’m going to sleep, but not because of you.” 

He lets out a slight huff. “You’re impossible.” 

The desire to respond to his comment is not enough for me to win the fight against the weight of my eyelids. The moment my eyes shut, I feel powerless to anything that isn’t sleep. I let myself fall into a weightless sleep, my only tether being the Anakin’s fingers around mine. 

--

A distant noise yanks me from my sleep. I’m too drowsy to do anything but register the sound. I hear another similar...whine? cry? I can’t tell and I’m too asleep to figure it out. I almost fall asleep again, but a third distressed sound keeps me from it. I wipe my eyes lazily with the back of my hand as I try to sit up. 

Squinting, I make out a figure on my bed. It takes me a moment to remember Anakin and how I fell asleep. Our hands are still together and no light is peering through my window so it can’t be that long since I fell asleep. Another disgruntled sound carries itself throughout the room. I shift slightly, leaning over Anakin cautiously. 

Golden brown curls are beginning to stick to his forehead and his eyebrows are drawn together sharply. He’s having a nightmare.  I shift even further forward before cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder before squeezing him gently. 

“Anakin,” I whisper, “it’s not--it’s not real.” His eyebrows draw together even more harshly. I shake him a little more stubbornly. “Anakin, wake up--you’re having a ni--”

 My forearm is grabbed so suddenly I barely register it before I feel my back shoved into my mattress. I blink twice. His dark eyes are frantic and the look on his face is far from the gentle, easygoing expression I’m used to. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling from above me. I swallow a slight panic and something I don’t understand as I try to keep my eyes on his face and my thoughts away from how close he is. Anakin pries his fingers from my forearm one by one until only his palm is touching me. 

“Y/n, I--” 

“It’s okay.” Honestly, I’m more worried about his uneven breathing than the way he grabbed me. I can’t imagine everything he’s been through or how justified his nightmares are. Anakin moves his hand away from me. I don’t sit up until he’s off of me and sitting with his back against my headboard. “It’s okay--I just--you were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you.” He doesn’t react. I turn my body further, keeping my back straight. Anakin doesn’t move, and the longer he stays still, the more I feel like I should say something else. “Do you want talk about it? Or do--do you want to talk about something else? Or go to sleep? Or get some water? Or--” The far off look behind his eyes silences me. I scoot forward slightly. “You’re okay, Anakin, I promise.” 

His head turns at that, his eyes searching mine for something I don’t understand. “I thought...” He cuts himself off by swallowing once. 

I shift a little more, trying to find anything normal in his expression. “Thought what?” 

Anakin’s hand is on my arm so quickly I don’t even register his movement. I let his fingers press into my skin. He’s holding onto me like I’m a figment of a dream and he’s beginning to wake up. “I thought I’d failed.” He exhales, the sound heavy. “Failed you and that you’d--I  thought I had lost you.” 

A lump rises in my throat, thick and unmoving. Cautiously, I place my hand over the one still gripping my shoulder like a lifeline. “You didn’t. Nothing happened, it was just a dream.” 

His gaze falls to the ground before he repeats the last of my words. “Just a dream.” There’s a hollowness to his voice I don’t understand. 

I exhale, carefully running my thumb over his knuckles. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything but his expression hardens again. I let us sit there like that for a long minute. “I promise.” 

“You can’t promise things like that.”

I sigh, unsure of where to go from here. “Bad dreams are only bad dreams.” He doesn’t reply. “I think you should try to get some more sleep.” 

Anakin is unresponsive. I shift back, but before I can transition from almost being on top of him to just sitting next to him, he pulls on my arm to keep in place. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

“You almost died today, y/n. I was right there and if I had been a second later--” 

“But you weren’t.” He doesn’t ease. “You were there and I was fine. Don’t torment yourself over what could have been. You’ll drive yourself crazy.” 

“If anything ever happened to y--” 

“It’s not going to,” I whisper, ignoring the way his hold on my arm tightens even further, “Especially this time a year when I have a pretty good gau--” 

He tilts his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together and a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Pretty good? Really?” 

“Someone needs to watch your ego, chosen one.” This time when he tries for a smile, the look has some strength behind it. Relief pools in my stomach. “Now get some sleep, tomorrow’s a busy day and when you’re sleepy you’re beyond irritable.”  

Anakin lets me pull away enough to lay down, but he doesn’t follow. Not for a long second. When he does, his movements are impossibly rigid. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as carefully as I can manage. 

“Y/n?” 

I regret turning my head immediately. I didn’t realize how close he was. It would take no effort from me to make our lips meet. Wait--why am I thinking of that? I’m not allowed to think of stuff like that...especially not about him. 

“Yes?”

He lets out a breath before moving his hand. I don’t understand his hesitation until I feel his hand cupping my cheek gently. “What if next time I’m not enough? What if next time I lose you because I’m not strong enough?” 

I never thought my death would be such a personal thing to him. Sure, I knew that we had some kind of bond, some kind of friendship, and that my death would bring sadness. But I never imagined I’d matter enough to him that thoughts of my death would be frightening enough to slip into his subconscious and become a thing of nightmares. 

“You are enough. Nothing is going to happen to me and if it does it’s not going to be because of you.” Anakin’s lips press together in a way that implies serious uncertainty. His thumb brushes across my cheek so unexpectedly I almost ask him what he’s doing. The intensity behind his eyes is enough to burn me. “Was your dream really that bad?” 

He lets out an uncertain breath as his eyebrows draw together. I don’t miss the way his jaw clenches. “It’s more than the dream. I...y/n, princess,” he tacts on, a hint of humor returning to him, “you’re more than a mission to me.” 

The admission is so soft I can’t help but smile. “I know, Anakin, we’re--” 

“You’re more than a friend to me.” I don’t know if my blood freezes in my veins or if my lungs don’t contract when they should or if my heart literally skips a beat, but I know something in me completely stops at his words. “I--” 

“Don’t say it.” I don’t know how I managed to cut him off so sharply and I’m a little disappointed when I do, but it’s the right thing to do. Thought of the code that’s so important to him have clouded half the immense shock and joy swelling in my chest. “What you’re trying to say...I um, I want to say the same.” I try to drop my gaze but he tilts my head up slightly with his hand. “But we shouldn’t, you know that.” 

"You want to us to pretend that nothing’s different? You want me to escort you from meetings with one suitor to the next every Coronation Season until you’re married off?” 

“No, I’m not saying that. The point is that I’m not saying anything.” His eyebrows draw together in uncertainty. “Isn’t it enough for now, for both of us to just know? If we say it...that could mean bad things for you. And I don’t want to be a bad thing for you.” 

“You could never be.”

It’d be so easy to believe him. To believe him and to let him say what I never imagined I’d be able to hear and damn the consequences of tomorrow. “Can we just refrain from verbally saying anything until you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure right now. I’ve been sure since the first time we ever walked in the garden together. The night after the first Coronation Ball I escorted you to.” 

I remember that night well. The way he hadn’t scolded me for needing air or taking off my uncomfortably high heels to walk in the grass. “If you mean it, you won’t say it yet. I refuse to get in the way of what you’re meant for.”

His thumb runs my cheek entirely, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “Are you capable of not disagreeing with me?” 

Rolling my eyes slightly, I place my hand over his. “Probably not.” 

Anakin exhales, his playful irritation clear in the sound. “You’re impossible when you’re tired.” 

“I am not tired.” 

“I can see the sleep in your eyes.” 

“I can see it in yours too.” 

He pauses, eyebrows drawn together cautiously. “I’ll go to sleep if you do.”

He must be more tired than I thought if he’s compromising with me so quickly. “Deal.” 

Neither of us close our eyes for a long second, we just watch each other with wide eyes. It still doesn’t feel like he’s eased, but he’s come back to me so much more than he was earlier. I’ll make sure to check how he’s feeling in the morning. The first morning after we’ve...I don’t know. 

I’m trying really hard not to get excited because anything that’s been not said could be taken back so easily. That’s the point--but it’s hard not to let my heart get ahead of my rationality. I’ll just take the good for what it is for now and tomorrow we can figure out the rest. Even though he’s not allowed to form attachments and my father really wants to marry me off to foreign royalty.

Tomorrow. This can begin to be solved tomorrow. My eyes shut and I let myself roll fully onto my back. The second I’m comfortably settled, I feel Anakin shift against the bed. I’m too tired to open my eyes until I feel a weight placed against my chest. 

I open my eyes on instinct, less surprised than I should be when I see Anakin’s head resting against my chest. Before I can speak, I feel his arm rest against my side. “Anakin,” I breathe, my hand moving to smooth his hair out of his face the way I’ve wanted to for so long. “What did we just talk about?” 

“You said not to say anything,” he mumbles comfortably, “I’m not saying anything.” ...It is kind of the ideal compromise. Especially since I’m too tired to find reason and he feels so warm. “I can feel you overthinking. Go back to smoothing my hair before I have to rise and stand at your door so that your handmaid comes to wake you. Something tells me she’d be glad for the excuse to get rid of me.” 

That might be the most dramatic thing I’ve ever heard him say. Selma is the most patient woman in the palace. “Selma would never report anything involving me, I can’t believe you don’t like her. She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”  

“She’s the one that doesn’t like me,” he says, “she always watches me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m planning on stealing you away.” 

Too tired to fight my smile, I go back to smoothing his hair out with my fingers. After a moment, he lets out an exhale that relaxes his entire body. “Goodnight, princess.” 

“Goodnight.” The word is barely a mumble as I feel sleep tug against me for the second time tonight. 

It’s strange, but my excitement doesn’t diminish my tiredness, it just makes the prospect of rest feel so much fuller. Safer. Because there’s so much to sort out and grieve but it’s okay, because we have the time and everything feels okay because Anakin is here, right beneath my fingertips. 

[blindbeta]

Blind/Visually Impaired Person’s Review Of ‘The Blind Bandit’

It is here! At almost 6 thousand words (I have a problem lol). This is a review of season 2, episode 6 in Avatar: the Last Airbender. The episode is called The Blind Bandit.

Note that this is only a review of the portrayal of blindness rather than the episode or show itself. This show also has audio descriptions on Netflix so any blind followers of mine can watch the show if the want to. I would also like to make it clear that this is my opinion. It is my no means lacking in bias and I won’t pretend that it is. I love this character for some of the reasons I will explain here, and that will show even as I consider criticisms of her or things that simply could have been better.

This character, Toph, was my first exposure to a blind character in television.

CHARACTER INTRO:

“Your champion, The Blind Bandit!”

We first hear Toph introduced as The Blind Bandit. She is described as having pale eyes which is usually how eye conditions are conveyed visually. Some online sources describe them as light grey or sea form green, but glazed over. This could be due to cataracts or some other deterioration. Part of me wants to mention that not all blind people have eyes like this. Most don’t; I don’t. However, blind people can have many eye problems outside of just The Blindness, so it isn’t inaccurate either, especially for a time period where eye surgeries are not available, and Waterbenders are not as easy to reach for healings as they may have been before the war. I also suspect her family would not care about cataracts if Toph was not in pain— their main issue would be her blindness. I’m getting ahead of myself.

The point is, I don’t mind the way her eyes are portrayed here. I do think non-blind people are too obsessed with portraying eyes like this, however, and I feel like it is not necessary in non-visual media unless you have established why their eyes are cloudy/lighter/Like That other than Because Blind. I’m happy they didn’t fall into the trap of portraying her eyes as constantly closed.

I also read somewhere that the creators tried not to move her eyes much. I don’t know how true this goal was, but I feel it is not entirely necessary. Blind people can also have uncontrollable eye movements or rapid eye movements. This might be too hard to animate and too confusing for viewers. Therefore, I feel the creators chose a more practical portrayal of eye movements that is the easiest to animate and least confusing for people who may not know blind eyes can and do move, whether due a condition or other factors.

“She can’t really be blind, can she?”

I like that everyone says “blind” without stumbling over it or treating it as a bad word. Katara is surprised and Aang is accepting, feeling hopeful that this girl could at last be his teacher. I even like that she chose to capitalize on it for her persona. Already we can tell Toph has no issue with being blind, nor does she feel the need to hide it in such a setting as this. She is already the champion— it must be working for her. It is this openness and acceptance of blindness that I like, especially from the main character. Rather than make her hide her blindness or angst over something she has lived with all her life, the writers just introduced it as fact. She’s blind and she’s a champion. That is how we meet Toph.

“Sounds to me like you’re scared, Boulder!”

Trash talk. She’s trash talking him. If the champion thing was not an indication that this wasn’t your stereotypical innocent, blind flower, her first line should be! Already Toph is brash and fearless. A far cry from the angelic stereotype we often get in the media.

“Your winner, and still the champion, The Blind Bandit!”

Toph kicks Boulder Butt. Pretty easily. I loved every second of it.

Now let’s talk about the Super Crip trope here.

IS TOPH A SUPERCRIP?

The Supercrip trope is a bit hard to pin down. I found a few definitions floating around. This link has two: Trope: SuperCrip | #CriticalAxis: a community driven project from The Disabled List

The Supercrip is seen as having “overcome” their disability in order to do normal things or even extraordinary things— with a focus on their disability rather than their accomplishments.

The first part is avoided. The narrative doesn’t focus on how extra special it is that Toph is doing things like: walking, talking, eating soup, sitting with her family, yelling at Aang and his friends, etc. Toph is not seen as extra special for doing normal things that her disability does not make more difficult. Not only would this be patronizing and ignorant, this would reflect that attitudes many real life strangers have: disabled people are so strange and mystical to some people that they feel the need to ask blind people on the street how they walk or talk.

Personally, I find this portrayal of disabled people to be the most harmful. It caters to able-bodied onlookers alone and offers nothing for disabled people. To clarify: the problem is not portraying disabled people/characters doing normal things! The problem is expecting your audience to feel inspired because a disabled person did a thing that is completely ordinary for them.

This does not apply to Toph.

Another definition is that a disabled person is portrayed as “overcoming” their disability in order to do something cool/big, usually something able-bodied people don’t do everyday. This disabled person is only noteworthy because they did something extraordinary such as win several gold medals. This presents two problems: 1) it is hard for disabled people to meet these expectations, especially when this is shown as the only positive way to live with a disability. And 2) able-bodied people see this and believe all disabled people must be winning gold medals or doing super extraordinary things because their disability somehow gives them privilege, pity-points, or superhuman powers that make up for their disability. An example of these powers would be the myth that blind people have superhuman hearing rather than simply using their hearing more than sighted people and thus being more attuned to sound. An example of pity-points would be the time my family was watching Dancing With the Stars featuring a blind contestant. After the dance, someone remarked that the contestant would probably get sympathy points and go on to the next round. Her talent was not a factor the same way it was for the able-bodied contestants; pity-points could not be separated from her success. It was impossible that she would be supported and judged the same way as the others, with her blindness being only an extra factor that might make copying a dance to learn it more challenging for her. Keep in mind, these ideas are so ingrained in people that my own family believed it in even when they know me and several of my blind friends.

Let’s consider Tooh:

Pity-Points? - Not even a factor. This was not brought up by Aang, nor Katara, nor Sokka. It was certainly not thought of by the owner of the battle ring nor Toph’s opponents. In fact, she was only doubted when she lost. Her talent was never viewed as the result of someone else’s pity or reduced to inspiration for an able-bodied wrestling audience. The announcer says her name and nothing else. Her parents don’t bring up the idea that Toph only wins because she was pitied either. They witnessed her bending and only believed they needed to protect her more, not that she was not talented.

Privilege? - It is no question that Tooh’s family is rich. It is hard to say how much that affects her here. She has a tutor who undermines her growth and is pretty much useless. She has protection she doesn’t want and riches she doesn’t seem to use. She does have more free time to battle as a result of her riches, not having to work at a young age (although her parents probably would not have let her even if they needed the money). Toph’s family status could have been seen as playing a role in her winning— if her parents allowed the world to know about her. - It is no secret that Toph is rich, however, when privilege is brought up by able-bodied people, they don’t usually mean riches (although the stereotypical rich disabled person is something I could discuss at a later time). They usually mean some combination of government benefits that may or may not exist and pity points. Disability makes things HARDER, not easier. A person can have multiple privileges they did not earn, or lack of privileges they did not ask for. Toph does not gain special privileges due to her disability, nor does she ask for or expect them. My opinion is that no one asks for this, anyway.

Super-human? - This one is a little trickier. It is the one people are obviously hung up on when they consider Toph. It is difficult to consider this without considering Toph’s entire arc. However, I have chosen to focus on her bending and “sight” and how it is used in this episode. I may talk about this more if I do other reviews. - First, bending. Toph is not the only bender in the series. She is also not the only good bender, as Katara is also someone who grows into her bending and becomes particularly powerful. Aang is already a master of airbending in addition to being the Avatar. He is special and particularly powerful, mastering water quickly. Azula is also said to be a prodigy and has mastered lightning at 14. The point is, Toph is a powerful bender. She is not the only powerful bender in the world. The Avatar needs someone to teach him and that person would, reasonably, have mastered their bending in order to teach the Avatar. - Now for Toph’s bending in relation to her blindness. It is true that Toph is powerful AND blind— is she powerful in spite of being blind? Is she powerful because her blindness gives her superpowers? This is tricky. To me, the narrative doesn’t go out of its way to say “she overcame her blindness and was able to win”. It also doesn’t show blindness as a superpower, such as causing superior hearing. - How is it portrayed then? First, Toph never has to “overcome” her blindness, which is important. The obstacle is the limitations placed on her. The obstacle is society, not her disability. Toph does not need to accept her blindness before doing anything, because she has been blind since birth. She does not have to overcome her blindness before fighting or becoming a champion because when we are introduced to her, she already was. She is not expected to overcome her disability in order to teach Aang; he tries to recruit her without seeing her disability as an issue. She does not need overcome her disability because it is not what stops her, as is the case for most people. There are some things being blind makes difficult, different, or impossible to do, but this isn’t one of them. Blind people can learn to fight. They can win. And when people reduce such accomplishments as “overcoming disability”, it can feel like a misdirection, like a dismissal of hard work and talent.

This does not happen with Toph.

Second, does Toph’s blindness give her superpowers? Maybe. I feel like it might be necessary to cover Toph in other episodes. However, this review is focusing mostly on The Blind Bandit and so I will focus on Toph’s unique “sight”. Toph’s bending is unique from others because she can feel the vibrations in the ground, allowing her to sense objects and people. This ability allows her to fight and beat others. In my opinion, this is more of an adaptation perfected through sheer amount of practice. Katara and Zuko don’t always bend. Toph is using her bending constantly. Of course she would be good at it. Her bending is a tool for her use. Fighting? That’s just a bonus, a hobby.

Toph also has weaknesses and is in fact beaten by Aang, who wasn’t even trying. Losing to someone who had no intention of winning is a pretty big deal.

Personally, I don’t think Toph is a supercrip in this episode. She is a Blind Seer, a trope popular in literature. The Blind Seer can’t see physically, but they can see in other ways you can’t. I don’t have an issue with this trope and think it can be used in cool ways, especially if the blind character isn’t the only one with a superpower.

I do, however, want people to question why a blind character always needs to have a power that relates to or makes up for their lack of sight in some way. Unless you are making a deliberate allusion to something or a blind is not the only one with sight-related powers, I ask writers to question why they jump to sight-related powers in the first place. Or powers related to hearing, something to “make up for” their lack of sight.

Can this be done well? Absolutely. Toph, while she can fall into both The Blind Seer and the Supercrip tropes for some people, she is beloved and interesting for many fans, blind or sighted.

I ask people to trace their logic about why they choose to give their blind character powers related to sight. What kind of power is it? Does it make up for (aka erase) their blindness and make them less relatable to blind readers/watchers? Are they the only blind character and/or the only person with such a power? Can they have another power? What works and does not work for good characters like Toph? Why?

Getting rid of these particular tropes are not the answer. I simply invite people to consider other options, try new things, think critically about why and what woks or doesn’t work in other characters.

I absolutely invite blind writers to use whatever tropes they want, as they can probably write it in a more nuanced way.

My personal opinion about the Supercrip trope is that it is somehow focused on success or talent as the enemy without recognizing what it means. Wanting to succeed is not wrong. Being competitive is refreshing!

It isn’t really about doing super things or not— it is about disabled people being made to feel like they will not be successful, accepted, or taken seriously if they do not win everything or succeed at impossible feats. Able-bodied people are permitted to exist without needing to prove anything. Disabled people are not afforded that respect.

Either disabled people fight against the ingrained expectation that they simply cannot do anything, that will FAIL, because of their disability, or they fight against the realization that, for many people, even impossible feats will never be enough. Their accomplishments will never be seen as just that— accomplishments.

Blind characters should be talented or hard-working, prodigies or people who claw their way to the top. Their disability may be an obstacle and it may, in fact, barely even be necessary to mention aside from adaptive tools. The Supercrip is so alluring because people are under the impression blind people— and disabled people as a whole— cannot do anything. To the point that some condescendingly assume certain things are impossible because they did not think of adaptive techniques or technology. This is why research is important.

Remember why this trope/stereotype exists: for the inspiration of able-bodied people who are uninterested in making changes in society’s attitudes and the amount of accessibility it provides. Problematic tropes like this usually have a specific issue behind them and you cannot tackle or discuss r subvert the trope until you understand the harmful reason it exists.

Not everyone agrees with me. Here are some reading materials:

On the pervasive Supercrip trope in martial arts:

http://feministing.com/2010/02/19/media-portrayal-of-disability-and-martial-arts-a-personal-statement/

On the pressure this trope puts on blind people:

Challenging the ‘Supercrip’ Stereotype of People With Disabilities | The Mighty

[In the comments, I would prefer people not speculate about Toph being a Supercrip or not if they aren’t blind themselves. It would be more helpful to focus on other aspects of this review or share posts by other blind people instead.]

Keep in mind, this is only a review of one episode. And I personally will take a powerful disabled character over a powerless, sad one anytime.

This concludes our commercial break. Back to the show.

BEING BLIND IN EARTH KINGDOM SOCIETY

Earth Kingdom Boy 1: “Well, a flying boar is the symbol of the Beifong family. They’re the richest people in town. Probably whole world.” Earth Kingdom Boy 2: “Yeah, but they don’t have a daughter.”

Now this is interesting. It implies that Toph is: a) hiding herself well so as to keep up her double life and/or b) being hidden by her family. I suspect it is a little of both. A) is pretty obvious, especially with the wall surrounding their estate, while b) could be due to overprotectiveness or shame on the part of her parents. Shame may seem harsh. However, this is not exactly a modern time period and respect for disabled people can vary depending on culture, time, place, and individual attitudes.

When portraying poor social attitudes toward disabled characters, writers must work hard to show the attitudes as wrong and work to reduce them. I do feel that, like with gender discrimination, people tend to preemptively assume accepting disability is modern and Western concept- and that any ableism is fair game because it is realistic. That is far from the truth, especially if they get it wrong.

Too much and it could be mistaken for an excuse to be ableist. Too little and it may seem like erasure of societal barriers faced by blind people.

Let’s see how the ATLA writers handle this.

TOPH’S “SIGHT” AND MISSED OPPORTUNITIES

Anyway, the Gaang finds Toph again. Toph: “What are doing here, Twinkle Toes?” Aang: “How did you know it was me?”

Two things stick out here. I love that The Gaang interacts with her normally and this episode is not about the able-bodied characters learning how to treat a disabled person like a person, nor is it about them confronting their biases. Instead, they have a favor to ask, one that Toph cannot grant. The episode shifts focus onto Toph and her emotions and needs.

I also liked that Aang asks how she knew it was him. This is a common question and it seems to be asked in curiosity rather than implied judgment or suspicion on Aang’s part, as is often the case nowadays. Later in the episode, Toph explains how she knew, but she could also have recognized his footsteps (light as they are) with or without her bending. Blind people are also usually more reliant on hearing or smell and so may pick up on scents or sounds others do not. That is not to say their hearing or smell are superior (see the Supercrip discussion), but that they are used more often. This is how I conceptualize Toph’s bending— it is something she uses all day, every day. Like her hearing and smell and touch, she is more reliant on these senses and so uses them in ways others don’t.

I do wish we had a few more examples of this in the episode/show rather than Toph using her bending for every situation. As I said, I do not mind that she can “see” with bending as it is not true sight, but showing how she uses other senses would have been nice details.

TOPH’S PARENTS HAVE ENTERED THE RING

Toph: “I thought I heard something! I got scared.” Guard: “You know your father doesn’t want you wandering the grounds without supervision, Toph.”

With this, we can understand her father is overprotective, so much so that Toph is able to believably pull off this act of helplessness in front of the guards. Her father does not believe even walking around her own home is safe for her.

With that in mind, it is NOT a plot hole that she can walk around her home in front of her parents. Even overprotected blind kids don’t use canes or need a guide within their own homes as they often memorize the layout. Canes are not usually used inside ones own home or very familiar areas. Outside areas might be an exception as they are likely to change due to nature or redesign, but generally familiar, casual areas do not warrant canes or guides. It is completely believable that Toph can walk around in her own home without causing suspicion.

Toph’s father, indicating soup placed in front of her: “Blow on it. It’s too hot for her.”

Not only is her father overprotective, he is infantilizing. He thinks she can’t blow on her own soup and must be confined to basic stances of bending, something Toph is clearly unhappy with. Toph’s parents are the kind of people who wouldn’t let her watch TV lol!

Toph’s father: “And sadly, because of her blindness, I don’t think she will ever become a true master.”

There it is. There are many people in the world who have this mindset, believing disabled people succeeding is unrealistic, or only achieved by pity-driven intervention from others for inspirational purposes or a lie told by overly soft parenting. Toph’s father may seem radical, but his views are very common even for those close to a blind person. Even for those who might like the inspirational stories about blind people doing things.

HOW TOPH SEES THE WORLD

Toph: “It’s kind of like seeing with my feet.”

This is where I disagree with some interpretations of Toph. She can sense where things are and what they are. She has a wider range than someone with a cane would. However, I don’t know if this is quite erasing her blindness. Could they have done better? Yes. However, to claim the show made her sighted with magic is not quite fitting to me. Toph is not seeing with a magical potion, nor did Katara heal her blindness. She is using a power a lot of people in the ATLA universe have in bending, one she has used her entire life and perfected through sheer number of practice hours. I think it helps that she did not get this power, narratively, because she was blind. Rather she is a blind person who adapted a skill to her use.

A cane or an animal guide might have helped make the narrative more relatable for blind people, however. They could have also played up being unable to see people’s facial expressions. In other episodes, they show areas where she is unable to bend, such as on ice, sand, or floating objects like the warship or Appa.

In these instances, they could have shown sighted guide.

However, I think what they did worked. Would I suggest anyone else try it? Maybe not. It depends on their motivation for doing it. Toph’s powers basically act as a cane or Sunnu band would. They aren’t a magic spell letting her see all the time.

They could have done a little better— I still think it worked. It does not seem to have unfortunate implications of sight being better than blindness or blindness needing special cures.

For writing purposes, it is important to understand why this worked, how it was portrayed, factor in that bending is not unique to Toph, understand the nature of her ‘sight’, and understand what they could have done better. Just because it works here doesn’t mean it will work everywhere. It is important for writers to understand that and question their motivation for giving their character a different kind of vision.

THE DISABILITY EPISODE - AVOIDED

Toph’s father: “My daughter is blind. She is blind and tiny and helpless and fragile. She cannot help you.” Toph: “Yes. I can.”

Some may feel uncomfortable that Toph’s first episode is about her parents doubting her, dealing with ableism and being forced into stereotypes by her own family. It is important to remember that this is a show for children and any blind children watching it will have dealt with similar issues from adults in their lives. The show doesn’t seem to say this is the only narrative a blind character can have, but rather that it is a relatable occurrence for blind children who are watching it.

Toph also has many episodes left — this is only the beginning. This is hardly her only arc, and even her personality and abilities challenge so many stereotypes.

In most shows, the blind character gets one episode. Toph, however, is a main character.

Toph is also a well-rounded and interesting character with agency. She hardly seems like an inspirational puppet for adults.if this show had been written for adults or if Toph had been focusing on wanting to become a champion “despite her blindness”, I might have felt upset. It goes to show how important nuance is when writing disabled characters and how powerful it can be to make an effort to challenge stereotypes.

This is not how we first see Toph— helpless, unproductive. Instead, we FIRST see her out in the world kicking butt with her bending skill and I think that it is important.

NOT SO HELPLESS AFTER ALL

Toph’s father uses these words to describe her: Tiny, helpless, fragile. Unable to help others. Unexpected to become a true master or even advance beyond breathing techniques.

Toph challenges all of these at some point. She helps Aang defeat the bad guys. She faces many people in battle and wins, remaining an undefeated champion until Aang accidentally beats her. She advances far beyond basic bending techniques. Toph is good at very active things, with bending as a martial art and as a sport here. It is refreshing to see blind characters being so active and a stark contrast to the passive image her father has of his blind daughter. She does things for herself, including developing her bending style without the help of a master who limits her- and she hides her double life well. Toph’s ability and personality also challenge notions of fragility: she is boisterous and fearless, stubborn and even a bit rude. She mostly says what she wants to and fiercely hides what she doesn’t want to, even when pressured. She yielded only to her parents, which is tied up in love, respect, fear that they will no longer love her, possible aversion to change in some aspects of her life, and cultural expectations. For disabled children, it is often hard to go against your parents because the world teaches you that the world will never accept you or allow you to live in it. Your family is all you have.

Toph IS tiny, although that is due to genetics, environmental factors, and her age. However, her stature is used to prove the other qualities assigned to her when in reality her height has nothing to do with anything her family believes about her.

When the fighting starts, Toph creates a cloud of dust which effectively blinds her opponents. I thought it was a nice, ironic touch. The point is not just that her opponents now cannot see; Toph is already used to fighting under these conditions. She didn’t level the playing field. She is already better than them, already used to working without sight, and so the advantage is hers.

ABLEISM IN ACTION

Later, Toph confronts her parents:

Toph’s father: “You will be cared for and guarded 24/7.” Toph’s mother: “We are doing this for your own good, Toph.”

Unfortunately, this kind of infantilization is not uncommon. They saw her as she truly was and were still unable to let go of their ideas of their blind daughter. At this point, Toph is more trapped than ever despite opening up. The first time, it was surprising to see them not change their minds, given the happy endings we are used to in children’s shows. However, what happens is more relatable to blind kids with overprotective or controlling parents.

Of course, Toph makes the choice to leave them, showing more agency than most blind characters get, with or without controlling parents.

OVERALL

Overall: I loved this episode. It was a nice introduction to a character that both challenged expectations and dealt with obstacles relatable to blind fans. Toph’s struggles with her parents and the weight of stereotypes could have been cheap inspiration porn, but the way it was handled and the target audience of children rather than adults changes things immensely. This episode goes out of its way to challenge many stereotypes viewers may hold about blind people in ways that are fun and exciting. Toph’s personality is refreshing even over a decade later. While her bending as ‘sight’ may be disliked by some, it feels more like something with missed opportunities (the use of a cane or sighted guide), although I thought this episode did it well. Toph is not given special powers so that she can see—she adapts an ability for her own use.

Toph is a martial artist, encouraging children to try something similar if they are interested. She challenges her own parents, which may be very relatable to blind fans.

Unlike most children’s shows of the time (and even now), Toph does not feel like a vessel for able-bodied viewers to learn about blindness.

ACCESSIBILITY:

However, it is important to remember that at the time ATLA aired, there was no Netflix with audio descriptions. Descriptions were infrequent at the time and are still spotty on cable TV. The ATLA DVD did not have audio descriptions either, which is the case with all DVDs I have come across. Netflix also took an embarrassingly long time to add audio descriptions to a show with a blind character.

Consider that Toph was nearly inaccessible to blind children at the time — until 2020, well after other sighted children could enjoy it fully. Blind children could not watch a show about them with the same ease that a sighted child could. Think about that.

Is the show to blame for this? I don’t know. Usually the broadcasting service handles descriptions. I have yet to come across a DVD with descriptions. However, I wonder why it took this long. Did the staff consider a blind audience at all? Could they have pushed for descriptions to be added to the DVD?

And what about fans? Did fans consider that the character who challenged stereotypes for them might not be as accessible to blind people themselves? While they scrabbled about whether the characters were ableist, did they bother to consider Netflix’s lack of audio descriptions? Do they remember to add image descriptions to GIFs, pictures, or video clips in the years ATLA was popular online? Did any of this occur to anyone BUT the blind community?

Doesn’t seem like it.

TOPH AND THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE OF/LESS OF IN BLIND CHARACTERS

I made a post about things I would like to see more/less of in blind characters. You can read it here:

https://blindbeta.tumblr.com/post/637419979125489664/things-i-want-to-see-more-ofless-of-in-blind

Here’s how Toph compares to that!

More of: -Blind main character ✔️ -Blind character of color ✔️ -Active (sports/martial arts) and competitive ✔️ -Acknowledgment of difficulties faced in society ✔️

How They Avoided Things I Wanted Less Of: -Being portrayed as sad or broken because of blindness - Avoided - Toph owns her blindness by giving herself the same The Blind Bandit. The only time she is sad is when facing ableism from her parents.

-Being innocent, helpless, and unrealistically kind or selfless - Toph proves she is not helpless, even directly challenging it in the narrative. - Toph is also not unrealistically kind or selfless, not only insulting other characters- but refusing to help Aang when he needs it because it would change things between her and her parents. She also challenges her parents in the end, putting her desires before their feelings toward their perceptions of her. When she follows Aang, she doesn’t do so only to help him. She has her own want to travel and gain independence. - As for innocence, Toph IS 12, although she is far from naive. She is able to fool her own parents into thinking she is who they want her to be.

-Being portrayed as ungrateful or rude in general - Toph’s rudeness comes from a non-ableist place—herself. She is not rude due to anger about being blind nor rude due to entitlement. She doesn’t accept she doesn’t need and is not demonized for this, even when going against her own parents. Toph’s rudeness is in her personality, making it subversive in avoiding the idea blind people must accept all help and be grateful for it. The narrative does NOT expect Toph to go along with the ‘help’ of her parents or even Aang. She refuses this help until she is ready and willing to receive it.

-Going blind due to accidents or trauma - Toph was born blind

I WOULD HAVE WANTED TO SEE: -more adaptive technology/skills in addition to her bending -how she utilizes her other senses -another blind, minor character somewhere in the show (doesn’t apply to this episode, but still)

Toph is, in the end, a token blind character. It works better because she is a MAIN character, which is still not a common occurrence in modern media at all. Toph works because she does not have any stereotypical traits about her personality, which means the sighted audience does not have to rely on another character to broaden their perspective. However, it is still important to include more than one blind character in your stories. For ATLA, 1 or 2 minor blind characters may have helped, or maybe an additional secondary or even main character with low vision.

Toph has a well-rounded personality, which also means the “token” is not completely applicable to her. Toph is a great character. It would have been nice if she were not the only blind character. In fact, I cannot think of any show that has more than one blind character, as if it is a character quirk that cannot be done more than once.

RANDOM IMAGINES TIME

Now I’m imagining a Zuko whose eyesight was affected by the burn or a Zuko whose father decided he didn’t need that side of face anyway if he could not see out of it. Or an Azula who is blind and still better than Zuko -sticks out tongue-! Or perhaps Sokka or Ty Lee contrasting Toph’s personality and bringing to the table a struggle with a lack of depth perception while hunting or performing in the circus, respectively.

The point is, you don’t have to overload your story with blind characters unless you are setting it at a school or event for the blind. Instead, consider who is blind in your story and who else possibly could be. Consider why you only have one blind character and why.

That about wraps up all my thoughts on Toph. In short, I love her. There are things they could have done better or additions they could have made to improve the episode and Toph’s character as a whole, but she is still one of the most beloved and recognizable blind characters ever. I think that says something about the impression she left on people.

If only she would have been accessible to more blind children from the start.

I hope this review was helpful! If you need help writing blind characters I provide sensitivity reading in exchange for donations. My inbox is also open for questions.

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

five - but what if?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (don’t swear kids), mention of drowning, mention of death, nightmares, mention of guns, mention of fight, did I miss something.

Description: after his reckless actions at the party, JJ is unable to sleep but he isn’t the only one still awake.

A/n : I don’t want to make this longer than it already is, I think I’ve talked enough lol. If for some reason you want to know why I’ve been gone for so long I’ve written a post regarding it. Sorry again for not posting in so long. If you want to chat, feel free to reach out. I’m friendly. :) please kindly tell me if I’ve made some mistakes, I’ve reread this like a hundred times but its possible some mistakes slipped.

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

Gif by @cobrazkai

Song recommendation

JJ Maybank was 14 years old when he first realized that he had feelings for one of his best friends. The thing is he didn’t know what the hell those feelings were. He had always thought that y/n was really pretty and he considered her to be one of her closest friends and that was it. Friends- that’s what they were.

But after years of friendship and wild adventures and basically hanging out 24/7, something felt different. And boy, did that scare him.

JJ was not the kind of person to be really in touch with his emotions. Being abandoned by his own mother and living with an abusive alcoholic father didn’t really help either. If anything, his past traumas only made him more disconnected from his emotions and feelings.

He might’ve been hot headed and impulsive but that didn’t stop him from feeling things, often even too deeply. The issue was naming the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling like half of the time. So when it came to y/n, his feelings for her were so intense and unknown. He had never felt this way for anyone before. He was so confused.

Being around her felt weirdly homely and yet, he never really had a real home to come to. For him, it was only a house. It was a building with things he wasn’t really attached to and a man he couldn’t really call a father, despite DNA saying otherwise. Being with her felt warm and golden and it was like a drug he couldn’t say no to. He was constantly looking for ways to feel this specific way. It was euphoric. But he only felt this way when he was around her. And it felt like home.

She was the home he wanted to come to every freaking night. And he wanted to dance with her and have night long discussion and caress her cheeks tenderly. He wanted to kiss her more than anything else, his lips on hers staying that way until one of them needed to take a breath - oh what heavenly feeling that must be. He wanted to proclaim his feelings to the entire island - the entire world even.

Only he couldn’t. There was this rule, and he couldn’t break it. Usually, he wasn’t the kind of person to let rules determine what he should and shouldn’t do. But it was the pogue rules, he couldn’t break them. He couldn’t do that to his friends, regardless of his own feelings.

Love. That’s what his feelings were. It took him some time to realize it, but yeah, it was love. He was certain of it (which was rare for JJ). A first love, innocent, deep and one sided. At least that’s what he thought. How could she love him? How could anyone love him when even his own father didn’t? Who would want him?

Now, JJ had messed, big time.

He was sitting beneath a tree, at the edge of the yard whims the château, a few feet away from where the water started. His gaze was turned towards the sunrise though he wasn’t really looking at the magnificent show of colours that nature was offering him. He was thinking or more like regretting.

He kept replaying the event that had happened just a few hours ago on the boneyard again and again in his mind. The arrogance on John B’s face while he taunted the kooks, the empty, psychotic look on Topper’s face while he was holding J.B’s head underwater, his own hand holding the gun against Topper’s head. It felt so powerful at the moment and yet in retrospect he felt so stupid. What would he have done if something had actually happened, if someone had gotten hurt because of him?

In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t thought about it really much. How crazy it actually was. He saw his friend in a situation where he could actually die and only thought about helping him. He had this thing with him that could help save him, an object that take could take someone’s life in the matter of seconds. So he used it at his advantage. He had only wanted to help, but at what cost.

He kept picturing the expression on y/n’s face when he got the gun out. It wasn’t anger, no it was much worse, she was terrified. She had actually been scared of him. How could he ever make up for that. How he could he ever admit what he was feeling for her after he had brought her such terror. He had ruined everything.

What if she never forgot that moment? What if she never forgave him?

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance, and JJ turned to face whoever, or whatever, was lurking in the dark. He was blinded by the bright artificial light of a flashlight. “JJ?” A voice spoke and the blond immediately recognized it. Y/n.

“Can you please turn it off, I don’t think it’s necessary,” he responded, motioning to the clarity that brought the sunrise. It was light enough for them to fully see one another.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, “-she sat down beside him- “Couldn’t sleep?” JJ stared at her for a moment before taking his eyes away.

“Yeah, you could say that. What about you? John B snoring too loud?” Y/n gave a small laugh.

“Um, no, not this time.” Her smile went down. “I had a nightmare.” JJ’s brows furrowed.

“Not about um, not about tonight right?” He asked, guilt hidden in the tremors of his voice.

Images of the past night filled y/n’s mind. Her brother being held under water, JJ pulling the gun out, the loud echoing sound of the firearm as it shot in the air. She could still hear it ringing slightly in her ears.

A small moment went by before she finally shook her head in denial, earning a small sigh of relief from the blond (at least that wasn’t his fault, he already felt guilty for so many things). “No, uh, no it wasn’t that,” she said, her voice barely audible.

JJ stared at her face in the golden light of this early morning. He noticed the blank stare in her eyes and frowned. Nightmares, although worrying for most people, were pretty common for y/n. JJ of course knew this, yet something felt odd.

He rested his hand on the small part of her back between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She turned her head to meet his eyes, the feeling of his skin, warm and soft against hers sending small tingles at the base of her neck.

She didn’t want to bother him with her problems, she knew how horrible his home life was compared to what she was living. She didn’t want to remind him of this not make him feel bad about her small problems when he was facing such violence on a daily basis. Still, she knew JJ and talking about his dad was the last thing he wanted to do. And his eyes, his beautiful ocean blue eyes, it’s like they could see through her. How could she lie to him?

“I, uh I-I-“ his hand went to her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Y/n felt her cheeks burning (hopefully he didn’t notice it). She took a moment to breathe in deeply the fresh air, calming herself slightly before putting her hand on his.

“No, I-I want to. I think it’ll help, in a way.” JJ cracked a sweet smile. “Alright then.”

“I keep having this one dream about my dad and I see him on his boat wandering. He’s lost in the middle of the ocean and he’s calling my name.” Saying those words, she really felt as though she could hear her father calling her name in the far distance, as if he was right beside her. Sadly, it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

“And it keeps turning to this nightmare, where he dies in various horrible ways. Either drowned or starved or eaten by sharks.” JJ’s gaze softened, his eyes admiring her lips forming each words one after the other. “But tonight-“ she let go of his hand, shifting her body to face him completely, “-tonight, for a reason, I didn’t see him.”

“The boat was empty.”

Flashes of her nightmare came back to her like waves crashing on the beach. Her dad on his boat, a smile sketched on his lips. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud is in sight. There’s a warm breeze, she can almost feel it on her skin, and the sun is shining. It’s almost utopian, the perfect day to spend out in the sea.

Then the scene changes. The sky darkens to a deeper shade of blue, grey clouds towering the ocean. The wind is stronger, much stronger. It whistles as it makes its way in the crevices between each tree and threatens to tear the sails down. And the boat, she can see it floating hauntingly on the wild waves the same way a ghost would in abandoned castle. And there’s no trace of her father. Not even a feeling, that would tell her he’s there, trying to survive this storm.

“What if he really is gone J? What if my dad-“ she stopped her sentence to look at the horizon, somehow hoping to see a sign that would prove she was wrong. “I’m trying so hard to be positive and optimistic, but it’s been so long. What if he never comes back?”

The look in her eyes was heart-wrenching. JJ didn’t know what to say or do. He never really thought about it. What would happen if Big John was gone. To be honest he didn’t want to, that man was more of father to him than his own ever was. And losing him would be... he preferred not to think about it.

“I disagree,” he finally said. “What?” “Your dad is like one of the smartest person I’ve ever known. I think that, he, of all people would know how to get out of any situation, especially if it seems impossible to everyone else. I don’t think that you should give up on him yet.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “So fuck everyone who tells you otherwise,“ y/n giggled. “Fuck all of them! You’re allowed to have hope, y/n, even after this much time. They can’t take that from you.”

“In the meantime, we’ll there’s us,” us, “the pogues, our own family. We can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah, we can.” Y/n’s head fell on his shoulder. “We’re the pogues.”

JJ admired her carefully. How her face looked, basked in the golden rays of the sun, looking so terribly tired and yet so beautiful. He could stay like this forever, losing himself completely in her smile. God she was so wonderful.

“Hey y/n/n?” “Yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” “Huh?”

“Why would I be ma- oh, oh.” The gun. He thought she was mad at him for what he did. Though he saved her brother, didn’t he? So, she didn’t understand why he would think she could hate him.

“It’s just that you looked so terrified when-” “You saved him JJ, that’s what matters most.” Y/n interrupted the boy mid sentence, placing her hand on his arm in gratitude. “If you hadn’t done anything, he could have...” she didn’t finish her sentence.

When she saw JJ holding the firearm against Topper’s head just a few hours ago, she had first been incredibly shocked. She didn’t recognize the JJ she knew. But now, she completely understood. It was his way of protecting his friends, his way of showing he cared. And that, she admired him for it. Though he could’ve shown it in a less dangerous way.

“I admit,” she added, “it was dangerous and a bit scary to see and we’re probably gonna get some kind of revenge from the kooks soon, but no one got hurt. And J.B, well he’s okay! We’re all okay!”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I did some very, very stupid things last night, so I can’t really be mad at you,” she cringed remembering the amount of alcohol influenced things she had said and done during the party. “God, I must have looked so ridiculous.”

JJ laughed at her comment. “Yes, yes you did.” “Man, John B was right, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Asked y/n, once their laughter had died. “Depends what?”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt yourself with that thing, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I promise, y/n. ”

“Thank you.”

Taglist

@deionswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily

If I forgot you or if you wanna be added/removed just tell me! Also I’m sorry if your name didn’t work :/

[becomingbts]

Would You Like to Order a Sip of Happiness?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Type: angst, fluff but without any real romance

Warning(s): mention of (natural) death, grief, and depression.

Genre: Fantasy, university au!

Summary: It had been a rumor, a fairy tale, an old story… Until Jimin had no other choice but to believe it.

5.5k words

Note: OKAY HERE WE GO I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFT FOR LIKE, FOREVER. I’m so happy I’m done with it!! I’m pretty satisfied I think, so I hope you’ll like it! Take care everyone, please, feedback is always warmly welcomed! I try to answer everyone uwu Take care, lots of love!!!! Dolly (who is going to sleep now lol)

It had been a rumor.

A groundless rumor said that there was a weird coffee shop in town. It had been there for ages, apparently. The rumors said that people found out about where the shop was only when they truly needed it; they said it was an unconscious process made by their brains, feet guiding them by themselves to the said coffee shop without leaving any memory about the right path to go back once they left. Thus, no one knew where it was. The few people who had found the coffee shop were left unable to find their way back to the place as if a spell was preventing them from finding the shop again. This unexplainable phenomenon made people dubious and for those who dared to say that the shop existed, that they had seen it by themselves, rare were those who listened to them without laughing at them. Nobody actually believed them. And if this whole thing of not being able to find the shop again was already sketchy, the rest of their stories usually made it even less credible. Rumors said that this coffee shop offered to serve memories; 'a journey into your soul, into life and discoveries'. It sounded like a fairy tale coming straight from a book, if not a complete made-up lie. It had been said that one slice of cake from the shop was enough for people to travel to unknown landscapes and that a sip of tea was able to recreate the happiest memory of someone.

Jimin had heard of those rumors too. He had even met one person who had declared to have been in the coffee shop by themselves and thus knew that it existed.

It had been his grandmother. She was not there anymore to narrate the complex story, but she used to tell Jimin that it did really exist. When he was a kid, he was fascinated by the story. From what his grandmother had told him and what he had gathered, it could mean only one thing: the coffee shop was magic. His grandmother had explained to him that a nice lady had asked her if she had wanted anything that was on the menu.

"Even though I thought that all the names were ridiculous, I couldn't help but be curious. The menu had many things like 'a sip of happiness' or a 'chamomile of joy'. I thought I was in a dream. I had never seen that shop before, and it felt like it had appeared out of nowhere. However, everything seemed very old inside, as if the café had been around for years. The chairs were crackling, the parquet seemed old too, and even the menu looked kind of historic! It felt like the shop had always been there." She had remembered happily with a hint of nostalgia.

"What did you order then, Ma?" Jimin had asked curiously.

"Ah, I ordered a 'latte of memories' and a slice of 'cakescape'. If you ever find the shop, you should order one slice of that cake too. I know you'll love it!" His grandmother had always worn that warm smile on her features. She used to smile a bit brighter when she talked about her encounter with the shop.

"Was it tasty?"

"It was the best thing I ever had. But it wasn't the most surprising part of the story. When I closed my eyes, I could hear and smell different things, as if I had gone out of the coffee shop and was somewhere else. It was confusing at first, especially when I noticed that the smells and the atmosphere felt familiar. It was hard to remember where I knew those scents and noises from, but after a few seconds, I realized it was just like my sister's home. It used to be my favorite place in the world; smelling like cinnamon and bread. I could hear her dog barking somewhere and her voice was so, so clear in my head as if she was actually there with me. I knew it was impossible because my sister had passed away a few months before. But I could hear her singing lightly, giggling happily as she was baking. It was almost as if everything that had gone wrong with my sister's death had never happened. But once I opened my eyes again, I was back in the coffee shop. The smell had changed again, and I could not hear my sister anymore,” the old woman’s expression had soured a bit before she had continued, “I cried a lot that day; all the pain left from my sister's death had come to my mind again, and it felt like I was finally grieving like I had wished to have the time for. I remember the owner giving me a hug and asking me if I felt better. I don't exactly remember what happened afterward, but all I remember is being out of the coffee shop and just feeling so relieved and relaxed. I never found the shop again. I tried, trust me, I redid almost all streets I had gone through that day. But I never found the coffee shop again."

"What was the name of the shop, Ma'?"

"Serendipity."

Jimin used to think that it was amazing, especially when he was a kid. Yet, he now knew that it had been a silly story that his grandmother had invented to make him dream. He had been feeling a little bit betrayed at first, but he knew better than to hold a ridiculous grudge against his dear grandmother who had just wanted to offer him a nice story to remember.

However, to his surprise, when he entered university, he heard the familiar story again. He realized that the university rumor—that he soon learned to be famous here—was awfully close to the story of his grandma, and it had bothered him at first. Maybe it had just been a popular story that his grandmother had learned about, after all? It had taken him aback, not ready to hear the story again after years of not hearing it, and especially not from someone else and with different details. He had definitely not thought that anyone would know this story; he had always believed his grandmother had made it up, so to learn that it was a popular rumor on his campus? That had unquestionably been unexpected for him. And as much as he had tried to convince himself that it probably wasn't the same story, that it just had been hazard playing with his head, Jimin came to the conclusion that it truly was the exact same one. There were too many similarities for it to be a coincidence. The story almost felt like some kind of folklore story that ran into the corridors for years without any answer for the people who were questioning the shop's existence. People either dismissed the story or some were fully engrossed in it; a club had even been created in the university in order to search for the said coffee shop.

Jimin wasn't too big on looking for the shop nor did he fully disregard the rumor, yet he had mixed feelings when it came to it. Maybe he had wished for this rumor to be less popular since his grandmother had passed away. His feelings had been locked away, tears hidden while he had not been allowed to take his time to grief; the university had still been ongoing and he had still needed to pass his semester. Jimin's family had refused for him to miss classes, and he had been sent back to Seoul without getting proper time to swallow his loss. It came to a point where Jimin just wanted to yell at every single person speaking about it because it just reminded him of his grandmother. It felt unfair.

Why did he have to go through that? University had barely begun, it was his first semester there and if the familiar story had brought him comfort the first few weeks, it brought him face to face with his worst fears now that he was left alone. The story no longer reminded him of a happy time, but rather of his loss that he was never granted time to cope with. Jimin couldn't help the tears that sometimes threatened to escape from his lashes, but he held on tight, mood souring as midterms came closer and so did his despair. Overwhelmed by sorrow, motivation felt like something he'd never be able to muster again. Getting up started being difficult, eating became a bother, washing up a burden, so learning was at the bottom of Jimin's priority list. Shaking himself up seemed impossible and while he didn't want to admit it to himself, Jimin came to terms with the fact that he wasn't alright, but he'd find a way to feel better eventually.

Not that this admission mentally helped, but at least, it would be a step toward his recovery (hopefully).

In the middle of the stress and growing tension that was palpable in the corridors of the university, Jimin had become detached from this little world. The anxiety of his friends was—to him—incomprehensible, and Jimin's passivity was frustrating for his close friends. They all tried to make him talk, to understand why he was falling into this deep hole he had started digging for himself. None of them could recognize him, it was as if he had been stripped out of his happiness and of the life that was glistening in his eyes and while they wanted to help, they also had their exams to worry about. None of them wanted Jimin to feel like their work was more important than his well-being, but at some point, none of them knew how to help him without feeling like they were losing him for an unknown reason. One of his closest friends, Namjoon, had even begged Jimin to talk, took him on several walks with him, brought him to their favorite coffee shop, to the library... Anywhere outside the university, since it seemed to be the place that was numbing him. He couldn't understand why, but the campus always seemed to push Jimin to his worst mood, so they all avoided bringing him there if not necessary. It had been a silent agreement between themselves, and Jimin had been honestly grateful for them to catch this little detail.

Yet, Namjoon's effort did not change Jimin's behavior. He never talked, never shared his feelings, never gave a sign of opening up. At least, he did smile a bit when they took a walk together, so Namjoon kept on going with him every single day in order to try and get him out of his bad thoughts. Maybe they couldn't help solve his problem, but if they could alleviate the pain, it would still be something they would gladly do.

It was during one of those walks that Jimin saw a small cat and got distracted until he actually lost Namjoon. Frowning to himself, Jimin had tried calling his friend, but to no avail. It was already quite late; looking for one another would just make them lose time. Leaving a voicemail to tell him not to worry and to just go home, Jimin activated his navigation app and walked in the direction of his home until he came to a dead end. Cursing against the app under his breath, Jimin turned around and noticed that the cat he had previously been distracted by was now sitting in front of an illuminated door, much to Jimin's surprise.

Had the cat followed him? But why did it seem like it was actually waiting for him? Curiosity getting the best of him, Jimin got closer to the cat that was observing him and he faced the shop, gawking.

The Serendipity.

Frozen as if time had stopped; snow could have been falling, Jimin wouldn't have noticed. He was staring at the shop, incredulity written all over his features while he tried to swallow the lump that had started to form in his throat. He couldn't talk, only a dry laugh escaped him as tears started rolling on his cheeks.

So that was it? He would never find peace, would he? He was doomed to eternally miss this old woman that had brought so much comfort to him in his teens. He had not been able to see her nearly as often as he wished he had, but she still had meant so much to him; why was destiny so cruel to take her away so quickly? Shaking himself up, he wiped his tears away as he grew angry.

Why did this fucking shop have to appear now after years of thinking that it was a mere invention of his grandmother? Why did it have to remind him of the person he lost?

Jimin almost wanted to run away, turn around and never look back. He didn't have to enter after all.

However, he felt a pull toward the shop as if he subconsciously knew that he had to get inside and see what he would find. Jimin clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own curiosity. He wished he could honestly say that he just wanted to go home and fall asleep under his heavy blanket, but he knew better than to lie to himself. He had done that enough already.

The shop was calling for him and he physically needed to know what he would find. Even if his heart ached at the simple thought of his grandmother, he needed to know.

After all these years of wondering, he could have his answer. So when he heard the chime sound as he pushed the door open, Jimin let the warmth of the café engulf him, drying his wet cheeks while the feeling of warmth made his heart tighten. He couldn't help but think that disappointment was probably the only thing that he would be met with. Jimin wasn't as gullible as people thought him to be. He might have wanted to believe in fairy tales, but he knew better than to actually think it existed for real. Jimin knew that he would probably drink a cup of tea that wouldn't be out of the ordinary and neither would the cake be magical. He sighed heavily, almost ready to turn around and berate himself for his moment of delusion, yet before he could, the cat planted itself in front of the door and mewed loudly as if trying to warn him not to leave. Blinking a few times, Jimin crouched in front of the cat, tilting his head in a confused manner.

"What are you up to bud? You're cute, but I need to get home-"

"I see you met with Ji, welcome Jimin-shi, we've been expecting you for a while," Jimin's head shot up as he heard the voice of a woman coming from behind him. Turning around quickly, he was met with blue eyes and a warm smile while he stared awkwardly.

"How... Do you know my name?" He quickly checked his jacket to verify that no name tag was hanging for the young woman to see but he grew even more uneasy as he saw none.

"Ji told me," she smiled as she pushed a chair close to the counter to the side as if inviting him to take a seat. If he had to be honest though, Jimin would admit that he would rather run away than accept the invitation of a stranger who seemed to know him while he had no recollection of any previous meeting. He would be less suspicious if he had had troubles with remembering faces or names. After all, she looked young enough to be around his age, maybe she saw him around campus? But her face truly didn't ring any bell and Jimin usually had a really good memory when it came to faces.

Even more reasons to feel suspicious.

"Ji?" He asked cautiously.

"Yeah, Ji. The cat," the cat mewed before jumping on the counter and the young woman rolled her eyes, "I know, you're not a cat, you're a witch, blablabla, I know the song. Please, don't stress our guest more than he already is, he looks like he is about to run away any second!" She giggled as the cat mewed again; the young woman turned to Jimin again, smiling at him with caring eyes. He didn't know if he should be worried or soothed by her gaze; he felt like he should feel uncomfortable, yet, as strange as it sounded, he didn't feel ill at ease, "please, take a seat! What would you like to order?" Jimin wanted to politely refuse, tell her he needed to go and hide under the sheets of his bed after a warm shower. However, for some reason, Jimin's body chose to compel to her voice and not to his brain and he simply sat at the counter while struggling to find his words. Looking at the woman with terrified eyes, he noticed her name on her apron.

Serendipity's (Y/N).

The name did not ring any bell either. Why did she seem to know him then?

"Here, the menu. You can order what fits your heart." He shouldn't. He knew better than anyone else that he should leave, run away and never look back. This was starting to freak him out, yet his eyes merely listened to his brain as he started reading the menu.

Jimin's breath hitched; he definitely shouldn't have read it. He should have left the café when he had the opportunity to do so because Jimin felt nauseous as his eyes landed on "the latte of memories" and the slice of "cakescape". Jimin forgot how to breathe for a second as the vivid memories of his grandmother came back flooding his mind. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it now? He could still remember how his grandmother had advised him to order the latte of memories and the cakescape the day he would find the café. Her words were ringing in his head, loud enough for his head to spin ever so slightly. He couldn't make out the other words written on the menu as if these two words were the only thing he could properly read. Shaking his head for a second, he rubbed his eyes painfully before they landed on the menu again. 

Without any change. 

Jimin's still couldn't read anything else, the whole menu was blurry as if he had been crying. Would he be ridiculous for actually crying because he suddenly couldn't read anymore? Probably. He needed to get a grip on himself. Jimin couldn't let his feelings overwhelm him like that; he was in an unknown—and potentially dangerous—place, he had to focus so that he could leave. He wasn't stupid; he knew that he was not in the right state of mind to be alone in the streets at such a late hour, but he also needed to get out quickly. He couldn't stay here where he could feel himself already spiraling.

"Have you chosen anything?" His head snapped in the direction of the young woman, (Y/N), as her voice woke him up from his trance. Her eyes glistened almost with mischief and he wondered what it was about her that felt so ethereal.

"I-" Struggling to find his words, the lump that was stuck in his throat made itself known again and Jimin coughed a few times as he tried to voice his thoughts. He mentally cursed, what was it today with his voice not coming out when he desperately need to put his distress into words? His despair must have been clear on his face, features contorting in pain, because (Y/N) disappeared for a few seconds before coming back with a glass of water. Jimin's eyed it nervously, watching her curiously as she took the seat next to him. 

"You can drink it, it's just water, we don't charge for water, don't worry," she smiled soothingly but he didn't dare to try to tell her that money was not really his first concern. Though, the water looked clear and when he brought his nose to the glass, it didn't smell anything weird. It seemed to be plain water, which put Jimin a bit more at ease than he previously was. Drinking hastily, Jimin didn't dare meeting (Y/N)'s cheeky smile and smiling eyes. He didn't want to see the triumphant features on the woman's face. Feeling her gaze on him as he put his glass back on the counter, he glanced hesitantly in her direction. He noticed the cat (the witch?) jumping on the counter too as if curious about the Newcomer. Ji seemed to study him until it could be certain that he was harmless. 

Weird, he thought. If anyone should be suspicious of the place and of someone, it should definitely be him, not the cat. It had felt like the cat had led him there and even expected him, if Jimin were to be honest. Yet suddenly, it felt as if the danger could be him as if his presence had disrupted the tranquility of their safe bubble. Jimin's feelings of uncertainty and uneasiness seemed to vanish slowly as he watched the cat's tail wrapping around his wrist gently. Internally giggling, Jimin stretched out his hand, letting the cat sniff his hand before deeming him worthy enough to let him run his hand through its fur. Tilting his head in curiosity, Jimin watched the cat jumping out, going back to its original spot. 

"So, should I get you anything?" Meeting her eyes in confusion, Jimin got reminded where he was and what he was doing. Blinking slowly, he wondered if he should get something as his grandmother had recommended him to, or if he should simply get up and leave to find his way back home. Yet, despite his chaotic thoughts and prior fright, his answer came out almost naturally.

"A slice of cakescape with a latte of memories, please," he watched as her smile grow while she nodded before disappearing, leaving him wondering what the hell he was doing. 

Jimin should have left a while ago. He had to get home quickly so that he wouldn't be too tired tomorrow. He had a lot of classes; it wasn't the time to fool around. He should be freaking out about finding the Café of the rumors and reading the exact same order like the one that his grandmother had recommended to him when she narrated the story when he was younger. 

Nothing made sense and yet...

And yet, Jimin felt like he belonged here for a while. The cat had somehow trusted him enough to let him pet his head, (Y/N) seemed like a normal person (oh well, maybe not normal, but normal enough)... He didn't feel nearly as panicked as he probably should and he didn't know if it freaking him out or if he was eased by his sudden feeling of safety. Maybe he had been bewitched. After all, (Y/N) did say that the cat was a witch... 

Jimin chuckled at himself. He really needed to stop believing in children's stories. He was an adult now, he should know better. 

Yet, if he had not believed his grandmother's story before, he was now met with the fact that she had probably told him the truth. Maybe not the part of the crazy story about her being brought back to the house of her deceased sister, but the café truly existed. 

His confused trail of thoughts got interrupted as he saw a plate with a slice of cake and a mug dropped in front of him on the counter. The young woman smiled at him before organizing her desk. Watching her for a quick second, Jimin wondered if he should ask anything. Why was the café so Well hidden? Did she know about the University club created to search for the shop? Did she know about the fame of the café? Yet before he could ask any of the questions that had been burning his tongue, she had turned around and had already disappeared in what Jimin expected to be the kitchen. Only him and Ji were left in the room and even if Jimin tried to ignore the fixed glare he felt behind him, he sighed, turning around to face the cat that was indeed staring at him. 

"What?" Jimin asked, thinking about how ridiculous he must have been looking to talk to a cat. He obviously did not get any answer. Rolling his eyes playfully, Jimin gawked at his order in wonder. What should he start with? 

Eating. You always eat before you drink. 

Digging into the cake, Jimin closed his eyes at the taste in amazement. Fuck, it was really good. It would have been dumb not to order anything. 

Always trust Grandma. 

Sipping in his latte, Jimin ate his slice too quickly for his liking (had his discovery been during the afternoon, he would have probably ordered a second one, but the late hour did not really leave him with that choice), yet he felt a bit dizzy. Rubbing his fingers on his temple, he squinted for a second before feeling like the ground was moving under his feet. Hands harshly gripping at the counter to try to remain firmly seated, dizziness fully overwhelmed his body until it finally stopped. 

Panting uneasily, Jimin tries to catch his breath and to soothe down his panic, however, it only grew greater as he realized that he was unable to open his eyes. Trying to force them open, nothing worked. Jimin's eyes remained firmly closed against his own will. He gritted his teeth in frustration while trying to breathe deeply to avoid any panic attack. He needed to remain calm and to have a hold on his feelings. Getting overwhelmed was not a possibility. 

God, Jimin had known he should have run away the moment he had entered the shop. What had suddenly gotten him so pliant? So happy to stay? He had no idea and it was frustrating him to no end. Yet, Jimin froze as he heard a familiar tune. Catching a painful breath, Jimin tried to focus on what he heard rather than on the building anxiety that was eating him alive. Mind overwhelmed with racing thoughts, Jimin couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

This melody; he knew only one person who could sing it and this person left him a while ago. It wasn't possible, where the fuck was he and who was trying to torture him in such a cruel way? Had it not been enough to take his grandmother away from him? Now they had to make him believe that she was still there? It wasn't a good joke; that wasn't funny at all. Had he ever told anyone about his grandmother's story? Jimin didn't think so, but it felt like someone was playing with him as if trying to make him believe that the story of his grandmother had fully been true and that he was brought back to the one person he loved unconditionally but had been taken away from him. Yet, it was impossible! What the hell was he thinking about? He couldn't seriously start thinking that it was true, right? His grandmother couldn't have possibly told him the truth when she told him that she had been brought back to her sister's home, could she? 

"Jimin-ah!" No, it wasn't possible. This voice couldn't be here now. She couldn't be... There. "Jimin-ah, my boy! You're still so handsome, what a man!" Was there a way for it to stop? He couldn't do it, he would crumble under the pain if he let himself believe that it was true. It had to stop. "Oh no, my love, my baby. Don't cry, Jiminie. I'm so proud of you, you've been doing so well! You entered University just like you wished! I'm happy for you, I truly am." Jimin had not even realized that he had started crying, his tears had just naturally rolled on his cheeks. Feeling a warm hand whipping them away, Jimin couldn't help but burst into tears in the arm of the old woman that was seemingly in front of him. She caught him easily, gently rubbing his back as he cried, pained by his inability to see. He still couldn't open his eyes and it was killing him. What would he give to see his grandmother again?

"You've been strong, Jiminie. So strong-" he had never felt strong ever since she left; he had only felt the weight of despair hold him back. 

"I miss you," he didn't even think that his voice would collaborate, but it surprisingly did. 

"I'm always with you, bub, you're never alone."

"But I miss you," he repeated himself like a mantra, he hoped that maybe saying it, again and again, would make her take the decision to stay, to remain by his side. He would quit University to take care of her if he needed to, he'd do anything. 

"I know you do, but you have to live on, Jiminie. You have so much to do, so many friends who care. Try to see what you still have, not what is not physically here anymore. My love for you will always remain close to you. I'm watching over you Jimin-ah, don't forget, okay?" He nodded painfully against her, feeling like a child all over again. 

"You'll be fine without me Jimin-ah, trust yourself more! You're a capable young man, you'll do great!" He heard her giggle almost lightly and it made him smile between his tears. 

Yet as her hands stopped rubbing his back, he suddenly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. (Y/N) was watching him with a sad smile and his cheeks were still wet. 

He was back to reality as his dream crashed into billion pieces of broken glass, leaving him in a vulnerable state as he had never been before.

Jimin was much too honest with his feelings to hide his trembling lips and the tears that already threatened to escape his lashes and even if he hates himself for being in such a vulnerable state in front of a stranger, the young woman didn't hesitate for a second before hugging him tightly as he cried his despair and pain. It took him a few minutes to finally regain his composure and even he apologized for ruining her shirt (his tears had stained the thin white cotton), she had brushed him off with a smile, preparing a warm tea for him to take on his way to home. Confused yet grateful for her gentle gesture, his words were again lost in his throat and as he was almost ushered out by Ji, (Y/N) followed him to the door. It was such a weird headspace. Everything seemed to happen as a movie, Jimin didn't feel like he had any say or power over what was happening. His feet carried him outside while (Y/N) waved him warmly from the door. He had already started walking away when he suddenly remembered something. Jolting awake, he turned around quickly to find the young woman still at the door, looking at him bewildered. 

"Will I see you again?" He asked, hopeful. 

She smiled gently, yet it didn't feel like it was nearly as warm as a few minutes ago when she held him tightly.

"We'll see each other when you need me against Jimin-ssi." Waving one last time before she got back inside the café, Jimin was left alone to wonder. She still had not given a proper answer as to how she knew his name. Or did Ji, the cat—witch—really tell her? He didn't remember telling her or knowing her from somewhere, but maybe he did? Running back to the café to ask her, Jimin was met with grey doors; nothing that looked like the shop that he had previously visited. 

What ... The hell? 

Where the hell was the café? Looking around, Jimin noticed that the street had considerably dimmed as the main source of light had been the decoration of the shop.  Had he just... Dreamed or had the shop truly disappeared? 

Recalling (Y/N)'s almost sad smile, he wondered if it was the reason behind the sourness of her features and her last words. 

They'll see each other again when he'll need her? He hoped this time would come soon then because he had a lot of questions. He felt much lighter now that he had had a shoulder to cry, though.

But when he said a lot, he meant enough to make a list that he would actually write on a sheet of paper and hide in his wallet. He would get his moment to ask them, he somehow just knew he would.

[mendespideys]

in need of saving | e.y.

pairing: eren yeager x reader 

warnings: mentions of fighting, swearing, blood, etc. it’s angsty

summary: eren’s emotions get the best of him and you’re his last hope. based on the line “you’ve been talking with your fists” from when you love someone by james tw.

a/n: this is my first ever drabble/fic/one-shot (whatever you wanna call it) of aot. my husband made me watch it, i became obsessed and now i am here putting my obsession into my writing lol. hope you guys like it. enjoy! 

also, to the people following me for marvel/sm content - i’m sorry lol

gif credit 

it was no secret that eren jaeger was slowly but surely losing it. maybe not losing it, but definitely losing his cool. and a lot more frequently than what everyone had deemed normal for him.

because it was also no secret that eren was known for losing it time and time again. everyone in the 104th cadet corps had seen the green-eyed boy pick a fight more than once - especially with jean. the two of them seemed to bubble with anger just at the sight of one another and no one really knew the real reason why. 

whether it was jean using what was definitely eren’s least favorite nickname he had ever gotten (suicidal maniac) or eren making a comment about the redhead being a coward - the two of them could barely get along on a good day. 

but, lately, everyone seemed to be getting on eren’s bad side. horse-face was no longer the only insult coming from him and it certainly was not the most cruel one that had slipped past his lips either. eren’s anger - or whatever it was - was no longer only focused jean. he seemed to be taking his feelings out on everyone. everyone except you. 

even the captain and the commander had been getting their fair share of snarky comments and attitudes from the titan shifter. while they were undoubtedly unable to hold their ground, eren was definitely crossing lines he shouldn’t have. 

and, so, you were forced into your current situation. 

“tch,” captain levi pushed himself off the table he had been leaning on. “the brat is out of control. while i have no problem beating the living shit out of him, i doubt more fighting is what he needs.”

hange nodded. “it seems he’s either too tired to heal himself or he chooses not to. his injuries are taking longer and longer to disappear. we have to do something before it’s too late.” 

before it’s too late. 

you shuddered. the thought of something happening to eren sent a shiver down your spine. worrying about him was like second nature to you and the only one who appeared to understand you was mikasa. 

“with all due respect, commander,” armin spoke up, his bright blue eyes studying the room before continuing. “we have all tried. he doesn’t want to listen to any of us. it’s pointless.”

a sigh fell from his lips, as a subconscious hand rubbed his bandaged shoulder. poor armin. even the innocent, genius best friend had been unlucky enough to experience eren’s wrath. 

“everyone but y/n.”

your eyes darted toward the mention of your name and you met captain levi’s steady gaze. you cowered under his intense stare, feeling other eyes on you as well. you cleared your throat, feeling a weird sense of pressure in the pit of your stomach. 

“i’ve tried, too,” you swallowed thickly, refusing to remember all the times you had tried to talk him. “i- he doesn’t want to listen.” 

“you haven’t really tried,” levi remarked. “the brat’s picking fights left and right. every little thing seems to set him off and you are the only one who can get him to stop. y/n, we all see the way he looks at you. eren might be humanity’s last hope, but right now, you’re his.” 

your heart was thumping in your chest. you had noticed the difference in eren’s actions toward you as well. the touches that lingered a little bit longer than normal, the longing stares he thought you never noticed, the way his anger practically melted away when his name left your lips... 

but to hear someone else confirm it aloud felt weird. foreign. because you had pushed those observations to the back of your mind, desperate not to over-analyze any of them. the two of you were just friends. 

a knock on the door startled you out of your messy web of thoughts. the door opened before either one of the superiors could give permission to do so, revealing a timid yet determined sasha. she addressed the whole room, but her brown eyes were on you. 

“um, sir, sorry to interrupt, but eren and jean are back at it again and i’m afraid neither one of them is stopping, sir.” 

no one seemed to notice the half-eaten potato clutched in her hand - or if they did, they chose not to mention it - as she saluted the captain and commander. you were already practically out of your seat before she could finish and the look from sasha that went unnoticed by everyone else certainly did not go unnoticed by you. 

you followed hot on her heels, your gaze fixated on her bobbing ponytail as she scurried through the hallways but your mind totally elsewhere. there was an uneasy feeling bubbling deep inside you and no matter what you told yourself, you couldn’t shake it. 

while eren did lack the ability to take control of his emotions and strategically plan out his next moves, his brute strength and impeccable hand-to-hand combat techniques made up for it. therefore, you were more worried about jean than eren, to say the least. 

so, to say you were surprised when you entered the field and laid eyes on the two was an understatement. the sight you had imagined and prepared yourself for was nowhere to be seen. instead, the one eren was injuring was himself. by the look of it, there definitely had been a fight between him and jean, but the latter was merely watching connie’s attempts at stopping the brunette. 

you came to a halt immediately, unsure of how to process the scene playing out in front of you. a trembling hand mutes a sob, which is now nothing more than a pained whimper as your eyes traveled up and down eren’s body, mentally assessing his injuries. 

his nose was definitely bleeding. this wasn’t an unusual sight as it tended to happened a lot during his early experiment stages with hange. but you weren’t prepared for the bruising that was already forming and there was no doubt in your mind that his nose was broken. 

his forehead was stained red as well, strands of his growing hair sticking to the sides of his face. it was impossible for you to appraise the extent of the damage as you were unable to determine the origin of the crimson liquid. 

everything seemed to happen in slow motion and too fast all at once. at the sight of the your group, connie’s attempts were replaced by captain levi’s with mikasa not far behind. hange made a beeline for jean, who was muttering frustrated nothings while rubbing his jaw. 

so eren had gotten a few hits in. 

a gentle nudge brought you back, once again, from the dark chaos within your mind. you met armin’s blue orbs, attempting to ignore the pure worry swimming within them. his eyebrows arched as a silent plea and you followed his gaze to where eren was wildly trashing against the captain. 

in any other situation, you would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. the captain’s height was a frequent talking point among your group and there was no denying how small he looked compared to eren’s towering frame. in any other situation, you also would not have bothered hiding how impressed you were with the captain’s ability to overpower the younger boy. 

“y/n-” levi warned, voice strained, as the bloodied boy continued to attempt resisting him. 

with a nod (to convince yourself or as a response to levi, you were unsure), your unsteady legs carried you toward the two of them. eren’s eyes were wild with determination, his nostrils flaring with anger. but you quickly realized when walking closer that there were a dozen other emotions pooling within his emerald orbs. 

“eren,” his name fell from your mouth with ease. skillfully, you maneuvered your hand around his flailing limbs, placing your palm on his swollen cheek. “eren, it’s okay. hey - stop, it’s okay, i’m here.” 

it was as if a boulder had fallen off his shoulders. his actions halted immediately and his entire body relaxed at the sound of your voice. you wouldn’t have believed the effect you had on him if you hadn’t just witnessed it. levi reluctantly let go of eren, still on stand-by in case the boy would try anything.

“y/n,” your name fell from his lips just as easily, his voice nothing more than a whisper. 

and just like that, he crumbled underneath your touch. you fell to the ground with him, ignoring the pain as your knees came in contact with the hardened dirt beneath you. bringing your other hand up as well, you trapped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. 

he didn’t try to look anywhere else. he couldn’t. the pained look he was giving you was almost too much and you resisted the urge to look away. his bottom lip was trembling, the slit in it leaking blood with every movement. you found yourself having to withstand the yearning to kiss the pain away. 

“eren, what’s going on with you?” you tried to maintain a steady voice but there was no doubt that everybody could pick up on the worry behind every word. “this is- you can’t keep doing this. you have done nothing but talk with your fists and you need to stop. you can’t go picking fights with everybody over the smallest things.”

eren didn’t respond. the mixture of dirt and blood - both dried and fresh - and the threat of nightfall made it hard to see, but the violent jerks of his body made it obvious: he was crying. your own tears fell as well as sob after sob raked through his body. 

“i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you swallowed down your own cries, your mind focused on nothing but helping the heartbroken boy in your arms. “eren, i need you to talk to me. please?”

“w-why? you shouldn’t- i’m a monster. a stupid good-for-nothing bastard. you- why do you want to help me?”

anger coursed through your veins. you wanted to beat the living shit out of whoever had made him feel this way about himself. they had absolutely no right. eren’s cries echoed in the twilight. you didn’t check if your comrades were still an audience. frankly, you didn’t care. 

“you want to know why? because you’re human. because you have the abilities you have. because i truly believe you’re one of humanity’s last hopes. because you deserve to have someone believe in you the way you believe in saving all of us,” you inhaled deeply, overcome with emotion. “because i love you.” 

eren’s sobs stopped just like that; as if they had an off button that you just pushed. the momentary silence - which felt way longer than you would ever admit - was broken by a sound somewhere between a shaky sigh and a surprised gasp coming from eren. 

you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your confession. you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse and definitely not any embarrassment. maybe it was due to eren also showing vulnerability or maybe it was because you had practiced said confession more than once. 

you didn’t care. he knew. he knew now and that was all that mattered. 

his eyes searched your face. you weren’t sure for what, but you assumed for a sign of wether or not you were speaking the truth. your features held nothing but earnest as you returned his analyzing stare and it seemed to satisfy his silent investigation. 

“i feel- it’s too much. too much pressure. i don’t know what i’m doing anymore. i’m not- there has to be someone else. i-i can’t do it... so many people. they’re all dead because of me. i’m not strong enough to-” 

the last drops of self-control you had were eliminated by his proclamation. while it might have been difficult to comprehend for some, you had understood every word and with each broken sentence, your heart ached more and more. 

eren’s disjointed admissions were halted by your lips on his. you didn’t know where your newfound confidence had come from but you were grateful for its presence. his lips molded against yours almost instantly - so effortlessly. 

you ignored the taste of iron just as eren ignored the stinging from the cut on his lip. while the kiss was nowhere near being sexual, it was definitely more than just a peck. your lips moved together in pain and understand and love and relief. 

unwillingly, you pulled away. suddenly aware that you more than likely still had an audience, the fresh evening air felt good against your flushed cheeks. the two of you remained silent, attempting to revert your breathing patterns back to normal. 

eren rested his forehead against yours. you were sure sasha could practically hear the way your heart was stammering in your chest. and if not, eren definitely could. with each thump, your chest tightened and you were sure that if human bodies had not been designed with rib cages, your heart would have been long gone. 

your thumb caressed his cheek, his fresh tears smearing with the dried crimson in the process. a gust of wind took ahold of the few pieces of hair framing your face. eren gingerly grabbed the loose strands, tucking them behind your ear. he had done so countless times before, but something just felt different this time around. 

“i love you, too,” he whispered, the previous insecurities long gone from his voice. he had never spoken truer words. 

you smiled. “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? and i think you might owe someone an apology.” 

eren’s limbs ached and although he didn’t want to admit to that, his body betrayed him. he had just barely stood back up when his trembling legs buckled. he prepared to meet the cold ground and the pain that would ensue, but a pair of hands caught him before it happened. 

you were just as surprised as eren appeared to be as levi attempted to steady him. it seemed the captain hadn’t ventured far. hyper aware that he probably had heard every word shared between you and eren, you didn’t dare meet his eyes. 

you sprung into action immediately, moving to eren’s other side. he winced as you navigated his arm around your shoulders, causing you to sputter out apologies while doing so. captain levi’s amusement didn’t go unnoticed by you or eren, but neither of you decided to comment on it. 

with you and captain levi both being significantly shorter than eren, supporting his weight was easier said than done. after some trial and error, though, the three of you were able to move almost seamlessly. 

eren’s strength was wavering by the second, you could tell, but he had enough left to come to a halt when you neared his most recent victim. you met jean’s eyes, hoping he could sense how apologetic you were. he confirmed with a nod then turned his attention to the boy who seemed to be getting heavier and heavier in your arms. 

“i’m sorry, jean, i-i honestly don’t even know... i’m sorry.”

“what? no ‘horse-face’?” the redhead chuckled, almost sadly. you realized that they had already cleaned him up. “don’t worry about it, eren. you did more damage to yourself than me anyway.” 

jean placed a hand on eren’s arm that was thrown over your shoulder. the interaction was brief but seemed to mean a lot to the both of them. then, they nodded and jean walked back toward the remainder of the group. sasha and connie were both saying words to him that you couldn't hear. 

you could feel the distressed stares that armin and mikasa were both sending in your direction. you gave them a nod, promising that their childhood friend was okay. he would be, at least. you had already made it your mission to ensure it. 

as you and captain levi hauled eren toward his dorm, the severity of the situation began feeling heavy on your shoulders. eren had definitely broken more than a few rules and you were sure captain levi would make sure he was punished for his insubordination. 

you weren’t entirely sure you would be off the hook either. sure, you hadn’t broken rules or gone against direct orders, but you hadn’t exactly abided either. captain levi could easily find a reason for why you should receive punishment as well and no one would even question it. 

captain levi’s steel eyes followed your every move as you opened the door to eren’s room, you could feel it. it didn’t feel like his typical burning glare but you couldn’t quite place your finger on the emotion behind the action either. 

as if sensing your thoughts that were now moving a hundred miles a minute, a groan came from eren. you watched them both quietly as captain levi managed to plop eren down on the chair you had placed next to the bath. another groan escaped the green-eyed boy and you could tell he was exhausted and in pain.

“captain, i’m-”

“tch. save it, brat. we have all been there and if they haven’t, they will. i’m surprised it took you this long. you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, kid,” levi interrupted, turning his attention toward you. “y/n, i trust you’ll take good care of humanity’s last hope. i’ll see the both of you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“i- yes, sir.” 

captain levi left without another word, leaving you and eren alone for the first time all day. you suddenly felt hesitant, unsure of what to do next. eren’s grunts of frustration filled the silent room as he began - well, tried to anyway - removing his tunic. 

you swatted his hands away gently, removing the article of clothing with ease. you had seen eren’s bare body before but you were still just as awestruck. this time, though, his skin was littered with scrapes, cuts and bruises of almost every color imaginable. you swallowed the urge to yell at him. 

the silence continued as you washed his body ever-so-gently. once you had been able to get him into the tub, that is. more than once, you had to momentarily stop your actions to check if eren had either fallen asleep or passed out. 

every time, his eyelids would flutter open instinctively, as if missing the warmth of your touch the second it disappeared. his green eyes would widen until they landed on you and he would relax, his lids falling shut once again. 

the silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was filled with unspoken words of gratitude and affection. the two of you enjoyed it to the fullest - maybe even a little too much. reluctantly, you stopped running your fingers through his brown locks that never seemed to stop growing. 

eren didn’t protest when you told him it was time to get out despite how much he wanted to. he also didn’t protest and tried his best to help when you began putting a change of clothes on him. he didn’t protest when you whispered it was time for bed, either. 

he did protest when you attempted to take your leave, however. 

“stay,” it was a soft plea that pulled on your heartstrings. “please?”

and, so, you climbed into bed with him without hesitation. he nuzzled into the crook of your neck so quickly that it seemed like second-nature to him and was asleep within minutes, his soft snores the only sound within range. 

well, you had definitely broken rules now. but you decided that eren sleeping next to you was more than worth whatever form of discipline captain levi could ever devise. you would handle whatever it was with pride if it meant you could stay like this forever. 

/ / / / / 

ok, um, this didn’t exactly go where i had envisioned it to but i’m not really mad? idk. i had to put some levi x eren in there bc i live for their mentor/mentee relationship. if you made it this far, please send me some asks and let me know what you thought 🥺

[hoebii]

Who

Pairing : Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre : Angst, Light fluff

Rating : nc-17

Warnings : Cheating, grieving, past break up, mentions of toxic relationship, swearing

Wc : 2.7k

A/N : This is a rewrite of one of my older fics. Thank you @taegularities​ and @eatjeanjin​ for being my adorable betas!! Thank you to rid once more for making me this amazing banner too!!! I love it so so so much. I hope you guys like this, hopefully I’ve improved in the time in between lol. As usual, feedback is always appreciated~

~~~~~~~~~~~

Our minds have new eyes and visions of you

Girl, I think I need a minute

To figure out what is, what isn't

 Yoongi pressed decline yet again, fighting the urge to throw the device at the wall. To shatter it to pieces in hopes that it would stop ringing.

A storm was brewing inside him. He felt completely and utterly lost, without a clue about what to do. He felt like he had no control over his life anymore and he hated it. Hated how weak and powerless he felt at that moment. 

He knew that his actions were causing the ones around him to worry; Yoongi saw the flash of concern and sympathy in their eyes whenever he passed by. He wasn’t used to feeling uncertainty, he was always calm and collected. Or so he wanted everyone to believe. But that facade crumbled as soon as she left.

He despised himself for how weak he was acting, and he hated her more. 

~~~~~~~~

 These choices and voices, they're all in my head

Sometimes you make me feel crazy

Sometimes, I swear I think you hate me like uh

I need a walk, I need a walk, I need to get out of here

 “No matter what, I’ll always love you,” she declared, hands cupping his face gently - a drastic difference from how she sounded. 

Yoongi felt his heart skip a beat, picking up its pace when her words resonated into his mind. As his eyes met hers, warmth bloomed in his chest. Letting out a shuddering breath, he asked, “You promise?”

He couldn’t help but smile too as he saw her let out a smile. “I promise, my love.”

Yoongi growled at the memory, a scoff leaving him. “Bullshit,” he exclaimed to no one, grabbing his hair in frustration.

Tears flowed down his cherry cheeks endlessly as he stood by the door helplessly. He didn’t know how they got here. One moment they were out having a romantic dinner and the next thing he knew, she was screaming at him while trying to leave.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice wavering with the tears, clogging up his throat.

“I can’t keep doing this, Yoongi. I’m done,” she answered, never stopping nor looking up from furiously packing her bags.

His breath hitched; she’d called him by his name, no nickname this time. He tried to shake the dread away as he pleaded. “We can fix this, please don’t leave me. You’re my forever.”

“We can’t fix shit, Yoongi! Open your eyes, there’s no forever to begin with!”

He wondered if she could hear his heart shattering into a million pieces at that. How does one act after the one they were ready to die for tells them it’s nothing? Yoongi felt like a child who just got to know that Santa wasn’t real. 

In a last desperate effort, Yoongi trudged towards her wordlessly. Pulling her into his arms, his hold strengthened when he felt her stiffen at the contact. 

“Please…” he whimpered, trying to steel himself for the screaming that he knew was going to come. 

But to his surprise, it never did. Rather, he felt her sighing as she melted into his embrace after a while and wrapped her own hands around him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

His body stiffened at those words, about to protest but she was faster. “I didn’t know what came over me. I won’t leave.”

Yoongi’s body sagged in relief, “It’s okay. Just, please don’t do that again.”

“I promise.”

For some reason, he didn’t feel at ease even after she assured him.

A thud resounded in the studio as Yoongi slammed his hands down on the table, his breathing erratic as his eyes darted from one thing to another. He felt suffocated, as if someone had a firm hold around neck and it was squeezing mercilessly.

Grabbing his jacket and phone, Yoongi swung the door open - making everyone outside flinch at the sudden sound of something hitting the wall. As he exited the place, he saw his members loitering around awkwardly. He knew the reason for their presence but he couldn’t dwell in that, he needed to get out of there. *Now.

“Hyung, where are you going?” Jungkook asked cautiously, not wanting to trigger the older member somehow.

“For a walk,” was all he replied with, brushing past his concerned members and walking out of the building.

~~~~~~~~~

'Cause I need to know

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with, baby

Who are you?

'Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

 Yoongi trudged down the sidewalk briskly, no clear destination in mind. Head down, the hood of his jacket up and hands shoved inside his pockets, he kept going. How long had he walked? Was it mere minutes? Or maybe an hour or two? He had no clue. He just kept walking, as if walking away from his problems.

After a while, he slowed down, fatigue catching up with him from getting no sleep or any semblance of rest in the past few weeks. Yoongi raised his head to inspect his surroundings, realising that he had walked all the way to the park near her house. The same park where he brought her to after their first date to spend some more time, the park which came to be a place for peace when everything became too much to handle. 

The park housed many precious memories. In the past, Yoongi would look back to them with fondness and affection, and his heart would swell in happiness. But now, those same memories did nothing besides hurt him more; he could finally see the true picture, no longer blinded by the love he had for her. It made his heart ache when he relived those sweet memories that turned bitter.

“Look at those kids! Don’t they look just adorable?” she gushed, head resting on his shoulder, hands intertwined with his on her lap.

Yoongi chuckled as he watched a group of children run past them, their joyous laughter filling the air as they played around.

“I wonder how our children are gonna look. But, then again, they’re bound to be beautiful if the parents are so too~” she pondered out loud, laughing at the end.

Humming, Yoongi played with her fingers, his heart racing at the thought of their possible future together. Maybe he really did find the one when he found her, he thought happily.

Sitting on the bench that overlooked the park, his eyes scanned the area, thinking back to all those memories that were created here. Yoongi couldn’t stop himself from letting his mind drift back to the last time he’d stepped foot into this park, his heart clenching in pain and betrayal.

Yoongi stood in front of the park gates, flowers in hand as he awaited her arrival. His gummy smile was impossible to hide, heart thrumming happily; it was their anniversary after all! He had so many plans for how they could spend the day, working to make this perfect for months in anticipation. 

He swayed back and forth, barely keeping his excitement under wraps as he thought about all the things he had planned. He couldn’t wait to see her face at the end of the day when he would give her the surprise!

An hour passed but there was still no sign of her. Yoongi checked his clock yet again, giving her another call but the result was the same; it rang a few times before it sent him to voicemail. He could feel disappointment engulfing him, his posture deflating. 

Did she forget? She couldn’t have, right? Maybe she’s stuck at work, Yoongi thought, trying to keep hope. When that didn’t help, he decided to enter the park, thinking that a walk would do him good. 

Besides, who knows? Maybe she’ll arrive in that time too! He tried to convince himself, fighting to hold on to the rapidly decreasing hope, not wanting to lose it just yet.

As he walked by the little ice cream stand in the park, he thought he saw someone familiar. Squinting, he tried to decipher who the person was, but he couldn’t with their back turned towards him. Shrugging, about to walk away, he almost missed the figure turning around, catching sight of the person right before he could leave.

Yoongi’s eyes widened. It was her, his love, who he saw standing by the ice cream stand. Laughing and getting cosy with some other man. It was as if the world moved in slow motion as she stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips. To kiss someone that wasn’t Yoongi.

“S-sweetheart?” Yoongi called, his voice breaking.

At his voice, he saw her head whip around to come face to face with him. Her expression was something akin to a deer caught in headlight, mouth falling open as he fumbled to speak.

“Y-Yoon, I can explain.” 

Yoongi shook his head, unshed tears brimming in his eyes. He dropped the flowers, eyes never leaving her as he started to walk backwards, before turning and running away from the scene, paying no mind to her desperate calls.

Leaning back on the bench, his lips lifted into a bitter smile. As one of his hands ran through his hair, he ruffled it while thinking out loud, “Should’ve realised before. Why did I ever believe it would work?”

~~~~~~~~~

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

Feeling hypnotized by the words that you said

Don't lie to me, just get in my head

When the morning comes, you're still in my bed

But it's so, so cold

 Days passed by since the fateful incident at the park and Yoongi was a mess. After kicking her out of his house when she came begging for forgiveness, he fully broke down. Try as he might, but he couldn’t keep her out of his mind, no matter what.

Everyone around him told him to move on, that she wasn’t good for him. They told him to wake up and see the damage that she was doing to him, that she wasn’t the person he thought she was anymore. But, no matter what they said, how toxic they called it, Yoongi couldn’t move on from her. He needed answers, he needed to know why she did it.

Finally gathering enough courage to face her again, he accepted her call, allowing her to come over. He wouldn’t get swayed, he told himself, he was only meeting her to get answers, nothing more.

Yet there he was, laying awake beside her as he stared off into space, mind once again in chaos. This was not how he’d anticipated the night to unravel. He never wanted to sleep with her, but her sweet words and empty promises lured him in. They hypnotized him and he was weak in his knees. It didn’t surprise either of them when he gave in so easily; he always did give in to her no matter what in the end.

The sweet lies that left her lips wrapped themself around his heart, they clouded his mind and made it fuzzy. His heart beat as if it was the first time they had been together that night but now that it was over, his mind was back to overthinking everything. It felt so cold, as if ice was injected into him, his heart weighed down with emotions he didn’t wish to deal with. If only there was a button with which he could shut down his mind. 

Yoongi wanted it to stop, to savour the night and forget the way his heart ached at the mere sight of the figure that slept peacefully beside him - a stark difference from how he felt. But he felt so, so cold, he felt filthy and used. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t suppress those feelings, so he laid there, letting them consume him alive.

~~~~~~~~~~

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with, baby

Who are you? (Who are you?)

'Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

Mind running a thousand miles per second, Yoongi sat there numb. He had his eyes closed as he leaned back into the bench, trying to keep the tears from falling. His thoughts came to a halt, however, when he felt someone’s presence beside him. Cracking one eye open, he checked who it was.

His heart clenched again, this time from guilt, when he saw none other than the maknae sitting beside him. Oh how he’d neglected the poor kid while moping around. 

“Did you follow me here, Jungkook-ah?”

The said man twiddled his thumbs, looking at him timidly. “I was worried,” came his meek reply, “I didn’t want you to do something rash.”

Yoongi chuckled, though there was barely any humour in it, as he sat up. “I’m not going to do anything rash, Jungkook. Don’t worry about hyung.”

Jungkook let out a noise of protest, his brows furrowing as he looked at him. “I’m always going to worry about you, hyung. No matter what,” he lectured, “besides, I miss you. You haven’t really spent any time with us, with me, for such a long time now.”

Yoongi bit his lip, the guilt increasing as the younger man went on.

“You know, we’re all here for you. It might hurt but bottling it all up won’t make it better, so let us help you, hyung. Let us be there for you, we’ll catch you when you fall.”

Yoongi stared at Jungkook, taking in all his details. He had tears brimming his eyes again, but this time it wasn’t from the pain. “When did you get so wise, Jungkook?”

Jungkook blushed at that, ducking his head, “I’m not wise, I’m just telling you the truth.”

Yoongi hummed, processing Jungkook’s words for a moment. He couldn’t help but weirdly feel proud at how much his maknae seemed to have grown up - it was as if he had been a kid just yesterday, yet there he was, lecturing Yoongi.

“You’re right,” Yoongi finally mumbled.

“I… am?” Jungkook asked, hesitance clear on his face.

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied, “I’m sorry for locking you all out and acting so distant. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Will you come back to the dorms, then? It feels empty without you.”

Yoongi gave him a small smile, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come back.”

Jungkook’s doe eyes shined as he looked at his hyung. “Do you feel any better? We can get some lamb skewers on the way back. I’ll pay!”

Chuckling, Yoongi ruffled his hair. “Not really. It still hurts, but your little speech made me realise that I’m not alone. I have you guys by my side- I’m bound to feel like my old self soon enough.”

Jungkook beamed happily, letting his hyung give him pats, satisfied with the answer he’d received. “I really thought noona was the one too, you know? But then I realised that it was all a mask. I should’ve fought her as soon as she hurt you!”

Yoongi chuckled, even though it still hurt to think about it as he said, “It was on me for not seeing how manipulative she got at the end, it’s not your fault, bunny. Fighting doesn’t solve anything.”

Jungkook looked at him with a pout, ready to rebuke, but Yoongi cut him off. “Forget about that now. Let’s get food, my treat, for neglecting you for so long.” 

Yoongi knew Jungkook wanted to say something, but he didn’t, rather he opted to give him another beaming smile as he started walking towards the exit.

As he moved to follow the younger’s action, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Taking out the device, he realised it was another text from her, but this time rather than ignoring it, he opened the text thread. Quickly typing out one last message and sending it before blocking the contact. 

It was his first step towards healing and though it may seem small, he felt proud. He was finally ready to let it go and move on.

“You’ve changed, Y/N, you’re not the one for me anymore. Stop trying to contact me, we’re over.”

[youryanderedaddy]

Lady Luck (pt. 1)

I was so hyped to write this lol. Heavily inspired by Kaiji <3

Tw: mafia mention, unrealistic potrayal of mafia, mentions of threats, implied obssessive behavior (will get more hardcore in the second part tho), mentions of gambling, kidnapping /not reader/

 You knew that you were a scum, a lowlife, a miserable loser without much hope in life - that’s exactly why you had no problem joining the deadliest underground paradise and following under the steps of the Lucciano family. They controlled everything - the casinos, the drugs, the guns, the whores, you name it - they provided it. And you had nothing - neither a past, nor a future. But everything changed when the oldest son Thomas decided to help you get out of the mud and step onto your legs - he gave you a home, a friend to return to, a shoulder to cry on when reality felt too painful and harsh, just too much to bear on your own. “Why would you do that for a stranger?” You had asked him once while tipsy, sitting by the hearth, a slight blush adorning your soft cheeks. “That’s easy.” The man had responded right away without giving it much thought. “You remind me of myself.”

 You spent long nights thinking about his words but never came to a conclusion - he was born into a powerful, wealty family, so it made no sense for him to have experienced rock bottom the way you had. And his small black eyes displayed such a variety of terryfing emotions - bloodlust, greed, sin and so much sadness. Why would a monster ever feel scared, you wondered. 

 Working for the Luccianos wasn’t especially hard or even dangerous - you ran small errands for them, took care of the younger kids, helped with insignificant deals, acted as a croupier when their staff was sick or missing or had to be taken care of, but one thing you were thankful for was how they never tried to force you into doing something you would never be able to forgive yourself for. Thomas was kind to you -  always so considerate, willing to listen, to understand how you felt even when the worlds you two lived in differed so greatly. He was supposed to be villain of the story, big and scary, demanding, taking whatever he wants without asking and never feeling an ounce of regret about it. And for a while, you were suspicous of the man’s every move - you were desperately waiting for the mobster to fuck up and show his true colours so you could let yourself hate him, despise him. And yet the sweet, sweet moment of revelation never came. You knew, of course, of the many evil deeds the criminal bestowed upon thousands of innocent people each and every day, but you never witnessed it with your own eyes and when the man was treating you like a part of his family, holding you close and giving you chance after chance to prove yourself, it was slowly getting impossible to view him as the bad guy. Perhaps you should have waited just a little longer.

 It happened during a warm, spring day. You didn’t expect it, you couldn’t. You had just finished your shift at midnight in the small shop you worked in, which belonged to Thomas’ mother, and were heading to the Lucciano mansion. It had been a particularly long and exhausting day, so you wanted nothing more than to feel the soft, silky, white sheets down your half-naked body while the quiet classical music took you to dream land and back. But upon opening the heavy wooden door, you quickly noticed something was different - there was no music, the big black TV in the middle of the hall was set to camera mode instead of the normal one, and it was awfully quiet. “They must have had to leave the country for a while.” You rationalised. “It has happened before after all.” You kept reassuring yourself while taking a tiny step towards the centre of the room where light was the strongest - it could uncover every hidden little detail.

 And then the TV was turned on. You shifted your gaze up, paranoia eating at you from inside out. Soon there was clear image on the massive screen, but what you saw left you speechless. There were hours of footage from your personal life - working, hanging out with friends, eating, bathing. What made the shivers down your spine run cold was a scene where a guy, your boyfriend, was kissing you, touching you, undressing you with his praying eyes. It was nothing unusual for a young woman to have a love life, but this broke the only rule Thomas had told you upon entering the house - you were forbidden from having close relationships with men, especially dangerous ones, and for the longest time, you had no issue living by that as long as you came back to the luxury and warmth the mobster provided for you. Until you met him - a charming, clever member of a local gang. You knew it was wrong and could cost you more than you were willing to sacrifice and yet you still gave in. It was your first time experiencing the highs and lows of love, so who could blame you when it was such a magical feeling, a mixture of adrenaline and opium. Alex made you feel like a real human being instead of someone just existing, leeching off the stronger, wealthier species.

 There was a shadow moving out from the corner, playing into your delusions. But soon enough you realised it was all a reality as none other than Thomas walked slowly towards you, clapping his hands dramatically, a sly smirk on his beautiful, scarred face. Did he...

 "Congratulations." The man started off, dark eyes set on you, slowly coming closer and closer like a big black hole, ready to swallow you whole. "You went and got yourself a little boy - toy." The criminal chuckled viciously under his breath, making you cringe at the crude nickname he used. The situation felt surreal and yet the fear and panic were already suffocating you, making you dizzy wish regret. "I wish you would have told me though... I never thought someone I hold so important would lie to me." The mobster kept rambling, waving his arms in the air theatrically, while holding a lit cigarette, but never moving it to his lips - it was just a prop, a way to create a thick smoke mist in your eyes. It was finally the hour of judgement.

 "What do you want?" You asked, faking confidence, desperate to take control of what was happening. It was a bizarre thing to see your dearest friend act in such a eerie, frightening way, almost treating you like one of his victims - nothing more than an indebted bastard or an unfortunate bystander, unlucky enough to catch a deal unfolding right behind the scenes. It hurt but you had forced this upon yourself and you had to fix it.

 "Nothing much, really." Thomas replied, finally inhaling the deadly smoke into his open mouth. He played with his collar for a while, as if you weren't standing there, scared for your life. "I just want to teach you a lesson in obedience, doll." The mafioso continued, circling you slowly, his heavy gaze never leaving your body. You felt awfully exposed even when all your clothes were present, covering every inch of your skin. With a swift snap of his fingers, the man summoned most of the gorillas that worked under him. Two of them were dragging your kicking, screaming boyfriend towards the centre of the room, but a quick punch in the guts managed to quiet him down. He looked terrified, his face bloody and injured, covered in dust and misery. But he was still alive and only that mattered to you.

 "I wanted to make this entertaining for all of us." The oldest Lucciano spoke out, his husky voice echoing trough the golden ceiling. He moved over to your lover and harshly pressed the cigarette butt against the exposed skin of his unprotected arm. The man cried out in pain, silently pleading you to help with his big, terrified eyes. And here you were, as helpess as he was - if not even more. "So I decided to initiate a little gamble of sorts, ya know?" Thomas winked at you, smiling with malice. You couldn't help, but recall all the times you two had played poker together, betting less than pocket change. You never understood why the man always got so excited despite winning such small sums, especially when his casinos already did well. But now you could see it clearly - he got off crushing his opponent, taking the victory under their noses. Money meant nothing. As long as he was able to ruin your mood, your life, the man was pleased.

 Soft white light lit up the furthest corners of the hall and you saw dozen square boxes, arranged in a circle. It looked harmless enough on its own, still they were stamped with Thomas’ symbol - a dove. You used to wonder why someone in the most dangerous depts of mafia would choose such an innocent, sweet signature pf representation and now the answer was right in front of you - that way it was easier to trick the enemy into thinking they were safe. And how wrong were they. 

 “As you can see, there are nine wooden boxes in total. They look exactly the same and on top of each one there is a hole.” Thomas stopped to point at them, the raw anticipation flooding his otherwise dull pupils. “Six of the boxes are empty. In the other three though, there are placed some of the most poisonous snakes in the world. One bite and you are dead.” The madman gave a loud, breathy laugh while your boyfriend squirmed uncomfortably in place, restrained by the strong arms, holding him down. “Both of you will take four turns putting your hand in the boxes. After every round the box would be closed off and you would be able to choose only from the remaining ones. ” The mobster grinned widely, looking at your horrified expression. You couldn’t believe that the man was willing to put your lives on the line simply because you had neglected one of his orders. “Now you may be wondering where the suspence is - after all you would probaby manage to hear the hissing from afar and avoid the place it comes from. Rest assured, my foolish little friends. Right now the snakes are heavily intoxicated and absolutely silent - which doesn’t mean, of course, that they won’t attack any soft flesh they see. If you die, that’s on you, but if you survive, you will be rewarded.” Thomas clapped his hands together and his man let go of your lover, resulting in his falling to the ground with a heavy bang. Thomas pursed his lips together.

 “Shall we get started?”

[obwjam]

Hey!! I was wondering, can you do a Loki x female teen borrower story where the borrower is caught by Loki and starts crying and then Loki feels real bad about making the tiny cry so he tries to make it up to her?? And in the beginning there could be a little fear play👍🏻, which is why the borrower starts crying.

I love your stories btw!! They’re so good!!💗💗

fsjfsajfd thank u omg 🥺🥺 sorry this took a while i’ve had a busy last couple weeks lol but here ya go :)

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

You thought they were all gone.

You could have sworn you counted them all. Red suit, shield guy, bow and arrows, woman in black, guy with a hammer, the green monster. You had counted six. There were only six of them.

Six of them that you knew of, anyway.

See, there was a seventh. A seventh that you never saw, and that was by design. He was kept on the down low so his brother could try to reform him; teach him the ways of good and teach him to help the city, not destroy it. As a gesture of goodwill on his part, he let his brother roam free around the tower while they were all out on a mission. Building trust was essential.

But you didn’t know this. You assumed you were free to replenish your supplies, like you did every time they all went out. So you slid open the piece of tile from the ceiling you had cut off, dropped your rope down and gently landed on the kitchen counter. With two bags slung over your shoulder, you were excited for today’s haul.

You would soon be interrupted.

Loki had sensed something was off almost immediately. It didn’t take a genius to see that there was a thin rope dangling from the ceiling that wasn’t there before. He normally wouldn’t touch the kitchen, but now that he was alone, he was wont to wander off.

He saw you scampering across the counter, heading straight for the bread. “What in the nine realms...” he whispered, careful to keep his voice low. A tiny person. He had certainly heard the tales, but he had never seen such a thing with his own eyes, and the last place he expected to see one was on Earth.

A mischievous smile spread across his face.

Tip-toeing ever so lightly, he made his way over to the counter where you were just reaching the wrapped up loaf of bread. You didn’t even realize someone was there.

“Now, what do you think you’re doing, little one?”

You nearly fainted right then and there. No, you thought. No no no no no... I have to be hearing things... 

You were frozen to your spot, but you managed to turn your head around enough to see the giant hovering over you with an evil grin. You dropped both your bags.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” the giant teased. “Afternoon snack, is it?” He reached over you, delighting in the way you twitched when his hand got close, and grabbed the bag of bread. You looked at it with tearful eyes.

“This isn’t yours, you know,” Loki tutted. He tossed the bread onto the table. “And the kitchen is no place for a creature such as yourself.”

“Please-- please, NO!” you cried as Loki’s hands descended down. You weren’t poised to run away, so you shut her eyes tight and clenched your jaw as Loki pinched your waist and pulled you up.

“You can’t be older than a teenager!” Loki gasped, feigning sorrow as he held you in front of his face. You were writhing. Loki hummed.

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be making a daring escape, borrower,” he smiled. “You’re mine now.”

“LET ME GO! PLEASE!” you shouted, but Loki ignored you. Back in Asgard, catching a little one like this came with great honor. Loki almost scoffed at how easy it was to capture you.

But something was beginning to eat at him as he brought you back to his room. He had never really planned on catching a kid.

Once you were safely to Loki’s quarters, he opened up the palm that was holding you. You were trembling and holding yourself tight while tears streamed down your face. 

“No... no...” you kept repeating. “No, this isn’t real, this isn’t real...”

“Look at me, borrower,” Loki instructed. You just shook your head. You were too scared to move. You yelped, though, when Loki grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you up into the air.

“When I saw look at me, you look,” Loki sneered. You cowered from his words, your tiny legs flailing about as you tried to wriggle free of Loki’s grasp.

“You should be relieved,” Loki said lowly. You whimpered. “I saved you from an awful accident. If any one of those Avengers had found you, you would be fully dissected by now.”

“Please...” you said again, your voice scratchy. “Please -- please don’t -- don’t hurt me...”

“Oh, I won’t hurt you,” Loki said. “See, that is why you’re lucky. I don’t hurt creatures who are too weak to defend themselves.”

Creature. You couldn’t get over how he kept calling you that. You were just a tiny little thing that he could do whatever he wanted with. You knew he was lying. You weren’t safe here at all.

“In the natural order of things, I rank above all,” Loki continued, “so when I say look at me, you. Look.”

Your whole body was suddenly whipped to the side as he roughly twisted his hand so you would be facing him. Your entire body was shaking from the pure fear of Loki’s entire face engulfing your field of vision.

And that was the last straw. 

You sobbed. You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and just when you thought you would run out of tears, more appeared. The realization that you would be kept in captivity for the rest of your life hit you like a ton of bricks. You were going to be his pet. You would never get a chance to be free again.

At this display, Loki softly gasped. He hadn’t actually expected you to break down as much as you were. Without thinking, he lowered you back into his palm and gently brought his hand up. This time, he made sure not to loom.

“Little one...” he sighed. “You don’t have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

You didn’t look at him.

“I... I’m sorry,” he managed, hoping that would get you to stop. You were still crying, but you finally tilted her head up at him in confusion. Did he just... apologize?

“I was only teasing,” he tried. It was hard for him to sound sincere. “I am not going to hurt you. I only meant to have some fun.”

Your tears slowed down until you were left sitting in a puddle in Loki’s hand, sniffling and wiping your puffy red eyes.

“What is your name, little one?”

You whimpered and shook your head. 

“Okay... that’s fine.” He stared at your tiny, shaking form. “I am Loki,” he finally said. “I’m stuck here in this tower, just like you.”

You huffed. You were not alike.

“At least you have the freedom to roam where you please. I am not allowed to step foot outside the doors of this wretched place.”

At this, you looked up. “Really?” you asked, voice raspy and impossibly small.

“Oh, yes. My oafish brother won’t allow it. And unfortunately, on this pathetic little rock, he’s in command. So now that I told you my name, won’t you tell me yours?”

Your eyes darted back and forth. Should you say? He could just be trying to get you to let your guard down. But there was something so sincere about the way he was asking. You could feel it.

“I’m... I’m (y/n),” you said so quietly that Loki almost didn’t hear. “(Y/n). And I’m stuck here too.”

Loki smiled. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been here since I was nine.”

“Since childhood? And you have never been seen?”

“A few times,” you shrugged. “But nobody really knew what to do, and they never came looking for me. Except for the time that the guy with the bow and arrow thought I was a bug and tried to squash me.”

Loki felt his chest fill with rage. Clint was already his least favorite.

“Where is the rest of your kind, borrower?”

You shook her head. “I dunno where they are. I live here by myself.”

“By yourself? You have no family of your size? No lineage?”

You shrugged. “I mean, I used to have parents, but...” you trailed off. “That was a long time ago.”

Loki blinked. He hadn’t expected this.

“...why don’t you stay here with me, (y/n),” he said, trying not to sound too sympathetic. You wiped your eyes one more time. 

“Stay with you?” you repeated in awe, surprised he had said your name.

“Yes. You will be safe in here.”

You pondered his offer. If you said yes, you would be stuck with him. If you said no, though, he might get upset again... or tell one of the Avengers about you. He seemed to be lightening up a bit. You really had no other choice.

“Okay,” you said finally. “I’ll stay.”

“Wonderful,” Loki said in amusement. You gasped and gripped onto the folds of his skin as he lowered his palm down to his bedside table. You immediately jumped off and landed next to a large, bright object that you didn’t recognize. You yelped and skidded back.

“That’s just a clock, borrower,” Loki laughed. 

“A clock... I know that,” you lied. Something else caught your eye. “What... what is this?”

“I believe humans call it an ‘eye phone,’ though I don't understand where the eye part comes in.”

You giggled. “I don’t either.” With your new vantage point, you could suddenly see a world of new objects. Loki watched with a smirk at your sense of wonder.

“What’s that again?” you asked, pointing to a flat, black screen across the room.

“That’s a television. It’s how humans entertain themselves.” Loki paused. “Would you... like to see how it works?”

You eagerly nodded. Loki waved his hand, and the TV flickered to life. 

“I don’t understand how humans can stomach this garbage,” Loki complained. “I mean, look at this. She’s taming a dragon like that?! You would never approach a female dragon from the front, unless you want to be killed.” Loki stole a glance down at you. You were staring wide-eyed at the TV. So this is what it looked like.

Without warning, Loki carefully reached down and scooped you up from the table. Your heart leapt up to your throat, but your nerves calmed when Loki swung his feet onto his bed and stretched out. From your new vantage point, you were sitting in Loki’s hand, which was resting on his chest, which had a direct view to the TV.

“Is this alright?” Loki asked, straining his eyes to look down. You nodded, too awestruck to say anything as you tucked your knees to your chest and settled in.

As the show progressed, you became decidedly less interested in what was going on. It had been an emotionally taxing period of time, and you were tired. You slowly unfurled your legs and leaned back into the curves of Loki’s fingers, mimicking his own relaxed position. You could barely keep your eyes open. The thumping of his heart was like a low and steady drum marching you off to a quiet and happy place.

Loki’s fingers twitched at every movement you made. Eventually, he realized you had stopped moving and that your hair had settled into a single spot. He peered down. You were fast asleep, your tiny chest rising and falling to the slow beat of his heart.

Loki couldn’t stop staring at you. He didn’t quite understand why he felt this way, but he knew what he had to do. 

From this day forth, he would be your protector.

[wooyunhwa]

kingdom of welcome addiction | C.S.

view pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (mostly suggestive in this part though)

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: blood drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

If you had to read the words pythagorean theorem one more time, you were gonna smash your brains in. 

You reached over to your phone, unlocking your screen to the group chat. 

y/n: anyone wanna come over and help me with this dumb problem? my heads gonna implode. 

chaeyeon: busy tonight, Y/N. lol, just summon a demon or smth. 

yuri: lmao that ouija board is still there right? I think we left it under your bed 

chaeyeon: I don’t think you summon demons with a ouija board, yuri

y/n: ugh you guys are no help. brb, summoning demon...

You realized how weird this conversation would sound from an outside perspective, but it was a sort of inside joke you had within your friend group. You and your friends had joked about ‘summoning a demon’ before, and you’d even used a Oujia board a few times and done fake seances to freak each other out. The results were always disappointing—not that you ever actually wanted to contact the dead or anything, but you were at least hoping for a spooky story or something you could tell. 

You knew they were joking around, but your brain felt a little delirious from all the math churning it into mush. 

You switched tabs from your test, typing in the search bar “how to summon a demon”. You chuckled a little under your breath at the ridiculousness. But at least then you could tell your friends you actually tried. They’d get a kick out of that. 

You followed a few rabbit holes down some forums, mockingly reciting strings of incomprehensible Latin. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna commit fully. 

“You called?”

You scrambled backwards, nearly jumping a foot off the bed at the sudden unfamiliar voice echoing in the room. 

Then you saw him. 

He was perched on your bookshelf, one leg dangling lackadaisically over the edge, the other folded up at his side. You caught a glimpse of his piercing crimson-red eyes illuminated in the dim candle-lit room. He looked particularly cat-like in his position, a devilish grin painted on his face, what looked like fangs coming to two sharp points in his mouth.

The man picked up a pen from your bookshelf, twirling it in his hand casually with playful twists of his fingers. “You’re new…” he mused, glancing at you up and down. “And... cute. Fresh blood. How'd you get my number, hmm?”

You sat stunned, dizzy from confusion. Your words were lodged in your throat, unable to utter a single sound. This had to be a dream, right? Had you fallen asleep while working on your homework? It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the oak of the bookcase, waiting for your next move. The only words you could manage came out in a hoarse croak, shaky and uncertain. "This—I'm dreaming…" 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue tauntingly against his teeth. "Oh, there's a lot of things I could do right now to assure you you aren't," he started, the gleam in his eye particularly sinister as he drew his gaze up and down. "But trust me. You wouldn't want that." 

“Who—”

“I have a lot of names, but you can just call me San. Your friendly neighborhood demon.” He flashed a fiendish smirk. “Well, maybe don’t linger too much on the ‘friendly’ part.”

“D—demon?”

“What, you didn’t know? You’re the one who summoned me, darling.” He drew out his words, slowly, carefully, continuing to play with the pen in his fingers. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, as if he had the power to kill you at any moment. He probably did.  

He pressed his palms against the top of the shelf to hoist himself off, the books on it threatening to topple with the sudden movement. The minute he vaulted down from the shelf, you were able to get a better look at him. 

The first thing that drew your eye was his impossibly broad shoulders, accentuated by the tight cut of his shirt. It contrasted against his tiny waist, cinched in neatly with a belt. His proportions were unreal, and so very fittingly non-human. He was undoubtedly the most incredible sight you'd ever seen in your life, human or otherwise. He made his way over to the bed where you sat. You snapped your laptop closed, pushing it to the side, your blood turning to ice as he inched closer to you. The way he sauntered across the floor almost seemed like he was floating, like gravity was merely a fun game to him.  

He poised himself over you, his powerful stance alone commanding you to look at him. His fingernail dragged under your chin with a distinct sting, pulling your gaze up to his intense eyes. It was cold, like a dull knife, causing your body to tremble slightly. His piercing eye-contact was entrancing, even spell-binding—you couldn't tear your eyes away. "How cute," he teased sing-songily, “you’re a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, still pulled in by his magnetic gaze. “How did you—” 

"I can smell one from a mile away. The scent… it's just so…" he paused to lick his lips, drawing his tongue slowly over his black metal lip ring. "delicious." 

“Anyway, you must have had a reason to summon me, no? A soul to harvest? A sacrifice maybe?” Something about his tone was giddy at the idea. “At your service, darling.” He drew down in a playful bow, his mouth twitching into a smirk. 

You hated to say it, but he was entirely your type. From up close, you could see his other piercings more clearly, several earrings lining both ears, glimmering against the cartilage. His right eyebrow donned a shaved slit, decorated with another piercing. Of course the demon you summoned in your dream would be your ideal man. Well, he kind of looked like the edgy Hot-topic boy of your 7th grade self’s dreams, but you couldn’t deny that was still kind of your type still. His jet-black hair framed the sharp cut of his jaw perfectly—you were sure he could see you practically drooling over him at this point.  He looked crafted by heaven—hell?—itself.  

Even so, no single part of you desired for him to take your virginity right this second. Maybe under different circumstances, but not with the time ticking down on your math assignment and the fact that he was a fucking demon you just conjured into your room.

You shook your lewd thoughts out of your head, worried for a moment that demons might have some sort of mind-reading powers you weren’t aware of. “Well, uh, actually… I need help with my math homework.”

He snickered, his eyes trained on you like prey. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m kind of serious. It’s like 10% of my grade.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, breaking eye contact finally, and you felt a sense of relief as you finally had a moment to breathe away from his suffocating glare.“For someone who just summoned a demon you’re a real buzzkill.”  He perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his butt lightly against the edge of the frame. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s say I actually helped you. You know how this works, right? If I do something for you, you have to give me something in return.”

You gulped. This was a dream, it had to be, and the best you could do was go along for the ride. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel shaken, despite doing your best to convince yourself it wasn’t real—like some sort of subconscious defense mechanism your body employed in danger. And, well, he kind of seemed like danger. “Like what?”

“Well, normally...” He glanced back over, pinning you down with his gaze once again. “It’d be your soul.” 

Your breath stopped in your throat. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to give up your entire soul for 10% of your math grade, although that was a pretty accurate metaphor for your college experience. 

“Your virginity maybe?” he hummed, drawing his tongue back over his lips, then, seeing your expression, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “No? Damn. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Um… I can offer to make you dinner?”

He paused, his eyes widening for a second, then burst into a cacophony of laughter. It was the first time he broke his exterior, and for a moment, he looked a bit more human. “I’ll take it.” Then, more “but you realize a contract with a demon is binding, right?”

 “So, I’m contractually obligated to make you dinner, that’s what you’re saying?”

He paused, his smile turning amused once more. “Feisty. I like you,” he winked flirtatiously, sending heat rising in your cheeks. You hated to say it, but he was devilishly charming, on top of being probably the hottest being, human or not, you’d ever seen. 

You glanced at your phone, noting the time ticking down slowly but surely.  “Okay, I’m not joking. The math. My assignment is due in 45 minutes.” 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He sat next to your side on the bed for a while, guiding you through the problems like some sort of hot e-boy math tutor. Not that you were complaining about that. The way he sat was surprisingly cute, one leg tucked up at his side, the other folded underneath him.

“Where’d you learn math, anyway?” you asked, admiring his immaculate side profile as his eyes trained on the laptop screen, typing the answers in. “They have like, demon school or something?”

He gave you a side glance, and you once again felt uneasy under the heat of his gaze. “A demon never reveals his secrets.”

“I thought that was a magician.” 

He visibly stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tightly to avoid giving you the satisfaction of breaking his serious exterior. “Can you be quiet? I’m focusing. I’m a demon, not a mathematician. This is way out of my scope of work,” he grumbled through his teeth. 

You watched him silently as he worked. As he typed, his tongue lingered just outside his parted lips in concentration. “Even you sitting next to me is distracting,” he hissed quietly. “You don’t realize what your scent is doing to me right now.”

Right. Your virgin scent. Was that really so appealing to him? 

“Fine. I guess I’ll go make dinner. You promise you’re gonna turn this in in time?” 

“I’m contractually obligated,” he responded dryly. 

You hoisted yourself off the bed and headed to the kitchen to make dinner,  but something about leaving a stranger in your room felt strange. No stranger than accepting he was a demon, though, you supposed. 

You returned with a large plate of pasta, pretty much the only thing you had on hand. He received it apprehensively from you. 

“What?” you asked, offended at his look of disgust. “Sorry, I didn’t have any fresh human souls on hand. My bad.”  

You sat across from him on the bed, watching in fascination as he nibbled slowly at the thin spaghetti noodles. “You have any hot sauce or anything?” he asked, wincing as he took a few more bites. 

“I barely had enough pasta to feed two people. I’m a broke college student. Anyway, I never forced you to accept the dinner offer.” 

“I didn’t think it’d be so bland. What, you didn’t know demons prefer spicy food?”

“I didn’t know demons existed until today. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This is all a dream I’m going to wake up from in a bit anyway.”

A wicked smirk danced up on his lips again. “Oh, you still think it’s a dream? Cute,” he sang condescendingly. “Well, then I guess it wouldn’t matter if I did this...”  

Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as he crawled forward on his palms. You felt his breath linger on your neck first, then the gentle scrape of his pointed canines against your sensitive skin. Every hair on your body stood up. He pressed them down slightly, just enough to feel the tension on your flesh. Then he bit harder, nearly piercing as he sunk them in.

You reeled back, shoving him off you breathlessly. “What the fuck-”

“You still think it’s a dream? Then it wouldn’t matter if it sunk my teeth in. You’d just wake up, right? Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” he taunted, a smile curled up on his lip. His fangs gleamed under the still-dim light of your bedroom. “Humans are so amusing,”   

You wiped at your neck, rubbing circles where his teeth pinched your skin. He sat himself upright again and stood up from the bed. “Well, my end of the deal is over. Consider you released from your contract.” 

“You’re leaving?”

“Well I’m not gonna stay here.” His hand came up to his ear like a phone. “Call me if you have a soul to harvest. You know my number.” 

He was gone before you could blink, like an apparition, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Your eyelids grew heavier as you reflected what had just happened, and you wondered what would happen if you fell asleep in a dream. Would you just wake up? 

You collapsed into bed, still unsure whether or not the past few hours had actually happened or not. Part of you hoped they had—there was something about him that was so deeply captivating, you would do anything to see him again. 

As he said, you did have his ‘number’.

You woke up dazed, still unsure if you had dreamt the events of the night before. The only sure way to know was to check your assignment—if you had really fallen asleep while doing your homework, you wouldn’t have turned the assignment in, right?

You opened your online class page, scanning for the assignment, and there it was, in bold letters: 

Submitted: 98%. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt two distinct emotions: relief that you got the assignment turned in, and complete disbelief that your encounter last night was not part of your imagination.

You could summon him again. 

He seemed about as harmless as a demon could seem. At first, he had been entirely intimating—his aura made it seem like he could have eaten your soul right there with no second thoughts. But watching that powerful being, capable of so much evil and chaos, do something as mundane as your math homework… that was the most entertaining, and almost adorable thing, you’d ever witnessed. 

Besides, you had something he desired, something you could dangle in front of him to keep him coming back. You had your virginity, which seemed to be the ultimate prize for a demon like him. The way he had talked about it last night, it seemed you were irresistible for him. But he also accepted your rejection so easily. 

As long as you kept drafting up meaningless contracts, he had to oblige, right? You weren’t sure exactly how it worked, but that’s how it seemed from your interactions last night. If it worked like you thought it did, his job as a demon was to make a contract with his summoner, no matter how insignificant, as long as he takes something in return. 

That night, you read the same latin phrase you had before he’d appeared, this time off a sticky note push-pinned in your wall. 

You heard him again before you saw him, and you whipped your head around to see where he was standing behind you. 

He wore the same playful, devilish smirk, displaying his fangs. “Hmm, you decided to let me harvest your soul now, have you? That was quick.”

It had barely been 24 hours, and yet you’d already forgotten how incredibly hot he was, for lack of a better word. Your lips parted slightly in awe, forgetting for a second to formulate a response. 

“I hope your silence is a yes,” he interrupted. 

You shook your attraction to him out of your head for a moment, remembering what you brought him here for. “I want you to clean my bathroom.”

He laughed in disbelief, plopping himself down on the bed. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?”

“That’s how this works right? I summon you and do what I want. And I give you something in return.” You leaned against the desk behind you. 

“What am I, your errand boy?”

“But that is how this works, right?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes,” he grumbled reluctantly. “But what do I get this time?”

“I cook you dinner again.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I’ll let you bite my neck. Draw blood if you want.”

His eyes widened at your proposal. His reaction confirmed your suspicion—the blood of a virgin must be like crack to a demon like him. His face went flush. “Deal,” he confirmed eagerly. 

You watched him as he cleaned, and there was something satisfying about watching this bloodthirsty demon scrubbing the bathtub on his hands and knees. He almost looked a bit pathetic. You stood in the door frame, unable to help from grinning at making him perform such menial tasks. A lot more was at stake now than just dinner, so you might as well have some fun with his end of the bargain. Even on his knees, you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. Every part of him was sculpted immaculately—his appearance was distinctly human, and yet he was in all other ways otherworldly. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to some human’s lowly errand boy,” he hissed through his teeth. 

“Less talking, more scrubbing,” you demanded with a smirk, and he shot you a deathly glare. 

You followed through with your promise of dinner, and this time you came prepared with hot sauce. He devoured it eagerly, and you felt proud for making a dinner worthy of a demon’s praise. 

But there was still one more promise you had to follow through on, and the thought made your head spin.  

He sat across from you on the bed, eyes trained on your neck in a very un-subtle display of desire. You’d never felt so wanted, even if it was just the thought of your virgin blood that had him practically drooling. 

“You sure about this?” he asked hesitantly. It was strange that he was even asking permission, as he seemed so eager the other night to just sink his teeth right into you. 

“I’m contractually obligated,” you teased dryly. Then, more seriously, “But yes, I am.” 

He placed his left hand on your neck, steadying it in place. His fierce, almost predatory gaze washed over you completely. 

He leaned forward, parting his lips to drag his teeth gently along your neck. You tipped your head back, giving him a better angle. He teased there for a while, lingering his sharp canines on your skin. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, the warmth of it sending chills rocketing down your spine. Your lips parted slightly, gentle moans escaping at the sensation. The situation was predatory, and yet it felt completely sensual in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

He paused for a moment, lips fluttering over your skin as he spoke. “You have no idea how hard it is not to completely drain you,” he whispered, voice dripping off his tongue with a sort of lustful hunger. “I promise I’ll only take a bit.”

He sunk down, and you heard it before you felt it—the distinct sound of teeth piercing flesh. You cried out a bit, bringing your own hand to your mouth to muffle your whines. It stung a bit, but in a twisted way, there was something about it you liked. You felt his tongue draw over your wound slowly, lapping deliberately at the fresh blood like a starved animal.  

He moaned against you, and it echoed in your ear like the most divine sound you’ve ever heard. He may have been a demon, but his noises sounded like they came from heaven itself. He pulled your waist against his as he slowly bathed his tongue over the punctured flesh, his fingers squeezing as he grasped at your waist. He littered a few faint kisses across your blood-stained skin, moving slightly down towards your shoulder blades. The sudden sensation drew soft, pleasured moans from your lips. 

As he finally pulled away, parting his lips tenderly away from your skin, you caught the faintest glimmer of his blacked-out eyes before they flickered back to normal. His deep red irises sparkled like rubies as he maintained eye contact. He brought one of his hands up from your waist, gently wiping at his blood-stained lips with the back of his palm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself for a second. Your skin tastes so sweet, like candy,” he praised softly, voice deep and wanting. “And your blood, fuck—it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

The seductive gleam in his eye signaled that you had awoken something in him, something you hadn’t meant to. He was still holding you, probably without even noticing, but you didn't want to draw his attention to it quite yet. You wanted to experience it for just a bit longer if you could. Something about the way he held your waist against his made you crave more of him. 

Almost as if a switch flipped, his expression went dark, his fingernails suddenly digging all the way into your waist. You yelped in pain as he nearly punctured the skin through your clothes. “I need you to walk away from me right now. Before I do something I’ll regret,” he growled. You watched as his eyes flashed to the same demonic black for a moment. 

You gulped, slowly backing yourself away from him, scrambling off the bed. "Farther," he groaned painfully, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. His hands clenched at the blanket on the bed, balling into restrained fists. "Now."

You ran from the room, your feet moving before you even knew where they were taking you. You ran all the way down the hallway to the front door, sliding your back down against it as you collapsed to the floor. Your limbs shook weakly, trying to calm yourself down. You must have sat there for an hour or more, completely frozen, not quite aware of the passing of time. You wiped the blood of your neck, but it didn't do much, smearing it across. 

When you managed to finally stand up again, you made your way hesitantly towards the door of the bedroom, swinging your head around the doorframe first. 

"San…?" you called apprehensively.

But he was gone, leaving only a light imprint on the sheets of the blood-stained bed and two deep punctures in your neck to remind you he was ever there.

[to be continued]

[prose-for-hire]

Guardian of the lost soul

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: if what the reader dress as an angel (kinda like Supernatural angels) and she finds the scoobies gang  in the haunted house with the costumes magically change them. (you know the episode ^-^)  only this time , Spike sees her wings and in angel terms that's a soulmate.

Requested by: @everlastingartist​

A/N: Kind of a soulmate au I think? I am not familiar with the Supernatural angels (yet - I plan on actually watching it soon) I did google them and I’m still none the wiser lol. So this is my own interpretation of what was requested! I chose a guardian angel, and twisted it in my own way. It is very made up but that’s what I’m here to do!

Also I mashed up two Halloween episodes together for this one but Spike doesn’t have a chip. Not even a soul. But he finds his soulmate.🖤🦇

You loved Halloween in Sunnydale, it never disappointed. The pumpkins were freshly carved, there was candy everywhere you turned and kids really did love dressing up and making a nuisance of themselves. Even when you were running for your life the mood always picked up somewhere after midnight. And hey, being friends with a very protective Slayer had its benefits.

You were basically skipping around the streets, you were excited about going to the haunted house. You had tried to convince Willow, along with buffy to take the ghost costume off but she flat out refused. Even when you begged all the way to the party. You wanted to get to the end so you could join the party with your friends and you waited briefly for everyone to show up so you could enter together. While you and Willow waited outside, a figure in a dark cloak pushed past you. There was something about them that you recognised but they muttered some insult at you for being in their way so you decided to just ignore them. Eventually, everyone arrived and you were able 

You had chosen to dress as an angel. A guardian angel. Not the stereotypical kind, one you had read of in some of Giles’ thick mythology books. You had been bored and the passages had been surprisingly interesting in an I’m-so-bored-I’d-read-the-back-of-a-cereal-packet kind of way. It spoke of the kinds of angels, of the truth about how they operate rather than those spoken of in popular culture. Some of your costume was white however as you wanted people to at least recognise what you had come as (although nobody except Willow had got it). 

You went through the various rooms together and had a laugh at some of the more ridiculous spooks in the house. There had been a slight tension a few words exchanged but mostly you were having a nice time. Everyone was squabbling over which way to go next and you had lost interest, managing to break away from the others.

As you did this, you saw the hooded figure again. You were sure you recognised the flashes you had seen of the person’s face. You left your friends for a moment to tap them on the shoulder and who should turn to face you but the big bad of the moment. Spike. You hadn’t faced him alone yet but he had always singled you out when you were with the others. The conversation always turned suggestive, which annoyed Buffy to no end and made you try to hide yourself when you were with the others.

You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t love the attention though. Hope that he would catch your eye. You longed for even a moment alone with him, although you were well aware of the danger. You couldn’t help like him but there was no way you would ever admit that to your friends. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to suppress a smile.

“Thought I’d drop by… see what tasty… treats Halloween has to offer” He closed the space between you as his voice became a little huskier with every step. His hand was on the wall, palm flat against it. His arm blocking you in as he slowly scanned your body before returning to your face.

“What has the devil got in store for you this Halloween do you reckon pet?” He asked, the smirk audible in his voice, “Somethin’ naughty no doubt…” He added, biting his lip teasingly.

“I’m an angel. Always preferred them anyway” You shrugged. It had been a very low blow and when you saw his expression darkening into anger rather than lust, you backtracked – knowing better than to get him mad, “To the devil, I mean”

“Bollocks – where are the wings? The halo? And you’re not foolin’ anyone wearing that white-” he gestured wildly to the corresponding area where each item should have been with the hand that wasn’t leaning against the wall. You smiled, about to respond when someone interrupted.

“Spike!” Buffy shouted, having turned to find you in the haunted house. She was relieved to see you (as she had lost the others) but she was not pleased to see the vampire that still had you boxed in, pressed pretty close against you.

Buffy made light work of hauling him away and trying to throw him out of the house completely. She tried to find the front door but it had gone. You were now aware you were trapped inside this now truly haunted house. No, it was worse. It had turned into a murder house as half the student body upstairs had started to scare themselves to death almost before the real threat had.

Everyone was rushing past you and as Spike smelled fresh blood, he ran in the opposite direction to where the others were coming from, straight into the carnage. His stomach was rumbling and he was ready for a decent meal.

Everything was going on at once and you wanted it to slow down, or at least give you chance for a breather. There were too many threats at play tonight. As if the powers had requested it this way, a busy scene of threat and revelations for their own personal enjoyment. 

As you tried again and again to leave and to help find the others, things started to get worse. You had now lost Buffy and were trying to find her by (you guessed it) calling out her name which was the best way to attract anything other than good luck. You had to fight off some cobwebs and now, your own body it seemed. You were hurting, doubled over. Something was happening. You sunk to your knees, grimacing. Nothing was going your way. 

It was a strange night. The strangest Halloween you had experienced. The others were lost and at the same moment, Willow turned into a real ghost. Xander a real soldier and Buffy was now a genuine high society lady from the 1700s. It was spooky and not in a cute way.

You had managed to get to your feet, pulling on the cobwebs as they attacked your head again. As you looked down checking you had removed any stray webbing, you saw that you were glowing. Literally. You appeared human still - no wings or halos but there was a strange feeling that you had aged hundreds of years in just a few seconds. Not in appearance, that was still your skin and your face. But in knowledge. As if you had read every book known to man and then some. You felt powerful. Strange.

You walked around, able to know what was happening in every room. You managed to get places just by thinking about it. Able to protect people before they succumbed to the terrors the house had in store. You didn’t know how this was happening, but you knew better than to question it.

You had hope. You had a purpose and you were getting used to adapting to different people and their needs. That was until it came to something you needed. You turned and saw your friends through a two way mirror. They had all found each other but you couldn’t get to them. They were trying to remember who they were and come up with a plan. You started to panic, banging your fist on the mirror that you could see them through but they didn’t hear you. You hurriedly left through a side door to try and get to them seeing as your previous power wasn’t working. But you never made it to your friends. You had walked straight into someone. The one someone that you always managed to find, no matter what.

Spike had appeared. He seemed the same except... was that a heart beat? You frowned as he stepped towards you, the swagger still in tact.

 “You listened to me then, pet? About time” He muttered as you looked at him confused. You didn’t understand. You looked around for some kind of clue until he spoke again, “The wings. You put ‘em on. Knew it would complete the look… not that you need to be wearing any more clothin’ items” He added, the trademark smirk on his face as he almost prowled towards you further.

“I’m not wearing any wings…” You said slowly as he came to stand right in front of you, leaving not so much as room to breath between you. He frowned, and looked behind you before looking back into your eyes. He could see the wings as clear as anything. They had a large wingspan, it was kind of impossible to miss. He reached out the touch them and you felt his fingers. You frowned, checking behind you. There they were, bat-like rather than the feathered kind you had expected and almost translucent whilst appearing closer to your skin tone. He found them aesthetically very appealing. Almost as if it were a part of you. He just stared, almost in awe as he felt they were warm the texture as soft as your skin.

 It came to you suddenly. The folklore you had been researching. The mythology. The only one that may see the wings of the angel is their soulmate. Their one eternal love. It was said that every angel had a soulmate and that no matter how long they lived, they should find their soul no matter how seemingly impossible. No matter how many times they were lost, they would always be found. And you had found yours. Your love.

You and Spike had been less than useless during the fight to escape the haunted house and regain your own lives back. You were perfectly happy right here. Locked in each others gaze. A happiness neither of you had felt before until this moment. Until this revelation. You had been sharing. Talking so easily to one another. Him telling you stories of his past, and you surprising yourself with stories of your own. Ones that could match his. You felt an entrenched need to protect him. To hold you into him so that no harm could ever befall him. 

The chaos going on around you was now secondary to your story. You holed up in a room together, Spike never looking away from you. The guardian angel in you was screaming for you to help the others again, but your heart was set on him. On relearning of your love. You had faith in your friends abilities anyway.

He leaned in, his thumb trailing your face and lingering near your lips. He had thought about this for so long. His usual crude quips had been founded in truth. Forged to both show how he felt and camouflage them at the same time. He felt for you so deeply his soul had made an unwitting appearance back into his life. Whenever you were around his heart felt as if it may break free from his ribcage in the hopes of greeting yours.

You closed your eyes as he did, the build up to this kiss achingly slow. You could feel his breath on his face he was so close. His touch was warm and familiar, his lips made for yours. You could feel it. The anticipation almost became too much as he finally grazed your lips.

But, just as suddenly as it was cast, the spell broke. The feeling of danger returned to your gut as you were in Spike’s presence. Your kiss never deepening. Your stomach flipping as you snapped opened your eyes. Spike’s vampire instincts kicked back in and it was resoundingly telling him that he was hungry. Your scent was so enticing to him, his face changed of its own accord. His fangs so close to you but you knew he wouldn’t kill you. You knew it as if it were fact. As if it were gravity or the colour of the sky being blue. Spike loved you and wouldn’t harm you. They were each true sentences, you had never been so sure.

Buffy, however, now fresh from being bound in the sensibilities of a woman with no aspirations other than to be pretty was ready for a fight. She had fought to escape the haunted house and now she would fight the nearest big bad in sight. Spike. She wrenched him from your neck.

But when he drew back, he had the same look in his eye as he had only moments before. Your soulmate was still right here in front of you, there was nobody that could convince you otherwise. And believe me, Spike really tried since then.

Buffy and Spike traded blows. Neither became victorious, but you were able to leave the house and Giles had somehow managed to force Ethan Rayne into reversing the curse he had put on your costumes. 

After that long Halloween night, your mind barely stopped thinking about him. Sometimes you walked around after dark to see if he would come along and pretend to eat you as an excuse to just talk to you. He often wished to find an excuse to see you. Without knowing what it was, he felt it too. Deep within. Stronger since Halloween night. Sometimes he found himself standing around in places he knew you would frequent just so he could watch you. Catch a glimpse of you. Although, he had been doing this before Halloween as well.

You remembered so much more than that night, however. Memories that should have been long since buried of you and Spike finding each other over and over in other places and times still lingered as you wished his thumb still would along your jaw. You still remembered those memories and you wrote them all down before you could forget. They were like dreams, something you knew so well but struggled to recall in enough detail to satisfy.

You would forever carry a piece of his soul around with you now. That feeling just couldn’t go away, you wouldn’t let it. It was as if his soul were a locket hung around your neck. You would guard it with your life. Keep it close to your heart. 

He would come back to you, you were sure of it and you were happy to wait until that day came.