#to an anxiety about protecting him from situations she knows are particularly difficult for him specifically

[anghraine]

I was just thinking about the through lines of Elizabeth's characterization and her relationship with Darcy, and I'm really fond of this one:

[Mrs Bennet:] “Ay, that is because you [Bingley] have the right disposition. But that gentleman,” looking at Darcy, “seemed to think the country was nothing at all.” “Indeed, mamma, you are mistaken,” said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. “You quite mistook Mr Darcy.”

-

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him [Mr Collins] from such a scheme; assuring him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr Darcy, the superior in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. [...]with a low bow he left her to attack Mr Darcy, whose reception of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words “apology,” “Hunsford,” and “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”

-

In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother’s words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper; for to her inexpressible vexation she could perceive that the chief of it was overheard by Mr Darcy, who sat opposite to them. [...] “For heaven’s sake, madam, speak lower. What advantage can it be to you to offend Mr Darcy? You will never recommend yourself to his friend by so doing.” Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently glancing her eye at Mr Darcy, though every glance convinced her of what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother, she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her.

-

That he [Darcy] was surprised by the connection was evident: he sustained it, however, with fortitude: and, so far from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr Gardiner. Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know she had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most attentively to all that passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners.

Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of the moment, been led to make Mr Darcy acquainted with their fears for her sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the proper termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its unfavourable beginning from all those who were not immediately on the spot. She had no fear of its spreading farther, through his means. There were few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended; but at the same time there was no one whose knowledge of a sister’s frailty would have mortified her so much. Not, however, from any fear of disadvantage from it individually to herself; for at any rate there seemed a gulf impassable between them.

-

During their [Elizabeth and Darcy's] walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet’s consent should be asked in the course of the evening: Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother’s. She could not determine how her mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man; but whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and she [Elizabeth] could no more bear that Mr Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.

-

Lady Catherine had been rendered so exceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew’s letter, that Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till the storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend was a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their meetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she saw Mr Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of her husband.

-

"I [Lydia] am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much; and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help. Any place would do of about three or four hundred a year; but, however, do not speak to Mr Darcy about it, if you had rather not." As it happened that Elizabeth had much rather not, she endeavoured in her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind. Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice of what might be called economy in her own private expenses, she frequently sent them.

me, every time: oh, Elizabeth.

[ficjoelispunk]

Hi Emyyy! ❤️

I’m completely obsessed with Be my Assistant, I’m a ghost reader most of the time, but I make a point of saying that this story is amazing, looking forward to the next chapters.

I also saw that your Requests are open, and I thought if you could write something about Joel being extremely protective... just an idea…

OMG! Thank youuuu. 🥹 Be my Assistant, It means a lot to me... I’m glad you’ve liked it.

And, sure I can write for you, it be a pleasure <3

-

I’ll take care of you

"She never looked nice, she looked like art. And art wasn't supposed to be nice, it was supposed to make you feel something."

Summary: You needed to solve a situation that put you in trouble, your salvation was always around you and you never realized, you would never expect your salvation to come from it.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. Reader.

Wordcount: 6.4k

Warnings: Physical aggressions, canon, protective Joel.

Oneshot

A/N: Just to remind you that English is not my first language, so I apologize for the grammatical errors.

One of the few clandestine bars in the QZ was crowded tonight. Crowded bar in a QZ wouldn't be new, it's not like having a lot of programming on a night locked up in QZ. But it was clandestine because, you know, alcohol and the current situation of humanity awakens the worst of the human being, it’s difficult to maintain order when you have alcohol involved. So, FEDRA decided that ending leisure would be easier than monitoring.

You've never been here. You was accompanied by one of the teachers who teaching in the FEDRA school together with you, Denise, she was also your friend, or at least the person with whom you had the most contact here. And particularly, you was feeling so ridiculous for being here. But apparently that was the only way. Your only salvation.

When you live in an extreme environment. It seems that your whole mind revolves around extreme attitudes. God had already forgotten about you for a long time, you had been stuck in this place for 18 years.

It wasn’t as if before you had already gone through a training on how to survive the apocalypse, just as they did when the fire alarm roong in the school hallway sometimes for training. You were completely useless, if it wasn't for your brain. So, yes, you were stuck here, because it was a safe place.

It wasn't like you wanted to live in this world either. But you were here, you stayed for some reason then, it made sense to continue living one day at a time.

"It's the one who is leaning against the wall at the back of the bar"

You heard Denise's coordinates, but waited a moment to turn around and look. Unfortunately, the man was already staring at you. A burning cold radiated through your stomach as if you were losing the floor. You looked away quickly.

Ok. It's now or never.

You took a deep breath, taking the first step towards the man. Deviating from the people who crowded the unhealthy establishment. He was tall, his arms strong crossed, placing more emphasis on his imponence. The expression not at all friendly. His forehead formed a wrinkle between his eyebrows, which made his expression harder. The dark eyes, as if I could kill just with the look.

Your heart was racing, if it weren't for the music, and the buzz of the conversations, you could say that the sound of your heartbeat could be heard miles away. Nervousness, anxiety took over your body, your hands were sweating.

The man stared at you without even blinking. When you were close enough to him, you spoke.

"You're Joel, right?"

He studied you. Running his eyes through your body, without answering. He looked over your head, being silent, squeezing his arms more in front of his body. You wondered if you had spoken too quietly, and he hadn't listened to you. Or if he was really choosing to ignore you.

"Okay..." you hummed, looking at the side "sorry, that was a mistake" you turned around, to make your way back.

A man bumped into you. Joel pulled your body close to his, carefully, just in an attempt to avoid the shock between you and the man.

"Be careful where you walk" he growled at the man, who didn't even have the trouble to apologize.

***

Joel had seen you walking through the QZ before. The first thing that crossed his mind was, how God - if He existed - had the courage to leave someone like you, here, in this world forgotten by Him?

You walked so lightly that it was possible to believe that your feet didn't even touch the ground. Your features were delicate, gentle eyes. So soft. You were like a breeze in a field of flowers in the spring. Always stacking books in your arms. Walking as if no one could see you.

But Joel saw you. Not only did him see, how inevitably, him automatically blamed himself for thinking about putting his hands on you, feeling the softness of your skin, holding your hair, resting his lips on your neck, feeling your smell, your body on his, your warmth. For imagining how good you would feel with him. How good he could be for you, how he would do everything he could for you to stay that way, exactly like that, as if the fucking world wasn't over yet.

And now see you here, in this bar, in the underworld of the apocalypse, your angelic figure in a stupid summer dress, highlighting the soft of your breasts, your hair stuck behind your head, letting the rest loose fall on your shoulders, shit! What was the angelic creature doing here, in the middle of this hell?! What did you do walking towards him? Looking at him as if you were in pain... The things he would be willing to do to get you out of the middle of this dirt... take you away from this worm den.

Your voice was so sweet, that he could be selfish and ask you to repeat, just for him to listen to you once again.

"What do you want?" His voice was deep and hoarse, carried by the accent.

You turned your body to face him, while Joel held your arm balancing you so that you stood up again. As soon as he made sure you were balanced, he moved his hands away from your arm. And goddammit... your skin was as soft as he imagined it could be, it was a sin for him to touch something like you. You were so close to him that he could smell a lavender smell that exhaled from you.

You held your index finger, scratching your cuticle. Avoiding looking at him. It was almost painful not to be able to look you in the eye. He tried not to watch you so much, so as not to look like a crazy man.

"I heard you have pills, I need one"

Joel raised an eyebrow, looking at you again. Why did you need pills? You didn't do the kind of girl who used drugs, or who needed controlled medicines. You looked healthy, so healthy that it was offensive someone so healthy in the middle of this shit.

"What kind?"

"The kind that makes someone sleep. Sleep without the risk of waking up"

***

This man didn't even look at you. He seemed to be hating you with all his strength. Shit! You had never done that before, you didn't know how to do it.

Now his eyebrows were united. Maybe you didn't express yourself right.

You shook your head.

"Not for the person to die. It's not that" even though it would be exactly that "it's the dosage, the dose needs to be strong" you tried to explain.

He looked away from you again, straightening himself on the wall. It was as if he was disappointed that he had to deal with a person like you. Who doesn't even know what you needs, or what you wants to buy. A perfect idiot, who is making him waste time.

"How many?" He asked.

"How many do you have"

He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

"I'll deliver it to you in two days, after the turn"

You blinked a few times.

"Okay," you nodded, "where?"

"I'll find you"

***

You are a simple woman. So simple that sometimes the feeling is lowered to useless. You're not good with weapons, you know almost nothing about how to survive outside. Never - not even when you were in high school - got involved in a fight, in fact you were excellent at being invisible. Going unnoticed was your specialty.

Your tastes revolved around art, history, philosophy, music, cinema and books. No manual work, no engineering, no medicine, nothing that was really worth it now in this scenario.

But eventually, after the QZ was well established, you got a job at the FEDRA school, as an Arts teacher. That was your routine, teaching children and adolescents, what was art. Have you ever imagined a world without art? And an apocalypse with art? Yeah, none of these scenarios were positive. It was not an easy job, in fact this was the farthest from being something "risky" you came close to in your entire life. Teaching art to children in an apocalyse, it was like telling a terminal patient, to believe in a miracle.

Life for you passed in a quiet and tedious way. The only time you subjected yourself to something - in your opinion - absurd, was when you learned that one of the smugglers were selling a copy of Pride and Prejudice for 10 cards. It was the best.

Assimilating all this to cowardice is not that bad now, is it? You criticized yourself for not knowing how to defend yourself. For not knowing what to do in a risky situation. And now, more than ever.

Mainly because, approximately 6 months ago, a new battalion of FEDRA soldiers were reassigned to this QZ. One afternoon, Denise introduced you to her new boyfriend, who was accompanied by another man.

"Nice to meet you" you said shaking hands with your friend's boyfriend.

"The pleasure is mine. This is Maxwell"

The other man reached out to you. You gave in to the handshake, which he immediately pulled to his lips to press a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Nice to meet you, beautiful" he said.

The eyes running through you, as if you were a piece of meat.

Immediately your alerts were turned on, the discomfort ran through your veins flooding your body with an unconscious repulsion.

"I don't like him" you tell to Denise.

"Stop being paranoid, he's a gentleman, and his salary is great"

You made a face at her, who smiled ignoring your disgust.

Since then, you have practically run away from this Maxwell.

"Hey, Teach!"

The voice you try to avoid, entered through your ears and wrapped your stomach at the same moment.

You looked away from the book to the door of your classroom. Maxwell had his hand over the gun he paraded through the corridors, and a petulant smile stamped on his face.

"Can I help you with something?"

He came approaching your table, until he was in front of you.

"Actually, I’d like to make an invitation"

You sighed. Closing your book, keeping it in your bag, and getting up.

"Go ahead" you smiled embarrassedly.

"My turn ends now at 6 p.m., I thought I could accompany you to your house, who knows, eat something, I have some cards..."

Your eyes ran to the clock at the back of the room. 17:50.

"Sorry, Maxwell, I actually already have other plans, maybe another time?!"

You nodded to him, taking the first steps towards the door. But even before your hands could put your bag on your shoulder, your back hits the board hard, behind you.

Maxwell held your throat, while pressing his body on yours. His face so close to yours, just being separated by the beret flap of the FEDRA uniform he wearing.

"Do you think you can fool me? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Please, just..."

“Huh?”

He pushed you harder, squeezing his fingers more around your neck.

"You don't have any fucking plans, I follow you every night and you make the same route every day! Every time Denise invited you to dinner, you said there was an appointment, but you were at home..."

You were running out of air.

"What the fuck..." a third voice caught your attention.

The squeeze loosened, and you slipped down the wall, with your hands in your throat trying to relieve the pressure that settled there, coughing with the oxygen invading your lung.

Maxwell looked at the girl standing at the door, with her eyes snapping and her mouth open in shock by the scene she was witnessing.

"Ellie..." you tried to say, while straightening the posture.

The soldier walked towards her, but you held his arm.

"No. She's my student," you said with your hands on his chest, pushing him back, "it's all right"

"If you open your mouth" he growled on your face leaning over you "I disappear with you. You know that an art teacher will not be missed by anyone"

Since then, this bastard has been blackmailing you in every possible and impossible way.

Ellie was the only student really interested in your classes, she was interested in the techniques in paintings, the books you presented, you developed an affection for this girl, you would not be able to let something happen to her. Never.

And out of fear, an unreal fear that this man ended up implanting in your brain, you have been giving him more than half of your cards, with the thought that the cards will keep his hands to himself.

For a while, this worked, but now, he was bored. And he was furiously after you. The only way out you could think of was to disappear with him, before he disappears with you. That was the bravest act your brain could think of.

You would be ready, you would dope him and then kill him. And now you were waiting for the damn pills, to put your plan into action.

Your brain was so overwhelmed by despair and panic, that this was the best solution you thought of.

That was it, you just had to put up with two more days. Get out of class, and go straight home, as soon as possible, before Maxwell's turn is over, lock all the locks, push your closet on the door, and wait until the next day.

Your thoughts were aligned and you knew exactly what to do. You had passed by the library to take an anatomy book home, and study the possibilities of where exactly you should cut, so as not to make so much mess.

It would have to be like this, because you couldn't run away from the QZ, you couldn't report it, you would die. You would have to kill him, because it was the only solution. FEDRA soldiers die every single day. They wouldn't give importance to one more. Right?

Your feet made their way home automatically, practically running, while your mind rambling about the murder you planned. When a squeeze in your arm pulled you into an alley, lifting you off the ground, making you stumble on your own feet.

Your eyes snapmed with fear. It was Maxwell.

"Let me go" you knocked, uselessly, on the arm that pulled you. It was as if you were staping a wall, he didn't even seem to feel it. "Leave me alone"

"Your little shit" he murmured words over his shoulder, as he dragged you into the dark alley.

"Stay way from me"

He pushed you to a wall, damp, behind some containers of garbage and rubble.

His arm over your neck, leaving you breathless. His eyes looked like a hungry animal ready to devour his prey. While his hands slid harshly through your body, lifting your blouse.

"Let me go, you disgusting" you tried to push him, hyperventilating.

Would it be like that? Would you be raped here, in this place?

"You're a little beauty, I bet you must be all wet for me"

In a sudden movement, he turned you with your back to him, pushing your head on the wall, holding one of your arms against your back. You got dizzy, feeling the point that hit the throbbing wall on your forehead.

You were so disgusted, so scared, that your body disconnected from you, and you couldn’t order your brain to coordinate your movements to fight Maxwell, it was as if you were totally empty of strength. Incapable.

“That’s right, don’t fight, I don’t like to have a lot of work when you fight, but if you want, it will be more interesting...”

Maxwell squeezed your ass, before pressing his body on you.

"Stop, please," you murmured.

"Hey!" A deep voice echoed in the alley.

Maxwell, he moved away from you a little.

"Go away, man, I won't share this with anyone," he licked your ear.

You whimpered.

"Let her go" the voice was closer, you couldn't identify in the dark.

“I'm going to finish it quickly, man, you can keep her later, you'd better get out of here before you find problems"

"I told you to let her go" the man pushed Maxwell's shoulder.

He let you go.

Soon after, you heard the sound of a punch. You tried to concentrate, turning your body to see what was happening.

Maxwell was on the ground, trying to get up.

"Okay, man, you can get her first then"

Before Maxwell got up, the man kicked his stomach, keeping him on the floor, going over Maxwell, throwing several punches in his face.

The man raised Maxwell off the ground, holding his vest.

"Yeah, you piece a shit, I'm get her, but first I'll make sure you never look at her again"

He gave it one last punch. Releasing Maxwell's soft body on the floor.

He turned to you. Growling. Blood-red hands.

It was Joel. The smuggler you met last night.

Your eyes were snapping, you didn't know what to do, your whole body was shaking, you were hyperventilating. With your hands on your knee, trying to support your soft body.

Joel walked to you slowly with his hands trembling up.

"Are you okay?"

You got up, crossing your arms around your body. Looking at the disfigured soldier fallen on the ground, behind you.

Joel shook his head.

"Don't look at him, look at me"

Your eyes obeyed as if it were automatic. Joel's expression had changed drastically from a beast to a worried and cautious man.

He reached out his hand gently to touch your chin, turning your head to the side to look at you.

"Maybe you need stitches" the low and calm tone.

You frowned.

In the midst of all this chaos, you didn't even feel the hot blood running down your face.

Your hands went against the throbbing point on your head, pressing your fingers there, feeling the wet and viscous texture, bringing it to the front of your face to examine. Blood. A lot of blood.

"I can't..." you murmured, looking down, and back, as if you were looking for people who might be watching you "I can't go to the medical center, they'll want to know what happened, they'll know..."

Joel frowned, highlighting that expression mark that falls right in the middle of his eyebrows.

"You're losing a lot of blood" he said, without ever letting go of your face, his eyes examining you, his free hand reached a scarf in his jeans pocket, pressing the fabric on your wound.

Your hand grabbed his wrist, pulling the air through your teeth.

"We need to get out of here" Joel looked back quickly towards Maxwell's unconscious body, turning his eyes to you "I can take care of it, if you want, you won't be safe in your house, anyway"

It took you a while, feeling the small pressures he made with the fabric in your wound. But you nodded to him.

"Hold it like this, for me" he directed his hand to hold the handkerchief pressed on your forehead "can you walk?"

He walked away from you looking at you, looking for some more injury.

You nodded.

He wore the usual frown, one of his hands pressing the middle of your back, as he walked next to you.

Usually walking the streets was normal, no one wanted to look at your face. Today, on the other hand, there wasn't a person who didn't look at you. Joel, in turn, shot with his eyes every single person who took the look at you for more than 5 seconds, causing some to even cross the street.

You accompanied him to - where you assumed you were - to his house. He supported your elbows, helping you climb the stairs.

The apartment was not much different from everyone at QZ. But his was more disorganized. A small radio station - illegal inside the QZ - on the table, maps scattered on the sofá wear out. Empty glasses on the coffee table. Some windows blocked with wood. A layer of dust on all the furniture and especially on the floor. A yellow light was what made the environment a little more cozy, perhaps.

He pulled a chair for you to sit down.

Joel moved quickly through the small space, reaching from one of the cabinets, a first aid box - probably also the result of something illegal - pulling a chair in front of you.

***

Joel was not going to deny that he already imagined you here, in this apartment with him, but he never imagined you here in a situation like this.

Seeing your face bathed in blood was something that made his body boil. Your perfect face, now it would be forever marked by a scar, to remind you of that horrible day you are going through.

If only he could keep you by his side, he could guarantee that no one would ever touch you again.

***

"Have you ever taken stitches?" He asked, while taking some materials out of the first aid box. His voice was something comforting.

You shook your head, still holding the handkerchief over the wound on your forehead. Everything was happening so fast.

He separated a needle, thread and a whiskey on the table.

His hand reached yours, carefully moving the handkerchief from your forehead. The contrasting movement with the touch of his rough fingers, and the calloused hand.

"Let me see” he murmured, approaching your face, studying the wound.

You looked down.

"Okay, teach..."

"Don't call me that" you cut him off.

He walked away from you a little, to look at you.

Your eyes found his.

"Sorry" you looked down again "it's that..."

"All right, I got it" he pulled the chair closer to you, the inside of his legs touched your knees, he held your chin again "it's going to hurt, a lot, I have nothing to anesthetize, so I need you to be strong" He stared at you "do exactly what I say, can you do that?"

You nodded.

"Talk to me, I need you to talk to me, sweetheart"

You swallowed it dry. Looking at him.

"Yes"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I can do that"

He nodded to you, reaching for a glass, and serving a shot of whiskey, and delivering it to you.

"Drink it"

You obeyed, turning the shot. The liquid coming down hot, burning in your stomach.

He threw some of the same whiskey on another piece of fabric, looking at you.

"Ready?"

"Yes, I am"

He pressed the wet tissue with whiskey on the wound. The burning seemed to run all over your face. You frowned. Squeezing your fingers on your leg.

He took a pocket knife out of one of his jeans pockets, and gave it to you.

You held it. Doing things automatically.

"Now, I need you to talk to me, okay? Stay awake. If you are going to delete it, tell me first"

"Ok"

"Good" he reached the line and the needle "bites it" he raised your hand that held the pocket knife.

It was wrapped in a leather holster, made especially for the pocket knife. You frowned. Joel bowed his head with disapproval.

You put the holster between your teeth. Your breathing is getting a little faster.

“Three stitches, it’s what you need,” he said before getting closer, with a needle “ready”?

“Ready”

You don’t know how to say exactly what he was doing, but you felt the flesh being pierced, a colossal pain taking over your head. You stuck your teeth in the leather, with an afflicted growl, squeezing your fingers on the flesh of your leg. The eyes closing tight. It looked like you were going to explode.

"Don't move," he said with his face so close to you that you could feel his breathing on you.

You wanted to cry, scream. Tell him to stop, that it was all right if you ran out of a piece of your forehead. Just stop. It hurt too much. Tears were running from your face, but you couldn't tell if they were tears or sweat. Probably both.

"You're doing well, very well" he took a short break.

You felt his hands holding your left wrist.

"Give it to me" Joel brought your hand to his leg "I can handle it" he moved your other hand too.

You didn't even realize how much you were squeezing your own leg. But you received a slight relief.

Your breathing was trembling. He certainly continued, without warning, because once again the absurd pain of the flesh being pierced took over your senses. It was too much. You didn't spare Joel's leg, squeezing as much as you bit the pocket knife holster. Crying. Fighting against your own body so as not to move.

"Just one more" he said, "you're doing well"

There were no explanations or definitions for this moment. You simply had your whole body contracted, taken by the pain in such a way that nothing but the injury to your forehead existed in you. You couldn't even tell if you were breathing. The pain was so much that you could swear that your whole body was the wound. Your body started to tingle. Your senses were no longer responding.

You spit out the holster.

"Joel..."

You leaned on his leg.

"No, no, no..." he murmured "stay with me, you're doing well, stay with me, sweetheart, we're almost done"

You tried to focus on his voice. That beautiful and deep voice.

"You can do it, sweetheart, I know you can do it, just one more"

"Joel..."

Once again the pain radiated through your head.

You don't remember how, or when, it ended. But you woke up in a bed. Your head throbbing, your hands went up to press your eyes, in a useless hope of warding off that acute pain.

"Hey!" A whisper next to you, time you snap your eyes, jumping on an involuntary scare "calm down, easy, it's me, it's me" Joel's hands held your shoulders, gently.

Your eyes found his, tender and careful, you close your eyes and rest your head on the pillow again.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, releasing the grip on your shoulders.

"Pain"

He smiles.

"Yes, I know, here"

You open your eyes, he has two pills in the palm of his hand, extended in front of you. You frown, your eyes dance between the pills and his face.

"It's for pain, and to avoid infection. Take it"

You hesitate, but take it. Your fingers slipping the skin from the palm of his hand. You lean on your elbow, putting the pills in your mouth, Joel promptly gives you a glass of water.

There was a moment of silence, the day had not yet cleared up, it was night, probably at dawn. He didn't seem to have slept, sitting in a chair next to the bed.

"For what did you want the pills? That night?" He leans against the chair that was sitting, holding the empty glass you gave him back.

You look at him.

"Did you get it?"

He nods.

"Yeah"

You look away, staring at your impatient fingers that remove the cuticle chips from the corners of your nails.

"I don't have any cards here now for you..."

"What did you want them for?"

You look at him, swallowing it dry, hesitant.

"I..." you look away "I was going..."

You close your eyes, laying your head on the pillow again, shaking your head.

"Tell me" Joel leans in the chair, placing his arms on his knees.

You look at him for a moment, but you couldn't say that by looking at him. Your fingers press your eyes again.

"I was going to use them with him. I would dope him, and then kill him"

You take a while to open your eyes, after Joel's silence, you get curious, to know how he is looking at you now.

Joel didn't seem surprised by your idea, it didn't even seem to judge you. He seemed worried.

"Why? Is he bothering you?"

You nodded.

"How?" Joel clenched his fists.

You frowned. You grabbed your hands close to your face, and shrunk your legs. How if you shrink your body, as much as you could, would make you disappear, and next to you all this shame you felt.

"Tell me" he murmured softly, encouraging you.

"You don't have to bother..."

"I want to"

Joel extended his arm, so that his hands could move away a lock of hair that was on your face. So soft. So careful.

"Maxwell came transferred from some other QZ" you started "an acquaintance who works with me at school, introduced him and another friend, who is now her boyfriend" you felt stupid telling this story "since then he has been calling me out, but I always invent something..." you hesitated, holding your knees close to your chest "one day he cornered me in the classroom, there was a girl... a student who saw, I was afraid of him trying to do something with her, and since then he has been blackmailing me, and..."

You closed your eyes, shook your head, trying to move away from your mind.

"And?" Joel encouraged, he put one of his hands on your calf, trying to comfort you.

"He has been taking a good part of my cards, and I knew that would not be enough, that at some point this would happen... and I wanted to be prepared"

Joel nodded, his eyes fixed on you, the crease between his eyebrows deepened.

***

It didn't get into his head like another man could find himself entitled to attack you. Chase you.

He needed to have a lot of self-control to be able to hear your story until the end, without getting up from that chair and going directly to this Maxwell and hitting a bullet right in the middle of his eyes.

But no, dying is something easy. It ends easy. Living is difficult. And Joel would make sure that the last minutes of this man's life were the worst of his life.

You were right to think about killing him. Maxwell wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. And he wanted you. In all its innocence and fragility. Now, after Joel broke his face, he would certainly take revenge, hitting you, which was the easiest target, because, obviously, he was cowardly enough to blame you instead of solving things with Joel.

Joel wouldn't let you submit to this dirty work to win your peace again.

***

You sat down, Joel walked away a little giving you space. Your fingers pressed your face, while you got up, slowly.

"Where are you going?" Joel was right behind you.

You turned to him. Much taller than you.

"I need to go, I have classes to teach, and they can't be suspicious..."

He took a step in front of you, packing your face with one hand, while analyzing the bandage he had made.

"How are you going to explain that?"

His hot hand was so comforting, you fought against the urge to rest your head on his hand.

You shrugged.

"I fell"

He sighed. Deep.

"Thank you, for..." you pointed a finger at your head "I'm going to pay for the medicines and also..."

"If I were to charge you, you would have already paid"

You arched your eyebrows, and nodded to him.

Your morning passed with you having to explain how clumsy you were and ended up hitting your head when you slipped into your own apartment.

"It was him, wasn't it?" Ellie asked after class.

"No... I fell"

Ellie shook her head in disapproval.

"You need to report this son of a bitch"

"Ellie, I fell, okay? Everything is fine. And don't use this language in my classroom"

Ellie was disappointed in you, you knew.

"Pay attention to lesson number 2 when you go to do the activity, I'll see you next week" you said before she left the room.

You spent the day worried about the possibility of someone entering your classroom, to take you stuck or disappear with you after what happened yesterday.

To your surprise Denise entered your room near the end of the day. The eyes snaps, the face taken by a panic.

"Did you hear about it?" She asked as soon as she closed the door behind her.

You weren't good with lies. But you tried to set up your best face by surprise.

"No, what?"

She stopped in front of your desk.

"Maxwell" she said a little tired.

You arched your eyebrows. Okay, you knew, he was probably disfigured after last night's punches.

Denise frowned.

"What happened to you?" She pointed at your forehead.

You shook your head.

"I fell..."

She nodded, processing the information.

"Okay, then get ready" she said leaning over your table "Maxwell was found today in the late afternoon"

You arched your eyebrows.

"Dead" she concluded.

Now you didn't have to pretend surprise, because you were really surprised, the beating he took was serious, but not to the point of him dying.

"And there's more..." Denise continued.

You could feel the blood from your face being drained to anywhere other than your body.

"He was found with his cock cut off, and inside his own mouth"

You leaned against your chair. Your hands covering your mouth. Your eyes lost in nothing.

"Do they already know who did that?”

Would it be possible? Joel, would you have been able to do that? Did he do that?

"FEDRA is investigating, they won't leave it aside, kill a soldier like this?!"

“Maybe it could have been a firefly thing”

"No... Jared" - her boyfriend - "said this was premeditated, it was someone who really wanted Maxwell dead"

You were silent.

"Don't you know anything?" Denise was speculating.

You looked at Denise.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you were always together..."

"What?" Were you surprised by her assumption "together? We never even want to go out..."

"What did you want with that smuggler that night?"

You got up, gathering your things quickly, putting everything you could glimpse being important inside the bag.

"Sorry, I have to go" you murmured as you left the room.

"Wait!" Denise shouted "Jesus..."

You ran to your house, for no apparent reason, you just ran. Ignoring your throbbing head with every impact his feet made on the ground. You just wanted to be at home, in silence, to be able to process all things. If Denise, was wanting to link Maxwell's death to you - rightly so - what would FEDRA do?

As soon as you entered your apartment, you can't help but drag the shelf to the door. Even if Maxwell was dead. Supposedly.

You took a long shower, trying to wash away this whole crazy story. You wore a comfortable outfit. He made some tea. Trying to ignore the fact that his head was in latent flames.

Someone knocked on your door. Would it be Denise? She used to come without warning. Would it be Maxwell? Resurrected from the dead? Coming to torment you? The stunned soul coming to charge you for your murderous thoughts? Would it be FEDRA, to arrest you?

"It's me. Joel"

You stood still for a while. Looking at the closet in front of your door.

Until your brain remembers how to order the movements, and your legs move slowly, taking a break for you to leave your cup on the kitchen table, before dragging the cabinet from the door, and unlocking the braids from the door.

You opened the door. Joel was leaning on the side of the door. You faced each other for a moment.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

You blinked a few times. Opening the door more for him.

He came in, looking at the closet that he certainly heard you drag before you opened the door to him.

"You need to take another dose of the pills I gave you this morning" he watched your apartment "and you need to change the bandage"

You nodded to him.

He pointed to your chair, pulling one for him.

You sat down. Joel sat in front of you. You took your eyes on him today. He was a handsome man. The slightly gray hair, the eyes although almost always hard, were now attentive and careful.

He took off your bandage.

"You need to always keep it clean," he said, "it won't infect, it's good," he made an observation to himself.

He redid your bandage.

He took two pills from the pocket of his shirt.

"Take it, it's for pain and infections"

You took it, drinking immediately, with tea that was in your cup. Praying that the effect would be quick, and the pain would pass.

"Thank you," you murmured "for… everything"

He nodded. Looking at you.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked.

"Doing what?"

"Helping me... you defended me from Maxwell, then took me to your house, took care of my wound... why? These things don't seem to be things you usually do out there..."

Joel tilted his head to the side.

"What do I look like I'm doing over there?"

You smiled, looking away.

"I don't know” you shrugged “I thought you were someone bad, aggressive, I didn't expect to receive your help, in fact, you are very kind..."

"Only with you"

You look at each other for another moment, the silence hovering over you. You wanted to thank him, do something for him... You got up, going to one of your drawers, and removing a number of cards.

Joel shook his head before you even got to him.

"Take it, please..." you held it for him.

"I don't want to"

"Please, I don't know how to thank you"

He got up. Holding your hands together with your cards. His big hands, covering up yours. You observe the injuries of his hands. Your eyes meet his. Comfortably in silence. Joel looked at you deeply.

You expected him to say something, but contrary to that, he let go of your hand, kindly, walking towards the door.

"Joel?"

He turned to you.

"Yes"

"They found Maxwell's body this afternoon"

He nodded.

"FEDRA is investigating the cause of death"

He was silent.

You took a step towards him.

"Joel?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Was it you?" You looked at him carefully, you didn't want him to feel judged.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Joel seemed to feel pain when saying these words.

You walked to him, held his injured hands.

"No... I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of them"

Joel held your chin, smiled.

"Had the wound clean" he advises.

You nodded.

He turned around to leave. Stopping before, next to your closet.

"Sweetheart, you don't need it anymore," he pointed to the closet, "you're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll take care of you"

[tartagilicious]

i love the fact that dottore just somehow was able to successfully treat collei's eleazar, and it's always just made me think 😭😭 who in his life had it to the point where he mastered caring for a disease with no cure? insane lore for a mad scientist archetype!! also hello (: this isn't the end of my hiatus, but i'm trying to play genshin more again now that i have the time so dottore brainrot is back!!!! c.w: blood

all the ways to kill the one you love (1.6k)

When you fall to your knees in the dark hall, you can only pray that the person in front of you knows that it wasn’t of your own volition. The only thing to blame is your own negligence for getting you into this situation – perhaps you’d be in better shape if you had been more prepared for your Eleazar to break out. 

Because from the moment you set foot into the frigid country’s very own Zapolyarny Palace, it has been in your absolute best interest to stay under the radar. Coming from the Akademiya, you know well that you are not particularly popular with any of its inhabitants.

Though, that isn’t your concern. You’re here to determine if the Fatui have been able to locate the missing Dendro archon as a vessel of Irminsul; a child of Sumeru and vision holder in the Akademiya. Effectively, you don’t intend to make any lasting friends, so to say. You’re unsure of the Akademiya’s plans with the information you find, but whatever you glean from your time here will be insignificant once out of your hands.

It was easy to convince the Grand Sage that your place amongst the heretics in Snezhnaya would be with their soldiers, despite the fact that your student-life had been plagued by your condition. Because the simple truth is that they didn't care about the technicalities, as long as you’re able to relay the info they require, they could care less if you died with it. 

Your time in the Fatui itself has been anxiety-inducingly bleak, though, and certainly nothing like what you expected. Low ranking soldiers are treated as employees, almost, sent from place to place in order to protect property and officials. But nothing has ever made you rethink your decision to accept a mission as much as this. 

The hydro vision you keep tucked away in your uniform should be helping to push down the pain – it has always helped. But be it the cold weather or something else entirely, your incorrigible disease seems to be flaring up more than usual. Even if you were blessed with a portion of Celestia's magic, you have been reminded from a young age that power is dangerous; and it cannot fix everything. 

However, your vision has never failed you so noticeably until now. 

The awful warmth in the back of your throat is a stark contrast to the cool tile beneath your hands. Your bunkmate is somewhere behind you, you think – she had been the one to find you, after all, clinging to a wall with a hideous mixture of blood and mucus pooling at your chin. 

You call out to her, voice weak as you attempt to stand. No response. The unknown doctor you had been led to is still silent so far, possibly making no move simply to see what you will try to do in your state. You can feel his eyes on you as you croak, 

“Has she gone?”

Something in the quiet air sparks as your voice breaks the silence. You look up begrudgingly, curious to see who you’re at the feet of even as your skin tingles painfully. You’re disappointed to find that the man’s face is obstructed by a mask that is vaguely owl-like, leaving nothing but the very corners of his lips visible. 

You don’t recognise him in the slightest, and yet, he frowns. 

Then, in his expensive slacks and in a way that surely creases his boots, the doctor kneels down to your level. Your heartbeat quickens intermittently as your eyes track his slow movements. You can’t help but be shocked by the sudden display of attention when he had clearly been resigned to only watching you before.

It’s difficult to look right at him when there are no eyes to find, so you can only look at the ground as the doctor studies you. 

You want to speak badly, to ask him to help you, but the words catch regrettably in your throat. Brows tightening, you throw a shaky hand over your mouth as a cough forces its way up. And too quickly, the blood that had pooled at the back of your throat empties into your mouth without warning, the taste instinctually pulling a whimper from you. 

A brief chuckle sounds from above you.

All you can register from that point on is a gloved hand slipping under your chin, tipping your head upwards. You attempt to shake your head in protest. Yet, all the Doctor does is wipe the blood that pebbles from your lips with a careful thumb. 

“How pitiful” The Doctor finally speaks, his rough voice thoughtful. “I’d thought you better than this.”

Your brows wrinkle in confusion as his thumb lingers near your mouth. He provides no explanation to his mysterious remark, though, merely turning your chin from side to side in an effort to look at your face in its entirety. Your chest burns with each movement.

Too helpless to do anything but stare at him, an old image slowly begins unfolding before you – though his face is covered, canine teeth are visible as he teases you. You’re almost certain that if he took off his mask, you’d be staring into the crimson eyes of someone you’d never forget.

Without thinking, you grasp at his wrist. The painful buzz solidifies between you without the barrier of a glove, but you don’t back down. 

“Zandik?” You whisper, brows creasing in concern. “How…?”

The Zandik you know is dead. This much is clear, no matter the way you look at it. But until now, you’d thought the former was undisputable. 

“You disappeared. I thought you were gone, but now you're with them?” You whisper harshly, sadness leaching into your voice.

After a few quiet moments, he drops your chin with a deep hum and pulls himself away from you. 

You crumble in on yourself and cough excess blood into your hand almost instantly, though he does nothing to help you this time. When you’ve caught your breath, he says, 

“You’ve always been one for flattery. I have never been any better than them.”

That’s not true. It’s not. You want to yell it at him, to insist until this awful cold facade of his ceases and you’re able to see the same person you’d gone to the Akademiya with. The same person who, despite having been hardened by the people that had outcased him, still flinched when insulted. The only one who would touch your hands that were inured with violet scales, and who valued your ability to forgive those who have hurt you. 

He was a person whose interest in things stemmed from his want to improve. Who’s status as an outcast came from his inability to compromise when it came to his life’s work, his desire to evolve. You found solace not in his frigid company,  but in the way your condition garnered the most intimate of his attention.

With the very same material that was enough to consider him a danger to Sumeru, he had successfully fought off the more gruesome symptoms of your Eleazar. With you, he was understood; needed. But with him, you finally felt whole. Both were things neither of you were ready to give up.

“Flattery.” Your voice is broken as you stare at the ground, body propped up by nothing but your weak forearms. “It’s so like you to insist anything good about you is false.”

A small frown is visible around the corners of his pointed mask. 

“What brings you to Snezhnaya, ___?”

“...I’m dying, Zandik.” You say quietly. He’s the first person you’ve admitted it to, even before yourself. In your student years, you’d been hopeful, confident, that your hydro vision would be enough to sustain you through a normal life. The very archon it stands for vies for equality on all fronts, between good and evil as well as sickness and health. 

But now, you know it isn’t enough. You’re old enough to look past the thin veil that has been protecting your fragile mind all these years and see the truth – that you were never meant for a long life. 

“What a headache.” He sighs it out placidly. You can’t find it in yourself to meet his eye as he kneels before you once again, every ounce of love he had once felt for you gone, yet somehow seeping from the cracks of his resolve all the same.  

You fully prepare yourself for the inevitable result of being told to leave, to seek refuge with a real doctor and not test fate in his hands. But, he doesn’t. Instead, a gloved hand reaches for your shoulder, pushing you up your knees. Your muscles sting with over-exertion as the cloud of hair leaves your face.

“How long have you been aware?”

Your back aches as you wipe the blood from your lips.

“A couple weeks.” You answer quietly, your words like a ghost in the frigid winter air. 

Dottore doesn’t answer immediately, a frown etched into his face permanently. Your breath catches as he reaches into his pristine white jacket. Gingerly, he wipes the blood from your lips with the steady hands of a surgeon. The action is not necessarily cold, but it is not full of the same warmth you remember either.

His voice is guttural when he says, “You’re foolish for coming here.” for coming to me. 

You want to laugh, to half-heartedly agree with him. You aren’t sure that you would have let your bunkmate bring you here if you knew that this was the fate you were going to meet. Of all the people in the world, Dottore is the only person who would be able to call you on your bluffs – on all of the reasons you’re here, and every reason the Akademiya has to value you. 

You could become nothing very quickly, as soon as he wishes. 

But, there's something inside you that wrestles with the fear -- something soft and carefully hidden that refuses to leave this revelation, this reunion, behind.

And so, you force out a soft, “I know.”

You both know his harsh words don’t hold any real meaning. After all, the fearsome Harbinger is equal to you in this moment, on his knees just as you are. And if nothing else, it gives you hope that things are not as lost as they seem.

tartagilicious 2023

[telemakhosofithake]

HEADCANONS:

(will add later)

Telemachus and Athena form a deeper bond than what is explicitly shown in The Odyssey. Athena, who aids him in his travels and growth, might be seen as a mentor figure to him, not just as a divine protector but as someone who challenges him to become more than what he thinks he is. Their connection could be explored as a surrogate parent-child relationship, where Athena provides the guidance and support that Telemachus needs to mature in his father's absence.

Telemachus has an unspoken understanding with his mother, Penelope. While they may not always communicate directly about their emotions, they both share the quiet grief of losing Odysseus and the weight of waiting for his return. Telemachus might sometimes feel like the protector of Penelope, but he also recognizes that she has been holding her own and is a strong presence in his life. They lean on each other in subtle, quiet ways, perhaps in shared moments of solitude where they express hope for Odysseus' return without needing to vocalize it.

Telemachus has a romantic view of marriage, partly shaped by the stories of his parents. Seeing his mother’s faithfulness to Odysseus, he may idealize the idea of a woman who waits for her true love. Telemachus might be someone who approaches love with deep reverence, believing in loyalty, and could be prone to falling for someone who matches that ideal.

Telemachus, like many in the epic, could suffer from the emotional scars of living in a kingdom under siege by the suitors and being thrust into dangerous situations so young. The anxiety of growing up with constant threats, the absence of his father, and the sudden responsibility placed on his shoulders might result in Telemachus carrying emotional wounds that aren’t addressed in the epic.

Telemachus might secretly wonder who he would have been if Odysseus never returned. Throughout the epic, there is a sense of Telemachus' quest to discover his own identity, separate from his father. His internal conflict grows as he tries to balance the roles of son, hero, and leader. Would he still have grown into the man he became without the divine intervention and the expectation of greatness that comes with being Odysseus’ son?

While Telemachus may not be known for his oratory skills in The Odyssey, he has a hidden talent for storytelling, inherited from both his father and the long tradition of oral storytelling in Greek culture. In the privacy of his own thoughts or when conversing with close companions, Telemachus might weave elaborate tales about his father's adventures, imagining the things he has never known firsthand. This could be an outlet for him to cope with his own feelings of inadequacy or loss, creating his own mythos around his family and their place in the world.

Telemachus is particularly protective of the more vulnerable members of his community, such as the elderly, women, and children. Having grown up with his mother in a precarious situation, he knows how difficult life can be without a strong protector, and he may feel a deep sense of responsibility to safeguard those who are vulnerable. In this headcanon, Telemachus is not just concerned with fighting the suitors or restoring his family’s honor, but also with ensuring justice and care for those who have been neglected or mistreated by the suitors or others.

Telemachus, having grown up in a tumultuous environment with his father’s long absence and the constant pressure from the suitors, desires a partner who offers emotional stability and unwavering loyalty. He doesn’t need grand displays of affection but seeks someone who will stand by him during difficult times and who shares his values of trust and integrity. His ideal partner is someone who is grounded, calm, and capable of weathering storms, both literal and metaphorical, without letting go of their bond. Telemachus values loyalty because it was the one constant in his life while waiting for Odysseus’ return. In a relationship, he would be fiercely devoted, protective, and quietly determined to ensure his partner feels valued and safe.

Telemachus’ life has been defined by uncertainty, especially with the chaotic environment in Ithaca due to the suitors. He longs for a partner who can bring calm into his world—someone who can help him find peace during moments of turmoil. Whether it’s a quiet evening of conversation by the fire or a shared walk under the stars, Telemachus cherishes moments of serenity and connection. He would be the type of partner who listens deeply, offers support when needed, and quietly reassures when the world feels overwhelming. In a relationship, he would prioritize creating a peaceful and stable environment, making sure his partner feels heard and cared for.

Telemachus has learned to be patient over the years, particularly during the long wait for his father’s return. He values a partner who has similar patience, especially when it comes to emotional growth and development. He understands that people are complex, and he doesn’t expect anyone to be perfect right away. He’s willing to grow with his partner, giving them the time and space to evolve. In turn, he would show great patience in a relationship, making sure that his partner feels emotionally supported and never rushed into anything. He would be thoughtful and gentle, aware that love is a gradual journey of discovery.

Telemachus is an emotional person, even if he sometimes hides it behind his duties or his desire to be strong. He craves a relationship where he can be vulnerable and open up about his fears, hopes, and past trauma. He wants a partner who understands the weight of his experiences—losing his father, dealing with the suitors, and growing up too quickly—and is willing to share their own vulnerabilities in return. Emotional depth is a priority for Telemachus, and he would invest deeply in his partner’s emotional world. He would work to create a safe space where both can share their inner thoughts without judgment.

While Telemachus has his own destiny to fulfill, he is not someone who would ever try to limit his partner’s ambitions. He would wholeheartedly support them in their goals and dreams, encouraging them to follow their passions, just as he hopes to follow his own path of leadership and self-discovery. Whether his partner dreams of traveling, pursuing knowledge, or starting a business, Telemachus would be there every step of the way, offering his unwavering support. In return, he would look for someone who values their mutual independence, so they can encourage each other to grow without feeling stifled.

[mikaaki]

✧ ⁠— SWAY | DILUC X FEM ! READER

characters : diluc ragnvindr

warnings : fem ! reader ( she / her pronouns ) ,

word count : 1.6k

notes : i love this man v much. it’s also entertaining to make angst scenarios with him lmao. he seems like such an amazing lover though :( <33

i also started writing this at midnight on a thursday - ,,, apologies for any errors. i’ll likely end up rewriting this one shot

scenario : y / n attends the annual mondstadt formal , in which she spots diluc , sat all alone

formals had never really been your thing. however , the annual mondsadt ball wasn’t exactly something you could just miss , and especially not with the social pressure of attending these events. while you didn’t have to be a big part , it wasn’t exactly the most calming experience in the world. you were still in a large gathering area , full of people you barely know. attendees weren’t only people from the city of mondstadt , but also people from other parts of the region.

being a bachelorette in mondstadt was another bit of added pressure to attending these events. it was ‘important’ to find a husband as quickly as you could. many were expected to go after the rich attendees to try and charm them through the night. it seemed shallow , which was exactly true.

so there you were , stood by the table which held an unreasonable amount of food. there were a plethora of treats and meal items of which anyone could pick from.

a plate in hand , you grabbed a hold of one of the pastries sat neatly on a plate embedded with an intricate design. it was obvious the decorated plate was expensive. in fact , everything surrounding you seemed expensive. it made you feel extremely out of place.

as you walked away , in search of a table to sit at and enjoy the small treat , something bright red caught your attention through your peripheral vision. turning your head to see what it was , you were caught in a state of surprise to see diluc ,,, by himself?

your brows furrowed in slight confusion. how was diluc ragnvindr of all people by himself in such a large event? you stood for a moment , in silence , unsure of whether to approach or not.

you always developed a feeling of anxiety when around the red headed man , something that seemed to be common with the other women of mondstadt. diluc was absolutely perfect. most other people viewed him as handsome , rich , and available.

however , you knew the other sides to diluc. you’d been lucky enough to be able to see them. while you weren’t particularly close , you’d managed to interact with him on numerous occasions , becoming acquainted with each other , nearly being able to consider each other friends.

diluc was a kind man. he cared for the people who entered his tavern , and although he had resigned as a knight of favonious , he was still extremely protective of the city of mondstadt. many people at this event weren’t able to say those same things about him.

whilst you were still mid debate with yourself of whether to walk away or go and talk to him , the two of you made eye contact. the world around you seemed to stop for a moment.

how were you going to get out of this situation?

as much as you wanted to just walk away and pretend that interaction didn’t happen , the slight glint that appeared in his eyes once yours met his told you that you needed to approach him. he had looked so lonely up until that point ,,,

a slight sigh slipped through your lips. still holding onto the small plate your pastry was sat on , you began approaching him at a rather fast pace , worried that you’d keep him waiting for too long. it was rather difficult to move fast in a large dress and heels , but you managed just fine.

❝ hello diluc , ❞ you hummed , the words coming out with a cheery tone.

❝ greetings , y / n , ❞ he simply replied , looking at the dress you had worn to the ball.

it was a simple ball gown , a beautiful shade of [ favorite color ]. considering you didn’t want to drag too much attention to yourself , you didn’t go out of your way to buy anything too special. now that you were in front of diluc , you began to regret your decision.

a soft shade of pink dusted your cheeks out of pure embarrassment , something he took notice of. the soft chuckle that slipped out of him , being followed by a small smirk was enough to make the butterflies in your stomach go wild , to the point where you’d lost your appetite.

a small frown appeared on your face as you placed the plate down on the table nearby.

that pastry had looked so good too…

❝ to what do i owe the pleasure of being here with you tonight? ❞ he asked , his lips pressing in a faint smile. it was small things like that which made you fall so hard for him.

❝ ah , well ,,, ❞ you began to trail off , even more embarrassed as your mind began to draw blanks.

a low chuckle escaped him once again , his eyes lighting up as a much more noticeable smile appeared on his face.

❝ it was a tease. you don’t have to answer. ❞ he hummed , taking another look at your face as it grew an even brighter pink. ❝ right… ❞ you hummed , glancing away for a moment to regain your composure.

❝ well. if you’re free , ❞ he began as he stood up and pushed his chair in. ❝ would you like to have a dance with me? ❞ he asked , a soft smile on his face as he extended his hand towards you.

the added height from him standing suddenly became much more intimidating than it hand been in any previous interaction.

though you could feel yourself growing more anxious , your hand subconsciously took hold of his before you could even respond. ❝ of course i would. ❞ you managed to reply , a soft smile spreading across your face.

he smiled for a moment before beginning to walk you to the dance floor. there were several other couples dancing , somehow managing to be in sync with each other at all times. it was rather impressive. upon seeing the other dancing couples , you realized a fatal flaw in your acceptance to his offer.

you didn’t know how to dance…

it wasn’t exactly common practice for children of non - nobility to learn how , so there was a slim chance of your parents ever teaching you.

he noticed the look of dismay which had now rested upon your face. ❝ you don’t have to if you don’t want to. ❞ he reminded , stopping in his spot.

you quickly shook your head. ❝ it’s not that i don’t want to ,,, it’s that i don’t know how. ❞

his eyebrow raised upon hearing your confession. he hadn’t expected you to not know how , but he couldn’t judge you for it. not everyone knew how. it hadn’t even crossed his mind when he asked.

❝ i’d be happy to teach you. ❞

❝ please? ❞ you replied , a breathless laugh filled with anxiety slipping past your lips.

he simply nodded in response , placing his hand on your waist before pulling you closer. the sudden lack of space between you two was flustering , but you tried to focus on the dancing itself.

❝ place your other hand on my shoulder. ❞ he hummed , taking your right hand in his , keeping his right hand on your waist.

you followed his request , allowing him to begin moving along the dance floor with you. your eyes dropped down to the floor , trying to prevent yourself from stepping on his feet.

his hand suddenly left your hip , grabbing hold of your chin , making you look up at him. the shade of red now on your face was nearly as bright as his hair.

❝ don’t stare at the floor. it makes it obvious you don’t know what you’re doing. just trust me. ❞ he directed , slowly letting go of your chin , moving his hand back to your waist.

the grip he held on your hand was gentle. almost as if he would break you if he wasn’t careful. with a few missteps in the mix , it quickly became much easier to avoid his feet , simply trusting his movements with you.

❝ are you enjoying yourself? ❞ he questioned , his lips curving into a slight smile. ever since he made you look up at him , you’d been studying his face , making the ever so slight pink dusting his cheeks and nose much more obvious to you. had he always blushed like that? did you just never notice before?

❝ i am. thank you. i’ve never had anyone dance with me like this. ❞ you replied , squeezing his hand slightly.

❝ i’m glad i could be your first then. ❞

the music playing slowly began to decrescendo , indicating the song was drawing to a close.

diluc picked up on it , glancing over at the band playing. his movements soon stopped as well , leaving you in his embrace. the two of you simply stared at each other , waiting for something to happen.

your lips pressed into a line , debating whether to say something or not. before you had the chance to , he began to lean in for a kiss , of which you happily accepted.

it was quick.

but it was a feeling you wished to receive more of.

❝ i’m sorry. that was sudden. ❞ he replied , quickly letting go of you , covering the lower half of his bright pink face with his gloved hand.

❝ no ! it was fine. i ,,, enjoyed it. ❞ you admitted , equally as embarrassed as he.

he gave a quick nod , standing in his spot for a moment.

❝ if i have another dance with you , could we share another kiss? ❞ you asked , surprising yourself with your own question.

he chuckled slightly at your question. another song began to play , catching the attention of both of you.

❝ well then , ms. y / n. ❞ he hummed , grabbing hold of your hands. ❝ could i have another dance? ❞

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Romanced companions react to an autistic!Sole having a meltdown because of sensory overload?

Romanced!Companions React to Autistic!Sole with Sensory Overload Anxiety

This was a great prompt! I hope I was able to do it justice, I wanted to get it posted, but I also desperately need sleep 😅 But thank you so much for the ask, Anon! I might expand on this more at a later date as well, when my brain decides to function again. 

This prompt with FO3 and FONV

Cait:

She understood Sole's reaction more than the specific cause of the overload. It seems like all Cait has ever been around are stressful and overstimulating situations, so it’s difficult for her to differentiate occurrences that will cause Sole distress and those that wont. Once Sole was able to specify what it was that was bothering them, Cait would put an end to it. Preventing whatever it may be from doing her partner any more harm. She’s not a particularly soft person, everyone knows that, but she can’t stand seeing Sole like this. She may not know a whole lot of fancy breathing exercises that are medical journal standard, but she knows enough from her own experience to be able to improvise something in the way of support for her partner. 

Curie:

She would be an absolute pro. Like, the perfect combo between health professional, and understanding romantic partner. If their surroundings were secure, she would focus all her energy on helping Sole, doing breathing and grounding exercises to help them through their breakdown in a clinical way. In the aftermath of Sole's overload, Curie would turn back to doting girlfriend as she looks after her love, helping them to come down from their nerves and maybe being just a tad too touchy feely for them in this instance. But she means well!

Danse:

If this were to happen in the midst of combat, Danse would instantly take a more defensive position, and would root himself firmly between Sole and any enemies they may be facing. In other instances, he would use what he had learned in the Brotherhood when it came to PTSD episodes that he would experience for himself. He would remove them from the pressured conditions they found themselves in, taking them for a walk to calm their nerves, engaging in breathing exercises with them, and encouraging speech when it seemed possible. He would try to be supportive in every way he could, but Sole would have to be patient with their partner when it came to more intimate forms of comfort, as Danse tends to turn back to soldier-type tendencies in these situations. As a more preventative measure, Danse would attempt to craft a power armor helmet modification that could aid in depleting noise during combat, and otherwise try and dull the senses to make the outside environment more bearable for Sole.

Deacon:

He would actually be really good at dealing with this situation? Given his own experiences in life, and the many interactions he's had with a variety of types of people (and synths) in stressful situations, he would be able to sympathize with Sole, trying to draw any attention away from them, knowing that'll only make it worse, and helping them recover afterwards. He wouldn't be phased at all by their outburst and would try to help calm them down by making a few jokes here and there, if only to let them know that it wasn't a big deal to him.

Hancock:

His mostly chill demeanor would work wonders on Sole's nerves when they were around him. He was just so easy going, and non-judgmental and he seemed to never strip their energy from them when they spent time with him. Should they get themselves into a situation where sensory overload does occur, he'd do his best to guide Sole to a safe place where they can unwind and focus on returning their breathing to normal. If they think chems will help, he'll be more than happy to oblige, even going so far as to specifically scavenge whatever type of treatment chem that Sole had in mind for these overwhelming instances and would always keep it on his person.

MacCready: 

He’s a little panicked himself in these types of situations, but he makes an effort to be the calm one of the two. He finds his way to Sole in whatever way he can, looking into their eyes and trying to ground them with his voice as he desperately tries to keep it from shaking. He’s never had any formal training or anything like that, but when his PTSD episodes flare up, he has a few tricks that he uses to get back to reality; identifying objects around him, breathing in through his nose, sitting down with his head between his knees. He’ll try and suggest a few ways Sole can deal with their overload, going through the motions himself as well, since his partner’s anxiety tends to somehow inject itself into him whenever these meltdowns occur.   

Nick:

He’s calm, collected, and used to dealing with people in distress. It’s like he was built for this. Though he isn’t as familiar first-hand with the reactions that the human body has in these types of situations, he knows how to help. He’ll quickly try and get them out of the environment that is causing their meltdown, or eliminate the person or thing responsible for causing their anxiety. Afterwards he will try to help them come out of it easily and on their own terms, trying not to pressure them, but acting as a source of unwavering support for however long it takes for them to settle down. 

Piper: 

The woman truly tries her best, but it always frightens her when Sole is panicked in this way. She’s just too damn empathetic when it comes to Sole, that she can’t help but dissolve into the same state of discomfort and panic that her partner finds themself in. She would try anything to calm herself down and would frantically gesture for Sole to join her as she works on her breathing, counting, and amateur grounding exercises. As the pair come out of their shared panic, she’ll try to return to her normal self as soon as possible. Once her breathing returned to normal and Sole calmed down as well, she would offer her companion some much needed verbal and physical support, as well as some snack material to replenish their strength in the aftermath of their overload. 

Preston: 

The man is the definition of “works well under pressure;” he knows what it feels like to let people down, to lose people because of his mistakes, and he doesn’t intend for that to happen again. Ever. Especially when it comes to Sole. When his partner is in a compromised position, feels uncomfortable, or looks like they're about to have a meltdown, Preston is immediately at their side, putting himself in harm's way in order to ensure their safety and comfortability. He tries to use his voice, which for some reason he can keep totally calm even when he's under great stress, to keep them grounded. Counting along with them as they try to stay focused and keep from becoming completely overwhelmed. He is usually able to calm them down before their discomfort can escalate to the point of a meltdown, but if for whatever reason he can’t, he’ll be there to support them through the entire ordeal. Afterwards, he’ll speak softly to them, taking them far away from whatever situation was the cause of their stress, and ask if there was anything more he could have done to help. 

X6-88: 

X6 tends to notice when Sole is becoming uncomfortable even before they themself know. He’s memorized the types of environments that tend to set them off, and if it’s possible, he tries to usher them away from the cause of their anxiety before it can become an issue. If he is unable to do so, X6 will then take control of the situation as best as he can, eliminating points of stress almost to the point of overdoing it. There may be instances where Sole has to pull him out of his protective frenzy as he relentlessly removes anything that could be causing Sole's distress. In that case, X6 tends to provide enough of a distraction himself to be able to help Sole focus and stay grounded as they try to aid him. Does he do it intentionally? If they ask, he'll insist he doesn't know what they're talking about. He’ll just thank them calmly for assisting him, and begin to tend to their needs in the aftermath of their distress, assessing their physicality and mental state before allowing them to continue their travels. 

[celeste-clearwater-06]

Hello! I was wondering if you could please write something about how the Fellowship (+ Thorin?) Would help a s/o who's Disabled and Chronically ill. Like she has a lot of symptoms like chronic pain, chronic fatigue, difficulty sleeping, difficulty breathing at times, difficulty walking at times, higher sensitivity to the cold, difficulty talking at times, and anxiety, depression and executive dysfunction?

I've been really struggling with my chronic illnesses lately, namely my Autism, Anxiety, Sleep Apnea, a really bad Overbite, Raynaud's Syndrome, Asthma, etc, so I'd really appreciate an Imagine like this. I have a really weird disorder where one of my legs is longer than the other, and it's been causing me a lot of pain and difficulty walking lately, and people have been bullying me for it a lot too, so I could really use a Comfort Imagine right now. Thanks so much hun!!

It's no problem! I'm glad I can provide some comfort!! For each character, I'll use a specific struggling area, to make it a bit easier!! I hope I got these accurate enough, and of there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out!! You are strong, beautiful and so, so amazing!! Keep being you!! ❤❤

Help (The Fellowship// Thorin x Fem!Reader)

Aragorn (Autism)

Aragorn has known you for a long time, so helping with your autism is not new for him

He's particularly experienced in reading your emotions and meeting your needs, whether it's helping you out of stressful situations or calming you down, he's there 🥺

If there are large and boisterous gatherings in Rivendell, its almost guaranteed that you can become over-stimulated quickly, and Aragorn immediately senses this (spidey senses õoõ)

He's fast to find your hand and give it a gentle squeeze of reassurance

If that doesn't seem to help, he'll instantly stop what he's doing and take you out of the room

If you're someone who prefers lots of space and little physical contact, he is 100% respectful of this and asks if you'll let him touch or hug you (very much gentleman 😌)

If ever you're confronted by someone of importance, Aragorn is right by your side to ease some of the tension

Sometimes there are things you find difficult to say or get out of your system

The king seems to know exactly what it is and will help you out by saying it or asking you simple questions that you can easily answer

And he always reminds you, no matter WHAT

YOU ARE NOT STUPID 😤😡

You may struggle with some parts of your life, but every day, he's constantly telling you that you're very intelligent and kind

His patience is unending and he'll never let you think down on yourself

Overall, Aragorn is always someone and reminding you that it's all going to be okay ❤❤

Legolas (Anxiety)

Most nights, Legolas keeps watch (since elves don't require much sleep) and notices that you jolt awake out of the random

Now, most of the Fellowship notices that you're usually awake and ready to go before anyone else

But Legolas is really the one to address you first

You were a bit nervous to explain, since you didn't want to worry him or the great of the fellowship, amount the other disadvantages you have

He gently encouraged you, and finally, you explained to him your sleep apnea

Yeah, he was very concerned

I mean, his blue eyes widened with terror when you told him that you could basically die in your sleep if you weren't attentive enough 🙃

Legolas, from now on, sleeps directly next to you, or keeps extra careful watch over you at night

Because he could NEVER see his precious mortal friend become injured... Or worse 🥺🥺❤

The other members had noticed a change in his behaviors towards you as well...

Gimli teased him whenever he caught Legolas giving you some extra lembas bread or offered to carry you 👉👈

You really tried to assure Legolas that it wasn't a big deal when you were awake, since you're aware of your breathing situation

But still 😤

Legolas will always bring you comfort and take great care of you, and that will NEVER CHANGE

Because he loves you very much ❤🦋

Frodo (Anxiety)

Frodo is familiar with the feeling of great anxiety, seeing he had a stress-free life while living in the Shire and suddenly was forced to carry a piece of jewelry all the way to giant ass volcano

It's easy for you two to comfort each other and seek refuge in thoughts and feelings ❤

He's not super comfortable with the thought of you having a panic attack though...

Only because he's never had one

It starts to give him a panic attack whenever you have one around him the first time 😳-

Any time you begin to breathe heavy or hyperventilate, halfling boy is hot at your heels, rubbing your back and reminding you to breathe gently

(So many hugs, if you're up for it)

After you calm down, he's constantly checking on you, asking if you need anything etc.

Really, he just wants to know if he can help 🥺

And even with the weight and stress of carrying the ring, Frodo manages to cheer you up somehow

Samwise (Asthma)

Sam has never had to deal with asthma once in his life

He's very nervous when the subject is brought, afraid it might trigger something inside of you 🥺👉👈

But you just chuckle, assure him that it's alright, and you have ways of keeping it under control

And now, he wants to know everything about it, just to have the awareness in case something happens

Sam just wants to protect you forever, and this was a great way for him to start

He constantly reminds Aragorn that you'll need breathing breaks and will convince Gandalf to let you ride on his horse

He'll scold Pip and Merry if they are trying to drag you around and be silly, because as he says

"You'll rouse him/her/them up! We can't have Y/N gettin injured!" 🤨😠

Sam is MOM

As always, he's very kind and always makes sure your needs are met ❤🥺

Pippin and Merry (Raynaud's Syndrome)

Very confused halfings 🤔

Also extremely concerned!

You were eating one of the lesser pleasurable nights

It was cold and rainy, and a fire couldn't be started, not to mention the quiet arguments of Aragorn and Gandalf in the nearby woods

And Pip's eyes widened when he saw the tips of your petite fingers begin to pale upon hearing Aragorn mention Orcs

"What's wrong with your hands?!" He squeaked, pointing towards your now white-colored fingertips

You hadn't even noticed, nor felt, considering they were numb anyways

Merry looked over his cousin's shoulder and his eyes also widened, not with fright, but wonder

They were both fascinated with your condition, convinced that you were casting some spell Gandalf showed you

Although you reassured them it was just an extremely frustrating inconvenience that you had, among other things

So from then on, the disastrobus duo did their best to keep you out of the cold (and stressful situations!!)

As a distraction, the pair will tell you great stories of the shire, doing little dances and skits that always cheer you up 🥴

Sometimes, they can be a little rambunctious though...

Merry will pick up on this fact quickly, and nudge Pippin to get him to calm down

Even though it may not feel the best

They find your syndrome absolutely fascinating!! 🤔🤔

All in all, these two are always up for keeping your beautiful smile on your face and your spirits high!! ❤🌺

Boromir (Depression)

Throughout the journey, Boromir has always found an easy way to make you smile

After all, he himself has a fascinating way of brightening anyone's spirits

Yours included ❤

Boromir may not have great stories from The Shire, like Pip and Merry, but he sure has a lot of positive things to say

He'll often suggest sparring with the two troublemaking halflings, just so you can see him goof up and get knocked over 🥺

If the nights become cold and weary, he'll give you a warm hug or a nudge on the shoulder

And a few words of helpful encouragement along the lines of;

"Don't fret Y/N. You have more strength than you'll ever know."

"Let our spirits never dampen! We've come this far!" 😊

He's also an incredible listener

Boromir wants to hear what you have to say if you ever need to rant or get something off of your chest

And don't think for a second that he would ever judge you 😤

Son of Gondor sees past all of your insecurities and knows you for your beautiful, amazing self ❤❤

Gimli (Walking disadvantages)

As you travel across great plains and mountains, your limp doesn't go unnoticed by Gimli

It may take him a while to open up about it, since he's afraid he might offend you in some way

And once he asks you, you inform him that it's a difficulty that unfortunately cannot be changed any time soon

And where you come from, lots of people tease and bully you about it

He did NOT handle it well 😳

"wHAT BLUBBERING DULL-MINDED PIGNUTS-" 🤬

Although this Dwarf is short and a bit slow at times

He's fascinatingly strong 😳

And so, he makes it his duty to be your designated carrier 🥺

At first, your a tad skeptical...

I mean, he's only around 4 feet tall...

BUT HAVE YOU SEEN HIM THROW THAT HUGE AX AROUND?!

Gimli will happily carry you great distances when you need a break, and even longer

(Sometimes it's just to show off around the others-)

"Gimli, are you sure you don't want a break?"

"Aye lass! The strength of Dwarves is unending!" 😌

*struggling to breathe*

11/10, fantastic dwarf, will never let you down!!

Thorin (Executive Dysfunction)

Another Dwarf??

Absolutely

Thorin himself has trouble keeping composure with his time management (and sense of direction 🙄)

This means that he'll have an undying amount of patience for you and you only

There's just something about you that he fond of, and it fills in that little sassy, brooding place in his heart

Can also relate to you whenever you grow frustrated at the setback of your journey or lack of sleep

Is 100% willing to help you find your lost belongings (and once again, ONLY YOU)

Thorin will literally make the whole traveling party stop so that you can put something in your bag and make sure that you put it somewhere you'll remember

Always happy to give you extra gentle reminders of keeping your pack closed

The company is utterly SHOCKED with how he treats you

I mean, this man has always been extremely stubborn and hard headed

But when you show up, it's another person he can easily relate and share frustrations with

Also a master at organization?!? 🤔

The one thing he could do successfully was organizing the damn journey and traveling company, so ofc he's gonna be good at that 😂

Yeah, Thorin definitely has a soft spot for you

King under the mountain will never run out of patience and kindness for you 😌💙

Sorry these took so long!! I hope you like them!! ❤❤

[lululawrence]

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

[knickynoo]

Do you have any thoughts on Marty and his self esteem issues? In most of the trilogy, I feel like Marty ranges from experience a lot of insecurity at best, to like a considerable amount of self loathing at worst, (like pls Marty, Doc getting struck by lighting was not your fault? You’re not Thor?) . And there’s the whole chicken thing, so I was curious if you had any thoughts on where it stems from, how it’s affected him etc etc? Okay lmao that’s it, have a great day !!

Hello! Do I have thoughts?? Yes. I do.

So, one of the things I like so much about Marty as a character is that...he's kind of an enigma of sorts? Like. Here's this kid who skateboards, rocks that denim jacket and the cool sunglasses, plays guitar, has a pretty girlfriend, etc. You take all of that, and it should reflect a really confident, popular person. I mean, with all the stereotypical "cool guy" attributes considered, Marty should have Ferris Bueller-level confidence and charm. He should be strutting around, smooth-talking everyone, laughing in the face of danger, and possessing unshakeable self-esteem. But he does/has none of those things because, as we all know, Marty is A Mess (affectionate). And yeah, a lot of it seems to stem from self-esteem issues, which we do see sprinkled throughout the trilogy. Where's it all coming from? Well, a lot of places, most likely...

• FAMILY: Probably the biggest factor. Though I'm sure George and Lorraine were sincerely in love for a while at the beginning of their relationship/marriage, I think it's fair to assume that any real spark between them had pretty much fizzled out by the time Marty came along or when he was a young kid. Take a loveless relationship between a meek, subservient man and a woman who drinks away her feelings, factor in a 17-year-old boy who's probably never had any real semblance of parental stability in his house, and it's highly likely that kid is going to have some issues. It's really difficult to believe in yourself & feel secure when the norm is having parents who are wrapped up in their own worlds/rarely interact with each other, seeing your father get emotionally (& physically!) pushed around by his supervisor, and watching your mom cling to alcohol and sink into depression.

• Plus, there are the separate relationships George and Lorraine have with Marty. Granted, we don't see much of it, but what we see at dinner is probably a good example of a typical interaction. George is quick to steer Marty away from any situation where he may face rejection or hardship. And yeah, he may think he's protecting his son, but this strategy is actually pretty harmful. I can imagine that any time Marty is feeling nervous or let down, and goes to his father seeking encouragement, he's only left with the impression that it's better not to take any risks at all because he might fail anyway. Instead of being built up, any potential self-worth is being chipped away at by George.

And as far as Lorraine is concerned, I get the impression that she's (more often than not) critical and judgemental of Marty. She's not shy about airing her strong dislike for Jennifer, during which Marty stays completely silent and unresponsive. Perhaps Marty's general default around his mom is silence, due to him having learned a long while back that he's better off keeping his mouth shut. I can see Lorraine lecturing Marty often, picking apart every little flaw she may see in him (friends, grades, attitude, etc.), especially when she's had too many drinks and especially when you consider that Marty is probably her most "difficult" child. Sad as it may sound, I can't picture Marty walking away from very many interactions with his mother feeling good about himself.

• GENERAL ANXIETY/NEURODIVERGENCY: Marty is an easily flustered, anxious guy. And whether that stems from his home environment or genetics (I mean, look at George), I don't know. But he definitely seems to be a sort of nervous, hesitant kid, particularly in the first movie. I also, like most of the fandom, headcanon Marty as having ADHD. And like...if that's the case for him, it certainly isn't helping at all with the self-esteem stuff. He's written off as a slacker at school, told he'll never amount to anything, and probably struggles a lot to keep up in his classes and survive in an environment that almost definitely doesn't offer any form of support or accommodations. That would be a big blow to his self-worth as well.

People with ADHD also tend to be very critical of themselves, worry about what others think of them, and have a hard time with rejection. Hence, the one rejection at the audition followed by, I'm just a big, stupid failure and I'll never ever be good enough. My world is crumbling, I should just give up everything forever =(((

(What do you mean those weren't his exact words??)

• BONUS: Marty might also face a decent amount of social isolation/teasing due to his friendship with Doc, which would take a toll on confidence too. Also, I just...don't think that Marty has many friends??

When you take all the above factors, Marty's self-esteem issues make a lot of sense and, if not for Doc, would probably run a lot deeper than what we see in the trilogy. ALSO!

• Marty blaming himself for Doc getting hit by lightning in the DeLorean: I've seen a few people comment on this and how they think it's ridiculous that Marty felt guilty but...it's always made a lot of sense to me, actually. No, Marty didn't cause the lightning, but he did set off the chain of events that led to Doc being there at that moment. If he'd had the inner strength/self-control to walk away from Biff outside of the dance, he could have just joined Doc on the roof with the almanac and they'd have been on their merry way. And even if Biff had continued to challenge him, or even followed him, Marty likely could have created a diversion or gotten an adult at the dance to help and still made it up to the roof before the worst of the storm hit. But because he couldn't stand being called a chicken, he ended up taking a door to the face, had the book stolen back, and had to go on that little side adventure to retrieve it, which led to Doc needing to save him. So yeah, I'm actually team Marty on this one. His choice did lead to Doc being catapulted into the Old West, lol. I'd have been consumed with guilt too.

• The Chicken Thing: I'm not going to go into too much detail (HA!) because this is already ridiculously long, but I will say that I don't go by the more popular headcanon that says Marty's sudden inability to handle being challenged is due to the updated timeline taking effect and "altering" him. Essentially, that Marty growing up with a confident, successful father made him have higher expectations put on him, and so he was always striving to prove he could live up to them.

I actually don't think any ripples from the new timeline catch up to Marty yet during the course of the trilogy. (I tend to headcanon that as happening gradually in the coming weeks and months after he gets home). Instead, I think that Marty's inclination towards becoming feral at the words "chicken", "yellow", etc. is because of his life in his original timeline. Growing up with a jellyfish for a father, it makes sense that Marty would want to distance himself as much as possible from being associated with weakness. He'd want to prove himself that much more because everyone around him would probably think he's just like his cowardly old man.

And though I know it's not really possible (because they weren't planning on a 2nd or 3rd movie), I think a case can be made that there's a glimpse of the "chicken thing" in the first movie, in the scene of Marty and Lorraine in the car at the dance. I mean, he gets all upset and tells her not to drink, but then she calls him a square, uses the classic peer-pressure tactic of, everyone's doing it, and he caves instantly and takes a swig. Could be because he doesn't want to be thought of as a square, or could be because he's desperate to calm his nerves a bit. Either way, Marty doesn't seem to fare too well when challenged or put under pressure, so I lump this scene in as a "chicken" moment.

I...need to stop. I set out to write a quick response to this. Like, a paragraph or two. But this question activated Hyperfocus Mode, and I blinked and now it's 2 hours after I started and I have AN ESSAY.

Thanks for the ask! *goes to lie down*

[kryptsune]

World Building Wednesday! ~Felldritch

🌼I got a request to do a WBW for Felldritch and since there have been updates to the overall world and lore I wanted to make sure this was all in a nice little package! If you have questions and want to learn more let me know the ask box is always open!  So let's get started! Oh and here is a link to the fic! FELLDRITCH

Felldritch

Classification: HorrorFELL

Cult  Alternate “Nicknames”:

Red: Saw Boss: Corvus

Gaster: Sephtis

Asriel: Saber Toriel: Ameria

Asgore: Kirnon

Undyne: Ryx Alphys: Vesh Muffet: Carmilla Grillby: Noire MTT: Faust

Doggo: Croix

Riverperson: Bastet (Tet)

Main Plot Synop: Felldritch takes place after a pacifist run by Frisk. The story briefly goes as follows. Frisk ends up in the Underworld (Underground) and befriends the monsters and wants to set them free. It is basically a way watered down version of WTU in essence. Once reaching the end of her journey the monsters refuse to let her be that final soul. They would rather wait and figure out something else but with her Determination she promises to return to them and set them free. At this point in time she is around 18-19. Asriel sacrifices himself to that end to see her leave through the barrier only for the humans to capture the poor girl after she leaves. They conclude that she is not mentally stable due to her insistence that monsters are real and throw her into an asylum/sanitarium to be “treated”. Nearly 5+ years later and she manages to escape finding herself once again in the Underworld only it is far different from what she remembers. At this point, she is questioning whether anything is real or not. After being “treated” for so long she doesn’t quite know which reality is the true one. As Red (aka Saw) points out:

The Brothers: 

Red: The younger brother of the two. His attachment to Frisk stems into more of a relationship though he blames himself for loosing her all those years ago. This psychological state causes him to throw himself into the problem that is befalling their world. At first nothing seems to combat this intrusive forest and horrifying beasts but he learns to utilize his magic in a different way. Prior to this he is what one would think of a a Red type but after meeting Frisk he promises to not only change his heart but also the hearts of others. Instead of destructive magical ability he follows in his brothers footsteps and takes up healing practice. 

In the world he is known as the merchant, the one that tends to give out healing items in exchange for coin but the bulk of his business relies on talismans or charms to ward off the evil plaguing their home. As far as they all know these magically infused charms are powerful and have incredible protective capabilities. He runs a wagon that travels around the entire Underworld.

In the current timeline he more sympathetic and empathetic. The concept of Kill or be Killed is no longer a factor. This is mainly about survival and for the most part the other monsters are aware that working together is their best option though their heightened paranoia (validly founded btw) makes it difficult sometimes. His personality is lighthearted on the surface, making jokes, and being a good guy. In a way he reminds me of Jester who tries not to dwell on what is going on but is fully aware of the situation. Red wears a blindfold in public to keep up appearances but he has no vision or eye light problems.

Boss: After Frisk’s departure from the Underworld, Boss, takes her words to heart. Unlike the majority of Fell Pap characterization he is very soft. When he feels his brother no longer needs his guidance he begins to feel purposeless until he learns that like his brother he has the magical ability for healing. As Red is the charm merchant of the two, Boss is the apothecary. His design harkens to plague doctors back in the 17th century. He grows all his own herbs and spices but he is particularly fond of tea. He also wears a blindfold just like Red but unlike Red he does in fact have damage to his left eye socket where the teal color of his eye lights no longer inhabits. 

The two combined help their fellow monsters as much as they can but in a world of uncertainty how are you supposed to know who to trust? 

Frisk’s Mental Demons: The psychological toll on Frisk is great as she has been told constantly that she made up her time in the Underworld in order to shut herself away into a fantasy world. A world where she had a family… where she is loved and wanted. This happens frequently as the “Doctors” continuously try to refute her experiences or sensations medically.  Every time she goes to sleep in the Underworld she ends up back at the Asylum tied down kicking and screaming. 

She only wakes up again when she is sedated. Rinse and repeat. The question is… is it real? Or rather which is real. The doctors go on to state that her dark state of mind twisted her original concept behind her “family” making them this eldritch styled horror. He also goes onto explain that the reason she is so drawn and close to Red is that it is her “flirting with death”. That she is accepting that outcome because if she continues to resist treatment she will die and the moment she trusts him in her “fantasy” that will be the end. These kinds of situations happen a lot.

There are also instances when the lines between real and fiction are blurred as Frisk's behavior consists apparently of defensive aggression, auditory, visual, and olfactory hallucination, acute paranoia, anxiety, and PTSD. One such example of this is her apparent psychiatrist, Dr. Cyrus Reycroft, who happens to have an uncanny resemblance to her skeletal friend if he was human. 

The Beasts: Felldritch plays off Eldritch horror aka the fear of the unknown. As Frisk reunites with Red she is subjected to a rather concerning conversation in which he explains the situation they are in. He mentions having crossed into an upside down broken and colorless world which drew both himself and his older brother into. It is implied that the two stepped into a dimensional space that was able to then afflict those within their own dimension. Over time the inhabitants begin to go missing and great otherworldly hellish beasts begin appearing. The inhabitants come to the conclusion that these creatures can not afflict you with their corruption if you can not see, hear, or speak in their presence. This mindset has some rather gruesome implications as inhabitants become irrationally desperate mutilating themselves to adhere to the new "See no evil, Speak no evil, Hear no evil”.

The Occult World: The cult as I keep referring to it as is a group of powerful monsters. After the deposition of the King the other monsters begin to become influenced by outside sources. They begin to believe that any fallen humans are the angels of death and because of this they will kill humans on sight, of course, they want to live in denial of their horrible deeds because monster souls are supposed to be made up of love and kindness. Unlike the cult that wishes to break the barrier, the rest want to stay hidden from the beasts above believing that the humans are to blame for all that has happened.

The senses play a huge roll in this idea as the beasts are rumored to be able to use souls like puppets, as in spys, if they are corrupted. It essentially becomes like a hive mind with the main entity being able to see, hear, and speak through those it comes in contact with. It’s no secret that Red is in fact infected by this entity in some form as this is a quote from the fic:

A set of antlers snagged the velvety cape as he worked the metalwork to release its hold on the material around his throat.

Bony fingers tugged on the bunched up fabric and pulled it back, revealing a charcoal grey sweater underneath. It was soft to the touch but just hidden beneath the wool she caught a glimpse of off white colored bone. There were bits and pieces that had been chipped off, knicks, and cuts. Even before they had met Red had some scars especially around his collarbone but that was not what caused her to gasp. His hood remained over his head as if using it to shield his expression from her view, “See?” He flinched when her fingers traced some of the scars.

She didn’t want to appear like she was fearful of what she was witnessing but her fingers quivered, pulling them back toward herself. A soft whimper of a voice left her, “R...Red…” There intertwined with the magically composed vertebrae of his spine were branches. The same deep blackish red wood that plagued this entire forest. It wove itself through the bone engulfing portions of his ribs, twisting it into chilling patterns. If it was allowed to continue its infestation it would crack his ribcage open in a bloodless gaping fissure. She could just make out that gentle white and crimson glow shrouded by the wood. Was that his soul? There was no other explanation.

It looked like the branches were trying to worm their way toward that glowing heart, pierce it, and absorb it into its oily black, almost pulsating bark. That was only one singular aspect of horror that she was now subjected to. Her eyes followed the trail that crept through the bone following the knots and twists that crept up and underneath where his skull attached to his spine.

The grip that he kept on her hand only tightened while the other shifted to pull the hood off his skull. Her eyes widened, reddish-brown irises wavering within a sea of white. A hand rose to land on her mouth, now agape in a silent gasp. She could see the same strange bark that comprised his antlers exited straight out of his skull. There were fractures that radiated from above the temporal portion of his cranium in concentric circles. The same kind of patterning one would see from blunt force trauma. Only this had pushed out the bone externally rather than internally. His sockets no longer contained those ever dulling carmine eye lights as her own eyes traced the hairline cracks along his head. She could not imagine the kind of pain a transformation like that would have caused him. There were places where the bone had tried to heal and suture itself back together, forming around the bark.

Angel of Salvation (a.k.a. The Eldritch Horror)- What the cult has been working toward is summoning their “savior” with the help of the human souls they are bound to. It gives them extra abilities and power. Each within the ranks is bound to a human soul. Their leader ??? wants to use this power to summon an “angel.” It turns out that is actually an unholy amalgamated eldritch beast/god out for blood instead. Humanity will perish and the monsters will take control of the surface once more. That is the reality. (The cult including Red is told otherwise).

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 3

one hundred and seven years.

The year is what now? 850?! (AO3)

Words: 2192

The next morning, you were awoken early by a harsh kick to your cell’s rusted bars, dust dwindling down from the ceiling peppered your face as you were ripped from your dreamless sleep. Snapping your eyes open you sat up stiffly, your back aching from your new stubborn mattress. In front of you stood three imposing figures, Levi, Hange, and a taller man, blonde hair, blue eyes, thick eyebrows that sat atop a strong handsome face that screams, “I’m reliable you can count on me”. You found yourself anxious under his piercing gaze and oddly warm and generous smile.  

Sheepishly you smiled back at him and Hange, your gaze drifting right over the top of Levi’s head. You noticed his eyebrow raise suspiciously at your avoidant scan. He sucked his teeth before pulling out a seat for himself on the other side of the cell. Hange took a seat as well, while the new guy remained standing, further adding to his impressive aura. He oozed confidence and strength, something you hadn’t yet experienced in this magnitude. He had a strength about him not found in Levi or Hange, the strength of true leadership. Something about him just felt like you could follow him to the ends of the Earth if he asked, and you’d never regret such a decision. It was quite nerve wracking considering you knew nothing of him.  

“Hello. My name is Commander Erwin Smith.” His voice deep as you expected. You gave back a simple wave and looked to Hange to speak the words you couldn’t.  

“Ah, as you remember Commander, she has very little memory.” They explained, much to your relief. So, the Commander had a bit of a debriefing, that’s good. Saves you all some time.  

“Yes, well. We’re just about caught up on your situation miss, let me get you up to date. For starters, the year is 850. Does that happen to help you recall how long you were a titan?” He asked, a more serious concerned look to his features now. Thick brows knitted together in concentration and his sky-blue orbs piercing through you so fiercely you feared he could see through your clothes.  

But no, more importantly, did he say the year was 850? If there was one simple thing you remembered from the past it was the year. There was no way of continuously keeping time for so long out in the wilderness but you hadn’t imagined it would have been 107 years! Your eyes blew wide in confusion and fear, lips slightly parted as your mind worked to wrap around the news that you were a titan for over a century.  

The three of them seemed to pick up on your prickling anxiety and simultaneously they leaned in, anticipated anything. Shakily, you pointed towards the notepad and pen in Hange’s lap and they quickly slid it across the floor to you.  

Blinded by tears and dread, you struggled to sloppily write a number. The last year you remember. The year 743. It took Hange no time to decipher your chicken scratch and they mumbled under their breath their hypothesis.  

“Is 743 the year you were born?!” They stammered, and you shook your head wearily in response.  

“The last year you remember?” Erwin asked plainly, and you nodded solemnly. Levi’s steely grey eyes widened just a fraction before regaining his composure and returning to his usual bored look. His trained eyes raked over your face studying your expression, shock, sadness, confusion. You hadn’t a clue how you’re alive right now.  

“107 years.” Levi stated, lacking any form or emotion. It was like he was simply echoing your thoughts for everyone to hear, and it's true. It has been 107 years. You honestly felt a bit sick at the realization but, what did you expect. You knew a lot of time had passed, too much time to be honest. However, the reality was nevertheless horrifying. More than a few lifetimes had passed, anyone you may have ever loved was long gone by now, not that you’d even remember them truly.  

You heaved a shaky, trembling sigh and Erwin gave a sad, knowing smile to you. It was sort of comforting, but you were on edge still.  

“Anything else you remember?” He asked, full of patience. You shook your head after a bit of thinking, nothing important was coming to mind. Just bits and flashes of things that you yourself couldn’t even begin to explain. Seemingly done with the questioning for now, Erwin bid you ado and Hange followed close behind.  

Captain Levi however, stood back for just a bit, much to your chagrin. You wanted nothing more than to be left alone for a moment to process things. If anybody were to stay behind a bit to ogle, you’d hope it were Hange, they could probably give you a laugh or two. Levi said nothing before tossing a book to the floor before your feet, you shot him an annoyed glare before he spoke.  

“Practice your reading brat,” was all he said before he quietly climbed the stairs and locked the door at the top. Grabbing the book and dusting it off you found it had plenty of pictures for context, and at the very least it would give you something to busy yourself with as your tried to distract yourself from your newly acquainted grief.  

It felt a bit like survivor’s guilt, not that you personally remembered any of the other titans you often saw roaming around the island. You silently sighed as you thought of the other titans, you felt bad. They were all humans, you presume, stuck in your same predicament. Fighting and dreaming of freedom.  

The hours passed as you tried to read the words on the pages set before you. You found yourself not making much progress as you continuously had to wipe away your stinging tears from your lashes. Heavy steps descended the stairs as you hastily dried your eyes once more, hoping it won’t be too obvious that you’ve been crying.  

It was Erwin again, shadowed by Levi. Levi’s thin brow rose, he almost looked disgusted at your tears, or maybe he was taking pity. Either one, you didn’t truly want from the likes of him. Erwin, however, did look truly concerned for just a moment before hardening his expression to keep things professional.  

“Well, we won’t be able to learn anything from you until you learn to read and write. Thus, you’ll be staying here for the time being. I’ll visit periodically, but Captain Levi will be who you answer to for now.” He gave you a curt nod before taking his leave. Once again, Levi remained. The silence dragged on and you gave him a silent, yet fully exasperated sigh rolling your eyes in his direction.  

He scoffed before adjusting his cravat, his top lip twitching upward into a scowl of disdain.  

“I was about to pity you and be lenient, but forget it. Stop your crying and read, brat!” He spat, before sitting harshly onto the wooden chair he always claimed, He folded his arms over his chest and crossed his slender legs, one over the other. The two of you held each other’s gaze for a moment before you turned around harshly and began studying.  

With him babysitting you like this; it’s going to be a lot less pleasant. Hopefully it won't take you very long to relearn these skills, the faster you can distance yourself from this guy.  

<3

The hours stretched on in a deafening silence. The tension in the air was palpable and you hated it. Levi’s stern glare seemed to be burning holes in the back of your head, that made it hard to concentrate. How could he demand results whilst simultaneously making it so hard for you? He was difficult to put it nicely, but raging will do nothing to make your life more pleasant. The silence was suddenly interrupted by him, making you jump.  

“The Commander is really sticking his neck out for you. I don’t understand why.” He said, his irritation evident in every word that spilled past his lips. Your shoulders slumped at his words. Were you truly making their lives so hard? This wasn’t something you wanted. He waited a few beats before continuing, and icy chill to his tone.  

“I for one don’t trust you, if you can’t tell. You can warm up to Hange and Erwin all you want, but there's a reason I’m the one that’s in control here.” You shook your head slowly at his words, you’re not dumb. It’s clear as day he doesn’t trust you, and you don’t think the others completely trust you either and you understand their reasoning. At the very least, they try to see things from your perspective. Levi, however, seems like the type to enjoy a stick up the ass.  

“I’m watching you, because I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try anything.” He said, cocking his head to the side to attempt to see your expression. Sweat was beading at your brows, and you muscles tensed on reflex. You lived in fear before, but you still didn’t know how to cope with it. Will you ever be happy again?  

Slowly, you turned around to face Levi, eyes gleaming with fresh tears. Doing your best to ignore his words you decided to return the attention to your book. You wiped away at your eyes before you steeled your nerves to approach the man, pointing to a particularly confusing image on the page before you. He quirked his brow at the page, his eyes narrowing before he gliding up to meet your own. He held your stare for a moment, as if trying to scare you away but he quickly grew tired of the effort.  

“Those are the three walls that protect humanity from you titans.” Your eyes locked again briefly, before he continued his explanation. He was an insufferable human being but very smart, you had to admit. He explained everything thoroughly without missing a thing and you found the walls fascinated.  

“Is that all or do I have to read the entire book to you, brat?” He complained, bringing his tea cup to his lips. You gave him a short and obviously fake smile before rolling your eyes and returning to your bed, once again facing your back towards him as you studied the picture once more. Little did you know, Levi’s lips quirked up into a microscopic smirk behind his tea cup at your attitude. Though, even to himself he couldn’t admit that you were a little funny to watch sometimes.  

Sighing, Levi checked his pocket watch, it was due time for afternoon training. He lazily tossed a clean notepad and quill pen into your cell.  

“Practice your piss poor writing too brat.” He said, cup still held high up to his face before he downed the rest of his tea and you were left alone in the cellar once again.  

Once you were sure he was gone, you stuck out your tongue in childish protest before grabbing the notepad and pen. Scribbling and drawing ought to be more fun than reading this textbook you figured. The rest of your evening was spent in silence, until Hange brought you a late lunch with tea. She kept you company for a while, and it was something that helped to ease your anxiety. She explained in more detail what was planned for you here within the walls, and it's true, Erwin really was sticking his neck out for you, all of them were.  

Keeping you a secret from just about everybody in power until you could speak for yourself in a court of law. Your time with the Scouts would remain a secret even after then to keep from anyone getting in trouble. Seems the Scout’s get in enough trouble already, and housing a titan shifter for a second time would get them in a lot of trouble. Yet, for your own safety, they would put everything off until you could defend yourself properly, for that, you were eternally grateful and you wanted to thank him in person.  

Maybe even thank Levi, because, whether he wanted to or not, he was putting his own credibility on the line for you. As much as you dislike the man, you won't let his efforts go unappreciated. You thanked Hange for the food, conversation, and their protection with a bow, they simply waved you off.  

“It's no matter! There’s equal benefit for you, me, and humanity!” They exclaimed before marching up the stairs and heading off to handle reports. You smiled to yourself at their hospitality and friendliness. Today was a tough day, but a necessary one.  

This was your second chance at life, one you had lost hope at ever having. You weren’t going to waste it on fear, anxiety, and self-doubt. With newly found resolve, you drifted off into an early slumber, unaware of Captain Levi’s light foot falls descending the stair case.  

His dark eyes sliding to your sleeping form, having Hange talk to you was a good idea after all .  

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

oooh could you do protective headcanons for the golden deer too??🥺

{I most certainly can. Y’all know I love these tropes so keep ‘em coming. Hope it’s to your liking! :3}

Claude: 

6/10

Neutral, with just a tad bit of nerves. 

Look. Claude has bigger fish to fry than what you’re gallivanting on about during the day. The man has a dream to catch with literally a country and 1/3 (woot woot alliance) on his shoulders. 

First, the future. Then, you. Can’t have a life together if there is no place for it to be had, yeah? 

This doesn’t mean that he never worries about you. Quite the contrary, if he begins then he can’t stop. So he doesn’t tinker the thought. 

Instead he has his most trusted allies at your back. During the Academy days you were left under Hilda’s watchful eye, and during the war you are always nearby (courtesy of matchmaker Prof.Byleth) 

Once he puts a ring on it you’ll have guards. No problem. 

He also trusts your own capabilities. One doesn’t train every day to walk out with nothing  

Also

You make me laugh if you think Claude believes you’ll ever cheat on him 

Not that he’s cocky okay, maybe a bit  but no one would dare put the moves on “The Master Tactician’s” s/o

Any suitor coming your way is peasant fodder. If not to him, than to your own personal retaliation. 

Yupp, nothing to worry about. You’ve got it covered. He’ll only step in if you physically come ask him 

and with a bit of teasing he’ll comply 

However, Claude is very sensitive to illness for obvious reasons. This is why he’s listed at a six. He always insists on tasting your food

It was a gimmick at first, and in the beginning he’d make banter to sneak a bite while you remain all unknowing of his true intentions 

He’ll be damned if someone ever poisons you. They won’t ever get the chance

Ignatz: 

9/10

Let us face it. Iggy is a worry-wart.

He freaks out over the most minuscule of situations. The poor lad nearly gets a heart attack at least once a day 

And no, i’m not just referring to his pre-timeskip self. Ignatz may have grown a head taller, got a backbone, fancy harem artist pants--but no, he did not lose his inner anxious zealot. That trait will cling until the day he dies sadly 

Having you at his side only makes things worse (in a good way. The trouble is worth it to him) 

Especially if you’re more of the risky sort. Expect him to mother hen if you cause ruckus around the monastery. He can and will lecture you to death (only to apologize and hide away after)

Now not only does he worry about his own issues, but also yours. I swear Ignatz acts like you are his second being. If someone scolds you, hurts you, etc. he acts like they did it to him 

Can be a bit dramatic, not gonna lie. He gets so worked up that his ears go red. Like, you can just t e l l he’s holding so much back because he doesn’t want to go too far

Don’t even get me started on if someone tries to make a move on you 

He becomes t o r n. It isn’t his place to tell you who to hang around, but ohmygodwhatifyourealizeheisn’tgoodenough 

iggy no, bad iggy. don’t think like that

He feels threatened so easily and not many would peg him the jealous type. He is, but hides it very well. 

If need be he will talk out his feelings with you. That’s something noteworthy of Ignatz: he uses his words. He may find communicating such thoughts aloud difficult, but if he truly is concerned then he will be honest with you.  

Raphael: 

10/10

Raphael believes in trust. He expects you to be honest and to not keep anything important secret. In return he’ll do the same. 

This is why he doesn’t care if someone is flirting. He could give less of a thought on gossip, rumors, or anything really. That effort can go towards training 

He truly, honest to Sothis, trusts you with all his heart. There isn’t any time to spend doing otherwise. Raph just wants to live happily and that means having you by his side 

Nor does he feel intimidated by anyone else either. I’m not saying that he reeks of resolved confidence, but Raph believes that you love him. Love topples any mindless flirting that other people throw your way 

but let’s get one thing straight 

If anybody, and I mean ANYBODY, tries to hurt you 

This guy’s having them for b r e a k f a s t. Pounded, sliced, and Smoked. The same way he liked his bacon. 

You are his family. Raphael protects his family, and those he cares about. 

You will never be alone. Goddess if you cry and someone else is the cause then he will take action. One fault of Raph is that while he’s a sweetie, he doesn’t think before acting a lot. Similar to Caspar, he just goes for it 

It takes a lot to get underneath Raph’s skin. 

In short: do not f*ck with his loved ones. He would take on Nemisis himself mono-e-mono if it meant protecting them 

Lorenz: 

8/10

Y’all going to sit there and try to convince me that Lorenz Hellman Gloucester doesn’t try to establish dominance? 

Key word: try

He’s quickly shut down

“Lorenz if you tell one more person that we’re betrothed, I swear that I’ll shave off your eyebrows” - You, one month post-confession 

Saying that you’re his perfect match is no excuse. Considering all the preaching he does on noble humility, you’d think he would want your private affairs off the notice board? 

It doesn’t take long for your peers to start complaining. Claude finds his behavior entertaining, but not a day goes by that someone doesn’t beg you to make him shut up 

Lorenz is also a bit old fashioned. He doesn’t like the idea of you fighting more than necessary

Once again, shut down 

Best way to deal with Lorenz is to let him think he has his way, then just do whatever. He gets upset, pouts, spouts his normal lecture, but then relents. All in due process with him 

Never thought I’d say this, but perhaps requesting not to be in the same troop together is the best option? You’d think he would fight better with an S tier relationship at his side? Nahhh. HE TAKES YOUR KILLS IT IS NOT FAIR 

He gives too much attention to what you’re doing, and not the enemy. Best if you stay separated

Ugh pray no one hits on you in front of him. Just... *screams* I don’t think anyone will, just to avoid him getting defensive. I swear the other deer take extensive preventative measures to avoid it.  

Hilda:

6/10

C’mon. This is Hilda we’re talking about 

You two most likely grew closer because she “asks” you for help so often 

Just like Claude, she has bigger fish to fry. The last type of person she wants to be is Holst (she loves him though don’t misinterpret that)

She does worry though 

Not enough to make her take the front lines, but a smidgen. Just to where you’ll get periodic check in’s 

Nothing obvious. A simple “what’s going on?”  as she inquired about your well-being 

A precarious scan-over as she checks for any new scars

She does get jealous though. There’s an entire castle full of available people and someone chooses to flirt with you? 

That just doesn’t make sense. Perhaps the “once something is taken it becomes more desirable,” saying has some truth 

She’s quite the clinger. You’ll just be walking and suddenly, BOOM, bubble-gum pink arm-candy in the corner of your vision

Once you two bypass the ‘puppy-love’ early stages, she changes. 

Despite her negligence beforehand, she does become overprotective   

Will fight if needed. Say you have a paralogue? Just so happens she was nearby and wants to tag along 

She also has to protect you from Holst. My dear, you cannot do that yourself. Brotherly wrath beseeches you, my god. Run dude run 

Marianne: 

3/10

A possessive streak is nonexistent in her blood. Such thing is a personal fear of her’s. Marianne refuses to conform to the stereotypes associated with her crest 

However, she does believe that one day you may leave her side. Marianne isn’t the most confident person. She...doubts 

Often does she wonder if you’re there solely to make her hurt. To love her and then one day disappear without a trace 

Anxieties like so will not go away overnight. She will not seek reassurance, which makes her more uncommunicative than most partners 

but no one is perfect. Neither are you. All you personally can do is politely decline any advances, and do your best to let Marianne know that you love her 

She isn’t particularly protective in any other sense either. She’ll heal you if needed, but special attention isn’t there

Marianne treats being a healer like how an ER doctor operates. On the field, everyone is equal. She is needed everywhere and cannot stay by your side. Otherwise lives will be lost, and that won’t be good for her conscience.

The same goes for all other aspects. If you’re gone, then you’re gone. If you’re sick, then you’re sick. She cannot give you special attention and acts in accordance to severity of the situation. Patients cannot be weighed in value via personal bias 

She has a surprisingly strong sense of self control, let me tell ya.

Lysithea:

7/10

She...does not have much time. Entering a romantic relationship was not a possibility that crossed her mind once before you 

Why bother when the ending is certain? Why leave someone brokenhearted, or a widow? Why give herself that extra stress when she’s already under so much as it is?

You can’t blame her for being extra cautious. While her life may be hanging on a string, that doesn’t mean yours has to end 

After some time she develops a resolve. If needed she would gladly lay her life down if it meant you could live another day 

A problematic conclusion. You two will argue often over how she cannot trade a ‘life for a life,’ just because of her special circumstances. Her mind always enforces that it’s the logical decision, and has trouble recognizing her own value

I suppose that comes with being a know-it-all, huh? Once her mind is set then there is no changing it 

Despite her brain sending all the signals that acting on jealousy is wrong...well, we know Lysithea 

She won’t come out and say she gets protective for your sake. Apparently anyone flirting with you already had business with her

Business that miraculously unfolds once you leave. Then suddenly they no longer have an interest? 

What’d she do? Threaten to shove a thoron up their rectum? No one knows 

Leonie: 

9/10 

She is the mom who’d create a strict morning routine for her kids to follow before school 

Or a thorough itinerary on a vacation 

Not a moment or bullion to be wasted! 

Cannot express enough how much this girl cares. She can become annoying from all the interference, but you’ll never become a bum with her in your life 

You might want to ask her to butt out. Remind her that you’re not one of the kids from her village, and that you can handle yourself 

Sometimes you’ll joke and say “yes mom,” because she gets b o s s y 

Which will earn you either: a) a glare, or b) her playing along and confusing everyone else 

So in a sense, yeah she’s protective. Overbearing in her own Leonie way 

Not the jealous type. Leonie doesn’t look at what other people have, and instead focuses on her own life. If someone wants to shamelessly throw themselves at your feet then that’s their issue. You know better than to cheat on her 

I can see her complaining to the captain or to Byleth though. Why waste time when the issue can easily be solved? Obviously someone with the time to flirt has time to do training drills  

Bonus! Cyril: (because during my first play-through I kept expecting GD to take him under their wing. They did not, and Nintendo missed out.) 

5/10

He personally hates being treated like a child. When someone doesn’t take him seriously Cyril’s self restraint goes b o o m 

So he won’t do that to you. You’re a capable individual and that’s that. Nothing more for him to interfere with 

His only protective streak lies when you’re incapable of doing things yourself. Aka: injured, ill, resting, etc. 

He’ll nag you for not being careful, but it’s not hard to miss the tears pricking his eyes 

He’s also very perceptive towards break-in’s. Many people have tried to kidnap/assassinate people of higher standing. He’s witnessed many attempts towards lady Rhea. I see him taking night shifts for patrol often, and after the war the habit sticks with him.

He takes a lot onto his shoulders often. It’s not bad. Being dedicated is an admirable trait, yet if you’re down someone will have to stop him from picking up the slack. 

He’s no healer, and leaves that job to the professionals. However he doesn’t want anyone to disturb you with the work your missing. So he’ll do it in your stead 

Manuela lets him stay in the infirmary past visitation hours. Mostly because he’s so busy during the day that he can’t come by 

He won’t return to his room those nights. He prefers to be by your side, just in case. 

Other than this type of situation- no, he’s not protective in the slightest.  

[florbelles]

13~17 for Lyra and John?

thank you legend, i am once again sorry for my response time on this rip

xiii. what is their go-to for making a partner feel loved?

— this is something that's actually incredibly difficult for her; the enormity of it is something that nothing feels adequate to express. while she's very physically demonstrative, one of her greatest fears — particularly after he's gone — is that she never expressed it the right way, that he never understood, not really. she desperately hopes he does. she tells him, a thousand times, she is sorry for the way she is, even knowing that he loves her for it, even knowing that he knows what he chose. ( he did, of course, he tells her as much, but it still haunts her ).

she tries to makes him feel loved by what makes her feel loved; making sure he knows she sees him, understands him, accepts him completely and unconditionally. he doesn't need to be anyone else for her; he doesn't need to prove anything to her. she shows him she loves him by letting him simply be, by proving with time that she isn’t going anywhere, that she’s all in.

she shows him love the only ways she knows how. she's most comfortable expressing herself with her body, that she can give him, that she can do and do well ( sexually, yes, of course, but perhaps more pertinently — neither of them have an uncomplicated relationship or history with sex, elaborated on below under xv — with nonsexual signs of affection — running her thumb over his, nuzzling him when she comes up behind him, pressing her lips to his neck ). she’s always touching him if she’s near him. she’s extremely affectionate, both physically and verbally, especially in the mornings and at night when they’re lying limbs-twined.

the simplest answer is, however, synonymous with the answer to xv below; she expresses her love through her trust and willingness to render herself wholly vulnerable. she expresses it through quiet, subtle intimacies that might not be immediately evident to anyone who doesn’t know her ( it’s been stated many times before, but to lyra, the use of a first name and familiar language is the greatest sign of intimacy she can verbally give — her enemies are darling, her husband is john ). “hi, john” is her “i love you;” “i’m so glad it’s you” is her “i love you.”

xiv. what makes them feel loved? would they build up the courage to ask for it?

— the small efforts he makes to meet her at her level. when he says “you love me.” when he manages to drag his ass out of bed for her in the morning to watch the sunrise even though they’re on two hours and he needs his beauty sleep. she doesn't expect accommodation. she doesn't expect anything. one of her most prevailing thoughts early in their relationship is that it would have been enough for him to simply see and understand her; she would not have asked him not to hate her, she does not ask him not to forsake her, but he chose not to. he gave her acceptance. he gave her love. she would never in a thousand years ask for it.

for john, it’s that she lights up when she's around him — is truly simply that happy just to see him and be near him without needing or expecting anything from him, which isn’t something he’s necessarily had in his life from figures who aren’t obligated either by familial bonds or being his subordinates. she could not disguise it even if she wished. he will always make her flush. he will always make her stomach drop and her teeth flash and her eyes gleam. it is simply the way it is: it is incredibly fortunate they are not seen together by anyone outside of the project, because they would have known immediately. ( they do know immediately, when the time comes, before the end of everything ).

xv. what, for them, constitutes a level of intimacy that they would only rarely share with someone? this can be physical, emotional, etc.

— vulnerability, both emotional and physical.* quite literally, he is the only partner she's ever had that she has slept with, excepting some of her earliest girlfriends, generally bunkmates at school ( “i have never slept with a man in all my life!” is a favored gag of hers ). he is also the only partner with whom she hasn't kept her shoes or knives or some means of defense on her person ( john would argue the post-coital teeth and scratch marks he permanently wears make her true defenselessness sat any given time debatable, but it's the thought that counts! ).

( * for the sake of simplicity, this excludes all intimacy in relation to the project; while it’s obviously a major part of their relationship and a shared cause/belief system that deepens their bond, it’s complicated by the fact she would have joined the project and undergone those processes with or without him, whether or not they were lovers )

physical intimacy is, at first glance, something that is decisively not something only rarely shared, given that they both have hundreds of past sexual partners; they both have a complicated past with sex and their own respective baggage. john obviously has a history of self-medication and addiction that’s bound up with his demons and self-loathing; for lyra it's never been a particular vice — she has absolutely also used it to self-medicate in the past, usually as a way to blow off steam when her blood is running hot in a potentially more lethal direction, but it’s never been an instrument of self-destruction — an d is instead primarily is burdened with the fact that she used her sexuality to seduce targets; it's something she weaponized and exploited, so there are always going to be certain situations or circumstances she dislikes seeing john in ( she's reluctant to the prospect of restraining or binding him, for example, since she would use restraints on men she seduced with the intention of intimidating or killing them ). they both have associations they don't want to spill over onto the other.

having said that, the fact of that allows them a type of intimacy that might not be immediately evident to anyone else; she makes sure he knows he doesn't have to fuck her to hold her, he doesn't need to use his body to have that familiarity with her ( given that this is previously unexplored territory for the both of them, her saying so goes over about as well as can be expected — pardon him, he didn’t realize sex with him was such a fucking chore, sorry he is so sexually revolting, don’t do him any favors! — but they get there ).

sex is obviously still a big part of their relationship, and not one that john particularly feels the need to repent, since they’re married in all but name almost immediately and are married in fact within six weeks and otherwise has little difficulty john-justifying ( johnstifying, if you will ) it to himself ( she’s been entrusted to me, i’m bringing her closer to the project, she’s meant for me anyway, god brought her to me, this isn’t lust, she said so herself, this is a sanctioned union ), and she immediately casts off any notions of seducing or manipulating him as means of insinuating herself into the project’s protection ( it’s for this reason she stalls joining; she intends to right away, she believes joseph and desperately wants to believe that this is the reason and purpose for everything in her life up to this point, done both by and to her, but she flatly refuses until she can prove her complete commitment and good faith upfront, an opportunity afforded to her by the camera crew’s fortuitous arrival ) — this is also why she cuts off their first encounter and flees the ranch. she will never use her sexuality against him. in that sense, sex as a form of intimacy is reserved for each other.

( this is, in fact, how she knows she loves him; for all of her extensive sexual history, she has never actually wanted someone — not just release with them, not just a physical attraction to them — she is in fact unsettled on whether or not she is attracted to john physically; he's the most beautiful creature alive to her, but that's because he's him, she loves his nose because it's his nose, she loves his eyes because they're his eyes, his skin because it’s his skin — but actually him. she knew she had to have him. )

xvi. if they had the ability to just spend free time with their partner, what would they do? would they go out or stay inside?

— stay in ( not necessarily literally within the confines of their home, but within their own space ). lyra will probably coax him outside at some point because she doesn't feel right if she's indoors all day, regardless of the weather — no, the first seven years of the collapse are not looking well for her, thank you — but they won't necessarily stray from each other's companionship. if it's a day off, joseph is probably giving them space ( this is also his day off from their shared existence, how wonderful to be able to attend to the rest of the flock without worrying about what problems they're causing on purpose ), so while they'll occasionally have the company of one of their family members, it's more likely to simply be the two of them, possibly with the company of some of their closest inner-circle ( shaggy, holly, shaggy’s brother matthew, a few of their select chosen who are assigned to the ranch ) in the evening if lyra decides she wants a bonfire. otherwise, they take full advantage of their ability to absolutely nothing but laze around and talk and make love.

xvii. under what circumstances would they want to be left alone by their partner?

— this almost never happens, since they’re more inclined towards separation anxiety than a need for space, but lyra is the most likely to want it when she needs to sort out her mental state or let her fuse burn down ( like the time she locked herself in the shower to cry for an hour because he loved her or if they’re in an especially heated argument and she needs to clear her head before she says or does something she’ll regret). she rarely does so, however; she’s aware that from his perspective her walking out on him, no matter how temporary or how rationally he knows she’s coming back, exacerbates his angst and triggers his insecurities.

[lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr]

Negotiations

⚓︎ Previous Parts: Betrayal, Doubts, The Race, A Challenge of Fate, Strange Happenings, Blurred Reality

⚓︎ Pairing: Jungkook x OC

⚓︎ Genre: Fantasy, Pirate AU, magic, time travel, romance

⚓︎ Warnings: mentions of destruction and death

⚓︎ Rating: General

⚓︎ Word Count: 3.9K

⚓︎ Synopsis: Things take a turn when Jungkook and Yoongi agree to meet with Akira to discuss some unlikely negotiations.

Masterlist

Yoongi watched as Jungkook paced the length of the ship, his hands fiddling nervously with the hilt of his sword. Around him, the crew ran about the ship, preparing for departure. They’d been docked for too long. It wasn’t worth the risk to stay any longer. Just this morning, Jungkook had finally given the order after Jimin and Hoseok brought Aoi aboard.

The poor girl looked half dead when she arrived. Jin kicked Jungkook and Jimin out when they attempted to follow him below deck, insisting he needed his space to heal her properly. With his lip sticking out in a pout, Jimin backed away, scurrying off to help Seungmin with the riggings.

Jungkook hadn’t stopped moving, pacing the ship from bow to stern repeatedly. If the rest of the crew hadn’t been so occupied already, he would have picked a fight long ago. His face was screwed up as he fought with a piece of red string which dangled from the hilt of his sword. Twice he paced the length of the ship before finally detaching the string only to tie it back on and repeat the process again.

Yoongi’s leg hung off the side of the ship, swinging gently. The lapping of the water against the wood beneath him helped to keep his own nerves calm. It wouldn’t do to have them both so on edge. Jungkook had yet to brief him on anything. For three years the entire crew had gone through each day not knowing whether they would ever see their captain again. Yoongi wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when Jungkook returned, but it wasn’t this infuriating silence. They had always relied on each other, telling the other everything. This cold shoulder Jungkook was giving him was something Yoongi didn’t know how to deal with. Now that Aoi was safely on board the ship again and they were leaving port, Yoongi hoped to get some information out of the captain. Particularly anything useful on Akira.

“Captain!”

Yoongi’s head shot up to spy Jeongin spring up over the side of the ship. Reaching out a hand, Yoongi stopped the boy before he could reach Jungkook. “What is it?”

“Akira,” Jeongin’s eyes were huge and he fought to catch his breath long enough to speak, “he wants to meet with the captain before we depart.”

“Akira is here?” Yoongi cursed as he leapt off the railing. “Where?”

Jeongin pointed to the dock where a small group of four soldiers stood. In the center, Akira leaned casually on his walking stick. Catching Yoongi’s eye, he nodded lightly.

Turning back to the cabin boy, Yoongi instructed, “Climb up to the mast and get Jimin. Tell him to go below deck with Jin. His number one priority will be protecting Aoi. Jungkook and I are stepping off the ship. No one is allowed in or out of that cabin until we get back. If we don’t return-”

“Sir?”

“Two hours. If we haven’t returned in two hours, you have orders to set sail.”

“To where?”

“Tell Jimin to ‘Take Refuge’. He’ll understand.”

Jeongin nodded and darted across the ship.

Closing his eyes tightly, as if willing the situation away, Yoongi took a deep breath. Without opening his eyes, he counted Jungkook’s steps. As the captain passed, Yoongi caught his wrist. Finally pealing his eyes open, he was disappointed by the lack of disappearing problems.

Jungkook glanced down at Yoongi’s hand wrapped firmly around his wrist before lifting his gaze and raising a brow in question.

Yoongi jutted his chin over his shoulder to where Akira was still standing.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched once he found him. “How long has he been there?”

“He stopped Jeongin as he was boarding.” Yoongi released his hold on the captain.

“What?”

“Jeongin is fine, but Akira wants to meet with you.”

Jungkook gave his head a sharp tilt, his lips pressed together in a firm line. Yoongi could see the battle raging in his mind. He wasn’t about to leave the ship. Not with Aoi on board. Jungkook never said it, but Yoongi knew he trusted no one to protect her but himself.

“I think we should go talk with him.”

The look on his face betrayed his thoughts. Jungkook knew they should go. Swallowing hard, he looked past his shoulder to the door which led below deck.

“She’ll be fine. I’ve sent Jimin below deck to watch over her. The entire crew will be put on guard. No one will be getting anywhere near Aoi. Jimin already has orders to set sail if we aren’t back within an allotted time.”

Still, Jungkook hesitated. Yoongi did his best to be understanding, but Akira wouldn’t wait forever. Avoiding him now may come as an act of war.

“I know you want to protect her, but this may be the best way to do that. It’s not only Aoi you’re protecting anymore. You have the entire crew to think about.” Though Yoongi kept his expression carefully neutral, the sweat coating the palms of his hands betrayed his anxiety. If Jungkook didn’t agree to go, Yoongi could approach Akira on his own but he would never learn anything. Akira would speak only to the captain. This could be their last chance to try and get any useful information.

On the deck, Akira pulled his lips back into what Yoongi assumed was a smile. He would never understand what the females found so attractive about him. Akira could have any girl off the street with a smile and bow of his thick skull. It grated against Yoongi’s nerves.

“Hoseok!” Jungkook called for his master gunner as he passed by, “Where’s Chan?”

Hoseok pressed his lips together as he bent his body back at an odd angle. Grinning, he pointed toward the bowsprit, “He’s there,” standing up again, he straightened his shirt, “helping Felix with the rigging. Poor lad still hasn’t figured out how to tie a proper knot. He can do just about anything you set him to, but the ropes are his weakness.”

“He hasn’t even been here an entire month,” Yoongi said, “give him some time.”

“I’m stepping off the ship.” Jungkook said, wasting no time with small talk.

Hoseok’s mouth fell open.

“Jimin is acting captain. Chan will take over Yoongi’s duties until we return. Until I step foot on this ship again, you are to obey every order from them both. Presume I’m not returning and prepare to sail without me.”

Hoseok’s smile vanished. “Captain?”

“Your top priority will be Aoi’s safety. Do you understand your orders?”

Hoseok turned to Yoongi, desperate for an explanation.

Yoongi nodded toward the dock where Akira stood, that stupid smile still plastered to his face.

Hoseok laughed in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. After three years of avoiding him, now you want to talk? Captain, do you really think it’s wise?”

Yoongi gave a sharp shake of his head. He didn’t need Hoseok changing Jungkook’s mind now.

“I’m only going to speak with him. If all goes as planned, we’ll be back in a few hours. Have the boat completely ready to sail by than or I’ll have your heads.”

Hoseok dipped his head in understanding but it was clear he wasn’t pleased with the situation. “Yoongi? May I speak with you a moment before you go?”

Yoongi obliged, stepping to the side with Hoseok as Jungkook slipped below deck to check on Aoi once more.

“I know this is your doing,” he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest, “Jungkook wouldn’t leave the ship of his own will. Not now. Not after everything.”

“What’s your point, Hoseok?”

“The crew just got their captain back. They aren’t going to be thrilled when they find he’s leaving again.”

“It’s only for an hour at most. He’s been gone longer.”

“You know I don’t question you often. I would trust you with my very life without an ounce of doubt,” Hoseok allowed a glimpse of fear to shine through his bright eyes, “but why? Why are you doing this?”

“It’s good to keep your friends close but better to keep your enemies closer.” With nothing more to say, Yoongi dipped his head in a farewell and turned to meet Jungkook as he stepped back onto the deck.

Yoongi cursed his pounding heart as he led Jungkook down to the dock. He knew he could show no sign of fear. For Jungkook’s sake more than anyone, he had to remain calm.

Akira greeted them with a pleasant smile. “Gentlemen, I thank you for sparing a moment of your time.”

“A moment is all it will be,” Jungkook said.

Akira didn’t appear fazed by the captain’s angry tone. “Shall we convene to a place with a few less prying eyes?”

Yoongi didn’t have to look to know the entire crew was watching from aboard the ship.

Jungkook gestured forward, “Lead the way.”

Akira kept to the alleyways, avoiding his own men scattered throughout the main streets. Explaining what he was doing with a well known pirate in his company promised to be far more trouble than any of them needed. At any given moment, Akira need only say the word to have Jungkook and Yoongi arrested. It was a show of his good intentions. Still, Yoongi remained on edge. Akira was not a man worthy of any kind of trust.

Beside Yoongi, Jungkook walked with an easy stride, his hands swinging loosely at his sides. To anyone on the streets, he appeared the epitome of calm. Yoongi however, saw right through the charade. On any other day, Yoongi found it difficult to keep up with his captain’s long strides, but today he kept an easy pace beside him. Jungkook’s head, though held high and confident, sported the smallest tilt as his mind undoubtedly raced faster than he could keep up with. He was a ticking bomb: fragile and ready to explode at any moment.

Fifteen minutes passed before they reached the old mill at the edge of town. Akira ushered them inside, carefully avoiding any prying eyes. They were then led through to the small room at the very back. A find layer of dust told of the room’s abandonment. Large maps of town and the surrounding ports with scattered points noted by red pins, covered two of the four walls.

Akira strode up to the desk. His nose scrunched as he wiped a finger across the dusty surface. “I do apologize for the state of this room,” flicking away the dirt, he rubbed his hand across his pant leg, “I haven’t been here in years. Business grew and with it came better accommodations.” He motioned toward the seats in front of him. “Please, have a seat.”

Jungkook ignored the offer. A silent warning which was well received. “What is it you wished to discuss? I have quite a bit of work to finish before we leave port.”

With a small huff, Akira fell down into his chair. “I suppose three years absence would leave you with a fair bit of unfinished business. Especially with the type of crew you’ve bridled yourself with.”

Yoongi clenched his teeth. He couldn’t imagine the things Jungkook had gone through, but he had seen first hand how the crew fell apart. Jimin, having nearly lost his mind worrying for their captain, stepped into the role required of him. Yoongi was forced to watch as the new captain slowly lost all of the light that was once so present in his bright eyes. Jimin was a good man and a better pirate, but without Jungkook’s guidance, he was a lost soul. Yoongi himself struggled to keep himself together. If it hadn’t been for Chan and Seokjin, Yoongi dreaded to know what would have happened to the crew.

Akira took advantage of their weakened state. Week after week, the Commodore sent ships to attack the Bangtan. It was all they could do just to keep her afloat. It was only the hope of their captain’s promise to return that kept them fighting, but his absence had taken a massive blow.

Akira’s eyes flitted to where Yoongi stood, the corner of his lips pulling up into an arrogant smirk.

“Get on with it, Akira,” Jungkook said, sounding bored as his arm shot out to keep Yoongi from stepping forward. “What is it you want?”

“To discuss negotiations, of course.”

Yoongi wanted to drag Jungkook out of there at the first sign of trouble. Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all. Hoseok may have been right. Yoongi never should have talked Jungkook into coming. But the young captain’s interest was peaked. Pressing his lips into a fine line, Yoongi remained quiet. He would trust Jungkook for now.

Stepping forward, Jungkook took the seat across from Akira. Leaning back, he crossed one leg over the other. “What sort of negotiations? Surely you don’t believe I would grant you anything of mine.”

“My inquiry is only of peace. I request a truce.”

Jungkook laughed, “Come now, Akira. Do you take me for a fool? I am not inclined to believe such a ridiculous notion. Not when you are the one proposing it. Not after everything that has happened over the past three years.”

“You know me well,” Akira matched Jungkook’s laughter, “I am not one to suggest a peace treaty with a pirate. My entire life has been built around eliminating your dangerous lot from society. But these are special circumstances.” Both men sobered instantly. “Perhaps you should hear my terms before dismissing the offer so quickly.”

“You have my undivided attention.”

“I only wish to prevent my family’s name from becoming tarnished. My travels to different times has allowed me insight into a rather unsettling future. One which I hope to change with this meeting here today.”

Yoongi didn’t like the look in Akira’s eyes, but Jungkook sat forward as if interested in the proposition. “And the conditions?”

“Nothing but a simple agreement. You remain away from my family in exchange for a cease in all attacks on sea.”

“Only the sea?”

“My generosity only extends so far.”

Jungkook fiddled with the bottle of ink on the desk, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “I find this all a bit hard to believe. Peace is desirable, yes, and if it were anyone else I would accept these terms,” lifting his eyes, he met Akira’s stare, “but I can not put my men at risk like this. You have attempted to kill me one too many times for me to believe a word you say.”

Akira dropped his feet and slammed his palm against the desk, his voice straining as he fought to keep it low. “All I’m requesting is for an agreement.”

“And?”

“What more would you like from me?”

“The truth. A man like you does not simply step away from something he has been so actively pursuing. You sit there and spew these sweet words from your dirty mouth but I am not naive enough to pick them up.”

“I have told you nothing but the truth. You have chosen ignorance.” Closing his eyes, Akira took a deep breath and settled back in his chair. “Very well then, this meeting here today was only one of many paths I can take to secure a proper future for my family. Unfortunately for you, you have chosen a far more difficult path to follow.” Akira lifted the silver watch from the desk, blew off a layer of dust and flipped it open. “You see, I fully intended for you to reject my offer so I’ve taken the liberty of securing a bit of leverage.”

Yoongi’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. No.

“Even if you refuse my offer, my prize has already been taken. Without that girl by your side, the future of my family remains safe. Without a memory, I fear she’ll be far too easy to manipulate.” Leaning forward, Akira rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands, allowing the watch to swing hypnotically by its chain. “You are referred to as the ‘Terror of the Seas’. Even without magic, it was difficult to find a weakness. Imagine my delight when I found it lying in my lap. That girl holds far too much power over you and now I will show you how to properly yield a person’s weakness against them. Let this serve as a lesson to you. No man is untouchable, no matter how strong they believe they are.”

No sooner had the words left his lips when Jungkook leapt to his feet and drew his sword. Akira scrambled for his own, shouting for his men as he did. Jungkook was quicker. His blade pressed up against the soft flesh of Akira’s neck before the latter could so much as finish his cry for help.

Yoongi wasted no time pulling out his pistol. Turning to the door, he prepared to meet whoever had been summoned.

Mere seconds passed before the door burst open and the largest man Yoongi had ever seen stepped into the room, a pistol drawn and aimed straight for Jungkook. Cursing his own stupid decision to come, Yoongi stepped between the gun and his captain. The expression on the officer’s face showed no sign of surprise. He simply raised his arm to aim over Yoongi’s head, aligning perfectly with Jungkook’s again.

“Drop the weapon or lose your hand,” Yoongi threatened.

The officer responded by cocking the pistol.

Yoongi cursed, mirroring the action. “This was meant to be a peaceful talk, Akira. What is the meaning of this?”

Akira, seeing the officer’s weapon trained on Jungkook, lowered his guard with an easy smile. “I said nothing of a peaceful talk. I only presented my desire to negotiate.” He shifted back but Jungkook matched his step, keeping his blade pressed against Akira’s neck. “There are things we both are seeking. Answers if you will. Answers I wish to find sooner rather than later.”

“Answers for what?” Jungkook said.

“Why else does one search for answers, boy? I have questions. Questions I’m certain you are not able to answer.”

“Try me.”

Akira shook his head. “I believe I have already mentioned your lack of answers.”

Yoongi’s hands were slick with sweat and he fought to keep the pistol steady. He should have known that nothing good would come of this meeting. Why had he been so stupid? What had he hoped to gain from this encounter that was worth the looming risks? A hope of ridding Akira from their seas and their lives. To see the crew sailing without constantly watching over their shoulders.

“If you lay a single finger on any person aboard my ship-”

“You’ll what?” Akira interrupted, “You’ll blow my head off? Do that and everyone aboard the ship dies, except the girl. She will live only long enough to watch as you beg for death’s doors to open. Only after will she join you in the pits of hell.”

Yoongi itched to the pull the trigger. The air was dangerously still. Simply breathing wrong could cause an explosion. The calm would not last much longer. Tension was rising and Yoongi could only hope they would be the ones to make the first move.

“Of course, if you both back away now, no harm will come to anyone.”

Jungkook scoffed, “You must take me for a fool.”

“It is no one’s choice but your own whether people die today.”

Jungkook didn’t have time to answer. A round of three shots sounded outside the door, too close for comfort. Each of their heads spun toward the sound. Seizing the opportunity, Yoongi took advantage of the officer’s distraction. Lowering his aim, he shot the man’s leg. Crude, but affective. The officer dropped his pistol as he fell to one knee, clutching his injured leg. Yoongi kicked the pistol out of reach, stepping closer to his target. Behind him, he heard the struggle as Akira fought back against Jungkook but he did not dare to turn away.

Tae burst through the door, immediately moving to assist his captain. Hoseok and Minho weren’t far behind. Yoongi blinked hard, not quite believing what he was seeing. What in the seven seas were they doing here? And why was Minho with them? The boy hadn’t been part of the crew for more than six days. What was Hoseok thinking?

Hoseok trained his pistol on the officer’s head, flashing a grin up at Yoongi. “Miss me?”

Minho picked up the discarded pistol as he ran to help Tae and Jungkook. Within seconds, Tae and Minho had Akira strapped to the same chair he’d been lounging in only moments ago.

Yoongi held his breath as Jungkook spun toward Hoseok, his eyes burning with a fire Yoongi was glad wasn’t directed at him.

“Why are you here?” His voice remained dangerously calm. “Who is guarding the ship?”

“It’s only the three of us here, Captain. Jimin hasn’t left Aoi’s side.” Hoseok’s voice shook slightly despite his relaxed appearance.

“I believe I gave you very specific orders. Aoi was to be your main priority.”

“You also told me to follow Jimin’s orders?”

“Jimin sent you? Why?” Jungkook paused, “And why is he with you?”

Minho grinned when Jungkook pointed at him.

“Well, they were going to send Felix, but . . .”

“After the incident, he was shaking so hard he couldn’t hold his gun.” Tae finished.

Yoongi cringed. “Do I want to know?”

“Not long after you left we found ourselves surrounded by several dozen of his,” Hoseok pointed accusingly at Akira, “men. We fought back but they’d taken us by surprise. It only took them a few minutes to have us all bound together on the deck. Everyone except Felix. I don’t know where he was hiding, but they missed him while searching the ship.”

“Don’t know how. It’s hard to miss that freckled face,” Minho added.

“He found what he believed to be the most affective weapon and-”

“Now the entire port side is blown off,” Tae finished.

“You both should have been there,” Minho couldn’t contain his grin, “he sent all of Akira’s men running back to shore with their tails tucked. Except for the few who were unlucky enough to be standing on the port side.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure he believed what he was hearing. “How did he not kill everyone?”

“Sheer luck?” Hoseok shrugged. “We’re all still here so I don’t know about you, but I’m counting my blessings.”

“We need to get back to the ship,” Jungkook’s face remained scrunched in a frown, “where’s Aoi?”

“Jimin is with her. She’s fine and those men never got anywhere near her.” Hoseok assured him.

“What do we do with this guy?” Tae jabbed his foot against Akira’s leg making him wince.

“Can I shoot him?” Minho’s hopeful expression faded with a firm shake of Jungkook’s head.

Turning back to Hoseok, Jungkook asked, “Is the ship still able to sail?”

Hoseok nodded. “And Binnie is working on repairing the deck.”

“Good. Leave him tied for now,” he shot a glare at Akira, “taking him would invite a battle with the armada that we don’t need. You can shoot him later.”

Minho’s lower lip jutted out in a pout.

“Hoseok, take the officer outside. We don’t need him helping the Commodore escape too quickly. But use your sword. We don’t need to draw any more unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Akira said, “You’ll regret not agreeing to my terms.”

“You’re terms sucked.”

“I will turn your life into a living hell.”

Jungkook raised his brow with a scoff. “You say that as if you haven’t already. Boys, I think it’s time for this man’s nap. He’s getting grumpy.”

Minho grinned as he raised the butt of his gun over his head, “Lights out.”

[burningupp-replies]

The Market

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Anxiety attack, I guess.

Summary: Y/N and Zuko aren’t on the best of terms - Zuko joined the gaang fairly abruptly, and Y/N isn’t sure whether she can trust him yet. When she decides to go to the market to get some medicine for Toph and Sokka, however, she is stuck with him as a tourguide.

A/N: My first ever request!! I’m sorry it took so long - I’ve had finals for about a week straight >.< I hope you enjoy it!! :)

Ever since Zuko had joined the gaang, it had been tense. No one had trusted him at first, not even Aang, really. However, as he went on adventure after adventure with everyone else, for no reason other than to help, tension started to clear around the camp. You, though, were still suspicious, and not quite as welcoming as the others.

Zuko had tried to be nice to you, he had tried bonding with you, but every time he seemed to get closer, you would pull away. It almost felt like he pissed you off further and further for every passing day, and he really didn’t know what to do. What could he do? It didn’t help that he had a crush on you the size of the damn fire nation, either. He kept fumbling around you, dropping things, knocking stuff over, stuttering… He felt stupid.

You, on the other hand, despised the fire prince. How could he just show up, steal Appa a few times, and expect to be liked? It made you seethe in anger, because he had been hunting you all for a few months. Actually, you had joined the gaang when they were travelling into Ba Sing Se, so you hadn’t been there for that long, but you still felt a sense of protectiveness over them all, since you were the oldest (Zuko excluded).

All of your friends knew exactly how you felt about Zuko and wanted to do something about it. They kept trying to change your mind, talking you through their travels together and making sure to comment whenever he did something nice for someone, but you were stubborn – perhaps more than you should be.

Right now, Sokka and Toph were sick. You were all on Ember Island, so at least you all weren’t sleeping in tents with nothing to protect against the weather, but they were miserable nonetheless. It made you sad, seeing your good friends feel so poorly, and you decided you had to do something.

“That’s it, I’m going into town to get medicine for them,” you told Katara, who was currently busying herself taking care of the two patients.

“Y/N, you know it would be really nice if we had that, but we really shouldn’t go outside right now. What if someone sees us? This is a really good hiding spot, you know,” she rambled on, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, okay, but I have never once been on one of those wanted posters. No one knows I’m with you, so if I go, no one would recognize me,” you argue.

The watertribe girl ponders for a moment, before Toph groans in discomfort, and she sighs.

“Fine. But you have to take Zuko, so you don’t get lost.”

You tense, being torn between getting your friends the medicine they required and avoiding spending alone-time with a broody ex-prince. You groan out loud to yourself as you decide your friends are more important than your comfort, and hang your head, making Katara laugh.

“You’re ridiculous, did you know that?”

You stick your tongue out at her, just as you hear someone enter the room. You turn around to see Zuko with Aang in tow, and you internally sigh. Damn it. Katara grins at the two boys, asking how You stick your tongue out at her, just as you hear someone enter the room. Turning to the door, you see Zuko with Aang in tow. Katara immediately smiles, asking how training is going and offering to cook up some food. Aang listens intently, never taking his eyes off of Katara – that boy is whipped, I tell you – and Zuko keeps flicking his gaze between the floor and you.

“Hey, Zuko?” you ask, and his head snaps to you with a shocked look on his face.

He doesn’t think you have addressed him first once since he met you, and honestly, he’s kind of scared of what you want to tell him. Did you finally convince the others that he should leave? Do you just want to express how much you hate him? When he sees your struggle to speak, however, his shock turns into curiosity.

“I- As you know, Toph and Sokka are sick,” you begin stiffly.

“I am aware,” he answers.

“Well, I thought I would go into town to get some medicine for them, but Katara didn’t think it was a good idea if I went alone, so she thinks you should accompany me. Of course, if you have something else to do, I’m sure I can just-“

“I’m free,” he answers, interrupting your rambling.

You are blushing furiously at this point. Why in the world did he make you feel so uncomfortable? Of course, you didn’t trust him, but you weren’t usually uncomfortable to speak to the boy. You shook your head slightly, trying to clear your thoughts.

“Okay. Thank you,” you said, turning to grab a basket to carry the medicine. “Let’s go.”

Zuko walked beside you in silence the whole way. Usually, he would make a move to try to help you, but this time he simply walks beside you in silence, sneaking glances at you once in a while. You’re relieved he isn’t trying to hold a conversation, because honestly, you have no idea what to say to him. The others have been encouraging you to go easy on Zuko, and to get to know him, but you really didn’t know how to do that. You were an awkward person, the others were technically your only friends, and things were easy with them because you had helped them get to Ba Sing Se that one time, so you already had a solid foundation to stand on. Zuko, though? How does one even start building a new foundation with someone?

It seemed both of you were lost in thought, because soon enough, you found yourself in the middle of the market, having no idea how you got there. Zuko immediately snapped up, looking around, before grabbing onto your arm to lead you through the mass of people.

It was packed at the market – it seemed a lot of people were at the island for their vacations and had decided today was a particularly good day to get groceries. It was both a blessing and a curse; no one would realize who you or Zuko were, but it was difficult to move where you wanted to go. Another con? It felt like the steady stream of people were going to whisk you both away.

Suddenly, a hand reached out to grab your arm, and you turned around to find the owner to be Zuko. His grip was tight, but he was careful not to hurt you. He wasn’t even looking at you, his focus solely on getting you where you needed to go. Normally, you would have minded his hold – you tended to dislike physical contact, in most situations – but this specific time, you would allow the boy to touch you. It’s not like he was touching you from his own free will, he was doing it out of necessity, after all.

He dragged you around the market and through lots of people for what felt like hours. You were starting to feel panicky, like you couldn’t breathe, and you quickly grabbed Zuko’s arm with your other hand to get his attention.

“What?” he asked, not in an unpleasant tone, but definitely a little bit stressed. Once he saw you face, however, his feature softened and he nodded at you “I’m gonna get us out of the crowd, hold on Y/N.”

Zuko let go of your arm momentarily, but only to grab your hand instead. He wanted to make you feel more comfortable, more safe, but he didn’t really know how to do that. He tried to not let his own slight panic at your state of discomfort bother him, but it was difficult; he had never experienced this himself, and therefore didn’t know how to help, which was the only thing he wanted to do.

Your own head was chaos. It felt like too many thoughts were going through your mind at the same time that there was complete radio silence. There was a high-pitched ringing in your ears, and your chest felt like you were being sat on by a gemsbok bull. Your vision was becoming blurry, and your hands and feet were tingling – probably from lack of oxygen. You didn’t blame Zuko for not knowing what to do, you were a whole mess.

Soon enough, the tall lanky boy found a somewhat quiet corner of the market, where there were very few people, if any. He tried to let go of your hand, anticipating your wrath for grabbing it in the first place, but instead he felt you grip on tighter, so he let you hold it.

“Uhm…” the boy had no idea what to do. He thought back to his childhood, what his mother would have said, and figured sitting down might help. “Hey, why don’t you try sitting down, okay? Just against the wall. I promise I won’t leave you if you don’t want me to.”

His voice broke through the fog in your head, and you nodded at him, looking at him with wide eyes as you hyper ventilated. Never in your life had you been amongst so many people at once, being from the countryside just outside Ba Sing Se. Seeing the sheer amount of people moving around that market had snapped something in you, and your brain couldn’t really keep up with what was going on.

As you slid down the wall, you continued to hyper ventilate, and Zuko couldn’t help but worry. He felt like if he didn’t do something soon, very soon, you would pass out in the middle of the market, and that would attract a very unwanted scene. So he did the only thing he could think of, and held your hand between both of his, starting to trace patterns all over your palm and the back of your hand. You didn’t say anything (even though he was expecting to be yelled at), so he just kept going. Your breathing seemed to be slowing down, so he just kept going, drawing different patterns and breathing slowly for you to hear.

You were slowly coming out of your panicked state, and started to realize what was going on. You had the sudden urge to rip your hand away from his, but decided against it, settling for staring at him confusedly.

“What… What are you doing?” you asked him, eyes wide.

Zuko blushed, letting go of your hand, and clearing his throat. He had had a crush on you since the first time he saw you, and finally getting to hold your hand was a very nice feeling; even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

“I-I was just trying to help,” he tried to explain lamely. “You seemed to be having some trouble breathing, and-“

“Thank you,” you said curtly, taking a deep breath before standing up.

Your head felt light and dizzy, something almost like buzzing filling your senses, and you stumbled a little. Zuko, on his way to get up, caught you before you could fall. He looked at you with eyes full of concern, but you shook him off, taking another deep breath and shaking your head a little to clear it.

“So, where are we?”

He blinked down at you, and then glanced around his surroundings, before grimacing.

“Uhm…”

“Don’t tell me…” you said, eyes shut tightly.

“Well-“

“Please don’t tell me we’re lost.”

Zuko hung his head, scratching the back of his neck. You groaned, turning your face toward the sky, almost begging the spirits to guide you. Your friend were sick, Zuko had to train Aang, and oh yeah- you were stuck with Zuko. Life just seemed to love you today, huh?

“Fine. Which way did we come from?” you asked, and when the boy shrugged, you wanted to laugh. Not because it was funny, lord knew it wasn’t funny in the slightest, but because it was just your luck. “Great. Let’s walk this way.”

You picked a random direction, and started walking. The place you were aiming for had a lot of people, so you figured chances were that you were correct, but there was a lot of people in any direction you looked, so who knew. Zuko followed your brisk pace with ease, his long legs making it easy for him to keep up. Luckily for you, you soon found a store with herbs, and so you purchased what was needed, and decided to try to leave.

On the way out, Zuko grabbed your elbow tightly, making you turn to him in anger. You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again when you saw his expression.

“Someone is following us,” he hissed, and you cursed swiftly under your breath.

“Well, fantastic,” you murmured back sarcastically. “What’s the plan, genius?”

“Well, we have two options, both of which you’re not gonna like.”

You really, really wanted to scream.

“Lay it on me, hotman.”

“Well, either we cause a scene and run away,” he started, but at your grimace he continued, “or we… pretend to be a couple.”

“What?!” you hissed back, glaring at him.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, now choose before I’m arrested, Y/N.”

You thought about it. And then you thought some more. And then you wanted to think more, but it seemed you ran out of time as Zuko dragged you over to the nearest wall, pushed you against it, and You thought about it. Then you thought about it some more. You wanted to think about it more, but you apparently took too long to decide. In a flash, Zuko had grabbed you, pulled you to the nearest wall, pressed you against it and kissed you. Hard. The weirdest part of it all was how much you enjoyed it – you had always thought that your first kiss would gross you out, especially if it was with Zuko (not that you had thought about it), but here you were. You kissed him back, winding your arms around his neck, taking the kiss deeper.

His lips were so soft, so smooth and so inviting. It set off a swarm of butterflies in your tummy, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. Before today, you had been unsure about Zuko. You hadn’t hated him, but you had been on edge around him. Trust issues were a part of who you were, so really, it wasn’t his fault. But after today, when he took care so you wouldn’t get lost, and when he did all he could to help you during your panic attack, he had won you over. Of course, being a good kisser helped his case, but still.

Zuko? Oh he couldn’t believe this was happening. Your mouth moving so perfectly with his, his body pressed against yours, and you actually enjoying the kiss. His knees felt weak, and he never wanted the moment to end. He had one hand around your waist, the other cupped beneath your jaw, thumb softly stroking your cheek. His whole body was singing with delight, with relief, from getting what it had wanted for so damn long.

The two of you stayed there like that for a long time. There was no telling where the person who had spotted Zuko was, or if he had found you, but you didn’t care. The kiss was overdue, and very, very nice. You didn’t pull apart until your lungs were screaming for air, and even then, you stayed against the wall for a while, your arms around his neck and his hands placed on your body. He pressed his forehead against yours and smiled, and you returned it, albeit shyly.

“I think he’s gone,” you told him after a while, and Zuko took a deep breath before letting you go. “We should get moving before he comes back.”

Zuko’s heart sank a little bit in his chest. For a second, he had imagined that you enjoyed the kiss, but of course, as indifferent as you always were, that wasn’t the case. You were just good at pretending. Before his heart could fully break, though, you grabbed his hand with yours and intertwined your fingers. Then you smiled up at him, pressing a peck to his cheek, before dragging him off into the throng of people.

Maybe you weren’t so indifferent, after all.

[bnhabadass]

Four Long Days | Bakugo x Aizawa’s Little Sister [angst]

When you are kidnapped by the League of Villains, the two people closest to you have very different ways of handling the situation. This is my first time attempting at writing angst so I really hope you all enjoy.

Pairings: Bakugo x reader, Aizawa / reader (siblings) Warnings: Kinda angsty, mentions of physical abuse

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Villains always seemed to take a liking to Eraserhead’s quirk. There was just something about taking away another person’s power that was so enticing to them. It’s easy to imagine such a powerful feeling, being able to hold someone back with that much strength. That being said, Aizawa was not surprised when word got out that the league had kidnapped his little sister, one of the strongest students in class 1-A.

It was particularly difficult for Aizawa, dealing with your kidnapping. On the one hand, he had to reassure his students, your classmates, your friends that you would be alright and that the police force and other pros are working hard to find you. On the other hand, all he wanted to do was scream, cry and beat down the doors of the league’s hideout himself and pummel Shigaraki into a pulp.

Tsukauchi refused to let him on the case. “We understand your concern,” he said. “But because you’re her family we can’t let you on this case. Emotions can get in the way, and it may cause more harm than good if you’re part of this.”

Aizawa understood where he was coming from. He didn’t like it, but he still understood. He was told by Nezu and the rest of his coworkers to take some time off from teaching, but what is there to do when he isn’t busy with exams, grading, and educating? He needed the distraction.

Heading back to the classroom immediately after finding out about your kidnapping might not have been the best idea on his part. Once he entered the classroom, he was left with a sour feeling in his stomach as your chair was empty and your bright eyes and big smile weren’t staring back at him. His students also added to the anxiety he was experiencing. Questions like “when is (Y/n) coming back?” and “Have the police made any moves yet?” flooded his ears, almost breaking the delicately built dam that was holding him together.

“I know just as much as you do,” he said. “When I hear anything else, any public information, any moves that the police make, believe me I will let you know.”

“But sensei, you’re her brother and her closest family member. Shouldn’t you know these things?”

Aizawa could have slapped Kaminari for saying that. The hand in his pocket twitched but he held it back. He could have used his capture weapon to grab the boy, but he was too exhausted from staying up late and tracing your every move, seeing when and where the league could have caught you, to bother chastising the idiot.

“They are not allowing me on the case to look for her,” he explained. “Now if you could please open your books to page 246–”

“It must be very hard for you, sensei,” Ausi spoke up. “I can’t even imagine what must be going through your head right now.”

Aizawa looked at the frog girl and took a deep breath in. “Thank you, Asui. Now let’s stop talking about (Y/n). There is nothing we can do at the moment, and nothing good ever comes out of worrying.”

The rest of the class nodded and took out their textbooks. Class that day was agonizingly slow. Aizawa was distracted, his students were distracted, everyone was distracted. Throughout the day, Aizawa’s eyes kept drifting to a particular student of his, a student he had a feeling was experiencing the worst of this incident.

Bakugo had spent most of class staring out the window, which was unusual for him. It’s true that he was usually quiet during class, not speaking up to give an answer unless it was hero related. Books and school never seemed to interest him that much, but he was intelligent and did well on tests, quizzes and papers.

Aizawa could tell that your being kidnapped was taking a greater toll on Bakugo than it was the rest of the class. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew about your relationship with the blonde boy. He didn’t know the details, and for that he was grateful, but he knew that the two of you shared a bond deeper than that of two classmates, and even of two friends.

He had a feeling that Bakugo would try and leave the dorms that night. He was quiet all day, not even bothering to yell at his friends when they said or did something stupid or out of the ordinary. Aizawa watched him during lunch. He barely picked at his food. It was clear to the pro that his student was having a hard time coping.

He decided to stake out the dorms that night. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in any case, and he would much rather secure the safety of another student than stay up worrying about the both of you.

Bakugo planned on sneaking out around four in the morning. Everyone would be asleep by then, and he would have enough time to run and grab you before your classmates woke up. He didn’t take much with him, just a jacket and a bag with a change of clothes for you. His quirk could do the rest. Bakugo left the dorm with thoughts of you racing in his head. His shoulders were slumped over and he hoisted the slipping duffle bag back over one of them. He missed you. A lot. He was angry, angry with Shigaraki and the rest of the League of Villains for taking you, angry with the police force for taking their sweet time finding you, angry with Aizawa who didn’t seem to care that his own sister was missing, angry with himself for not being able to protect you.

“Going somewhere?”

Bakugo nearly jumped out of his skin at hearing Aizawa’s voice. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Aizawa was stationed in a nearby tree, hidden from anyone’s sight in the thick dark of night. He jumped down and walked over to Bakugo. The light coming from the moon softly reflected off his yellow goggles. He brought them down to where they usually stay hidden in the folds of his weapon. “I had a feeling that you’d try to sneak out tonight.”

“And you’re here to stop me?” Bakugo asked. He was going to put up a fight. He wouldn’t let his sensei get in the way of him going to rescue you.

“I can’t risk having another one of my students leaving and getting injured. I’m sorry, Bakugo, but you’ll just have to trust that the police have a handle on this one.” He reached out to put a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, but the boy slapped it away.

Bakugo had a pissed off look on his face. He was tired and angry, tired of feeling so helpless and angry that he couldn’t do anything about that feeling. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “You have no idea what I’m going through right now. Just let me go find her and I’ll bring her back safe.”

“Where are you going you go? You don’t know where the league has their new hideout. The police and heroes are doing what they can, and to make sure they can get her back safely, all we can do is sit tight and let them do their work.”

Bakugo’s muscles tensed. It’s like Aizawa didn’t even care that you were missing. “How,” she started.

Aizawa waited for him to continue.

“How can you just stand there and not do anything?” he yelled. “You’re her brother, for god sake, and it’s like you don’t even care.” Bakugo clenched his fists and his body started shaking. “How the hell can you just sit back and do nothing!?” He crouched forward slightly as tears began to spill from his crimson eyes. He had done so well in keeping it together, but in that moment, everything he held onto was beginning to spill out.

Aizawa stood for a moment and watched as Bakugo crumbled before him. “We all have our roles in a mission,” he said, placing a large hand on Bakugo’s head. “And for this one, my job is to ensure the safety of the rest of my students. I understand how hard this is for you. You of all people know what being taken by the league is like.”

Bakugo twitched slightly at remembering what everything then felt like, from being trapped in the marble of Mr. Compress to carrying the weight of being the reason that All Might lost his power.

“I wish there was more that I could do,” Aizawa continued. “Believe me when I say that you’re not alone in that feeling, but for now  we just have to wait.”

It was then that Bakugo crumbled, letting all of his pent up anger and sadness out. He leaned onto Aizawa’s shoulder and screamed his sobs. He had never been more close with his sensei than in that moment.

Aizawa let him stay there for as long as he needed. He didn’t mind that the salt from Bakugo’s tears were staining his shirt. He didn’t care that it was late and that he needed to teach the next day.

“I love her,” he heard Bakugo whimper.

“I know,” Aizawa said. “I love her too.”

Neither of them were in class the next day. Aizawa had arranged for Midnight and Present Mic to take over his classes. He had also told them that Bakugo wouldn’t be attending class that day either. The blonde was too distracted to pay attention. He needed time to himself to process everything around him.

The next four days were agonizingly long. When Aizawa wasn’t teaching, thoughts of you and your well being raced through his head. He lost a lot of sleep, but he also grew a lot closer to Bakugo.

The two of them sat down and talked after what happened the night Bakugo tried to rescue you. They talked about his relationship with you, leaving out the details one would hope to spare from a family member. Bakugo told him about how much he loves you, and how you were the only other person in that class who wasn’t braindead.

Aizawa chuckled at that last part. “She means a lot to you,” he said, “and I can tell that you mean a lot to her too.”

Those four long days eventually passed, and Aizawa was grading papers when he received a call from Tsukauchi. They had found the league’s new hideout, and they were sure that was where they were keeping you.

“Bakugo and I will be going to the police station,” he informed his class. “They have found the league’s new hideout, and they have estimated that they will bring (Y/n) back by tonight. Iida and Yaoyorozu are in charge while I’m gone.”

“Wait why does Bakugo get to go?” Kaminari, who was fully aware of your relationship, asked.

“Yeah,” Mina chimed in. “We wanna see (Y/n) too.”

“We don’t want to over-crowd her,” Aizawa explained. “We have no idea what she’s been through, and having so many people will probably be overwhelming.”

“But–”

“Just stop talking, dunceface,” Bakugo said. “We’re bringing her back, okay?”

Kaminari nodded, too scared to open his mouth any further.

Bakugo threw on his jacket and followed Aizawa out of Heights Alliance. The taxi ride to the police station was excruciating. They had no idea if you were even there yet or if the pros were still fighting.

The pros who were working on the case were some of the best, so Aizawa had no doubt that you would be safe soon enough. Still, the hours couldn’t go by quicker.

It isn’t that Bakugo was in unfamiliar territory. He had been to the police station numerous times before, from the sludge incident to being asked to make a statement after the League had kidnapped him. Being here at that very moment, though. He wanted to throw up. His stomach had never been twisted this much. Each knot and loop of his intestines tightened as the minutes slowly flew by.

“Bakugo.” Aizawa said.

“Huh?”

“You’re shaking.”

Bakugo hadn’t realized how intensely his body was moving until his sensei pointed it out.

“They’ll bring her back,” Aizawa reassured his student.

“But what if she’s, I don’t know,” Bakugo scratched the back of his neck. “Different?”

“Different how?”

The vein on Bakugo’s head nearly burst with how Aizawa was acting. He knew full well what Bakugo meant, afterall. “You know! What if those bastard villains hurt her or if they did something to wipe or change her memory.”

Aizawa took a deep inhale. These are the questions that have been racing through his mind since the moment Yaoyorozu and Todoroki came into his office, telling him that you still hadn’t come home from your evening run. Still, he knew that he had to keep a level head in front of his students. He couldn’t break down like Bakugo had in front of him. “Recovery girl said that she’d be here soon,” he informed Bakugo. “Then, when (Y/n) comes back she’ll be quick to heal her.”

Bakugo nodded, although his anxiety did not subside. They arrived at the police station around 9:30, and they stayed there for another five hours. Bakugo conked out an hour after they arrived but kept waking up.

Aizawa was given a cup of coffee from the receptionist at the station, but even with the caffeine he could feel the bags under his eyes grow heavier and heavier as time went on. He had barely gotten any sleep in the last four days, and as he felt the light at the end of this miserable tunnel growing warmer, he could feel himself beginning to ease into comfort.

It was nearing 3:00 am when the police returned. One of the officers was pushing a wheelchair with a small lump inside covered mostly by a blanket. Aizawa dropped his coffee mug at realizing that the small lump was you, huddling in to yourself either for warmth or an instinctive form of self defense.

The sound of his mug falling and breaking on the floor’s surface stirred Bakugo away. He rubbed his eyes which were glazed over with a blurry line of tears that he rubbed away, allowing them to adjust.

“Eraserhead,” one of the cops said. “She put up a nasty fight, but she’s going to be okay.”

Your ears twitched at the sound of your brother’s hero alias leaving the cop’s mouth. It sounded like butter being smoothed onto a piece of warm bread. Ever so slowly, you peeked your head out from under the blanket and gasped as you saw a familiar tangled mop of thick black hair. He really was here.

You watched as he walked over to your chair and crouched down to look at you. He moved some of his messy hair out of his eyes and you could tell he was trying to hold back his tears. Before either of you could think, you launched yourself out of your chair and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. You let out a loud sob, breathing in his musky scent, a scent you didn’t realize how much you had missed until this very moment.

Aizawa adjusted himself so he was sitting on the floor. You sat in his lap, wrapping your legs around his torso as you cried into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “You’re safe now. Don’t worry. I’m here.”

No one dared to interrupt you as the two of you sat there. You were exhausted, having stayed awake nearly all five days you were held captive. It wasn’t long before you fell asleep in your brother’s embrace.

Aizawa told Tsukauchi to call Hizashi to pick the three of them up and drive them back to campus. When you arrived at the dorms, a small group of your friends had stayed up waiting for your return. They all stood up and began crowding around the three of you, you being carried by your brother in your sleeping state.

“Is (Y/n) going to be okay?”

“She looks terrible.”

“What did the league do to her?”

Bakugo’s eye began to twitch at his classmates’ barating questions. “Shut the fuck up,” he said, stepping in front of Midoriya as he tried getting closer to you. Bakugo sounded calmer than his peers assumed he would be, yet his words still had a sharp bite that stung the ears like a chilly windy morning. “She’s had a long few days and I can’t imagine she’s gotten much sleep, so don’t fucking crowd her.”

Your classmates took a few steps back away from Bakugo, afraid of what would happen if they tried to push back against him.

Aizawa, although not exactly thrilled with Bakugo’s reaction, didn’t bother to stop him. “I’m taking her up to her room,” he said. “I’ll let you all know how she’s feeling tomorrow.”

Everyone watched as Aizawa trudged up the stairs with you in his arms. Bakugo followed behind him, but briefly paused. “If any of you wake her up,” he said. “I won’t hesitate to kill you.” He glared at his peers for another few seconds before continuing to follow Aizawa up the stairs.

Your brother laid you down on your bed and pulled the covers up to your chin. His heart sank into his stomach seeing the scars from rope burns around your wrists. How he had not noticed them before he wasn’t sure, but he was definitely beating himself up over it.

Bakugo sat on your desk chair and watched. Aizawa tried to get him to go to sleep, to let you rest peacefully so you could recover faster, but your boyfriend refused. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep anyway,” he said. “Besides, I don’t want her to be alone when she wakes up.”

Aizawa nodded and turned back to you, kissing your hairline before departing to rest himself.

Bakugo sat there staring at your sleeping form, wanting to hold you and comfort you as your disgruntled brow moved up and down as you dreamt of the terrible week you had just endured.

By the time you woke up, it was dark outside. You had never felt more comfortable in your dorm room bed, and you began to regret all the times you complained about the stiff mattresses the school provided. You turned the lamp next to your bed on and saw that your boyfriend was leaning back in your desk chair, fast asleep. You smiled, although your thumb instinctively went to caress the newly formed scar drawn across your cheek.

You watched as Bakugo’s eyes fluttered open and grew wider as he saw you were finally awake. “Hi,” you said, smiling at him meekly.

“Hey.” He gulped a little, not knowing what to do or say. “How are you feeling?”

“How long was I out?” you asked, avoiding the question.

“We brought you back here about twenty hours ago. You slept pretty much all of today.”

“I’m sorry,” you said looking down. “I’m sorry that I needed rescuing and that I wasn’t able to defend myself.”

Bakugo could hear your throat tightening as tears and mucus welled in the back. He was quick to get up and get into your bed to hold you. He missed holding you like he would every Saturday morning before forcing the both of you to get up and go train.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and snuggled into his chest. “I thought I lost you,” you said between cries.

“What do you mean?”

You were silent, not sure if you should continue or not.

“(Y/n) what do you mean?” Bakugo raised his voice slightly, but not enough for him to be yelling at you. “What did they do to you?”

You buried your scarred cheek further into his chest. “They liked messing with me,” you said after a long period of silence. “The stapled one, Dabi, and that girl, Himiko Toga.” You felt Bakugo’s hold on you tighten, but you continued anyways. “At one point he backhanded me and one of his staples cut my cheek.” You sat up slightly so Bakugo could get a good look at the scar.

His eyes widened and his hand began to curl into a fist to prevent himself from blowing up your bedroom out of pure anger.

Knowing that he would pop off at any moment, you laid your head back onto his chest, letting him hold you some more. “Himiko Toga walked up to me and licked the blood off of my cheek. Oh god it was so slimy.” Your toes curled at remembering what her tongue felt like as it lapped its way around your face. “I watched her turn into me, become me before my eyes. Dabi held my head in place, forcing me to watch as she pretended to call you as me and end our relationship. She said that I hated you and that you were holding me back from becoming a true hero.”

You looked up at Bakugo and he wiped a few tears from off your cheeks and a few strands of hair out of your face. “I’ll kill that stapled bastard the next time I see him,” he said.

You nodded as you leaned forward to kiss him. It had been so long since you had felt the warmth of his soft lips on your own and smelt his caramel skin so close to yours. It was overwhelming but in a good way. In that moment you didn’t care that your body ached every time you moved. You were just happy to finally be held by your boyfriend once again.