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nightowlfandom · 3 years ago

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Noctis Lucis Caelum- Anything For You

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Leggo

...

“Good girl.” you smiled as the yellow feathered Chocobo ate from your hand. “Eat up, you need your energy.” you scratched the top of her head as she squawked gratefully.

“Y/N are you still here?” the farmhand, Faye emerged from the stables to find you. “Do you not have any other plans?”

“Trust me.” you began to laugh. “I’d much rather scoop up giant bird poops than deal with my personal life right now...or lack thereof.”

“Well isn’t that somethin- Is that the crown prince I see?” she looked past you which made you follow her eyes. “It is?! Prince Noctis on my Chocobo farm. Quick! How do I look?”

“Like a farmer.” you laughed in reply. “Perhaps get the shit off your boots.”

“Damnit! I should have worn my new ones.” She began wiping the bottoms of her shoes against the grass.

“Faye, he’s just a prince. I don’t know what’s so great about him anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “He seems like an asshole from what I’ve seen of him.”

“You’ve never even met him.” she put her hands on her hips. “Maybe you’ll like him!”

“Sure, whatever you say, Faye.” you laughed. “That’ll happen.”

...

“Ugh why are we here anyways?” Noctis rolled his eyes as Ignis pulled up to the famous Chocobo farm.

“Because!” Prompto snapped in reply. The blond male didn’t even wait for the car to fully stop before he jumped out. “The eggs are supposed to be hatching today and I want to be the first to capture a picture of those featherless faces!”

“Of course.” he scoffed. Noctis liked Chocobos, sure. He just didn’t think an idea of a good Saturday morning was to spend the day at a bunch of dirty, smelly, stables, for a bunch of unhatched eggs no less. “Great.”

“I suggest you fix your face, the farmhand is here.” Gladio grunted, hopping out of the car. “Wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Whateve-” Noctis turned his head towards the loud squawking when his eyes landed on you. You were feeding a random Chocobo while talking to that farmgirl who ran the stables. “Woah.” he felt his heart flutter. Who were you?! He heard you laugh from where he was and felt his heart stop. Your laugh, it was beautiful.

“Yo? Who is that girl?” Noctis scrambled out of the car, nearly falling on his face. He tried desperately to fix himself up. “Specs?”

“I believe she frequents the shops not too far from here.” Ignis replied in his usually cool manner. “I believe she is also a friend of that Dino character we run into from time to time.”

“No way. Her?! Friends with that-” Noctis shook his head in disbelief. He found it impossible to walk forward. Gravity was stopping him. He didn’t even notice everyone else walking ahead of him. He had never seen you around before but he wished he had. “Woah....”

...

You were still chatting with Faye when a group of guys ran up. One of them held a camera and looked as if he were about to explode. You had no time to register the camera flash. Good think he captured your good side.

“I AM HERE FOR THE EGGS!” he declared. His abrasiveness surprised you. Was he talking about the new hatchlings?

“Ummm-” Faye looked scared. “You here to volunteer?”

“Heck yeah I am!” he explosive blonde looked as if he was about to piss himself from excitement. “I WANT TO HOLD YOUR CHOCOBOS!”

“Alright! Keep your pants on. Follow me. Y/N, you’ll be good here right?” Faye asked, seemingly frightened by the giddy young man.

“Yeah.” you stifled a laugh. “I’ll be just fine here.” you shook your head as the man ran full force for the stables. You were about to go about your business when a black haired boy stumbled up to you. “For a royal, you’re pretty clumsy.” you stifled laughter.

“Huh?!” he looked taken aback. “You know who I am?”

“...I mean aren’t I supposed to?” you turned back towards the Chocobo. “Prince Noctis?” you tried to hold in your distaste, but he caught up on it instantly.

“Is there an issue with me-”

“As a matter of fact there is. Don’t think I didn’t notice that face you were making when you pulled up with your friends.” you cut him off. “Big and bad prince man can’t be seen around a few Chocobos?”

“Oh, no that’s not it at all.” Noctis tried to explain himself in the best way he could.

“Then what exactly is it?” you turned towards him again. “I mean really?”

“Okay so I admit my attitude isn’t the best-”:

“So you admit it?” you held back harsh laugh. “Hm, It’s a start.” you shrugged.

“I mean, you aren’t really giving me a fair chance. You only know me from the papers.” he explained. “You don’t really know me as a person. For all I know you could be a stalker.”

“I am no a stalker!” you looked him up and down.

“I wouldn’t know that.” he winked. “So maybe we both have it all wrong.”

“And what do you wanna do to fix that, go on a date or something?” you scoffed.

“Yes!” he replied honestly. “Let me prove I’m not some asshole!”

“Is it that imperative that you go out of your way to prove to me that you aren’t an asshole?” you raised a brow.

“Yes!” he nodded quickly.

...

You boredly sat at the restaurant table. He was late. 15 minutes to be exact.

“I knew this was a load of-” you prepared yourself to stand up when a man frantically rushed in.

“I’M HERE!” Noctis yelled, grabbing the attention of the other patrons. He practically fell into the chair right across from you.

“Nice of you to show.” you sat back down. You decided to humor this guy. “Care to explain?”

“Sorry! Stupid Prompto gave me the wrong address and...woah...” he nearly drooled all over the place seeing you in your tight black dress. “You look...amazing.”

“Sure I do.” you scoffed. “I’m sure I still have dried up chocobo shit in my hair,” you turned away from him, feeling your insecurity creep up on you, tons more than usual. “But thank you.” you relaxed in your chair.

“No I mean it! Even when I saw you...I thought you were beautiful.” he expressed.

“Really?” you paused to look him in the eye.

“Really.” he smiled. “You’re the best looking girl here.”

“I definitely don’t believe that...but thank you.” you said shyly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

....

“What about that one?” you pointed to a random star.

“That one, there’s a legend that it’s a parallel version of this world.”

You both sat at the edge of the lake, staring into the moonlit sky. After dinner, Noctis had taken you to the docks on Galdin Quay.

“No way. “You stared at the star in wonder. “How many worlds do you think there are?”

“Infinite, my dad says so.” Noctis replied. “All different versions of us doing different things.” he smiled to himself. “Maybe there’s a version of me that...is actually proud to be a prince.” he glowered.

“Maybe there’s a version of me whose the royal instead.” you nudged him. That made him chuckle a bit.

“If that’s the case...I’d be happy to bow down to you.” he flirted. He looked back at the sky. “Try that one.” he pointed.

“I know that one.” you beamed a little. “There’s a legend called the Lover’s Star, if a couple sees it on their first date...they’ll be together forever.” you mused romantically. It was only then you had realized your fingers had laced into Noctis’s.

“Maybe today was our lucky day.” he winked. After a second of silence, you decided to confess.

“I was wrong about you.” you said honestly a while. “I think you’re pretty amazing, Noct.” you chuckled.

“So...” he smiled deviously. “Are ya gonna say I’m sorry?” he mocked.

“You wish. You’re still a stuck up prince to me...you’re just not an asshole prince.” you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re not like most guys around here.” you shyly looked away from him you dug your toes into the sand.

“Well I’m not from around here.” he replied. “You’re different from everyone around here. You’re not all into me because I’m The Prince Noctis- that’s all I want. I want someone to see me for who I am...not what I am.”

You shyly kicked your legs in the water, looking at the ripples in the water.. “I’m glad I could be that person for you Noctis.” you smiled.

“Guess this means you’re gonna be part of my team now?” he bit his lip. “You’ll be my...ummm...I’ll think of something.”

“I look forward to it.” you giggled.

“Hm for now...come here.” he winked, gently holding the side of your face. Noctis kissed you. You felt your senses go off. You instantly grabbed his face, kissing him back.

...

You fell back on the hotel bed, refusing to disconnect from a feverish prince throwing himself at you. He kissed you with urgency, as if you would disappear before his eyes. He tore a rip up your dress hastily.

Your tongues clashed together as you kissed, the air was getting heavy. You helped Noctis out of his jacket. Your dress had turned to ribbons and your panties weren’t too far behind.

“N-noctis..” you hissed, feeling his hands explore every inch of your body.

“You feel even better than I imagined you would.” he kissed your bare stomach. “You’re so beautiful.” he moaned. It was like you were the goddess, the royal, and he was the peasant.

You felt shy under his gaze. He stared up at you, biting his lip. “I don’t think I can wait...” he groaned. “A-are you okay with this?”

“God, yes.” you mewled as he kissed your thighs.

“I wanna worship you.” he moaned, ghosting his lips over your center. You shyly stared down at Noctis who looked up at you with a shit eating grin.

He sunk his tongue into you, lashing against your pussy. You instantly grabbed a fist full of his hair. You and him both were a mess. Hisses and prolonged moans escaped your lungs along with his name. You were sure the people in the next room could hear you.

Noctis crawled over you again, a predatory glare in his eyes. He bit his lip, staring down at you. “You’re so fucking cute...”

...

“I’d do anything for you.” he moaned against your lips. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.” he whimpered, his thrusts growing sloppily. He bucked his hips rhythmically, your bodies moving and grinding in sweet friction. His cock twitched inside of you as he grew near his release, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to cum to the sounds of your cries and screams. ”Gonna make you my queen and w-we’ll rule together until our hearts give out baby. F-FUUUCCKK.”

“Noctis.” you croaked. Hearing his words in your ear made you hiss in delight. This alone caused him to dig his nails into your sides and thrust even deeper into your heat. You didn’t know what else do you but let a stream of cries escape your lungs.

“I love it when you say my name.” he grunted. “Say it again.”

“N-noctis.” your insides lurched as you tightened around his length. “I wanna- I’m gonna-”

“Again.” he barked. “Never stop saying my name. Never say another man’s name!” he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. “You’re mine, baby. You’re all mine.” he growled.

“Noctisss.” you arched your back. “F-fu-” you whimpered, at the impact. “S-shit!”

Noctis yanked himself from you, spraying his cum all over your stomach. Shortly before, you came too, feeling your water run down your leg. He fell forward, burying his head into your neck. “Baby, I’d fucking do everything for you.”

You shook under his body, whimpering at his gentle touches. You felt him kiss your need lovingly as you both drifted off to sleep.

...

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captain-kinda-trash · 4 years ago

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Hello love! I hope I’m one of your first asks!!! 😍

Can I order up a new love/confessing feelings with a side of fluff, a la Bayverse Donatello please?! 💜

Sure thing lovely!! Hope you enjoy!!

Truck Repairs (Bayverse! Donatello x Fem! Reader)

"Torque wrench please."

"Got it."

The slap of cool metal against scales resounded from underneath the Turtle Truck (a name Y/N commonly used, much to her companion's distaste), as Donnie was handed yet another tool from the plastic box next to his feet.

"Thank you." He huffed out. The cranking of gears, clinking of iron echoed out from the truck.

"Sure thing, Don," The girl said, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the turtle's legs, "How much longer do you think this should take?" Her eyes stole an extensive glance at those toned, long, delicious-looking limbs. Wait. What? That didn't come from her mind again, did it?

Of course, it did. When did it not? Donatello sighed, voice floating out from below the massive machine, and then the wheels of his skateboard rolled against the cement as he uses his feet to pull his body from underneath.

"Uh, I'm not sure. The damage inflicted on the lower regions of the compression body is pretty tremendous. It could take up a few days, weeks even, if not strategically maneuvered-" he pushed the goggles from his eyes to settle comfortably on the top of his head, revealing the glittering hue of those beautiful amber eyes, "But it seems to be going well at the moment."

His mouth cutely curled up into a smile, one that never failed to release a cocoon of uncaged butterflies in Y/N's stomach.

She grinned back, and then shyly turned to study the soles of her shoes, evidently more interesting than looking at his uncannily handsome face.

"That's good to hear. Maybe we should take a break soon. You've been working like crazy since you got back from patrol."

His smile very subtly faded at this suggestion, though he made sure that his friend didn't catch it. Donnie enjoyed this company that she provided working with him on the truck's repairs, much more than he was willing to admit. Though, yes, he could use a nice break, maybe grab a snack or glass of water, the mutant knew surely that nothing fueled his cravings like her sweet presence (incomparably rich to the taste of his beloved pop tarts).

And if the same wasn't in her book about him, then by gods...

I mean sure, he's a mutant. Gross right?

Wrong. So, so very wrong.

"Y-yeah I guess we could take a little break." He responded, then let out a sort of struggled grunt as his body lifted to sit upwards and rest his shell on the side of the garbage truck.

Y/N's eyes wandered once more at the marvelous rolling and extending of his muscles as he did so, draping a single sturdy arm across one knee and using the other to adjust his glasses. She gulped. Her gaze shamelessly traveled to the seemingly endless length of his legs, until she caught the quick movement of his head in her peripheral.

She immediately averted her stare, back down to the laces of her converse, trying to subside the heat crawling quickly over her neck.

"T-tell you what, why don't I go grab you a snack, and you stay here and see if there's anything else we can do." Y/N pushed herself up from the ground and before Donnie could respond, she had already scampered out of the workshop to avoid any further humiliation.

"O-okay!" He called after her, though the likeliness of hearing him was probably far gone since she was already in the kitchen by then.

Y/N grasped the bridge of her nose between her for dinner and thumb, letting out an exasperated sigh as the tap water still poured, pattering against the metal sink.

'He totally caught me staring,' she thought. Though her self-control was usually tempered, easily under restraint, it melted into a helpless puddle when Donatello's presence was made known around her. Hell, even passing up the open doorway of his lab as he worked was a strain, and Y/N found herself peeking in curiously as his eyes fixated carefully, passionately over a project as he worked.

It took every willful ounce in her body not to just snatch the tails of his violet bandana and yank him in for a savory kiss every time he was a few feet away from her.

Her brain, exhausted from such thoughts, tried to focus on her footfalls, the wrinkle of pop-tart wrappers, the clinking of ice against glass cups, a cool contrast against Y/N's warm arms.

She halted directly outside of the workshop, inhaled, exhaled, and then rounded the corner to see-

Nobody? Weird. Perhaps Donnie had gone to his lab to grab more tools or just put them away since the aforementioned bucket of appliances had gone missing right along with their possessor.

"Huh. Weird." Y/N thought aloud, and then after looking over her shoulder and out of the doorway, she decided that she might check out the inside of the truck. After all, it had been some time since she'd seen it and was rarely able to because of the lack of missions she joined in on.

She set the two cups of water and foil packages gently on a nearby bench, before making her way towards the rear entrance. Y/N's hands settled on the large iron handle wrapping their small extent around it and then pulled down with all of her strength.

Man, the brothers made it look so easy, and by the time the lever reached its lowest point with a loud click, she had managed to work up a bit of a sweat.

The door, a huge garage-like lift system on the back end of the truck, began to lift, creaking and groaning as it did so. Y/N smiled, eyes glancing down carefully as her feet made contact with each rising step into the truck.

However, her plan had been spoiled, if you could even call it that. Because, just as she was entering the vehicle, it seemed Donatello would be exciting. As Y/N looked up from the final footstep, and Donnie from his tech pad, their noses and mouths bumped, and all was still. Both of their bright eyes were wide with shock and unbearable mortification at the sensation of petal-soft skin against cool scales, lips awkwardly resting upon one another.

They both pulled away as fast as they had come together, though Y/N had been so caught up in her humiliation, that she forgot about the staircase behind her and lost footing. An abrupt shout escaped her lips, helplessly flailing her arms in the air to grab onto something and a strong pair of arms had quickly caught her.

When the girl hesitantly opened an eye to analyze her seemingly unfortunate position, all she was met with, was the shine of Donnie's lustrous eyes, glinting in the bright lights of the workshop. Both were heaving breaths, adrenaline rushing from the swiftness of this occurrence.

"Thanks..." Y/N managed to squeak, trying to calm the furious blush and racing tempo of her heart at the touch of Donatello's strong arms still wrapped around her, "I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes..."

At her remark, Donnie's expression seemed to relax, and he let out a little giggle of amusement. Y/N smiled softly, and then placed the tip of her finger on the bridge of his snout, accompanied with a small 'boop!' That made him laugh even more and then a snort, something he didn't seem to proud of.

"Have I ever told you how cute you are?" She asked, rather abruptly, and the blunt question caught the turtle off guard. She wanted to smack herself across the face at the spilling of her internal conflicts but figured that doing so would cause her further embarrassment. Instead, Y/N was stuck trying to interpret Donatello's dumbstruck expression.

"E-erm, uh no. No, I don't think you've told me that..." Stupid, stupid stupid! What a response! Donnie's mind quipped, Could have at least said thank you... "Y/N..."

"Yeah, Don?"

His answer was completely wordless, just boring endlessly into her sparkling eyes. Though his next move seemed to be a more suited response.

Before he could stop himself, Donnie closed the short distance between and capturing her mouth in a short kiss, tightening the strong grasp of his forearms around her waist and back.

Y/N blinked once. Twice. And nothing shifted, though seemed completely unreal, like one of the hallucinations that she'd conjured in her mind before.

But this was just so... Real. He pulled away before Y/N could fully process what was going on, leaving her mouth to chase after his momentarily.

"You're really... U-um, Y/N I think you're beautiful. And I have this strangely romantic fascination with you..." Donnie trailed off, realizing how utterly stupid he must sound, however, the girl held tightly in his arms found it extraordinarily romantic.

Her fingers danced around the back of his neck snatched the tails of his silk bandana, and then pulled him in again, this time for a lingering address on the lips, tilting her head just slightly to deepen it. Donnie let out a short squeak of surprise, that faded into a satisfied chirp, bellowing from his throat.

They broke away, heaving puffs of air, and idiot-like grins spread across their faces.

"I really like you too Donnie."

"I'm glad," he breathed, just inches away from her face, "cause now we can work together and you don't have to hide staring at my legs."

Y/N flushed immensely before swatting his chest repeatedly, trying to hide her smile at his amused laughter.

"Donatello I will take away your pop tart privileges!"

fin💜

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt x reader #tmnt donatello #x reader #tmnt+donatello+x+reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo #request #fluff #tmnt 2016 #donatello

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honeymoonjin · 3 years ago

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.6k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mentions of sexual content

A/N: please do tell me your thoughts on this chapter ! lots of things are going on at once and you may not be happy with me about all of them fskjfksdfjsd

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

You wake up to hair tickling your nose. Flinching away automatically, you’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s distinctive curls as he snores against your chest. His weight presses you against the bed, one of his hands tucked around the nape of your neck and a leg hooked over your hip. Even though Tae was a cuddler, this was closer than he tended to be.

Coming to sit on the side of the bed above you, you catch sight of Jimin leaning in with a fond, albeit sleep-deprived smile to ruffle Taehyung’s hair and then gently buff you on the cheek. You can’t help but return his smile, but it only takes a moment for the reminders of reality to flood back into your mind.

Jimin, already fully-dressed and with subtle sweeps of pearlescent silver on his lids, frowns at your change in demeanour. “He’ll be okay,” he whispers, not needing to ask you what’s on your mind.

You nod, careful not to jostle the sleeping man on your chest. Part of you just wants to fall back unconscious with him until things are back to normal, though the thought of going into town to visit Yoongi gives you something to stay awake for. “Are the others up?”

“Not yet,” Jimin mumbles, glancing towards the door as if he could see them from his spot on the bed. “I wanted to let them sleep. I’ve been messaging hyung.”

Fighting the urge to sit up, your eyes widen. “Is he doing okay?”

Jimin shrugs. “I doubt he’d admit over text if he wasn’t, but he seemed hopeful. His father is starting to stay awake for longer bouts of time, almost enough to hold a conversation.”

“That’s good,” you respond in a small voice, though it’s just a guess, your voice lilting at the end in uncertainty. You didn’t know anything about heart attacks, had never been confronted by them in your life, and could only assume that responsiveness was a positive sign.

Taehyung shifts on top of you, and you freeze, waiting for him to adjust himself, grumble a bit, and continue snoozing.

Jimin quirks a smile, gets up, and makes his way around to your side of the bed. Lying on top of the covers, he turns his face to you, so close you feel the tip of his nose bump yours. “Y/n,” he starts off slowly, eyes swimming in some unreadable emotion.

You find yourself unable to break the gaze. “Mm?”

“I don’t want to wait.”

Your brows furrow. “Wait for what? The others?”

“No, no,” he dismisses, plush lips protruding a little in insistence. “I… This has me thinking. The whole situation with Yoongi’s father, I mean. I can’t imagine any of us here are exactly at risk of heart failure, but it does make me think about just how much is left up to fate.” He drops his eyes, then, tilting onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. You feel a nudge on the back of your hand, and look down to see Taehyung unconsciously reaching out, wrapping his fingers around yours. When you look up, Jimin still hasn’t continued. His jaw works, like he’s toying with the right words to say.

When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, smooth murmur, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear. “Our plan of waiting until we can date like normal seemed logical at the time. But I care so much about the two of you. Too much. It seems foolish to postpone anything just to play it safe.”

You blink, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice and the words it delivers. “So… What are you saying, Jimin?”

He swivels, quick enough to jiggle the bed, and Taehyung whines against your collarbone, slowly beginning to rouse from sleep. Jimin doesn’t notice, his eyes burning twin fires as he leans in close again. “I don’t want to wait to tell you I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back without hesitation. Jimin’s hands reach out gently to cup the sides of your face so tenderly, eyes crinkling, and suddenly you feel the sting of tears. Taehyung’s weight begins to shift and lift off of you, rolling onto the other side of the bed, and the sudden change has you feeling unmoored. “This is going to get messy, Jimin. You know that.”

“What’s going to get messy?” Beside you, Taehyung pushes himself up onto one elbow, blearily rubbing at his eyes.

Instead of responding, Jimin’s teeth peek out from a grin as he launches himself over you and collides with Taehyung mouth-first, gripping his t-shirt and holding him close for a few, meaningful moments.

When they break apart audibly, Taehyung looks stunned still, and Jimin lets out a disbelieving laugh, like he can’t even process his own enthusiasm. “Tae-tae, I love you,” he announces in visible delight, smile stretching.

Taehyung’s eyes widen and glisten, and his fingers jump up to wrap around Jimin’s wrist. “Minnie,” he breathes, and the three words that follow don’t need to be voiced for you - and Jimin - to hear them.

Straightening up further and turning to address the both of you, Jimin looks like a mad scientist on the verge of a breakthrough, his previously coiffed appearance looking decidedly rumpled. “It- I don’t care if it’s messy,” he confesses, “I don’t. And I don’t care that it’s scary, or that I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to- to this, or that we’re still in the show. You make me happy, both of you, and I love both of you, and…” He cuts himself off to swallow and suck in a breath, fingers clenching in the fabric of Tae’s shirt that he never let go of. “And I think I deserve to have this.”

When he puts it like that, you have no rebuttals. Sitting up to meet him halfway, you seek out his lips and let your eyes fall closed to savour the closeness.

Jimin kisses you like he never has before. It’s free, unfiltered, and not in the greedy, intense way he kissed you when you were scening together. Jimin kisses you like he’s entirely liberated, like he could spend an eternity with his lips joined to yours, unhurried and assured.

Your lungs lighten with a lack of oxygen, but you refuse to part from the softness of his embrace until you’re physically tugged out of it.

Taehyung pouts up at you, tilting his chin up. Even as he feigns being playful, you know what he’s asking for, and it’s more than just a kiss.

You turn to him, bending until your cheek is pressed to his. “Taehyungie, I love you,” you profess into his ear, lips curled at just how true it is, at how light it makes you feel to say it.

“That’s a relief,” he mumbles, pulling back just enough to give you an indulgent yet chaste kiss, mouthing the words I love you too against your mouth. With a dreamy sigh, he collapses back onto the mattress and bats his eyes up at Jimin. “I hope this confession doesn’t make you too soppy.”

“And why is that?” Jimin asks, a hand lazily running up and down Taehyung’s side, skimming his hip and dipping beneath his shirt to rub his soft stomach.

Arching into the touch like a pleased pet, Taehyung shrugs in mock-innocence. “Y/n and I still need someone to rail us,” he states. “When is mean Minnie going to come out again?”

Jimin’s eyes glint at the prospect, and suddenly you see the expression of the man who originally entered the Villa. The cocksure, unforgiving dom who had you weak at the knees from the start. If it didn’t send a spark of arousal through you, you’d probably be impressed at how naturally he brings it to the surface. “If you’re needing a little discipline, Taehyung, you only have to ask. I won’t be so soft on you next time. I hope you don’t regret it.”

Shameless, Taehyung pouts and whines deep in his throat, wrapping his lower half around where Jimin’s seated. “Well, don’t do it now,” he scolds in a small voice, “it’s not fair making me horny before we go to the hospital. You better fix this.”

The mention of the hospital sobers you all up a bit, but Jimin just furrows his brow down at Taehyung, pushing him flat on his back with a single strong hand, and using that same hand to palm roughly at Taehyung’s crotch, a tent beginning to form in the boxer shorts Tae had worn to bed.

Taehyung keens, but lays back obediently and lets Jimin massage him to full hardness, heavy breaths pushed out of his nose.

“Come on, then,” Jimin says after a moment and removes his hand entirely to stand up, ignoring Taehyung’s indignant gasp, “let’s take a shower and get that little demon back under control. Y/n?”

“It’s not little,” Taehyung grumbles under his breath as he gets up and hobbles toward the bathroom with a visible erection.

You sit up, shaking your head at Jimin’s question. “I want to check on the others when they wake and let them know we’re visiting Yoongi today. Maybe pack some of the leftovers in the fridge so the Min family have some decent food there.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, half-turns as if to leave, then freezes, waiting until Taehyung disappears inside the bathroom, turning the shower on with inaudible muttering. “Y/n,” he starts, huffing out a breath and letting his shoulders relax. “I know it’s not only us.”

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “Huh?”

He sends you a smile, halfway between shared humour and resignation. “You really should tell Yoongi-hyung.”

Before you can process the response, he’s in the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Down in the kitchen, Jin has bet you to the leftovers, bent over the counter with a red-stained pair of chopsticks hovering above the bowl. Mouth full, he puffs his cheeks in a smile of greeting.

You slink behind him to grab a mug for coffee, admiring the broad planes of his shoulder blades beneath a fine knit sweater. “I was going to bring those for the Mins today,” you say with a mock sigh, mind already straining to think of what else you could bring.

Jin is one step ahead of you. Without pausing his chewing, he props himself up on his elbow and points the set of chopsticks at the dining room table, which you didn’t notice is laden with tupperware containers, stocked with different foods. “Couldn’t sleep,” he states after finishing his mouthful. “What time are we heading in?”

You shrug, using the coffee machine to brew a cup entirely on auto-pilot. “Jimin and Taehyung are awake, but I’m not sure about the others. Let’s wait a bit and then check in with Yoongi.”

With a slow nod, Jin carefully sets his chopsticks down, balancing on the brim of the bowl. “You worried me last night,” he admits softly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he rebuts without hesitation, turning to offer you his open arms. Abandoning the coffee, you step forward into his embrace, the tension in your muscles loosening the second he tugs you in closer with a strong arm around the small of your back. If he tilts his chin up, he can rest it on the top of your head, and you smother a giggle at the odd feeling of it moving against you as he continues to talk. “All that matters is that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

You melt against his chest, linking your hands around the back of his neck to return the hug. “Mostly,” you say after a moment.

Jin hums, making no move to break apart the hug, and begins to gently rock the two of you back and forth, free hand running lazy figure eights up and down your back. “I’ll take it. Maybe after we visit Yoongi, you’ll be a little more okay.”

“I think so,” you murmur into his sweater. Truth be told, you feel so safe and at peace in Jin’s unhurried embrace that you feel somewhat better already. Closing your eyes to enjoy the slow swaying, you let go of the thought that’s been festering in the back of your mind for a while now. “Does it feel like everything’s falling apart to you? Not- not all at once and dramatic, but like we’re all unraveling on a single thread.”

When Jin sucks in a deep breath, his chest puffs and jostles you slightly. “I understand what you mean. I don’t think it is, though.”

“You don’t?” Suddenly, the snug grip around you loosens, and Jin pulls back to release you from his hold, hands slipping down to link with yours. You miss his warmth immediately, feeling slightly unsteady on your feet. “But Yoongi might not come back. And- And I voted you off and now I’ll have to keep voting you off and it just feels worse every time, and it feels like nobody is really doing this just for the competition anymore and... “ You find yourself falling short, unable to articulate your thoughts. Jin waits patiently, his deep brown eyes watching you kindly. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For everything to turn sour.”

“It might,” Jin admits, gaze darting up and around in thought, until it catches on the coffee machine, sputtering out the last few drops. He squeezes your hands reassuringly before letting them go, and moves over to grab the coffee cup as he continues talking, pouring some milk from the fridge just how you like it. “But then again, it might not. I think focussing on that worry too much will only make it more likely to happen, or will at least prevent you from enjoying the good things to come.”

“Maybe.” You take your coffee from him with a grateful smile, though you’re still not convinced. “How do I just ignore that dread, then?”

Jin leans back against the counter top, shrugging with a thoughtful look on his face. “We have no control over whether Yoongi returns or not. The best we can do is support him through a difficult time. Then, even if he doesn’t come back to the show, I’m sure we’ll stay close. That’s what you really fear, isn’t it? That this house is the only thing tying us together?”

Taking a sip of the coffee, you nod silently. Even hearing Jin say it aloud strikes a note in your heart, and the pang of Yoongi’s absence flares up with it.

The therapist just gives you a warm, genuine smile. “Then I have good news, Y/n. It’s not true. Ask any one of us. The grounds we met may have been set up, but it’s far beyond that now, and I think you feel that yourself, deep down. At the very least, I fully intend to bless you with my companionship for the rest of your life. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Despite yourself, you let out a surprised laugh, and feel your worries ease. “As long as you still cook for me sometimes,” you bargain, and Jin mock-winces, before reaching out to link your pinky fingers together in promise. “You have a deal,” he declares, moments before you hear a rolling thunder of feet banging down the stairs.

Practically tumbling into the kitchen, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook barrel into each other with heavy breaths. All three have jackets on and are holding pairs of shoes, like they’re ready for a school trip. Jimin and Namjoon join behind them a few moments later, far more calmer than the formers, but are equally dressed-up.

“Guys!” Jungkook pants, hand whirling at the door like he’s directing traffic. “We gotta go!”

“Is Yoongi okay?” you ask immediately, heart skipping a beat at the fearful looks on their faces.

“No,” Taehyung says in a frantic, thick voice, “hyung said the hospital served him plain toast and orange juice for breakfast. With pulp! We gotta get something to him and his family fast, that’s like prison food!”

A heavy breath whooshes out of your lungs, and your body goes weak, nearly tipping your coffee over by the handle. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that! Okay, let me just get my jacket and we can head there. Jin already made some food.”

You’re just reaching the doorway before Namjoon sucks in a dramatic gasp. You turn around to watch him raise a hand to cover his mouth, looking around at all of you.

“How… How are we going to get there? We don’t have a car, and Sejin isn’t here today.”

Jimin’s shoulders sink, and his eyes fall shut in visible pain. “Shit. Then we only have one choice.”

Taehyung frowns and reaches back to rub Jimin’s shoulders in encouragement. “Hey, how bad can it be?”

Jimin stiffens and glares out the window as a beefy stranger in sweaty workout clothes bumps into him after the bus takes a tight left turn. “Hey, hyung?”

Jin, with one hand in his pants pocket and the other on one of the overhead loops, glances up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t suppose you’d have room for one more patient at your practice?”

With a click of his tongue, Jin shakes his head. “You’ll survive, Your Majesty.” The bus hits a road bump at speed, sending the gym rat knocking into Jimin, pinning him against the side of the bus, before using Jimin’s shoulder to catch his balance again. Instead of apologising, the man gives a short laugh and moves back, lifting a hand up to grab onto the bar and exposing the dark sweat stain on his armpit. Jin’s face goes pale. “Tuesdays at seven.”

The professional porn star grits his teeth, staring past Jin’s broad shoulders to the scrolling LED display at the front of the bus, an automated voice announcing the stop in unison to the text running across the screen. “We’re the next stop,” he declares with a shiver of relief. “Come on; I’m heading to the doors.”

With a brute determination, Jimin winds past high school students, office workers and small families alike, collecting you all on the way. Most of you had managed to get seats together or sitting next to strangers, but Jimin and Jin were the last ones to get on (Jimin out of sheer reluctance, Jin because he’d taken on the role of counting heads) and missed out on the luxury of sitting down.

The bus driver truly had no qualms about speeding through the streets of Seoul, shaking the metal carriage from side to side with abandon. It was nothing you weren’t used to, but for Jimin, his first time riding a bus certainly didn’t seem to be a pleasant or tolerable one.

Before long, you’re on steady ground again, breathing in the cool air outside Severance Hospital. Now so close to Yoongi again, you feel anxious to get inside and find him, but Jin insists on double-checking you’re all still in one group. Once he’s satisfied, he leads from behind and you make your way to the front entrance of the massive building.

Inside, the lady at the reception directs you to the cafeteria, where Yoongi said he’d meet you. Secretly relieved that you weren’t going to his father’s hospital room, you make your way there and pick two tables by the windows, pushing them together to make enough room for the eight of you.

Even just counting the eight chairs has your eyes pricking, and you find yourself unable to sit still waiting for Yoongi. A single day feels like a lifetime of anxiety, and even as you and Taehyung watch Jungkook play a game on his phone with running commentary, your gaze keeps darting to the automatic doors every five seconds.

Because of your intense vigilance, it’s you who spots him first, the mop of dirty blonde hair (the mint barely still clinging to the ends) catching your eye the second the doors open.

You get up without words, leaving the group. Noticing your sudden absence, you hear them the moment they see Yoongi waving shyly and tiredly, but you have a few metres advantage, and it’s you who meets him halfway before anyone else.

It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from running in the hospital cafeteria, but by the time you get close enough to see the puffiness under his eyes, you dash the last few steps and wrap him in a tight hug, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Your heart is racing wildly, and you can feel an unmatched but equally frantic rhythm beat against you too, Yoongi holding onto you just as strongly.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.”

His voice brings tears to your eyes, harsh and unforgiving, and you have to fight the tremble in your lip to return the sentiment. You feel arms around you from behind, the pressure increasing as the others join the hug. The vulnerable tone of Jungkook, Namjoon’s broad hand on your shoulder, the relieved sigh from Taehyung, Jimin’s deceptively strong body weaving into the center. There’s an absence, still, and you all break apart the group hug after a few moments, seeking the final member out.

To your surprise, Jin is only a step behind you all. Preventing him from joining the hug, however, are the tears wetting his face and blurring his vision, eyes squeezed shut in an unsuccessful attempt to stem the wave of emotion. He sobs silently, breaths uneven and shoulders shaking, trying to wipe his face with clumsy hands but only soaking them too, knuckles pressed to his eyes.

Yoongi lets out a wounded noise, hurrying forward despite him exhaustion. “Hyung, hey, shh, I’m here.” He hooks onto Jin around his waist with one arm and gently tugs one of Jin’s hands away from his reddening face, pressing it to Yoongi’s own cheek in an invitation to look at him. “I’m okay. I’m here now, I’m with you.”

Jin hiccups, visibly fighting to calm down as he blinks through streaming eyes to look down at the younger man. “It wasn’t the same,” he sniffles, “it’s not right without you.” He takes in a single, laboured breath and swallows the thickness in his throat, slowly settling with Yoongi in his arms. “Is your dad okay?”

Yoongi lets out a laugh of disbelief, pulling Jin back towards the tables you’d been waiting at. The rest of you migrate there too, nobody wanting to let Yoongi get too far. “He’s doing fine, actually. Fine for a Min, at least. Near-death experience and he’s already getting my older brother to get him tickets for the Samsung Lions game next week.”

The eight of you sit, finally filling all the chairs the way it should be. Jin takes some tissues from Hoseok’s small satchel to clean up his face, nodding soberly. “That’s really good to hear, Yoongi-ah. All of us were so worried.”

Pressing his lips together in a sad smile, Yoongi looks around at you all. “I was too. I- I really appreciate you all coming in to visit. Dad’s recovering, but… it’s still scary. They’re keeping him here for a bit longer, and after that he’s going to live with my brother for a bit since he lives closer.”

Hoseok, on the other side of Yoongi, leans in for a side hug, pouting. “I can’t even imagine. How are the others holding up?”

“Mom’s doing okay. She’s always been the strongest out of all of us. Yoonji took it really hard. Her and dad have always been the closest. She hasn’t left his bedside since we got here. She says to say hi, though.”

Your heart aches for the poor girl, unable to picture her so despairing after how she’d been in her short time at the Villa. There’s a question on your tongue, but you feel hesitant about bringing it up at the wrong time.

Jungkook, however, has no such concerns, sitting beside you, opposite Yoongi, with bambi eyes. “Does that mean you’re coming back home, hyung?”

Yoongi lets out a small breath at the use of home, and nods after a moment. “Tomorrow, I think. I haven’t talked to Sejin about it yet.”

Jin presses his lips together. “Leave that up to us, Yoongi-ah, just focus on you and your family right now. Oh! That reminds me-” he pushes the bulging grocery bag down the table to Yoongi. “That’s for you all to have. Taehyung told me the food here wasn’t so good.”

“You didn’t have to,” Yoongi breathes, eyes wide as he glances between his hyung and the stacked tupperwares, “but thank you. I’m sure they’ll love your cooking as much as I do.”

“Ah, now you’re laying it on too thick,” Jin deflects with a wave of his hand, though you catch the pink in the tips of his ears. His eyes are still reddened, and when the attention is off him you think you catch his lip tremble a few times, but other than that he seems to have settled down again, relieved just as you are to have Yoongi in your company again.

Jungkook, on the other hand, hasn’t looked away from Yoongi for a single second, eyes wide and focused in as if he might vanish at any moment. The rest of you chat about how strange it is to be outside of the show, and how long ago that first night now feels, but Jungkook offers up nothing. He’s across from Yoongi, Taehyung lazily tugging his hand into his lap and leaning on his shoulder, but even that doesn’t deter his watchful gaze.

It’s not until Yoongi is sharing a story about the horror on his brother’s face when they received their first meal at the hospital that suddenly Jungkook is pitching forward in his seat, elbows crashing on the slightly wobbly cafeteria table. “Hyung!” he blurts, cutting the elder off mid-sentence.

Yoongi’s brows lift in shock, eyes darting to the youngest. “Yeah, Jungkookie?”

“Can I- can we, uh talk in private?” Jungkook swallows, looking smaller and more vulnerable than usual, wearing a zip-up hoodie that’s entirely too big for him and with his hair tucked behind his ears. After Yoongi acquiesces, the two disappear down a hall that leads to a private outdoor smoking area, leaving the remaining six of you in confused silence.

“What was that all about?” Hoseok asks after a moment, glancing back and forth at all of you. “Did I miss something?”

“I think we all missed something,” Namjoon responds quietly, equally befuddled. “Jungkook did seem pretty distressed.”

Taehyung, without a shoulder to lean on, sits up and tries to bury his worries. “Let’s just wait and see what happens when they get back. If it’s important, I’m sure they’ll tell us, right?”

“Maybe they’re just re-enacting The Bachelor,” Jin theories, “if Jungkook comes back with a single rose, be suspicious.” He pauses, eyes narrowed in thought. “Or Yoongi’s fly was down and Jungkook didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone. There are too many variables here.”

“They could be planning a surprise birthday party for one of us,” Hoseok offers up.

“Or one of us has been replaced by an alien and Yoongi is the only one Jungkook can trust,” Taehyung suggests, voice wary.

“Or they’re elo-” Jimin cuts himself off, head darting to the side. “Oh, here they come. Yeah, they definitely just eloped.”

The two guilty parties are doing a miserable job of playing casual. As they approach the table again, Yoongi is in front with red cheeks and bright eyes, surreptitiously pressing his lips together, and Jungkook is trailing behind with a hand fisted in the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt, unable to contain his grin.

“So…” Hoseok trails off meaningfully, beaming at the two of them. “When’s the honeymoon?”

Jungkook’s smile drops, replaced by genuine confusion. “Huh?”

Hoseok blinks. “Didn’t you two just-?”

“Just what?” Shaking off his frown, Jungkook cheers up again. “Hyung is letting me stay in the hospital overnight!”

“What?” you blurt out incredulously, not expecting that to be the reasoning for the strange meeting.

“I’ve never stayed overnight before,” Jungkook gushes, feet tapping on the floor tile in excitement, “and I read somewhere that the fourth floor is haunted. But you need to either be the one in hospital or be family for them to let you stay. Yoongi’s gonna vouch for me and say I’m his brother.”

“In exchange for…” Yoongi starts emphatically, eyes intense and serious.

Jungkook huffs, but it doesn’t dampen his obvious thrill. “In exchange for buying Yoongi lamb skewers from the restaurant down the street tonight and tomorrow morning. What a deal, right?”

Taehyung perks up, eyes wide. “Wait, can I stay too? I wanna see the ghosts!”

“There are no ghosts in the-” Jin begins with a sigh, but Jungkook interrupts, placing a gentle hand on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” he murmurs softly, “but the doctors would never believe you’re one of the Mins. You’re too hot.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open in apparent offense, before he cocks his head to the side. “You do realise you’re also insulting yourself, right, Jungkook?”

“Listen, that’s not important now,” Jungkook insists simply. “Tae-tae-hyung, I promise I’ll facetime you from the fourth floor. Be ready for the witching hour.”

Taehyung swallows in reverence and nods. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, pinching his brow. “What have I signed up for?”

By the time conversation naturally starts to die off, your social batteries draining, it’s time for Yoongi (and Jungkook, apparently) to go back up to the room for dinner. The remaining six of you make your way home on the bus with distinctly less fanfare than when you arrived, all a little exhausted from the onslaught of public spaces after being in the Villa for so long.

It’s weird how tiring it is just being in society, even when you weren’t really interacting with anyone else. But everyone seems to breathe a sigh of relief when you let yourselves in the front door and collapse in the living room inside, Jin making some coffee and the rest of you taking a moment to rest your weary feet.

The absence is still felt, even more so with Jungkook gone too, but it’s far less distressing. Instead, the quiet is a little calming, like a lazy day in after a stressful week. Jimin and Taehyung head upstairs early, and you let them go alone, sensing they’re wanting some time to themselves.

Downstairs, Jin, Hoseok, Namjoon and you spread out on two couches, cradling hot mugs to wake you up a little. It’s easy enough to sit in silence for a bit, but then Hoseok is sitting up, biting on his lip.

“If Yoongi-hyung is coming back tomorrow,” he starts softly, “then what does that mean for all of this? Do we just… start it back up? The competition, I mean.”

“I guess so,” you venture. “But we can’t exactly start a week on a Friday. Maybe Sejin will wait for Monday?”

“Eh, it’s all the same to me,” Jin quips. “Not much skin in the game anymore, huh?”

A flash of guilt strikes your face as you recall only days ago the way he’d been so blindsided by your elimination. It was hard to say if you regretted the decision; you’d originally hoped taking the competition out of the equation would make things simpler, but the fallout that followed and the unsteady peace between the two of you doesn’t really feel worth it. Despite that, there was no easy choice, and for all you know the exact thing could happen with whoever you vote out. You just wish you had some conviction for it.

Jin notices your expression and frowns, but before he can open his mouth, Namjoon pitches in. “I’m kind of dreading going back to it,” he admits, scratching at his knee through a small hole in his pants, “but at the same time I wish we could go back to it already. At least it was consistent. This whole break just makes me anxious.”

“It definitely isn’t fun,” Hoseok supports, sending Namjoon a reassuring smile. “But hyung said he’s coming back tomorrow, and Sejin has been good to us so far. Let’s have some faith that it’ll turn out fine!”

You bite down hard on your tongue. Even if it turns out fine, there’s only so much time you’ll have before you’ll have to boot another man out of the running of the game. Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi, Jungkook or Namjoon. Despite everyone feeling that your bond is stronger than just circumstance, you know it’s impossible not to take that decision personally, and you’re dreading going back to it.

Though, deep down - and it flares that guilt even stronger to think of it - part of you is growing restless, fidgety at having suddenly been deprived of the physical pleasures you’d grown used to receiving in such abundance. It’s only been two days, and you feel stupid for even noting your body’s yearning after such a short time, but it’s nonetheless there, and at least if you went back on schedule, you’d be able to indulge again.

Things felt so somber and serious when all you had were those swirling emotions, and no way to release them. But it feels wrong to even think about pursuing anything when the whole status of the group is on rocky footing.

“You’re thinking too hard.” The voice tugs you unceremoniously out of your haze with a gentle shove to accompany it. Jin, sitting beside you, has scooted closer to eye you with a warm albeit slightly concerned gaze. “What’s on your mind?”

“Everything,” you admit, and Namjoon makes a noise of agreement from the other couch. Hoseok has an arm slung over his shoulders, and you blink in surprise at the casual contact the two of them are sharing. Neither of them have seemed to be the touchy type since you’ve met them, but they appear perfectly comfortable. You make a mental note to keep an eye on them, but it quickly dissolves in your brain the moment Jin puts a hand on your knee and gently squeezes it.

“Hey,” he buffs in a low voice, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah? You boys up to join? It’s still warm out.”

“We’ll head up,” Hoseok says after a glance shared with Namjoon, “it’s been a long day.”

“That it has.” Jin squeezes your knee once more and gets up as the two others heave themselves off the couch and thud upstairs. Holding out a hand to you, the eldest helps you up and leads you out back, linking your arms tightly and walking side-by-side with you out the back door.

The stars are blocked from view by cloud, but the moon provides enough waxy light to see by, the grass glinting silver. Like two lovers from a Jane Austen book taking a turn around a room, the two of you begin a lap around the expansive backyard, following the path.

“This feels very cheesy,” you admit to Jin, glancing up at him with a bemused smile. If you’re honest with yourself, the distinct oddity of wandering around a lawn late at night for no apparent reason is enough to distract you from your worries.

Jin returns your smile broadly, and presses you a little closer to his side. “All the more fun, don’t you think? The cameras aren’t even on. We can actually enjoy the privacy for once.”

You sigh out filaments of tension with every breath, the cooler night air easing your lungs. “That’s true. I haven’t actually come out here often.”

“I noticed. Afraid of the sun?”

“Oh, please,” you defend, “if either of us is a vampire it’s clearly you.”

Taking a few, quiet steps, Jin hums calmly, then suddenly lunges for your throat. A startled yelp leaves you as his face buries in the crook of your neck, and your shoulders rise up to wiggle away from the cold tip of his nose. “St-ah-stop!”

He pulls back, satisfied at his own joke and how effectively it caught you by surprise, but the adrenaline from the sudden fright has you giggling hopelessly, using your free hand to press against your mouth.

“Oh my god, you’re so mean,” you whine, but there’s only playful pouting in your tone, no real malice.

Jin clicks his tongue, entirely unruffled as if he’d never launched himself at you. “What can I say? Daddy is getting old, I think I’d prefer being called Sire.”

You splutter on air, reaching over to whack him. “Be careful what you wish for. I know several kinky little shits in this house that would take you up on that.”

“Strange,” Jin muses, “that you seem to think you’re not one of them.” He sends a smirk down at you, but as you stare up at him too, the gaze softens. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t make those jokes when we can’t actually- Never mind.”

Without intending to, you come to a stop, stepping across from him so you can see him head-on. “The cameras aren’t on,” you point out. “The show is paused.”

Jin’s brows come together, his lids lowering. “Y/n…”

“We could. Not even the- the whole kinky thing, just…” You bite down on your tongue at the reluctance on Jin’s face. “If you wanted to.”

He exhales raggedly, stepping closer and placing his broad hands on the sides of your shoulders. “Of course I want to,” he says, enunciating each word with intentioned care, “but you voted me off, Y/n.”

A chill runs through you, though the air is unchanged. “But Jin, the- we aren’t- that doesn’t matter, the show isn’t even-”

“I understand that,” he allows, closing his eyes briefly with a slight shake of the head, “but I’m going to respect your decision, even if you don’t. I want to do this the right way.”

Your heart sinks, unable to be mad even as humiliation stings your cheeks red. “I don’t even know when the show will end, it could be longer because of this break.”

“And I’m a patient man,” Jin states. You can feel the finality in the air. His choice wasn’t going to change, and you no longer have the energy to try. Instead, you just nod silently, missing the atmosphere only five minutes ago when you hadn’t put yourself on the line and gotten rejected.

His hands on your shoulders feel hot, anchoring you, and acknowledging them only makes your eyes prick more, wishing you could feel his whole body against you again. Knowing that you - god, that you loved him - and that he felt strongly about you too, but that you’d voted him out just to make things easier… It didn’t feel easy now. It didn’t feel worth it now.

“I think it’s time for me to go to bed now,” you say hollowly. You can’t imagine sleep will come kindly, but you feel the desire to be alone and bury yourself deep under the covers until morning. Perhaps longer.

Before you can pull away, Jin leans in, and your heart stops.

With eyes fluttering closed instinctively, you feel lips press chastely, but meaningfully against your cheekbone, before a soft whisper wishes you goodnight.

When he stands up again, you open your eyes and blink harshly, willing the pooling tears not to fall before you’re out of his sight. Emotion is swelling and crashing inside you like a storm at sea, and all you can manage is to choke out, “that’s not fair,” before you’re rushing across the grass, uncaring if your socks get dirty or stained, and barreling up the stairs with tears rendering your vision useless.

#tgm #the gentlemen #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #jin x reader #ot7 x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #vmin fanfic #yoonkook fanfic #yoonjin fanfic

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mxtantrights · 3 years ago

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past lives | 3

a/n: Ok this is like the pre-climax? is that a thing? no well I'm gonna make it a thing right now! time to meet more of the family!! enjoyyy <3

Fallon nudged your shoulder to get your attention. Previously your focus was on the champagne flute, and before that the odd waiter who served it to you with an old scar straight through his mouth.

“I brought you here to snatch and grab stuff, where’s the team spirit?” they ask.

You make a face, “You brought me here because you didn't wanna go alone. And I can’t blame you if I had to come here alone I would-”

“Definitely throw myself off the balcony. Running start.” a voice adds.

It was neither yours or Fallons. So the two of you turn around and find the culprit. And just like destiny or fate or something, you see the guy you handed off a letter from your dead parent a few days prior.

“I mean isn’t it kind of your party?” you ask.

Tim shrugs a bit and sips the drink in his hand. It’s a non verbal answer that gives something away. Maybe it’s in the

“If you think that, then think about me. I’m the plus one.” you say.

He chuckles, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Same”

“Again?” Fallon asks.

You nod your head, “I had to drop something off at the Wayne building not too long ago. To Mr.Drake actually.”

“Oh it’s just Tim.” he says and holds out his hand.

You quickly take it and shake as instructed. Then Fallon follows the action, along with an introduction. Tim smiles and it looks like a genuine one.

“Well when I said we were gonna smooze I didn’t know you pre-planned.” they say.

You nudge them as they snicker.

“I’d probably be the wrong Wayne to smooze. My hectic schedule allows for no free time.” he answers.

Fallon laughs at this. “Oh, well you’re kinda on the younger side too.”

You can see Tim’s check taint red. His eyes dart away from the both of you. You still couldn’t believe that a young man like him was in charge of Wayne enterprises- or enterprise, however that worked out.

It probably felt like the world was on his shoulders.

The phone in your cocktail bag buzzed. Even though you didn’t know who it was, you had a very high suspicion that it was the league. What they wanted you to do at tonight’s event was still under wraps. But you knew that whatever task it was, wasn’t going to lead to a happy ending.

It never does.

You open your bag and take out your phone, “I’ve gotta handle this. My Aunt.”

Both Fallon and Tim nod as you walk away from your table and out into the balcony. It was a bit chippy outside so it wasn’t really of use to anyone. The rich don’t like the cold you guessed. Makes sense, heated floors and sidewalks.

The cold air reaches your skin. You don’t shiver. Growing up in Gotham until you were eighteen you hadn't gotten used to it. It was no Antartica but then again that Icicle man did like to rein terror sometimes. It was like practice.

You open the text and sure enough,

tonight you act as transport.

when you get handed a package deliver it here:

45 Gotham Harbor

Great. You were acting as a convoy tonight. It shouldn’t bother you that much, but it does. If whatever they were planning was something real and dangerous and they were keeping you low on the food chain, that mean you were expendable to them.

It hurt.

It wasn’t like you ran away from them. They gave you an opportunity to leave after a couple of years being one of their fastest rising recruits.. At first it felt like a sick test. Like one final trust fall before they could actually believe your unwavering loyalty.

You sat with the decision for days. It was a whole week before you decided to get out of the league. You thought that as soon as you stepped food out of the place they would kill you. But you walked out the front door and kept walking.

Oddly enough they had even given you a ride to Gotham.

But you being a convoy tonight? This felt like a test. One you needed to pass. If not for your life, then to find out what they were really planning. The league never takes care of things so out in the open like this.

“Did you just get dumped or something?” another random voice.

You turn off your phone and turn your head to the left. In the dark corner of the balcony is a guy. You can only make him out because of his lit cigarette. If it weren’t for that, you probably wouldn’t have made him.

Have your senses and training begun to fade? Ra’s is probably somewhere vibrating off the walls.

Sure enough he comes out of the dark and you can see him fully. He’s not in the night standard uniform. Instead he's in a dress shirt underneath a brown jacket. He did try with the black slacks you see.

Was he security? No he looked a bit familiar.

You think you should probably say something before he thinks rudely of you.

“No, just an interesting text.”

He hums some sort of sound. And then he walks a bit closer. You notice its not close enough to reach out and touch him. He’s really careful. He must be some type of security.

“You were talking to Tim, you one of those Gala Groupies?” he asks.

The shock that falls upon your face can't be helped. It instantly turns into sourness at the implication that you were a groupie. First off, Galas are boring. Second you’d more likely be a groupie for a rockstar than a rich old man- let alone a younger guy like Tim.

You hiss and cross your arms against your chest, “That was bit presumptive wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. Presumptive to think that I did.” he bites back.

You nod you head along with a grin.

“Didn’t know the security detail came with snobbery. How do I know you’re not a groupie for Tim?” you ask.

He looks like he wants to hurl. Then he beings to laugh. His laughter fills the balcony a bit and you just watch in interest. He calms himself and then places his hand over the railing to rest.

“I would not, it’d be weird.”

“Not your type?”

“My brother will never be my type.”

Ah.

You look at him for a second more and then it clicks. This was Jason Todd, the black sheep of the Wayne family, you are talking to. You thought he looked familiar you just couldn’t place him earlier. Even though the white streak through his hair should’ve gave it away.

“My apologies.” you say.

He fakes wiping a tear from his eye. “no worries, you gave me a laugh tonight. I should be thanking you.”

“I am not gonna be your groupie either.”

“Presumptive, but okay.”

“Have a good night.”

Bruce finds Tim in-between mingling and cuts in.

“Oh thank God, I thought for another second my head would burst.” Tim says.

Bruce smiles, “Saved you then.”

“Have you seen Dick anywhere? I wanted to get his eyes on a case of mine.”

“No night work at the Gala. Take a break.”

Bruce begins to look for Dick within the crowd of people. His eye bounce from person to person. Effectively he’s glanced over you without a second thought. Or so he thinks.

When he does finally find Dick, he calls for him. This makes his son stop in his tracks. He comes to a stop and you were right behind him as he did. You aren’t quick enough to stop yourself and so you go colliding into his back.

“So sorry about that.” he says.

You shake your head, “It’s fine. No drinks spilled or whatever they say.”

He throws out a laugh so easily. You smile quickly and make a B-line for Fallon. As you make your way to where they have taken new residence, you see their face change. More specifically their eyebrows go up in the way that says ‘oh?’

“Cut it out, he bumped into me.”

“Maybe you guys can do some more bumping. Later on, if you-”

“I know exactly what you mean and I’m not entertaining you.”

Dick makes it over to his father and his brother. When he does Tim claps his back with his hand. It makes Dick wonder where the time went.

“Nice to see you brother.” Tim says.

“You too. Bruce.”

Bruce just nods. A man of not many words for those closest to him. He sure did know how to entertain guests though. It was all a mask anyways. If anything he was doing them a service not using it with them.

“I almost ran into someone. Thankfully there was no drinks involved, I would’ve ruined a whole outfit.” Dick says, pointing back to you.

Tim follows his finger over to where you and Fallon are standing.

“Oh, that’s who delivered me that letter the other day. Speaking of which, there was another one addressed to you Bruce.” he says.

Bruce nods his head once, “I know I saw it the other night when you passed out on your desk. At some point we’re gonna have a conversation about your sleeping habits.”

Jason walks up to the three men.

“You’ll never correct it. He’s more of a bat than you.” he says.

Bruce is doing double the work. He’s listening to the conversation happening in front of him about Tim’s horrible sleeping schedule or lack thereof. While he looks over at you. The person Tim said delivered the letter.

His child.

#dc #batman #Dick Grayson x reader #Tim Drake x reader #Jason Todd x reader #batman x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader #dc x reader #PAST LIVES #redhood x reader

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saphirered · 3 years ago

Note

I had a cute thought today after getting sunburn lol - imagine the exu peeps are on the road during the colder months, and one shares a night watch with the reader who is like a walking furnace (maybe tiefling for infernal bloodline) and the reader just... scooches over to their chilly companion and hold them close so they don't freeze 💚💚💚💚🔥

Okay here we go. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Dorian)

Never did Dorian think he’d be the one to be so cold. It’s impossible to repress the shivering no matter how much he tries to huddle up in a ball pulling his knees to his chest, arms closely tucked under his armpits. It’s like ice runs through his veins and there’s nothing he can do about it. He has half the mind to just put his hands in the campfire until he feels the heat burn but he’d rather not have to deal with burns for the rest of his life just because he felt cold one night.

You’re seated on the edge of camp paying close attention to the road nearby for any passerby's that may threaten you and your group. Once you deem it safe and its late enough to be sure no one traverses the roads at this hour you return to the camp to see Dorian trying to cocoon himself up in whatever he can find. You sit down in your previous spot not too far from him as he tries to get comfortable but simply can’t. The shivering is quite pitiful if not a little adorable.

Dorian’s eyes turn from the fire to you; completely unfazed by whatever cold he’s experiencing. When you take off your scarf and hand it to him he doesn't think twice about taking it and quickly wraps the warm fabric around his hands. How is it your scarf feels this warm? It’s almost unfair. You laugh as he blows air into his fabric clad hands to preserve heat.

“Are you laughing at me?” Dorian accuses with a hint of jest though he might actually just be very jealous of you.

“Maybe a little. Don’t take this the wrong way but you look terrible.” Dorian fake gasps because how dare you tell him he doesn’t look tiptop.

“Well since you seem to have me at a disadvantage, how about you share your mysterious ways to stay warm?” You laugh and scoot closer offering him your hands. Hesitantly he removes one of his from your scarf and when he feels the body heat preserved within you he pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you and making you his own personal heater.

“You’re welcome.” You say as Dorian’s grip tightens in recompense for your comment but mutters a ‘thank you’ somewhat muffled by your shoulder.

“As long as you know I will not let you go until the cold fades.” Dorian pulls away slightly to properly speak to you and regrets his words the moment your smug grin becomes apparent. Maybe he shouldn’t stroke your ego as such but right now the benefits far outweigh the downsides. When you don’t protest and instead welcome his wish he returns to your warm embrace fully burying his head into your shoulder once more. You get some weird looks from the next shift at the genasi having wrapped himself around you without any intend to let go until you have to move again.

----

(Orym)

Orym is no stranger to the cold. He usually sits it out and through until it passes or he’s on the move again. Now when it’s his turn to take watch he can’t really just fall asleep and let unconsciousness carry him to the morning away from the cold night. At first he sits twisting and rubbing at his fingers, wiggling his toes to keep the blood flow and feeling going but when that’s not enough he picks up his sword following the familiar steps of his routines keeping his muscles warm. It preserves some heat but he knows the moment he stops he’ll be freezing again.

You sit and watch Orym go through the deliberate paces, light on his feet, nearly inaudible. The motions are much akin to a practiced dance and you find yourself staring, ears still listening for possible dangers. He repeats the same routine a few times before moving on to a different one and another after that. While he keeps his breathing under control you know he’s exerting himself the longer he keeps this going so you get up and make your way over to him making sure to stay clear of the swinging sword. Not that you’d think Orym would be careless enough to hit you.

“Orym, while I appreciate the entertainment during this uneventful night, don’t you think you should sit down and take some rest too? You’ll be exhausted in the morning if you keep this going.” You gently remind him and Orym doesn’t stop moving but you know he’s aware you’re there and he’s listening.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” He speaks timed right with another move as of not to throw off his breathing pattern too much. You carefully move in placing a hand on his shoulder and his movements halt. By just a single touch he can feel the radiant heat run through him like a divine light. Orym takes in a sharp breath, tensing up. There goes his routine but then again, he appreciates the warmth running through him.

“Come sit with me?” You ask gently guiding him over towards the fire. Orym obliges and puts away the sword taking a seat next to you. He can already feel the lack of radiant heat drain from his body when you remove your hand to take your seat. He rubs his hands together and even being in your near vicinity you have a warmth around you. He finds himself scooting closer inch by inch to go from frozen wastes to warm summer night but still he longs for just a little bit more.

“Hey, do you mind if I-“ Orym gestures to the space between you two and before he can finish his question you’ve pulled him into your side. He doesn’t refuse the embrace and instead welcomes it taking in a deep breath warmth returned to him.

----

(Fearne)

When you wake up for your shift with Fearne it’s still very cold in the early morning, a little over an hour or two away from the sunrise to hit at the end of your shift, you can’t afford a fire right now being chased and on the run. The smoke and light alone might put you all in a dangerous situation so the group would have to suffer the cold. Sleeping through the cold isn’t the problem. Being awake to keep watch is. At least for some. Not you. You’re fine. While it may be a disadvantage in certain circumstances or when facing the judgement of others, in these cases the infernal bloodline really shines through.

Fearne is huddled up pulling the hems of her dress close around her to keep in the heat. The lack of fire really does her no good. She could create one with the snap of her fingers but doesn’t have the luxury to do so now. Not even Little Mister curled up on her lap does much to preserve her internal warmth. Yet something calls her closer towards you like a moth drawn to a flame. She tries to resist the effect but whenever she moves, changes her position or the likes she feels as if she’s moved another inch closer to you.

You sit carving away at a piece of wood with your knife to pass the time and keep a look out but you’re aware of Fearne moving closer little by little. You don’t want to say anything as you’d probably get an answer you wouldn’t understand anyway and just let her do her thing. The faun’s got her reasons so just let them be. Besides, you don’t want to accidentally wake up the Little Mister again or you might just find monkey excrements stuffed between your belongings again.

“Oh! I get it now!” Fearne speaks to herself, ears perching up when she looks at you you raise an eyebrow and stop your whittling. She begins moving closer towards you carrying the monkey with her. Mister rolls onto his back when she’s seated right next to you and you watch as the previously puffs of smoke turn into puffs of ember. Fearne feels herself get warmer and warmer, heat rising to her cheeks and limbs.

“Looks like my kind of fire and yours aren’t so different after all.” She smiles and it takes you a second to figure out she means the hellfire from your lineage, the Plane of Fire flame of Mister and the wildfire within her. Just being close together raises the temperature for you enough to provide some comfortable warmth. Fearne waits for your permission and when you nod she curls up next to you putting her head in your lap mindful of her horns.

----

(Dariax)

Dariax glares into the campfire. It’s so not fair the fire gets to be warm when he is not. Yes he can warm his hands but the rest of him will remain cold and he’s not putting the rest of him any closer to the fire than he already is. He’s not stupid. A little oblivious at times, maybe but not stupid. He finds himself praying to whatever entity gave him his powers will bring him towards some warmth. A coffee would be nice, or a good roast. He could even do with a stew or some soup but every time he looks at the compass around his neck the arrow points towards you, adding another log or kindling onto the fire to preserve it throughout your watch.

“Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. I know you stupid thing. I know fire is warm but I can hardly throw myself into it without getting burned, now can I!” Dariax grumbles half the mind to throw the thing into the fire to see who’d have the last laugh. Why must this divine shit be so cryptic one moment and completely and utterly useless the next.

You stare at the dwarf in confusion at the sudden outburst as he keeps grumbling. Something’s clearly up but luckily from your peripheral you can see the others are still fast asleep none the wiser about Dariax’s frustrations.

“Everything alright, Dariax?” You ask. Frustration is written over his face but lessens when addressing you and turns a little more spiteful at something inward.

“Yes! Yes! Everything is completely fine.” He grumbles and you raise an eyebrow knowing full well that is not the case. Dariax knows you see through whatever poor attempt of an act he may have tried and failed to put on.

“If you say so. I guess I’ll keep this nice hot cup of tea to myself then.” You pour some water into a cup and use your magic to heat it until it’s steaming. Dariax looks on as if he’s a man stuck in the desert finding water for the first time in days. He hurries over and takes the cup from you before you can take a sip, downing it in one go.

“Ow. That’s hot. That’s really hot.” Dariax instantly regrets downing an entire cup of steaming hot tea. He can feel his throat burning an has no feeling left in his tongue and mouth in general but the warmth settling in his stomach is nothing short of being worth the pain.

“Thank you for calling me hot.” You grin and Dariax is about to say that wasn’t what he meant but it’s not like it’s not true. You are hot. Wait…. oh… Now he gets it. The compass wasn’t pointing at the fire. It was pointing at you. Without any hesitation he scoots closer to your side until he’s right up next to you. You wrap an arm around him and pull him closer into your side allowing your body to exude the heat and share its warmth.

----

(Opal)

Opal fiddles with her thumbs. Why did she agree to take first watch again? Oh right, because you’re there. What she does not appreciate is the temperature decreasing slowly to the point where she can feel the difference, her body not getting enough time to get used to the drop before it grows colder again. What she can’t stand is you seemingly unaffected by this all humming a sweet melody leaning back on your elbows to watch the stars above every so often. Opal is jealous and it’s not hard to tell.

You feel a glare burn into you with the heat of the hellfire your patron draws their power from. All you can tell is that it’s not something you’ve done as moments before you’re still holding pleasant conversation. Opal isn’t upset by something you’ve said or done. She may just be a little petty when it comes to directing her jealousy of your indifference to the cold at you.

“Hey Opal, are you cold?” You ask the girl as she pulls her cropped jacket closer around her shrinking within herself intensifying the glare.

“No. Why do you ask?” Opal scoffs biting her lip to prevent it from trembling as an icy cold gust of wind blows through.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just very nice and warm over here closer by the fire. I thought you might enjoy it.” If you know Opal to be anything it’s stubborn and now is no different. Ted must be scolding her as her mood sours considerably.

“I’m good out here. It’s nice and cool in the breeze.” You hear her mutter something else under her breath but can’t make out what from the distance.

“Okay, whatever you say.” You go back to your business letting the human wallow in self-pity. No one but Opal is able to convince herself to get over herself and give into the help of others when she’s trying to prove a point but that doesn’t mean you can’t persuade her to give in and let her take credit for doing something you suggested.

“You know, for a human you’re holding up very well. I don’t think I could sit all the way over there away from the fire weren’t it for my infernal blood keeping me warm. It’s always nice and handy to not need to carry as many layers just to stay warm. Though, some people are bothered by the warmth of my skin upon contact. They say my blood must be boiling in my veins. I just take that as a compliment.”

As you continue on listing the benefits of your infernal ancestry Opal grumbles to herself getting up from her spot and strides over to you. Without a word of warning she sits down in your lap wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Comfy?”

“Shut up.” You’re not going to push your luck and allow the freezing human to cuddle up with you and bask in your natural body heat. Secretly Opal is thankful but Ted’s little ‘I told you so’ does not do well for her mood. Better get used to being her personal heater because Opal is not forgetting this.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #exu x reader #exandria unlimited x reader #dorian x reader #dorian storm x reader #orym x reader #fearne calloway x reader #fearne x reader #dariax x reader #dariax zaveon x reader #opal x reader #critical role #exu #exandria unlimited

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mbti-notes · 3 years ago

Text

Anon wrote: Hi. I hope you had/are having a great summer break. I (INTP) am hoping for some perspective about an issue. Recently, my mother, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, became incredibly frustrated that I corrected her with an alleged “I know everything” attitude.

It’s an issue of concern because she revealed that I always do this. I guess this was the straw that broke it, especially given that what we were discussing was very trivial. (Maybe the frivolousness of the subject is precisely what made my correction seem more pedantic, unnecessary, arrogant.) She says that my attitude disregards her long life experience, and that if she were a stranger, she would think of me as a “snot-nosed brat who knows nothing about life” instead of as a “wise young person”, which is the viable alternative. She said that I am closed-minded and that I shoot everything down. (The problem of small-mindedness is what you addressed the only other time I wrote to you.)

I don’t know why I come off as arrogant. I’m sure that I’m not. I asked my mother what it was that made her think that, which she thought was a silly question because what she sensed was a general demeanor rather than specific behaviors. In the end we were only able to establish that my lack of eye contact was one of those factors. I can work on that, but surely that’s not determinant. What makes people think of others as arrogant? Should I stop correcting people? I don’t correct others in order to feel superior to them. I do it because I like to debate, in order to keep my thinking sharp, and because there is something painful about friends/family having false notions. I think it’s fair to say that my intention isn’t rooted in arrogant soils.

Granted, my suggestion of stopping correcting people is black-and-white, given that there is the grey option of changing the *way* I correct people. I’m just wondering if it’s an unhealthy habit in the first place. But given how prevalent a thought process it is (i.e. questioning people’s statements and finding faults), the process of getting rid of it may be akin to self-directed psychological violence. I mean, this is the same mode of being that makes me good at what I’m good at. (There’s also the option of keeping the thought process, but not correcting people aloud, but I don’t know what else there is to talk about other than analyzing ideas and their faults. Maybe I should analyze ideas for their strengths too, and express that side more than the faults.)

So anyway, let’s go with grey: So far I’ve tried thinking of an arrogant person that I know in order to understand my behavior, but I can’t think of anyone. Also, no matter how hard I try to put myself in someone else’s shoes in order to simulate an interaction with myself, it doesn’t really work, and I can’t see the arrogance, except if I were to just tell someone “that’s wrong” without any explanation. (I wonder if that’s what went wrong in the conversation with my mother.) Either way, this whole issue boils down to the fact that I’m not arrogant by any reasonable criteria that I found online, but that I come off as such. This was longer than intended. Thanks for your kindness and help.

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

Here are some questions for you to reflect on. They are meant to increase awareness of your underlying assumptions, beliefs, and values. Answer honestly:

Do you care about your mom? Do you care about how she's faring, what she's experiencing, what she's thinking or feeling, what she needs and desires, what she hopes for or aspires to, etc?

If you care, how do you SHOW your care to her?

If you don't care, how does that affect your behavior toward her?

Do you believe that the mother-child relationship only goes one-way? (Is it the mom's job to do for you but you owe her nothing?)

You say you like to debate to sharpen your mind. Innocent enough. I like to roller skate to keep myself physically fit. In an ideal world, I would never take my skates off. Does my enthusiasm for roller skating mean that I slap my skates on anywhere, any time? No. Surely it is inappropriate to skate around a hospital or the supermarket. Not only could I seriously harm myself, I would also be exhibiting flagrant disregard for the safety and well-being of others.

What you like to do for yourself sometimes comes into conflict with other people. If you care about people and hope to have healthy and happy relationships with them, you have to take their needs and wants into consideration in every interaction. You have to abide by ethical rules and principles that allow your needs to be met without neglecting the needs of others or interfering with their ability to get their needs met. Without ethics, society wouldn't be able to function, because it would just be a free-for-all.

You mention small-mindedness. It is quite small-minded to walk around the world only thinking about what you need/want. In the best case scenario, you are completely oblivious to others, and they will perceive you as clueless or self-absorbed. In the worst case scenario, you only interact with people for your own personal gain, and that would make you an exploitative or even abusive person. Is that the kind of person you want to be?

Do you basically treat people as though their sole purpose on earth is to debate you and help you sharpen your mind - to serve you? Do you launch into debates with people without asking for consent or checking to see if they want to be corrected? If you do, they will call you arrogant, not because you've put yourself on a pedestal and call yourself superior like an evil cartoon character, but because you are communicating to them that your needs/wants are most important AND you don't give a damn about theirs.

Webster's definition of arrogance: "an insulting way of thinking or behaving that comes from believing that you are better, smarter, or more important than other people". You believe that you know better, otherwise, you wouldn't grant yourself the social authority to intrude on people's boundaries, invalidate their experience, and correct them uninvited. You believe that you are smarter, otherwise, you wouldn't automatically assume the dominant social role of corrector. You behave as though you are the more important member of the relationship because your main priority is YOUR need to feel better (about your skills or about what others believe) while overlooking the other person's needs. Seems like you fit the definition quite well.

Despite that, I wouldn't call you arrogant because I understand that small-mindedness is a difficult problem to overcome. I see the effort that you're putting in to understand it. I'm charitable because I'm not the one who was hurt by your behavior. When people feel hurt, they often have difficulty expressing it. Maybe it comes out clumsily or they aren't able to explain their hurt without hurting you in return. Expressing one's true feelings is to make oneself vulnerable. If someone doesn't trust you to understand and validate their feelings or, worse, they believe that you will attack them for their feelings, they will not be completely honest with you. Your mom is trying her best to give you the benefit of the doubt by saying "if you were a stranger...", but she doesn't feel comfortable enough with you to express her hurt fully and explicitly as it happens. Why? Because the very reason she is hurt in the first place is that you have shown very little regard for her feelings. Following from the previous post of yours, the root of the problem is that you have such a poor understanding of feelings to begin with that you view them as inconsequential in yourself and others (very immature Fe).

I believe you have no ill-intent. I have said before that the typical Ti dom never sets out to hurt people on purpose. Rather, they hurt people unintentionally because their perspective is too small: 1) they don't grasp that other people's needs may be very different from their own and thereby fail to consider them, 2) they don't know how to empathize with different perspectives and validate them, and/or 3) they don't understand that SHOWING love and care is necessary for people to justify continued investment in the relationship.

In other words, Ti doms tend to hurt people out of negligence or acts of omission. Some of them get frustrated at not being able to solve their relationship problems. They might try to convince themselves that doing nothing means that no harm can be done, so they adopt a passive stance in the relationship and perhaps even train themselves to keep their mouth shut (self-violence). They fail to understand that there's more than one way to cause hurt. Instead of learning better relationship skills, they check out mentally and emotionally. Being checked out only makes it worse because you hurt yourself and you keep hurting others by being even less attentive to their needs.

The foundation of meaningful relationships is showing care. In a healthy relationship, people trust you to care for their emotional needs and not violate their personal boundaries. If you only attend to your own needs/wants in social interaction, you are signalling that you don't really care about the other person. This problem with your mom shows that you give little to no consideration for emotional needs and personal boundaries. If you don't want friends, it's entirely your choice to be alone for the rest of your life, pretending that you never leave any footprints behind you. If you want friends, you'll have to put out more effort to be a better friend, by paying more attention to the consequences of your behavior.

Doing things that violate trust and boundaries, even if unintentional, causes hurt. When people feel hurt and don't feel safe to express the hurt, they are liable to say/do negative things. To have good emotional intelligence is to see past the surface of their negative words/behavior and grasp the underlying emotional needs that were unmet and/or the personal boundaries that were violated. Only then can you be a morally responsible member of a relationship, in terms of owning all the ways that you impact people, both positively and negatively.

Arrogant people don't care about the social impact they produce. As long as they get what they want and don't lose anything, the existence of others is of little importance to them. If your mom is important to you, then learn how to show it better by listening to her when she tells you about her needs/wants. You hyperfocus on the literal meaning of the word "arrogant" and whether it is true/false of you, as though proving it false means that there's nothing wrong. You need to listen to the people you have hurt, if you want to understand why your behavior is hurtful. Alternatively, you need to educate yourself about emotional needs, interpersonal boundaries, and what constitutes un/ethical behavior and why.

#intp #intp relationships #inferior fe #arrogance #small minded #communication #social skills #people skills #emotional intelligence #relationships #ask

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ifmywishescametrue · 4 years ago

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and bc i have no self control. #41 kisses to shut them up for rhodeytony

So this one spiraled so quickly, because I also have no self control! And now it’s a 3.4k words of 5+1 for Rhodey and Tony’s first kisses together. Hope you like it :)

The first time is something of a joke. Tony is doing that rambling thing like always, hands moving around rapidly and coming dangerously close to smacking passersby in the face. He gets more than a few dirty looks for it, but he doesn’t seem to be noticing. Rhodey isn’t even sure what he’s ranting about anymore. Maybe one of his professors, or that annoying guy in his physics class. All he does know is that he wants to get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza and Tony walks slow when he’s talking. So Rhodey grabs him by the wrist when his hand flies in front of him again, spinning him around and planting his lips firmly against Tony’s for just a moment. It does the job of stunning him into silence, but it also makes him freeze completely on the sidewalk. Rhodey keeps walking, and Tony has to run to catch back up.

“What was that for?” Tony asks, eyes wide.

Rhodey shrugs, “Had to shut you up somehow.”

Tony makes an offended squawking sound, hitting Rhodey with the too long sleeve of his sweatshirt. Rhodey’s sweatshirt, technically.

“That’s rude,” Tony says. “You’re getting me ice cream to make it up to me.”

Rhodey laughs, slinging his arm over Tony’s shoulders to pull him along. “Whatever you want, Tones.”

______________

If the first was a joke, the second is just the repeat performance. Between Rhodey’s basic training and Tony’s recent and sudden rise to CEO, it’s been almost three months since the last time they’ve seen each other. Basic has him questioning everything and feeling like a bit of failure. He should have been able to handle it better. The homesickness, the pressure, the constant grind of work. It’s been the dream for so long that he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling he has now.

“Maybe I should quit.”

Tony snorts inelegantly, “Pretty sure that’s called deserting and it’s a crime.”

“So I’ll go on the run,” Rhodey argues, like it’s a perfectly reasonable response. “I’ll move to Tahiti or Fiji or one of those other islands. Wait, you have a private island, right? I could go there, and if anyone comes for me, I’ll just take a rowboat out to sea, and they won’t have any jurisdiction on the water to arrest me. I’m pretty sure that’s a thing. Right? It’s -”

Tony’s lips are a little sticky from the beer he’s been drinking, and his hands are warm where they cup Rhodey’s cheeks. He doesn’t understand what’s happening or why, and at first he can’t think enough to react. When he can think again he can’t decide whether to push him off or kiss him back, and he still hasn’t reached a conclusion when Tony pulls away. He doesn’t know if it lasted two seconds or two minutes, and it’s confusing to realize that he isn’t sure which he would prefer.

“Wow, that is effective,” Tony grins. “Thought maybe it was just me it works on, but I should try that on board members sometime if it’s that good.”

Rhodey gapes at him when he connects the pieces. “Seriously, Tony? That happened two years ago, and I’m in the middle of a crisis right now.”

"No, you were spiralling and now you’re not," Tony says simply. "Situation resolved by not talking about it."

"That's not how that works."

"Of course it is. How do you think most fires get put out? By putting a lid on them until they die."

"Alright, ignoring that that's not even true, what the hell does it even mean?"

"It's very true, and what it means is that I have put a lid on this irrational fire, so it doesn't have the chance to spread and ignite the rest of your life. Containment, honeybear. It's about containment."

"That's a terrible analogy," Rhodey says, and Tony tosses his hands in the air.

"What do you want from me on the spot?"

They spend most of the night trying to come up with something better, laughing and drinking the rest of the beer in Tony's fridge, until Rhodey forgets that he was ever stressed in the first place.

______________

Their third kiss is an accident. It happens somewhere in between Rhodey deciding that he hates Tony's new boyfriend and him realizing exactly why that is.

He comes back from six months overseas, and it's a few days ahead of what he was expecting. He told Tony Thursday, but his plane touches down in California on Tuesday morning, and he gives the taxi driver Tony's address without a second thought. Tony likes surprises, and he has no reason to think this might be a bad one.

He uses his key to let himself in, fully knowing that Tony won't be awake yet to answer the door. The first traces of sun are just starting to filter in through the windows, and Rhodey sets his duffle bag down near the door before moving into the kitchen. Tony's refrigerator is nearly barren, but there are a few eggs and a green pepper that would be rotten by tomorrow that he can make due with. He finds an onion, too, and falls into a rhythm while dicing vegetables.

It's this kind of thing that he misses when he's away. He misses having a kitchen and making what he wants in it, even if this isn't his kitchen or his first choice of food. But he misses the simplicity of it all. Life on the base seems alternate between too fast and too slow, but this is all his own pace.

He hears footsteps on the stairs a little after the eggs hit the pan, and he glances over his shoulder to watch Tony shuffle into the room while rubbing his tired eyes. If he had stayed turned around a little longer, their third kiss wouldn't have happened at all. By the time Tony opens his eyes, Rhodey's back is to him again.

Instead of instantly reacting, Tony slowly wanders over and puts his hand on Rhodey's shoulder. The words are mumbled when he says, "You're up way too early," and Rhodey doesn't have time to process how strange the sentence is, because he's being kissed the second his head turns. Not the shut up kind of kiss or even that sort of friendly peck he's seen people do sometimes. It's the kind where Tony's tongue is slipping between his lips, and his hand is wandering lower. The kind that friends don't share, but lovers definitely do.

Rhodey falls into it without question.

The spatula clatters to the floor from his hand, and Tony laughs into the kiss before pulling back. There's a grin and a joke on his lips that's quickly replaced by dawning horror.

"Rhodey?" Tony squeaks out. His hand flies up to cover his mouth, and through it Rhodey hears, "Oh, shit." He looks down at the complete lack of space between their bodies, dropping the hand to raise them both in front of himself like a defense as he backs away a couple of steps. "Fuck, I'm so fucking sorry. I thought - you weren't supposed to be here yet. Thursday. That's - you said Thursday. Didn't you?"

It's like ice water with how quickly the warmth of that kiss leaves his body.

Rhodey raises an eyebrow and plays at unaffected. "I did, yeah. Seems like you should attack an intruder instead of kissing them, though."

Tony's cheeks turn a vibrant shade of red, and he runs a still shaky hand through his hair.

"I thought you were someone else," he sheepishly admits. "It's just that from behind you, um, well you look a lot like Ryan, and he wasn't in bed still when I got up, so I came down here, and, uh, I guess you know the rest of that story."

Ryan, Rhodey's mind bitterly repeats. The guy Tony's spent the last three months talking about on the phone and in his letters. It's always about him in some way. He told me the funniest story yesterday, Rhodey or Isn't he so romantic, platypus? But Tony seems happy, so he fakes a laugh at a story that definitely isn't funny retold and agrees that string quartets are romantic instead of horribly cliché. He helps him plan dates when it's Tony's turn, because apparently that's yet another adorable thing they do together.

He just barely suppresses the sigh before saying, "Don't worry about it, Tones. It's all good."

Tony looks relieved, and after an awkward minute or two they fall back into their normal conversation like it never happened. They talk about the missions Rhodey has flown for and the designs Tony has been working on between bites of burned eggs and coffee.

Neither of them ever mention that Rhodey kissed him back.

______________

Tony and Rhodey are both drunk for the fourth. The music is loud at the club, and the air is a smoky haze. It's someone's birthday, he thinks, but he can't really remember anymore by the fifth shot of tequila.

He leans back against the bar on his elbows, watching in drunken amusement while Tony tries to put the moves on someone to hold up his end of the bet. The guy looks like he isn’t quite sure what’s happening, and Rhodey laughs into the rim of his glass. All he needs is one kiss, and Rhodey will be out the contents of his wallet. He isn't even sure what those contents are, and Tony wouldn't let him check before the handshake. It could be anywhere from a nickel to fifty bucks, he figures, which is worth it to watch this complete trainwreck.

It takes another ten minutes of flirting before Tony finally gives up and comes back over to the bar.

“Loser,” Rhodey teases. “What happened to having ‘game so good a straight man would fall to his knees?’”

Tony flips him off and steals the glass from his hand. “He has a girlfriend, which is the only reason it didn’t happen.”

“He didn’t even realize that you were flirting with him, did he?” Rhodey laughs, and Tony pouts pitifully.

“The no touching rule wasn’t fair.”

“A good bet doesn’t involve actual harassment,” Rhodey reasons, just like he did earlier in the night. “If you can’t get them to kiss you by flirting with just words, they wouldn’t want you touching them in the first place. It’s called consent.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “I do not need to be taught about consent. I am the king of consent. Enthusiastic, resounding consent, even.” He pauses, and there’s a dangerous look in his eyes when he narrows them at Rhodey. “Okay, I know that this about to go against everything I just said, but it’s you, and we don’t have rules, right?”

“What?”

“Just say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

Tony leans in with enough time that if Rhodey really wanted to, he could pull away. He could put his hand over Tony’s mouth or step to the side or simply tell him no and Tony wouldn’t do it.

But he doesn’t do any of those things.

He lets Tony cup the back of his neck to tilt his head to the right angle, and he threads his hand into Tony’s hair in return. His lips taste like the vodka and cranberry juice from the stolen glass, until Rhodey has kissed him so thoroughly that he can’t taste it anymore.

“There,” Tony says, grinning proudly like he’s just done something exceptionally smart. His breath is coming quickly, and Rhodey’s head is spinning with the thought that he’s the one that did that to him. “I got a straight man to kiss me. Pay up.”

Rhodey laughs, full-bodied with his head tilted back. “No, man. You definitely didn’t.”

Tony’s still a little too drunk to fully understand what he means by that, and he takes it as if Rhodey’s saying that he stole the kiss, rather than earned it. He spends most of the night after that trying to get him to kiss him again on his own accord, but Rhodey doesn’t want another one like that. He wants Tony’s soft-eyed gaze on him, and his body held tight in his arms. He wants to hear him say the same words he’s saying right now, but to have him actually mean it when he says the word please. Like he won’t be able to live for another second without Rhodey’s lips on his.

He doesn’t want the joke anymore, but he knows he won’t ever get to have the real thing.

______________

Rhodey is half asleep for kiss number five, and he isn’t even quite sure that it actually happens. He’s lying in a hospital bed somewhere in Germany, he thinks, and machines are beeping all around him. He can’t really remember what brought him here as he drifts in and out. There was some kind of fight - that much is obvious. He sees flashes of bullets in the sky, flames, and a rapidly plummeting altitude reading. Was it a mission gone wrong? An attack they weren’t expecting? One of the machines ticks a little faster when he tries to clear his head enough to think about it, and then darkness takes over again.

When he partially wakes the next time, there’s something warm and solid in his hand. It shifts a little, brushing lightly in circles over his skin, and it takes him a longer amount of time than it should to realize that it’s another hand. But when he does, he knows without a doubt who it belongs to, and the thought sends him back into sleep with a warm feeling in his chest.

He finds out later that he was unconscious for three days, and Tony hardly leaves his side for a minute of it. Rhodey doesn’t want to say how that makes him feel, so he falls back on what he does know how to say.

“You should really at least go back to the hotel to take a shower. You’re starting to smell, man,” he says after the doctor leaves the room.

Tony gives him a weak laugh, running his hand through his hair and grimacing at the oily texture. "Maybe in a little bit. You just woke up."

Rhodey shifts against the pillows, tilting his head to get a good look at him. His clothes might be the same ones he showed up here in, all wrinkled with a coffee stain on one of his sleeves. The circles under his eyes are darker than he's ever quite seen them before, and he looks too pale.

Tony isn't supposed to look like that.

He's supposed to be sunlight embodied, all tanned skin and bright eyes and fluid motion. But this Tony is slumped over in his chair, small and fragile looking like the wrong word could destroy him completely. This Tony offers him a brave face and a delicate smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and Rhodey can't stand it. Can't stand that it's his own fault he looks like that.

Stretching his arm out, he turns over his hand to open his palm. The movement tugs at his injured shoulder, but he grits his teeth to hide the pain and it's worth it to have Tony's hand back in his where it belongs. He squeezes gently, and Tony squeezes back.

"You almost died," Tony whispers. "You're not allowed to die."

"I won't do it again," Rhodey says, even though they both know he can't make that promise.

Tony nods, and for now that can be enough. He switches the topic to something else so they don't have to talk about it anymore. So Tony doesn't have to say what the last three days felt like, and Rhodey doesn't have to admit that his last thought before the plane went down was regret that he'd never get to have this again.

Tony makes him laugh until his battered ribs are aching with it, until they've talked about everything and nothing and sleep is pulling at Rhodey again. It's hard to keep his eyes open, and he fights it until he can't any longer.

A hand runs over his hair, and down the side of his face to linger on his cheek. Rhodey leans into the touch with closed eyes as Tony murmurs, "I'll come back tomorrow. Don't you dare do anything stupid like dying while I'm gone."

He feels the warmth of Tony's breath on his skin the moment before Tony kisses him. It's a barely there, wisp of a thing, right on the corner of his mouth. There one instant, then gone the next. It's the last thing he feels before slipping into sleep again.

______________

“I’m so old,” Tony groans, flopping down on the beach chair next to Rhodey’s. “Ancient. Decrepit. On death’s door.”

“You’re thirty,” Rhodey says, and he laughs at the pout on Tony’s face. “I’m a year older than you. What does that make me then?”

“A senior citizen, just like me.”

Rhodey lifts his beer from where the bottle was balancing in the sand and clinks it with the bottle in Tony’s hand. “Welcome to the club then. We’re happy to have you.”

Tony kicks off his shoes and tucks his feet under his thighs as he settles back in the chair. It’s quiet out here on the beach, away from the crowds and noise from the party. The crashing of the waves and the distant thrum of music are the only sounds, and they watch the water in the still of the night for a while.

“Don’t you want to get back to the party?” Rhodey asks softly, unwilling to break their bubble of peace. “It’s for you.”

Tony shakes his head. “I like it better out here.”

“Want me to kick everyone out for you?”

Tony looks over his shoulder at the house, filled to the brim and lights flashing from every window. He leans over the inch between their chairs and rests his head on Rhodey’s shoulder. “No, they can have their fun in there, and I can have mine here.”

Rhodey cards his hand through Tony’s hair, feeling warm despite the cool breeze. “This is fun for you, huh? Sitting in silence?”

“It’s always good with you,” Tony murmurs, so quiet that Rhodey almost loses it to the ocean. He’ll always be thankful that he didn’t.

He lets his hand go lower, slipping from his hair to run his thumb along Tony’s jaw, and it would be so easy, he thinks, to kiss him right now. To tilt Tony’s chin up and turn his head to the side just a little. To brush their lips together, slowly at first, then steadily growing more desperate as he gives in to everything he’s wanted for so long. He thinks of the way Tony would sound, if he would sigh or moan or whimper under his mouth. Tony would be sticky sweet from the buttercream on the cupcakes from earlier, and Rhodey would taste sugar on his tongue.

“Rhodey,” Tony whispers, looking up at him. The moon is reflected in the deep brown of his eyes, and Rhodey wants to keep this image of him in him in his mind forever. “Can I tell you what I wished for?”

“Won’t come true if you do,” Rhodey whispers back.

“I think it’s the only way it might,” Tony answers, and he seems even closer than he was before.

“What did you wish for?”

Tony’s cheeks are flushed, and Rhodey thinks for a moment that he’s going to lose his nerve to say whatever it is. He’s ready for the joke instead, but it never comes.

“For you to kiss me,” Tony says with an unsteady breath. “For it to mean something when you do.”

Rhodey slides his hand a little higher, and he strokes across Tony’s cheekbone. He doesn’t miss the way that Tony’s eyes flicker down to his lips. “And what do you want it to mean?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” Rhodey repeats, and Tony smiles, soft and unsure. “I think I can manage that.”

______________

Years later, Tony still likes to tease Rhodey about their first kiss, except now it's become their thing. The interrupted sentences sometimes get finished after and sometimes don't because kissing Tony is more important than whatever it was that he had to say in the first place.

He loses count of what number they’re on. One thousand or one million, it could never be enough. They have all kinds of kisses now. Early morning, sleep-hazed kisses, and quick, little pecks on the way out the door. Good night kisses that turn passionate and desperate as often as they stay innocent and sweet. Reluctant ones when Tony is mad at him for something silly, lingering ones in apology.

Each one still means everything.

#rhodeytony #ironhusbands #my writing #my fic #prompt fill #warmachinesocks

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everythingsinred · 3 years ago

Text

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 9)

Previously we talked about how Natsume gave up on trying to make Mikan hate him in order to support her on her mission to retrieve Iinchou's alice and an antidote for Hotaru's wound. We also discussed his feelings of insecurity and contrasting surrender with not being relied upon by Mikan. He simultaneously accepts that she shouldn't get close and also hates that she doesn't call out to him when she's in trouble.

Today we'll talk about the cementing information about Natsume' life-span, as it has consequences on his relationship with Mikan, as well as the harsh differences between Natsume and the others on this mission.

Chapter Thirty-Six

This arc reveals several things, but this chapter specifically addresses Natsume’s differences from the rest of them. This isn’t his first life-or-death mission, and he has experience with this that the rest of them lack.

When they wake up in the mountains, Natsume and Ruka are quick to try and find information about their surroundings, and Tsubasa establishes that eating should be a priority as well.

Mikan wanted to be useful in this way, having packed food for this occasion. Unfortunately, Pengy is in her backpack instead, having eaten everything she prepared. Natsume is adamant that Pengy be discarded, as it’s already proven itself to be a hindrance. Mikan sticks up for it, saying that it was a gift from Hotaru, but Natsume argues that that’s nonsense.

This is a great example of the difference between them. For Mikan, this may be a noble adventure where she will go on a journey and save Iinchou and Hotaru, but for Natsume, this is his second life. He knows how this sort of thing goes. This isn’t a game, it’s a deadly mission where they might get killed. They could starve. They could get injured. Hindrances like Pengy only increase the chance of that happening, as it’s already shown.

Natsume came along to help the journey be smooth and as safe as possible, so really he's just doing what he came to do.

Mikan promises to take responsibility for it, so Natsume begrudgingly allows it, but there’s tension between them now. Pengy’s behavior needs to be in line, or Natsume will have been proven right.

And then almost immediately, Natsume is proven right.

Pengy gets itself trapped by a flesh-eating plant, and Mikan and Ruka rush to save it. The enchanted trees nearby are awakened and irritated, so they start spitting sap and acorns at each other, with the kids in the crossfire.

Natsume is covered with sap and leaves and, although he is annoyed, doesn’t really react until Ruka is attacked by a swinging branch and crashes against another tree trunk. Because Ruka has been hurt, Natsume goes berserk once again, setting all the trees in the area on fire for what they did to his friend. This is an example of how going berserk can actually be useful, as Natsume is able to take out the threat and keep them all safe.

The tension is even worse now. Natsume had to clean up after Pengy’s mess, even after Mikan said she would take responsibility. Mikan gets defensive and argues, even attempting to downplay the role Pengy played, but Natsume is in no mood to listen. He has a point, after all, because this situation is much more dangerous than any of the rest of them fully comprehend.

The DA class was going to dispatch experts (children, but still experts) to take out Z, and now he's going in blind with very little intel and a group of unexperienced kids who have no idea how dangerous this really is. Natsume comes close to death on a regular basis, and even as readers we have no idea if that regular basis means weekly or even sometimes daily. From what we’ve seen in the Reo arc, we’re aware that Natsume is always prepared to die, but will do what it takes to survive and accomplish the objective. This time, in order to accomplish the objective, they can’t lose their food or get attacked by trees and flesh-eating plants. In order to survive and do what they came for, Pengy should be discarded.

What’s more is that Natsume is angry because Pengy caused Ruka to be hurt, and he’s still upset about it. The damage could have been worse, and Pengy would have been responsible. He doesn’t want something like that to happen again, especially because two of the people on this mission with him are people he cares very much about and doesn’t want to see hurt.

Natsume isn’t usually one to get distracted by tense conversations either. He immediately jumps back into action to alert the others that something isn’t right--they’re in the territory of an embedded medusa alice and are in danger yet again.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Once again, Ruka is put in danger because of Pengy, whom he attempts to save from the medusa alice. This time, Mikan is able to take responsibility, and uses her nullification, amplified by Tono’s alice stone, to protect the both of them from the embedded alice.

This event brings some information about alice stones, but it’s just a taste of what we will later learn. If anything, it’s just an appetizer before the meal that we will have later on.

Natsume, ever observant on missions and always analytical, has been noticing a lack of fruit trees in the area and realizes that the animals that have been sharing the fruits have been traveling through warp zones. Natsume has so far been planning and strategizing, and Ruka, being so eager to prove himself, has been trying to be just as useful. As soon as they woke up, Ruka started communicating with animals to get info, and now that Natsume has brought up another possibility, Ruka instantly goes to work again.

Natsume can see how much Ruka is trying, and because of that, he insists that they all rest, because Ruka has overworked himself. Natsume wants his best friend to feel as important as he is, that he can be relied on. He specifically wants Ruka to know that he relies on him and trusts him, and that he is valuable on this mission.

They are winding down for the night, and Natsume has decided that since Mikan is taking too long getting the water, he’ll go get some himself. In the process, he ends up overhearing the conversation Mikan had with Ruka about alice stones.

Ruka doesn’t reveal much more about alice stones, just says that as they get stronger, they can all make alice stones. Then he promises to give Mikan his stone when he makes one someday, attaching all the romantic intent there with it. He’s content that Mikan swears the same, despite the fact that she doesn’t know what such a promise entails.

Ruka feels guilty for this, and runs to get Natsume.

But Natsume was listening the whole time, and revealing himself would embarrass Ruka, or make him feel even guiltier, so he keeps himself hidden. Even something as small as this is a selfless act.

But he can’t help it that Mikan finds him.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Mikan starts blabbering, but he responds unkindly at every new topic. His biggest concern is that Mikan doesn’t actually know what she just promised to do with Ruka. Natsume and Ruka both know: it’s more or less like a proposal of commitment, like dating or even marriage. She has no idea that there’s a romantic meaning with exchanging alice stones, but he can’t tell her either, because it would embarrass Ruka and put him on the spot. So when Mikan asks what it means, he elects not to say anything and ignores her instead. She has the right to know, of course, but Natsume won’t say it when doing so would throw Ruka under the bus like that.

As a result, there is a long, awkward silence that Mikan doesn’t enjoy, but Natsume can’t break.

Eventually, she breaks it, just to randomly say that one day, when she grows up, if she can make an excellent alice stone, she will give it to Natsume.

You know when you really want something, and suddenly it seems like the stars have aligned in all the wrong ways--you CAN have this thing, but you really shouldn't take it? Yeah, that's what this is. For me, this usually happens with food, but with some people I guess it's more meaningful.

It’s the last thing he expects, and he’s taken aback. He has done nothing obvious enough to deserve an alice stone from Mikan. He’s mean to her all the time, has even argued with her on this very mission, and told her he hated her only a couple days ago. There was so much anger between them because of Pengy, and yet she still promises that she will give him her alice stone. Natsume has a low self-esteem, and thinks the only thing that should be noticed by anyone is what he wants them to notice. His secret kindness doesn’t make up for anything else he does. He should ultimately still be the last of anyone’s priorities. He doesn’t think he’s worth an alice stone, because for years he’s been told that he isn’t even worth his own life.

Persona made it clear to him that the only thing he was good for was his performance on missions. If he cannot service the school, then he is no longer valuable. He should die. And because he does these missions to protect Aoi and Ruka, then ultimately he is only so valuable as long as he is protecting others, sacrificing himself for them. Even before that, Natsume has been self-sacrificing, but to have it drilled into you that your value is conditional--there’s no way something like that wouldn’t have grave consequences on a child’s self esteem.

To be told by the girl he likes that she wants to give him an alice stone… It’s unimaginable.

And he shuts it down.

He reminds her she already promised hers to Ruka, and tells her she couldn’t make more than one with ease. She only needs to make one for Ruka. He doesn’t want it.

Natsume could easily take advantage of the fact that Mikan has no idea what the alice stones mean and accept it. He could tell her what she’s promising. He could ignore her.

Instead, he rejects it, adamantly.

This is just so silly!

They end up bickering and splashing each other with water, acting like little kids (which they are) and getting entirely soaked.

Natsume looks at her, his memory focusing on when she said, “when I grow up.”

"When I grow up..." Damn, Mikan, don't rub it in. That's the thing he's sensitive about!

Natsume rejected her for many reasons. He will put Ruka’s happiness before his own. He doesn’t want to trick Mikan into anything. He doesn’t think he deserves it. It wouldn’t mean the same thing to her that it would to him. And, most tragically, he’s not going to grow up to be able to receive it.

By the time Mikan is able to make a fabulous alice stone worthy to give to someone, Natsume will certainly not be the one to receive it, because he will probably be long dead. Why would he allow her to make a promise that would be impossible for her to keep?

No, he has no choice but to reject her here, stomp out any chance that she would ever consider him again.

They’re both soaking wet, and she’s tugging at her hair, trying to wring it out, and all he can do is look at her.

And then he tells her that her pigtail hairstyle doesn’t suit her. In five years, she should wear her hair down. He thinks she looks better that way.

Might as well tell her now because he won't be around in five years, and wouldn't it be a travesty if nobody let her know?

Natsume has been selfless for most of the conversation, choosing Ruka’s feelings over everything else whenever he could. This comment of his is the first selfish thing to come out of his mouth this whole day.

They were all aged up before, because of the Gulliver candy, and Mikan’s hair had been in her customary pigtail style. We already have the feeling that Natsume likes her with her hair down, since he was so vehement that she didn’t put it up back during the musical. Now we (and Mikan) get verbal confirmation.

He tells her now, because in five years' time, he won't be alive to say it.

He must not think much of this, in terms of how it will affect her. Maybe it felt safe to say something insignificant, like “your hair’s nicer down”, after all the rejecting he’s had to do so far. He had to tell her he hated her, rejected her stone, and argued with her all day. It must be tiresome to lie all the time, especially when his real feelings are the opposite of what he’s letting on. He just wants to let a little of the affection he has for her out, especially when he’s looking at her like this. It’s not a love confession, or a promise to exchange alice stones. If he ever shows any affection, it should be small and almost imperceptible, nothing grand and obvious like Ruka’s. Natsume would never try to purposefully undermine Ruka’s wooing.

It’s not his fault that the smallest comment like that has such a huge impact on her.

They return to camp and find Tsubasa and Ruka absolutely wasted on grapes that Pengy has found. Yet another con on Natsume’s endless list of Pengy cons. Tsubasa sobers up, but Ruka embraces Mikan. In his drunken stupor, it almost seems like he might try to kiss Mikan. Although Natsume might be willing to put his best friend’s happiness before his, that doesn’t mean he’ll allow a wasted Ruka to kiss her. There’s plenty of reasons that could go wrong, after all, and there’s no doubt Ruka would be horrified come morning. So he pulls Ruka off Mikan and together they sleep, with Ruka nestled in the fur of a bear, snuggled up among animals. Natsume is uncomfortable, but he won’t tear his hand away from Ruka’s grip because it’s meant to comfort his friend.

He only separates from him a little later, when he starts coughing uncontrollably and we’re faced with yet another realization about Natsume.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The chapter opens with Tsubasa watching in concern as Natsume coughs, until he coughs up blood. Once he’s coughed out his blood, Natsume catches his breath and reaches for the healing alice stone he keeps around his neck. For all of Tsubasa’s concern about it, Natsume almost seems nonchalant. He’s not shocked or disturbed at all to see blood in his palm. His biggest concern is that Tsubasa keep it down because he’s being too loud and it might wake up the others.

Because even when Natsume’s life is nearing its end and his body is quickly decaying, all he is concerned with is Ruka. He coughed up blood. So what? All he cares about is that he isn’t worrying anybody. Natsume’s crippling martyr complex manifests here as a complete disregard for his own health, as long as everyone else is ignorant and happy. No matter how concerned Tsubasa is about him, Natsume is never on his own list of priorities.

Natsume is the least important person in his own life.

But he still informs Tsubasa that he’s been in this shape for a year, as a result of going on frequent missions for the school. Natsume has never told anybody this, but Tsubasa already knows one damning thing, so might as well just tell him everything. It must be a relief to him, to be able to confess it, after keeping it to himself this whole time.

Tsubasa is adamant that this is a big deal, and that he wouldn't feel right, letting Natsume continue on the mission while he's in this state.

So Natsume must once again point out that he’s different from the rest of them. His alice isn’t intended for use as a parlor trick or fun little hobby. His is to destroy and hurt, and not just the school’s enemies, but himself as well. His alice is incredibly powerful, a consequence of the life-shortening ability type, and at only ten years old he has an excellent, almost prodigal, grasp on controlling and utilizing it. Natsume can make an alice stone with ease, ignite or put out a fire no problem. And because of his position in the DA class, he’s also tactically and strategically advanced, so missions like the one they’re currently on are nothing he isn’t used to. He’s their ace, and that’s what Natsume is trying to stress to Tsubasa. He’s a great player to have on the team because of his experience and ability.

So don’t fucking spill about it, okay?

Because he’s capable and willing to retaliate, and if he does, it won’t be pleasant.

But what sticks in Tsubasa’s mind (and probably the reader’s) is that all that experience and ability comes at a steep cost, one that isn’t really worth it, not that Natsume has a choice in the matter.

Natsume leaves the conversation, going right back to Ruka and cuddling up with him again. He hadn’t wanted to leave Ruka’s side to begin with, understandably concerned that Ruka should get plenty of rest after a long day of using his alice and then getting drunk. Natsume is more than willing to help Ruka and fret over him, but he never gives Ruka the same opportunity, because he doesn’t want to put anybody, least of all his close friends, in that position. Natsume should be the one caring about people. He should be the last priority to everyone else, just like he is to himself.

And the next morning when Ruka wakes up, confused over what happened as he doesn’t remember anything, Natsume gets right back into the mission. Just like last night with the alice stones, he doesn’t want to embarrass Ruka.

As they continue their journey, Tsubasa continuously tries to voice concern for Natsume while not letting Mikan or Ruka know, as had been requested of him. Natsume responds with insults, because of course he does. Tsubasa then mutters, “And here I was, worrying about you!” but that’s exactly the effect Natsume was trying to have in the first place.

Natsume is really funny though, I think we can all agree.

Natsume has several go-to moves for his selflessness, and though they vary depending on the person and situation, most of them involve him being a jerk. In this case, he is being a jerk on purpose so that Tsubasa won’t worry about him. It’s hard to be overly concerned about a person when they’re bugging the shit out of you, after all. This is absolutely intentional, a technique Natsume uses often.

It backfires on him though, because Tsubasa is frequently surrounded by bratty kids with too much of a mouth on them. As they head up the mountain, Tsubasa keeps his eye on Natsume, who is obviously struggling physically with the trek. So Tsubasa picks him up and throws him over his shoulder to carry him part of the way. Natsume’s annoying attitude only further frustrates Tsubasa to this point. He even threatens to tell the others if he doesn’t comply and allow himself to be carried. Naturally, Natsume fights and kicks and scratches and even bites his way out of Tsubasa’s grasp as Ruka and Mikan watch, dumbfounded, but this exchange shows us two things:

Tsubasa and Natsume’s relationship is slowly evolving. They’re connected now and have a tie beyond Mikan. Tsubasa knows information about Natsume that nobody else does. It forces Tsubasa to see Natsume as more than just a little brat, and forces Natsume to put his trust in this person he’d hated with his whole chest before.

Natsume is extremely uncomfortable when he is being cared for. He’s used to being in the caretaker role, as I’ve mentioned previously in the Reo Arc. Even then, when Mikan carried and protected him, he was quick to encourage her to leave him behind. Now, with Tsubasa, Natsume cannot stand it. It’s not just that he isn’t quite as fond of Tsubasa, it’s also just the knowledge that someone is worrying about him, slowing themselves down and inconveniencing themselves for his sake. He goes out of his way to seem rude and unpleasant to avoid this exact kind of situation, so Tsubasa putting in the effort despite Natsume’s best efforts is distressing to him.

It only makes things worse that all the care Tsubasa is suddenly giving him might give things away to Ruka or Mikan, and Natsume will do anything to avoid that.

Natsume gets his chance for revenge when he kicks Tsubasa down a warpzone with full force, flinging Mikan in right after for good measure. They reemerge near the mouth of a volcano and discern that they must be in the right place when they discover that there's hallucinogenic smoke coming from the mouth. They fall through the crater and end up in a strange room.

Natsume and Tsubasa’s bickering over the large and suspicious door distracts them from the shaky ground which crumbles under Mikan’s feet.

She falls, pulled down by a skeleton. The boys all look on, horrified. Tsubasa holds Ruka back and Natsume reaches desperately for Mikan, calling for her by name, but it’s too late. She’s gone.

The last thing she does is begin to call for Natsume, but she’s lost now. Finally, Mikan is calling for him, wanting to rely on him, but he’s not able to protect her.

The one time she calls out for him, he can't help her.

Natsume has been trying to keep up appearances and the charade of disliking Mikan, but reaching for her with desperation is something he has to do, even if it reveals that he cares. They have absolutely no way of knowing what Mikan will find in that hole, or if she’ll even come back out in one piece.

Chapter 40

The ground closed back up as soon as Mikan fell through. As Tsubasa and Ruka discuss what could have happened, and Pengy cries, Natsume sits and contemplates. He remembers that Mikan is Yuka’s daughter and comforts himself with that knowledge. He will put faith in the fact that Yuka probably won’t let any harm come to her own child and steels himself. Although Mikan has just been forcibly separated from the group, knowing that she’s not in immediate danger is important to be able to keep going on with the mission. That’s Natsume’s specialty after all, and because of him, they can stay focused on where to go moving forward instead of panicking about the ground opening and swallowing their friend.

But his newfound composure doesn’t change the fact that he had acted in desperation already, calling and reaching out for Mikan in front of both Ruka and Tsubasa. As they make their way through the door that suspiciously opened for them, Tsubasa teases him. First he earnestly tells Natsume that getting angry won’t help anything, least of all with bringing Mikan back, but then he continues to prod. He tells Natsume not to blame himself, even though it must be hard for him to deal with not being able to save Mikan after all of his big talk. This sets Natsume off.

It's almost like Tsubasa wants to be blown up.

It hits too close to home because Natsume is blaming himself. He came onto the mission specifically to use his experience to keep them all focused and safe, so that they could be efficient and effective and make it back in time. Despite all his strategy and quick thinking, he wasn’t able to do anything about the sand trap. In fact, he’d been distracted when it first happened. He may be a child soldier, but the crucial part of that is that he’s still a child, so it makes sense that he would occasionally make mistakes. Still, in his line of expertise, mistakes get you or the people around you killed.

Natsume thinks about his new discovery of the stealing alice as he keeps going, having just blasted Tsubasa away from him. He’d never heard of such an alice, but to him, someone with such complicated feelings of hatred towards his ability and what it has always represented, it’s enticing. One touch and he’d be free forever. Maybe he could get what he’d always thought was impossible, what he’d never dared to imagine: an actual future he’d get to see.

Natsume, Ruka, and Tsubasa get led out of the tunnel by lasers into a vast room, where Shiki and a group of other Z members are waiting for them.

Conclusion

We see further proof of what we'd already known: that Natsume has a fundamentally different life than the rest of them do. His arguing with Mikan over Pengy might seem needlessly cruel, but he does have a point and he's motivated by keeping the group as safe as possible. We also talked about Natsume's imminent death, and how his knowledge of it affects his relationships, particularly with Mikan. Most importantly, we can see that Natsume has failed in his primary goal: he was unable to keep Mikan safe.

Tomorrow, we'll talk about how all these conflicts come to a head in the Z Arc, and what the lasting repercussions might be.

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #natsumikan #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #my meta #ga #mine #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: natsume #im baaaaaaack #this is a lot of text sorry. i have lots of thoughts abt small scenes so theres a pretty ridiculous ratio of text to pictures. yikes #i hope its still interesting tho!#i have a lot of work this week too. ill be working 5 days in a row come wednesday #hopefully it wont affect me a lot. i managed to push ahead in my essay last week after all so. ive got faith in myself #natsume is crazy tho. this kid needs one thing more than anything and thats a self-esteem or general feeling of self worth #well. he also needs to be protected bc all the adults in his life have failed in that regard but #yeah protection and self worth.#so many human rights violations at the academy. im disgusted.#edit for song: demons by imagine dragons wbk

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Love & Other Drugs (Spencer Reid Imagine) Part 1

*not my gif

Summary: Toxicologist Reader meets her match in the ever intriguing Doctor Reid. Category: Fluff Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: drug addiction, love addiction, neglect Word Count: 4.1k

This is going to be a two-part series.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Love is an addiction.

Not only is there behavioral evidence that suggests love can be addictive, but thanks to recent studies, we also have neurochemical and neuroimaging evidence to support the theory. Multiple feel-good chemicals are released when we are in love. These include dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin.

The roots of love addiction extend back to early childhood. A history of abandonment, neglect, or inadequate/ inconsistent nurturing can lead to a love addiction. Like other addictions, a love addiction is often the result of insecure attachment patterns.

It may sound strange to equate love with addiction. After all, love is perhaps the most positive of emotions; it results in many health benefits and has life-lengthening effects. It may only be, then, that a dysfunctional relationship to love is necessary in order to consider a person "addicted."

Love is like a drug and we don't care about the long term side effects; we just care about how high we can get.

So with that being said . . . how high could I get?

A question that I would soon find the answer to following a visit from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

“I’m Agent Hotchner. We spoke on the phone briefly.”

The dark-haired man with the gentle eyes and dimples greeted. I recognized his voice, despite it being deeper in person. No complaints, though.

“So what was it you needed a toxicology report on?”

Fully expecting the same gentleman to respond, a younger man behind him cut into the conversation, answering for the agent.

“This cloth,” He dangled the evidence bag in front of my face and practically let it drop when I took it from him, rather than making sure the bag landed safely in my hands like he should’ve given the fact that this was something vital to their case. So valuable, even, they requested to have the results expedited.

“I suspect it’s chloroform, but they said we should bring it to a professional to be sure.” He finished his statement by pursing his lips into a thin, straight line, which oddly enough, I think was his version of a smile, and a not very agreeable one at that.

Simply by the way he handed me the evidence bag and the tone of his voice as he said, “professional,” like the word stung his tongue and tasted like acid, I knew he was offended that he wasn’t deemed fit to analyze the chemical on the cloth. He surely thought of himself in the highest regard and to ask for help from someone else, much less a woman, was insulting to him. I was certain that he wasn’t doing this out of his own will, but that his superior most likely assured him it was just a precaution so as not to bruise that fragile ego. I had a feeling the only person he would listen to was a male superior, most likely from the absence of a proper one. A father.

I could be a profiler, too, you know?

“Great. I’ll let you know what I find when I’m done.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I should’ve anticipated he’d have the audacity to invite himself as if this was a social gathering of some sort, which it was most certainly not. If anything, it was degrading to me that he insisted he come. Like he didn’t trust me to be on my own, like he was doubting my intelligence. I didn’t need a babysitter, chaperone, or supervisor, and I was going to make sure he knew that.

“What’s your name again?” I asked, merely as a subliminal reminder that if he had said his name, I forgot it within seconds because he was that forgettable.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.”

He didn’t ask for my name in return, and I had to ponder if it was his way of saying that he just didn’t care. How classy of him.

Two can play that game.

When he stepped foot into my beloved lab, or my lair as I liked to call it, I could feel the environment being tainted with his passive-aggressiveness, and I almost wanted to push him right back out the door so the dark cloud in the room would leave with him, but I settled for a kinder approach, politely asking if he could wear the appropriate protective gear if he insisted being so close to the chemical - the chemical I was to inspect. Again, the chemical I was to inspect - me. Not him - me.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just be right here.”

I suppose his refusal to abide by my simple precaution of wearing a coat, goggles, and gloves was made up for by his promise to maintain a distance away from me, so I didn’t push the topic any further out of fear that he might change his mind and come closer and meddle with my space. I had my own personal bubble around me and I would go feral if he invaded it, whether it was knowingly or unknowingly.

We’d spent probably two hours or so there in silence, which I quite liked, but I couldn’t help but notice how often he’d excuse himself to leave for the bathroom. I let it slide since I was too busy with my toxicology report anyway, and why would I complain about those few extra minutes of peace I got when he was away?

“This is so old fashioned,” I said in sheer awe as I inspected the small square of fabric that had clearly been doused with a euphoriant. “I haven’t seen this being used as a sedative since like the 1920s in those soundless black and white movies.”

I was too engaged with the findings of my microscope to pay attention to the “info-dump” that was brewing from the lanky doctor so it came as a shock to me when all that I had said in light of the situation would be refuted with facts.

“Actually, Chloroform was a popular anesthetic from the mid-1800s to around 1900, mostly around the time of the Civil War - not the 1920s.”

I pulled my eye away from the lens of the microscope to inspect the speaking specimen. He looked quite proud of himself for knowing and saying what he did, and for that, I was almost perturbed all the more by his bravado, but given his physical stature, I suppose the skill of his brain was how he compensated for what he lacked in appearance, so I let it pass to boost his ego.

“Yeah, I was never really a history buff. I guess that’s why I got degrees in Chemistry and Toxicology instead.” Hitting him right back with that pursed-lip smile at the end, mirroring his own.

My comment didn’t settle well, and I could tell from the way he scratched at his arm like my words were making him itchy as they seeped into his skin. But I liked to make people uncomfortable, as awful as that sounds. Yet I had a sneaking suspicion, I wasn’t the true cause for why he was itching his arm.

“But um, you . . . you were actually right about the silent films. Those were exceedingly popular in the 1920s.”

His sheepish words seemed to suggest a surrender. As if he was giving me the satisfaction of knowing I was right about something so that I might not be closed off to him entirely, which I was most certainly not, even if it seemed like it. He might have aggravated me slightly with his coldness, but he was arguably the most interesting character out of that team, and I had a feeling he didn’t usually act like this.

Antsy, fidgeting.

Unkempt in appearance.

Often lost in thought.

Depressed breathing.

Pinpoint pupils.

The signs were all there, but that wasn’t what surprised me. I was just surprised that in a team of profilers, no one else seemed to notice him and his addiction, and if they did - they just didn’t care.

“What drugs are you on?”

I asked bluntly with a slight head tilt to deepen the notion of my harmless curiosity to which he definitely misinterpreted as a harmful curiosity. I was never one to address things with subtlety and grace, but it seemed like a waste of time to approach this situation with any other attitude than candidness. If my intuition was correct, which I knew it was, he was months into his substance abuse and at this rate, if he wasn’t receiving any help, he’d need to soon.

“Excuse me?”

“I may not be a profiler, but I’m a toxicologist and I can tell when someone’s on drugs in the same way you can tell when someone’s lying - through studying their behavior. And so far, I’ve noticed that the left cuff of your shirt is unbuttoned, which makes sense considering you’re right-handed, giving you easier access and making it faster to inject whatever it is your taking, but I should warn you - you’re not fast enough. Even though your ‘visits’ to the bathroom have shortened minute by minute, I haven’t been blind to the fact that you’ve gone there at least five times since you’ve been here, and don’t even bother lying. I know you aren’t peeing because you haven’t touched that cup of coffee or the bottled water whatsoever. So let me ask you again - what drugs are you on?”

From the baffled look on his face, I could tell he had never met his match.

Not until now.

His eyes were narrowing in on me darkly, and I feared to see his “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” duality, but I was also curious if the oncoming switch in personality would reveal anything more to me about what he was using. However, that was quickly cut short by his sudden burst out of the room, giving me no opportunity to see his fit of rage unfold, and I had to believe that he knew if he stayed a second longer, I would’ve easily been able to distinguish the drug he was on. I wouldn’t put it past him, he was smart enough, that much I could admit.

I followed him with my eyes as he flew out of the lab, dodging the stupefied Agent Gideon.

“Reid?” Gideon called out to him, as if he was a dad checking on his hormonal teenager, but neither I, nor the agent, heard a response back.

Now, turning his attention back to me, Agent Gideon entered the lab, clapping his hands together and rubbing them together in anticipation, completely disregarding what happened only moments ago. It wasn’t even like he was truly uncomfortable and trying to brush it aside so that I wouldn’t be uncomfortable, it just genuinely seemed like he didn’t care. He didn’t feel the need to bring any more attention to the situation, but judging from his reaction, I had doubts on if there had been any attention being paid to the doctor’s drug addiction - ever.

“So, what do you got for me?”

“Two things - first, this is clearly Deuterated Chloroform, which is an isotopologue of Chloroform with a single deuterium atom. CDCl 3 is a common solvent used in NMR spectroscopy-” I paused when I realized my toxicology jargon was flying right over his head. “So in other words, this type of Chloroform can daze or knock out people even when it's consumed in small doses.”

“And the second thing?”

Without missing a beat, I asked, “What’s up with that guy?”

His hands unfolded to reach out on either side of him in a shrug as a sign of incomprehensiveness. “Spencer?” He finally pointed with his thumb to the door, which Dr. Reid had just stormed out of.

I nodded.

“Ehh, I prefer to leave it alone.” He threw his hands up in surrender, but I wasn’t about to let him maintain his attitude of ignorance.

“Why? Isn’t it better if he talks about it? I mean, it’s obvious there’s something going on. He’s clearly displaying habits of an addict.”

The room was shot dead with silence. I could tell he couldn’t believe I’d just said that so bluntly, addressing what I assumed he had yet to even come to terms with.

“Agent Gideon, I mean this as no insult to you, but I’d surely hope that, even as someone that analyzes behavior for a living, you were sincerely unaware of his addiction and not deliberately avoiding addressing it only because it makes you uncomfortable. Addiction is a very common thing, more common that people would like to believe, and I would hate for Dr. Reid to feel that he’s alone in a room full of people that could help him - that should help him. Or that he can’t turn to any of you without being treated like he's a victim in one of your cases.”

I wasn’t exactly sure which of my words was the one that crossed the line, but I knew, as a whole, I ventured far beyond the boundary. He didn’t even answer me verbally, but his body language did the talking, and if I heard it correctly, he was dumbfounded by my audacity.

“You have a good day, Miss.” He finally said with a forced smile, while snatching the evidence bag from my hand.

Amicably, I had to let it go the minute Agent Gideon left my lab. I shouldn’t care more about the doctor’s wellbeing than his own coworkers, than his own team - than his own family. And even though I was incredibly passionate about proper drug use, I couldn’t be too invested in the care of Dr. Reid. At least not until he started caring about me, too.

After my minor back-to-back confrontations, I was more than ready to go home. Once I cleaned my station and removed my gear, I was out the door. When I got to the parking lot, I saw that on either side of my car, there were two black SUVs I’d never seen here before. The government license plates were all that I needed to see to come to the conclusion that they belonged to the BAU. Having just instigated something with both Spencer and Agent Gideon, I knew I had to leave before they did, otherwise I might risk running into them, which would’ve been utterly humiliating.

It was the sudden chirp of familiar voices that caused me to bolt into my car and try and start it, but naturally, buried somewhere within the Bermuda Triangle that was my purse were my keys, and I couldn’t find them in time.

“Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.” I faintly heard from behind me.

Keys! Keys! Keys! Where are you?

With animalistic speed, I rummaged through my purse, literally starving for the feeling of my fingers touching the jagged metal and the remote of my keys before I’d have to -

“Looking for these?”

I tore my eyes away from my purse to peer up at the sound of my jingling keys as they hung from the index finger of the man I shouldn’t care about. I wryly chuckled, taking them with a goony smile when he handed them to me with much more caution than earlier when he handed me the evidence bag.

“I saw you left them behind in the lab and I figured you might need those. Especially if you’re trying to run away from me.”

“I’m not trying to run away from you.”

My words were unaffecting, only leaving him with more reason to doubt me, evidenced by his deadpan stare.

“Really! I wasn’t!” It was beyond me why I thought speaking more loudly would make him digest my words any better, but at any rate, it did.

“Okay, okay, relax. I believe you.”

We shared a brief laugh, the euphoria of which was fleeting, and then, we were right back to where we were before. Back to square one - not knowing what to say. The uncomfortable silence pressed me to leave, but he must’ve registered my sudden movement as a tell that he needed to say something so captivating, so shocking, so bewitching, that would stop me from leaving.

“Thank you.”

To say that I was baffled would be a gross understatement. I was in complete awe and disbelief. Hearing those words from his lips was enough to stun me, but even more so because of how sincere it sounded.

“I was going to come back and apologize when I overheard you and Gideon talking about me. You left before I got the chance to thank you for what you said back there. So . . . thank you.”

And yet again, he thanked me, and surprisingly, it wasn’t any less pleasing to the ear.

“Yeah, of course. I was just worried about you that’s all.” Unknowingly, I revealed too much out of the blinding bliss of the moment.

“You were worried about me?”

His own question brought me to the realization of what I’d just said, and in his tone of voice, I also became aware of the connotation behind it. He already knew the answer and just wanted to hear me say it again, so I nudged him playfully to avoid reciting my confession.

“Actually, I take that back. Why should I worry over someone who didn’t even bother to know my name?”

He looked quite offended; his neck recoiled in distaste.

“I know your name.”

“You didn’t ask me for it.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know it, (y/n).” Drawing out my name just to demonstrate his honest knowledge of it.

“Actually, it’s Doctor.” I corrected, earning a hearty laugh from him, one that made him throw his head back with an open mouthed smile.

In my playful jest, he was reminded of himself and his own uncannily similar humor. He could see himself in me. (Mind you, this distinction was completely unknown to me). It was only he that could see we were foils of each other - parallel lines that ran side by side, never fated to intersect but forging a connection in spite of that; a connection formed on the basis of close proximity and congruence in shape.

“Anyway, thanks for bringing my keys. I’ll see you later.”

Our goodbye was too quick, I knew that, but I couldn’t, in good conscience, keep talking to him and avoid bringing up the conversation of his addiction. I wasn’t nuanced like that. I was too eager to solve problems head on to keep my determination at bay. I couldn’t dance around the very thing that was killing him slowly. I just couldn’t. Had I drawn out our conversation any longer, I’d sooner touch that tender wound he restlessly picked at; a wound that might never properly or fully heal if he kept doing so. I knew he was too stubborn to let me clean it, so in favor of his pride, he insisted he could fix it himself and simply put a band-aid on it in an attempt to do just that, foolishly thinking it would be enough. However, like a real gash, tear, or cut, it may only be worsened by the lack of adequate disinfection. He could just as easily reap the benefits as he could suffer the consequences of the absence of a proper enabling agent that stings badly, but successfully targets the root of the problem. The choice was up to him. Would he suffer the consequences or reap the benefits? To be quite frank, there’s no way around that disinfectant. It’s that or nothing, and I found myself to be the confrontation to the problem that he lacked. So now that I’d addressed it, it was up to him to decide what to do. I had done all that I could, and I had to accept that.

Maybe a minute more of talking to him and I might’ve even seen that connection he was seeing. I assure you, a few more soulful glances was all it would take to kill me in cold blood. If you could get intoxicated on someone’s eyes, I’d be drunk on his. I saw worlds behind them - raging waters of words unspoken bursting from overflowing dams, calm seas of his thank you’s, maybe even lazy rivers of useless stored information and memorized book passages I could dawdle in forever. An overwhelming guilt consumed me when I realized I’d only been staring at them for as long as I had to probe further and satisfy my own selfish desires. I felt all the worse for the unsuspecting object of my gaze who was led to the hopeful, naive notion that I was looking at him out of admiration. He had no clue what I was really doing.

I was profiling him.

Earlier in the day, I would’ve gloated about my ability to use his own job against him by employing the skill of profiling, but now, it was different. He was different. The guilt was escalating quickly and I made haste to get in my car, not even waiting to catch his reply to my sudden goodbye before I shut the door. If I had to assume, he must’ve said something in agreement because the minute I turned on my ignition, he stepped out of the way, letting me leave with no protests. Quite haphazardly, I drove out of my parking spot, reducing him to just a blurry figure in my rear view mirror that would haunt my dreams at night and occupy my thoughts in the day. Consider it merely a precaution to part from him so promptly. I needed my distance before I did something we both would have regretted.

Before I started to love him.

. . .

“Positive for Alprazolam. Positive for Carboxy-THC,” I mumbled to myself while I jotted down the results of my preliminary toxicology report. You’d often find me in this state and by that I mean, it’s been more than one occasion where someone walked in on me talking to myself. I found that it was easier to make note of things when I spoke it out loud, even if just to myself in a hushed tone. “Negative for -”

“Am I interrupting you?”

I pulled my eye away from the lens and upwards to the voice beckoning me at the door. To my surprise, it was Spencer.

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

As he made his way to my station, I instinctively shot up in my seat to fix my posture into one more ladylike and graceful, pulling my shoulders back as if there was a string tugging at them. It was a stark contrast to my previous hunched over position that rounded my back out almost to the point of looking like a half-circle. It was the most natural position for me, and arguably more comfortable, too, but now in Spencer’s presence, I wanted to assume a more flattering position. For what reason? I didn’t know.

“I, um . . .” He cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his shirt frantically. “I’m going to see a film tonight in Sky Meadows State Park. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

It was easy to meet his eyes until he said what he did. Reflexively, I looked down at my microscope to shy away from his gaze so he might not see the color forming on my cheeks.

“That’s really sweet of you,” I began. “But I should probably get this report done first.”

I wouldn’t have noticed I was tapping my pen on my paper anxiously had it not been for Spencer’s eyes drifting to the motion. After consciously stopping it, he looked back at me, seeing that similarity again.

I was just as nervous as he was.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Next time, then.”

My heart sank at the visceral blow to his ego. I didn’t intend to shatter his confidence, but by the time he turned on his heels with his hands sheepishly shoved into his pockets, I knew it was not the first time someone declined an offer of his.

“Actually,” One word was enough to draw him in. “I can finish this up another time. I’d much rather catch that movie with you instead.”

I wish I could tell you that my intentions were pure. That I was going because I knew I would enjoy his company and he would enjoy mine, but that wasn’t it at all. It was that familiar itch again that made my ‘yes’ easier to say.

The itch to dig deeper and to know more.

“Great. I’ll wait outside for you.”

The rational part of me knew that if I couldn’t let his addiction go, it’d be the death of me. But if I did, it’d be the death of him. Literally.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

PART 2 HERE!

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #soft angst #love & other drugs

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neo-culture-mafia · 4 years ago

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Triggered (badass reader + n.yt)

➼ “Flying back and forth from Japan to Korea wasn’t easy, especially when you were about to become the Japanese Junior Forces’ leader. You still had doubts about whether you were ready to take those responsibilities or not. But when you decided to take care of a serious problem with your own hands, you found out a new facade of yourself. A tough one.”

Words count: 3.9k

Genre: angst - mafia!au - boss!reader - leader!yuta - badass reader - mention of the dreamies.

Warnings: strong themed - mention of bruises/wounds - aggressive behavior - violence - mention of guns - sexual violence.

Disclaimer: This contains mentions of sexual violence, I didn’t describe anything, but if you think you might still be sensitive to this, don’t read it.

“Hey losers!” You announced as you walked into the teacher break room.

“Wow, you remembered the way back home!” Jeno gasped in fake surprise, causing a few laughs in the room. “I thought you were going to stay in Japan forever.”

“We all did. By the way, you lost.” Renjun extended his open palm towards Hyuck with a grin on his lips as he scrolled down through his phone. “Shit.” Donghyuck whined, touching his back pocket for his wallet. “I’ll pay you a cappuccino later after classes.” He stared at Renjun with puppy eyes, receiving a small “Deal.” as a reply.

“Don’t tell me you two bet I wasn’t coming back.” You asked in crossing arms after hugging Jisung, he was the only student allowed to get in the teachers' break room.

“Of course not!” Renjun voiced, looking at you with the most offending expression ever on his face. “Donghyuck bet you would come back only after your marriage ceremony, and I bet you would come back before the ceremony to tease us.” He added, quickly turning his attention back to his phone, almost as the lack of eye contact with you would help him avoid your anger.

“Was that supposed to sound any better?!” You rolled your eyes, hitting the back of Hyuck's head as you hugged him. “I missed you too, idiots.”

“Oh, we didn’t miss you. At all. We’re too busy taking care of your classes to miss you.” Chenle whined, stopping a pile of papers on his desk, pouting at all the tests he still had to read later.

“Oh, right! I heard that you’ve been promoted to teacher, congratulations!” You pinched Chenle's cheek, hearing a groan leave the younger boy's lips as he pushed you away to make you stop.

“You sound like that is a good thing. I’ve never admired you guys so much as I admire you now. Those kids can be wild sometimes.” Chenle quietly admitted, not enjoying all the memories that surfaced his mind from his first week as a teacher.

“Welcome to the lack of sleep life where energy drink is your best friend. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” Jaemin announced while he closed the fridge's door, throwing an energy drink to Chenle, and opening another one for himself.

“Thank you? I guess?” Chenle twisted his face, forcing himself to sit next to the table where all those papers waited to be marked with grades.

“Speaking of classes, how are my students? I remember having aces all over my class.” You asked as you threw yourself on the couch, next to Jaemin, who was now typing his next test on his laptop.

“Remember that girl with the blue hair? We’re kind of worried about her grades.” Jaemin started, followed by a bunch of hums in agreement from his friends.

“Kim Young?” You stared at Jaemin, expecting that you had misheard him, but as he positively nodded, your mind just went more confused. “Why? She has never seen a B or anything below that on her tests before.”

“A few months after you traveled to Japan, she started to fail all of our classes. She even had to redo a few of our classes, and now all of her friends are on more advanced classes than her.” Jeno addressed, letting deep sigh leave his lips as Renjun locked his phone's screen to fully focus on the conversation.

“That isn’t possible. She’s one of our smartest students!” “We know. But we had no choice but to make her repeat our classes. It broke our hearts to do it, we even had a small meeting together to see if we could give her an essay or something, but we just couldn't help her at that point.” Renjun backed his friend up, making you only stare at the only boys, searching for anyone who could give you any hope on defending the little girl.

“Was it that bad?” You asked in surprise, receiving a paper on your hands. It was her test. It was blank. “But... This doesn't make sense. Have you talked to Mark about it? Maybe if he talked to her, he could try to understand what is happening.” You questioned, still staring at her test with worry lines taking over your forehead.

“She slept during that test, by the way.” Chenle shook his head with nothing but confusion on his face.

“We have all tried to talk to her, including Mark. But she gave each one of us the same answer “I apologize, senior. I will work harder to not let any of you ashamed of my grades”, and even if we insisted, she would still say she’s just lacking effort.” Donghyuck talked in a higher pitch as an attempt to reproduce what her voice sounded like, but it only made you roll your eyes.

“I doubt that’s the case.” You handed over the test back to Chenle, debating whether or not to try to talk to her.

As much as you were still Junior Forces, your relationship with Yuta had caused you to be assigned to more missions in Japan, Taeyong had already talked about how he had plans for you to become the leader of Japan's Junior Forces since the business was starting to grow much more than expected there.

“Well, then you go and talk to her. I’m sure Mark wouldn’t mind it.” Renjun suggested, shrugging when Jeno looked daggers at him. “He would probably thank you for the rest of his life if you managed to get her to talk about what’s going on.” He added.

“Are your classes over for now?” You asked, looking at your wristwatch as you tried to remember your old schedules.

“Yeah. She’s probably back in her dorms again. She’s been spending a lot of time there lately.” Jeno quietly answered, wondering how pissed Mark would be if he disagreed about this.

"Okay. I'll check her room then. See you later, losers." You blew a kiss to your friends, messing Jisung hair before you left the breakroom.

As you walked closer to Young's door, your ears automatically heard the girl's voice, but she wasn’t alone.

“Please, don’t do this. It’s still hurting from the last time...” You heard her fragile voice, making your hand stop a few centimeters away from the door, not daring to move a muscle as you paid attention to whatever was coming after that. “Ah, princess, you know that’s not how this goes. You don’t get a say on this.”

“But-” “Unless you want those pictures running around...” The man’s voice cut her off. “No! Please, just- don’t do this.” Her voice sounded quieter and more distant.

And that was it. In a quick movement, you kicked the door down, seeing one of the most heartbreaking scenes you had ever witnessed in all of your long years of the mafia. The fragile fourteen years old who once held so much light on her eyes, was with her eyes consumed by tears, shaking by fear and probably cold as her breasts were exposed to the eyes of a random fucker you had disliked ever since day 1. He was already taking off his belt and his eyes were disgustingly admiring her figure, making you want to throw up.

“What the fuck is going on here?” You seethed, instinctively closing your fists while you burned the fucker alive with the look on your face.

“Y/N... w-what, what are you doing-” He stuttered out of surprise, taking a few steps away from the girl as you started to slowly walk closer to him.

“For you, it’s boss, you son of a bitch.” You quickly threw your jacket to the crying little girl, who at that point was already sobbing and avoiding to look at your eyes.

“Senior, I am so sorry.” The girl rushed to apologize while covering her shaking upper body with your jacket.

“Young, listen very carefully to what I'm gonna say.” You started, not daring to take your eyes off of the man a few meters away from you. In a matter of seconds, you got in with the right, knocking him down. “Don’t ever apologize for someone else’s shit.” “Teacher... I-”

“What did he mean by pictures?” You asked, staring at the man’s immobile body.

“You heard that? How much did you-” “It doesn’t matter, you’re okay now.” You cut her off, being careful as you approached her. The girl’s condition was heartbreaking. Her stomach and neck were filled by what seemed to be hickeys. The poor little thing was so frightened, that she even flinched when you tried to touch her. “Hey, it’s okay. You can trust me. I won’t cause you any harm.”

“He said he would expose the pictures if I didn’t become his bitch.” She muttered, lacing her arms around her body as she tried to stop herself from shaking.

“What pictures?” You gently asked. “Pictures of me... naked.” Young whispered the last part, closing her eyes and flinching, almost like she was expecting you to scold her. But your heart was too broken for that.

“Oh honey.” You closed your eyes for a few seconds, slowly shaking your head. “How would he have pictures of you naked?”

“I- I don’t know.” The girl opened her eyes once she realized you weren’t going to scold her, and deep down she wished you to lecture instead of looking at her with so much worry. “A few months later, I was insecure about my lack of curves. I talked to Mark about it, and back then he said that our true beauty can only be seen by someone else’s eyes. And I wanted to see it, I wanted to feel pretty in my own skin... so I took a few Polaroid pictures of myself fully naked... they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone else, I was gonna burn them later, but then he... he keeps them in his third drawer, that’s the only thing I know, I swear.” Young kept her body slumped downward, looking at her aggressor while more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Okay.” You nodded, taking a deep breath in pure frustration before you continued to talk. “Listen, right now I want you to take a long 10 minutes shower, put on some comfortable clothes, and wait for me here. I’ll be back in 15. Don’t talk to anyone and don’t open the door to anyone but me. Do you understand?” You asked in a serious tone, with your hands itching to touch her and comfort her, but you knew better than that. You had to respect her space.

“What are you gonna do?” Young asked as her small hands cleaned some of her tears away from her face.

“I’m gonna make this fucker wish he was dead.” You threateningly stated. Your eyes were glued on the man's figure on the floor, and the only reason why you still hadn't beaten the crap out of him, was because Young was too unstable to take all the violence. “Go to the bathroom. We’ll talk later.”

Once Young was nowhere to be seen, and the sound of the water dropping filled the room, you grabbed the motherfucker's by his hair and slapped his face with all of your strength.

“Wake the damn up!” You hollered on his ear, causing Leon to open his eyes, still with a confused expression on his face. “What are you doing?” He muttered when his eyes finally focused on the pissed figure of you. “Let go of me.”

“Wrong answer. Let’s go for a walk.” You hissed with your half-shut eyes, dragging the motherfucker out of the room and through the empty hall with nothing but a pure and unstoppable rage burning and rushing through your veins.

As you kicked the son of a bitch's body at the top of the stairs, you silently hoped he wouldn’t get downstairs alive. But unfortunately, bad people never die easily. When the asshole's body finally hit the flat floor, the first thing he attempted to do was run. In a matter of seconds, the Glock that was resting on your waistline was already on your hands.

“You run, you get a hole in your head!” You shouted, quickly getting the safety off as you pointed the gun right at the brains of that fucker.

You calmly went downstairs, with your eyes never leaving the eyes of the man who had awakened the worst part of you. It wasn’t easy to get to your feelings, but he had the fucking nerves to do it when he laughed at your face when you questioned him about what you had just seen. He had left you no other choice but to push him down the stairs. Oops?

When your feet finally touched the ground, Leon, who had now the side of his head bleeding, adjusted his posture trying to somehow look taller than you, almost like an animal trying to terrify his prey. If only he knew the prey in the situation was himself, he wouldn’t have dared to act like that. You were going to hunt him in hell if you needed to. The outcome of his action was your anger growing stronger.

“Look at you. I didn’t even start it and you barely can keep yourself on your feet.” You laughed bitterly with a disgusted look on your face. Leon spitting his blood next to your feet in purpose didn’t help you with getting any calmer. “On your knees.” You growled, motioning to the floor with the gun, never breaking eye contact with him.

Your eyes were on fire and if you weren’t holding yourself back as much as you were, you would’ve exterminated his ass by now.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He huffed with a mocking smile directed to you as he chuckled, almost like you were talking nonsense.

“Do I sound like I’m fucking kidding? Huh?” You hit his chest with your glock, silently wishing would “accidentally” pull the trigger while doing that. “You fucking psycho!” In a quick move, you hit his head with the gun and kick his stomach, getting him straight to the floor, writhing from the pain that was burning his body. “On. Your. Knees. NOW!” You hollered in pure hatred, shooting next to his body, causing him to flinch and quickly get on his knees as you told him to.

“What the hell is happening here?!” You heard Mark's voice yelling at you, followed by the sound of his feet hectic coming downstairs. Your heart was beating so fast that you were finding it difficult to hear anything that wasn’t yourself and all the ways you were quietly weighing on how to kill that son of a bitch.

“Don’t get involved, Mark.” You clenched your jaw as an attempt to control yourself to avoid the situation to escalate any more.

“Y/N, put the damn gun down. He’s family. You can’t kill family.” He firmly stated, walking slowly towards you.

“Mark, right now, I’m not talking as your friend, I’m talking as your fucking superior, so if I told you to not get involved, you will stay the fuck out of this!” You looked at Mark out of the corner of your eye, not daring to move a muscle as you constrained the anger inside of your body. “Call Taeyong. Or I will drag this idiot's bleeding ass through the whole base till Taeyong's office to show our leader the shit this fucker has been doing.” You added in baring teeth, refusing to look anywhere but Leon's face who still had the guts to maintain his mocking smile.

“Y/N!” You heard more voices calling for you, as more and more noises of steps started to resound in your ears, but you were too busy to care.

In a blink of an eye, there was already a circle full of people around you. Most of them were just curious students. If the situation was different, you would probably wonder if showing them that much violence was healthy, but it was not like you were in your perfect state of mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeno questioned, attempting to get closer to the fallen man, only to find your open left arm as an obstacle, stopping him to move further.

“Jeno. Room 149. Third drawer. Go. Bring me whatever you find there.” You told the black-haired boy, who just stared at you in confusion before muttering a quiet ”okay” and vanishing.

“Why are you doing this to him? Isn’t he family?” One of your students asked in a scared tone, making your confidence falter for a second.

“Shh, don't ask.” Donghyuck warned him, taking a few steps closer to you till he was on your left side. “Whatever this is, are you sure you want to do this here? There are too many kids down here, and some high-level men are also starting to arrive.” He whispered, placing his hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

“Believe me, you would do the same thing if you were on my shoes.” You answered with a dry mouth.

“Ms. Y/N.” Taeyong's voice filled the place, with all heads turning to face him as he slowly went down the stairs with Yuta, your fiancée, behind him.

Immediately, everyone who was around you opened space for Taeyong to go through the crowd and reach you with no problems. Deep down, many of those people were expecting you to be scolded by Taeyong. The outcome was much different.

“Mind explaining what’s going on?” Taeyong asked in crossed arms as his eyes wandered indifferently at the bleeding man that he recognized seconds later as one of his own.

“This bitch is threatening to kill me, boss! She’s crazy!” Leon crawled closer to Taeyong, only to stop at the sound of Yuta's gun safety going off. “One step closer and you’re done.” Yuta stated, threatening to point his gun at the disgusting man.

“I would be more careful with your words if I was you. Her future husband is standing right by my side, and I can assure you he won’t be as patient as I am. And besides, I didn’t ask you, I asked her.” Taeyong turned his face to stare at you, nodding as permission for you to speak.

“As you know, Neo Culture treasures and nourishes family as the most important thing in life. We should always have the back of our own, right?” You started with a clear irony on your voice, waving your gun around in circles with a tight-lipped smile on your face.

“Correct.” Taeyong nodded once in agreement, furrowing his brows with attentiveness. “Go on.”

“Then tell me why the fuck this son of a bitch was abusing one of our juniors? A minor?” You snapped, pointing your gun back at his forehead in a quick movement.

The whole place started to be filled with gasps and whispering.

“She's lying!” Leon shouted in anger, pointing his finger at you, trying to get Taeyong's attention back to him, but the leader’s eyes never left your figure.

“Y/N, are you sure of this?” Taeyong leaned forward with his eyes narrowed angrily.

“Jeno. The pictures.” You motioned for the black-haired boy to come closer and hand them to Taeyong.

When the leader’s eyes met with the pictures on his hands, he wanted to throw up. By his expression, you could tell there were more pictures than you acknowledged. Your anger was undescribable at that point, you were on the edge.

“He blackmailed her with these. And I caught him trying to take off his shitty pants next to her.” You stared disgustedly at Leon who still had his belt falling off of his pants.

“Taeyong, don’t believe her, she’s-” “Don’t you dare to say my name.” Taeyong cut off Leon with a crisp voice, before handing the pictures back to Jeno with his eyes fuming. “Burn them. I don’t want to see those pictures ever again.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me! This is clearly not true!” Leon hit the floor with his closed fists, making you want to laugh at his liar ass.

“Then why the fuck those pictures were in your room?!” You hollered, hitting his head once again with your gun. “You did this shit to family.” Yuta shook his head with disgust on his eyes.

You stared at Taeyong once again, silently asking for permission to go on, receiving a positive nod from the leader.

“LISTEN THE FUCK UP, YOU IDIOTS!” You yelled as you aggressively kicked Leon's body to the ground a few meters away from you, causing all the juniors to stare at you wide-eyed at the sight of their teacher being hostile. “This is the first and the last time I’m ever going to say this. No matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, I will maintain contact and regularly visit every single girl in this base. And if it ever comes to my ear that any of you fucking men has bothered them... this will happen.” You shot Leon's left leg, causing the man's scream to resound on your ears. “YOU BETTER LEARN HOW TO TREAT WOMEN RIGHT! I don't fucking care who you know inside the mafia, I don't fucking care if you're a junior or a senior, I don’t fucking care if you have a relationship with them or not, I will end you. For good.” You shot his another leg, making more screams from pain to leave his annoying lips.

“You fucking whore...” Leon murmured, spitting blood as he uselessly attempted to staunch his wounds.

In two seconds, Yuta came running from his spot next to Taeyong just to hit a kick right onto Leon’s wounds, he was agonizing in pain.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about my soon-to-be wife? I was too far, I couldn’t hear you right.” Yuta forces his foot down, making more and more blood stain the floor.

When you checked on your juniors’ faces, a lot of them looked terrified, and as much as part of you lowkey wanted to murder each man standing on that place, you knew not all of them were like that douchebag.

“Mark.” You called for the attention of the black-haired boy, pointing at the kids with your head, motioning for him to call the shots.

“You’re dismissed.” Mark announced, clapping both of his hands to get everyone’s attention. It didn’t take long until only the older members stayed behind.

“Would you like to do the honors, babe?” Yuta asked, turning his head to see you looking down with your eyes closed. Your hands were trembling as you could barely hold your gun anymore.

You had been raped before. Something that only you, Yuta, and the closest members knew. Whatever you had seen in that room, it triggered your past.

“You have no idea of the damage you’ve made. Even if I kill you right now, you still won’t be any close of feeling what she’s feeling.” You stated on the edge of shedding tears, but still not daring to let a single tear drop off of your face, you were too stubborn for that. “I won’t fucking give you the pleasure of being killed by me. But the only reason why I won’t it’s because there is someone who needs my attention more than you.” You dropped your gun on the floor, with the loud sound of the steel attracting everybody’s attention back to you.

“Yuta, get her out of here.” Mark stated, receiving a positive nod from the older man who quickly went to your side, guiding you out of there as you silently sobbed, feeling taken and swallowed by the bad memories that took your mind.

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glassesandkim · 4 years ago

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I would like to say my piece here about schmico, grey’s anatomy, and the fandom and it’s really for my own self-indulgence and benefit. I’m not asking for you to agree with me or even begin to understand what I’m going on about. I don’t even think half the things that I think about for this fandom exists on an important level. I fully believe in just ~vibin’~ to your own tune when it comes to participating in fandom spaces.

so this post is gonna be my way of getting stuff off my chest so i can continue to ~vibe~

First thing I’d like to address is: I know. I know the Nico Kim that I love and adore is not the Nico Kim in canon. He is who I hope he is in canon. But there’s not much to combat or support that he is or isn’t. He really could be who we’ve made up in fanon for him and at the same time, he really couldn’t. Grey’s created this character that is as blank as a dried piece of toast. So forgive me if I spread a bit of spicy jam here and there so I can swallow this bland shit down a little easier.

So when people come to me to say, “Y’all are delulu and out of your mind to love this guy this much.” PLEASE, I know. This isn’t news, honey. I am well aware.

But I will continue to justify, romanticize, and put this boy on a pedestal for as long as his existence in canon continues to remain arbitrary and vague. And it makes me very biased to a fault but I have put too much time and energy into this character NOT to be.

And then you might ask, why have I put so much of my time and life (THREE YEARS!!!! I’VE BEEN IN THIS FANDOM FOR THREE YEARS!!!!!!!!!!) into this character that has all but said maybe like a PAGE of dialogue at most?

Because I was conned into it. Because they marketed the shit out of him when Alex Landi got the part. And I, as a casual viewer of Grey’s since I was in high school (I’m in my late 20s now, dawg) and of Asian descent was promised representation. Not just Asian rep, but queer rep.

So naturally, I got extremely attached. It's not everyday a major Western mainstream prime time medical drama chooses to create a character as unique as Nico's.

I spent so much time here. I was here when fandom decided Nico would call Levi “babe”. I was here when we all clowned that Nico didn’t know Levi’s first name. I was here when Josh died and the fandom went up in arms with pitchforks and stakes against Nico. I was here for all of it. I've seen it all.

And unfortunately, seeing it all, makes me tired. Grey’s is time and time again proving to me that they don’t give a shit about the development and well-being of their existing characters at all. The show only cares about collecting diversity points and performing their wokeness to the general masses. (I talk a lot about how grey's is plot-driven vs. character-driven.)

I will still get frustrated and annoyed at Nico’s lack of character development. But I mostly just laugh at the fandom nowadays. I know you guys want to fight the fight, tell everyone Nico is not toxic!!!!!! But bros, friends, lovers, it’s a tried and tired fight.

Grey’s wants us to think Nico is a Bad Boyfriend. It’s as clear as the stench one comes across when they step on dog shit. That’s why I think it’s useless to fight people about Nico. Grey’s gets amnesia all the time. Grey’s forgot the whole season and half they invested in creating a loving boyfriend for Levi and up and changed Nico’s personality to fit a new narrative (that they, quite frankly, failed to even follow through because of covid and other filming hoopla hula hoops they’ve had to jump through that I’ve been informed of and which I simply don’t care for).

So all this ~schmico is endgame!!! we deserve it!!!~ Binches, I have better things to fight for than schmico endgame. What’s the alternative? Levi lives in Jo’s closet forever? They’re going to be together in the end no matter what. Nobody on that show cares enough about Nico OR Levi to set up new relationships and stories for them. So don’t fret, my friends. They’ll be together in the end. It just comes down to the question of what stupid story they’re going to come up with for them to be together. (And might I argue that they already are together???)

Speaking of the bogus story they’re going to write for schmico: you bet my rice eating, Chinese-speaking ass, that it’s not going to be a story written from a queer and poc perspective. It’s going to be some gag-worthy straight het story but made gay. (How many times do I have to hear, "I hope Nico comes out to his parents!!" NO, HE DOESN'T! Do you know how VIOLENT coming out is sometimes?? It's not a solution to Nico's problems with Levi. It's an introduction and invitation to problems over being queer -- but why would I expect anyone, let alone Grey's, to understand that prepetuating these types of stories is inherently damaging to queer people? They wouldn't know. The cishet fandom wouldn't know. Because no one is writing grey's in a queer, poc centric way.)

Which drives me to the next point: you know why Nico doesn’t get character development even though he showed up at the same time as Link? Because of ✨racism ✨. Because Link is a more conventional character (read: white) that is easier to write because nobody on this show knows how to write an Asian character anymore, let alone a gay Asian character. So of course, nobody wants to touch that shit even with a pogo stick. (Argue with me that Cristina exists and I will tell you, yes she did, but they RARELY touched upon her cultural and ethnic background. Also it was the early 2000s. Cristina was as ground breaking as it got for us Asians back then.)

And then because Nico isn’t developed enough, we have the weird phenomenon of people shipping everyone and their dog with Levi and it’s like, y’all know you got played by the racism game, right? You are hostages to this system that has taught you that white men are more desirable and deserving of story and humanity than a poc character who is instead, reduced to nothing but sex appeal and if he’s not doing well on that front, then he’s useless.

How many times does Levi say: Nico is so hot! Sex with Nico is so good! He’s a roman statue!

All!! the!! time!! Nico's worth to Levi’s character is to be the sex object that Sets Him Free.

Which plays into the sexualization of Asian people which all comes from, you guessed it! Racism! (Levi really compared Nico to a fucking lifeless slab of stone.)

(Side note: I do think talking about how racism plays into Nico’s character and the fandom space is important and probably a separate post. I’m happy to write my opinion piece on it if it’s something people want.)

But anyway, those are just some of my qualms with schmico, grey’s anatomy, and the fandom. I do not expect anyone to fully agree with me and I’m not asking the fandom to change or apologize or whatever. I’m just already grateful if you took the time to even read this post.

I’ll leave with some parting advice: fandom is what you make of it. We won’t all agree with everyone’s hot takes, but that’s the beauty of it, yeah? So I chose to create this version of Nico Kim that brings me IMMENSE joy. Like, A LOT!!! I love this fandom for these reasons. I’m grateful everyday for the friends I’ve made and the works and creations I’ve created and I’m honoured to be able to consume other works made by fellow fans.

I might hate a lot of things about grey’s and schmico, but I really owe a lot of myself to this fandom.

#know that i'm always angry but i know how to have fun lol #schmico::::

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gogiberries · 4 years ago

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Hi so I’ve had this in my head for a few days now

It’s basically how i see the Nanami x Gojo relationship (but it’s more sad than anything else tbh)

⚠️ spoilers ahead for those who haven’t read the manga!

Please enjoy this disgustingly long thread <3

- okay so the way they started was out of convenience/ desperation

- Geto left the school and abandoned Gojo

- Nanami lost Haibara

- So the two ended up just trying to find some sense of comfort and understanding in each other

- Gojo was the one to start it though

- I see Nanami as the type to just suffer silently with his pain and loss, so Gojo had to have made the first move

- They were still students and now they had to pair up for training more often

- Gojo did consider Shoko before Nanami, but he knew that she wouldn’t give him any chance because she saw the start and finish of him and Geto

- Gojo also didn’t want to go to some stranger because he couldn’t lay it all out to someone who didn’t understand sorcery and explain the heavy chip Geto left on his shoulder

- So Nanami, the guy who also just lost someone & who is up to date with the Geto stuff is a perfect candidate for Gojo

- Gojo starts teasu Nanami about how he needs to get stronger during sparring

(this just pushes the “have get stronger for Haibara/ not end up like him” notion in Nanami’s head)

- And one day Gojo just switches to heavy flirting

- Nanami is like ‘???’ but he chalks it up to Gojo just being his weird self

- But the flirting continues

- And Gojo being Gojo, he just keeps getting more direct until one day he just flat out asks if Kento has thought about fucking him

- Despite the constant flirting and suggestive stuff Gojo has been doing, Nanami is completely thrown off

- “What the fuck are you saying” is probably what he’d say, a slight blush forming on his face

- “Cmon dont lie, you’re saying it hasn’t crossed your mind once or twice when we spar?” Gojo would tease

- And Nanami would immediately deny it

- And Gojo would push it even further and say

“oh? That’s too bad, cause I sure have thought about fucking you“

- Now Nanami is blushing hard, face feeling too hot

- “Quit saying nonsense and stop lying” Nanami is too strong willed to give into/ believe in Gojo’s offer

- “I’m not~ do you want me to prove I’m not?” Gojo is also too strong headed and now refuses to back down from this thing he started

- Nanami says no, but they can both hear the hesitation in his voice

- Gojo takes this sliver of a chance to kiss the blonde

- Nanami goes to pull him off, but he doesn’t.

- Why? He’s not sure either, maybe it’s because he’s still a bit inexperienced with all of this, or maybe because he’s willing to accept this- whatever this is that Gojo is offering to help distract him from the pain he’s still trying to cope with from losing Haibara

- So he only backs up slightly to tell Gojo they should go somewhere more private

After that, their relationship, if you want to call it that for lack of a better term, begins

- Gojo definitely is the one who takes the most in this relationship

- At first, when he was trying to keep Nanami from regretting his actions and running away, Gojo was gentle and kind. Making sure Nanami felt understood and comfortable with their actions

- But once Gojo saw Nanami was staying, his caring attitude slowly faded

- He would stay to cuddle afterwards, but only until Nanami was asleep, leaving him to wake up by himself in the morning

[ maybe once in a while Gojo would leave a “Sorry I got called in for some mission” half assed excuse ]

- Not by force, but Gojo would make sure he’d get his needs met before Nanami did (definitely half assed in trying to meet Kento’s needs)

- Nanami isn’t stupid, he noticed the change in Gojo’s behavior early on, but being the masochist that he is, he put up with it because it still felt better than remembering Haibara and dealing with that

- Kento definitely noticed when Gojo was at his worst though. When Gojo was okay, he’d put up his usual goofy & cool dude front, and be selfish in bed, leaving the second they were done as if he was too “cool” and “strong” to show sad emotions.

- But when Gojo was really down and haunted with memories of Geto, he would stay the whole night.

- Gojo would be more gentle and slow with his actions, he wasn’t going out of his way to fully please Kento, but it was more like a sympathetic “c’mere let me do it for you” offer

- on those nights, after they were done, Gojo would lay there and hold-genuinely hold- Nanami.

- Nanami could see the accumulated exhaustion and pain in Gojo’s eyes on those days, and like Gojo, he wouldn’t go out of his way to help him. He might offer to be the bigger spoon or not question it when he stayed till morning, but Kento never would ask Gojo if he wanted to talk about it.

- Nanami would also allow himself to be selfish and enjoy the softer and more affectionate actions Gojo would do during these days

The sense of comfort and understanding they felt with one another was odd and definitely unhealthy, but it was better than being left alone with their own thoughts.

And it continued until Gojo was finally graduating and Nanami decided to share the news that he was going to start interning at some office

Gojo was taken back a bit by the announcement. Kento seemed like he would’ve just done the expected thing of graduating and going straight into sorcery work.

- “You really don’t like this sorcery stuff huh?” He’d probably ask him

- “It's all a bunch of shit” definitely a Nanami response

- Gojo was pretty indifferent in Kento’s post graduation plans, so he only gave him and understanding nod

During Nanami’s final year at the tech school, the two drifted apart without much trouble

- Maybe once in a while, when they were both overworked and stressed by their new schedules, they’d come back for one night to each another.

- It wasn’t much different than what they already had though

- Gojo would still only care about getting his first, and Nanami would use the time to space off and just distract himself from his reality

After Nanami graduated and started his salaryman career, their meetups stopped for a good while.

- Besides the fact that the two were now working even crazier schedules, Nanami was the one who wanted to full on quit.

- He was done with jujutsu tech & sorcery, and as he’s done with everything else in his life, he ran away from it

- He’d ignore Gojo’s out of the blue texts, or just give short and dry responses

- Gojo wasn’t really hurt about it, there weren’t any deep emotions formed below the surface of what he and Kento had.

- Though Gojo was very close to calling Nanami the day he dealt with Geto

But just how they were a few years ago as students, the two adults ended up back where they started, in an emotional void induced by stress and the years long accumulation of unattended issues that neither one of them knew how to handle.

- Nanami tried to quit, he really did. But going to company speed dating parties and or blind dates set up by coworkers was too much trouble for him. He was working way over 40hrs a week and had no time to develop a healthy relationship with someone.

- After some big deal falling through with his job, Nanami did what most adults who have little to no healthy coping skills would do. Get drunk and call his fuck buddy

- Gojo thought it was a mistake when Nanami sent him a text with only an address

- Gojo, also having almost no healthy coping skills, immediately called Nanami back to see what the text was about

- And oh.

- Nanami did send it on purpose

- Well. Who was Gojo to say no to a free night of being distracted with no strings attached?

Aaaaaand they were back, dancing the same dance they have been for years.

- Somewhere within those meetups, Gojo finally shared what happened to Geto.

- Nanami didn’t say much, he only said enough to convince Gojo that tonight wasn’t going to go as they usually do.

- Instead Nanami allowed Gojo to drink and let out any and all emotions he had about the incident.

- Gojo was embarrassed the next day thinking about what all he probably said. But he was grateful Nanami chose to be the responsible one and be next to him as he aired out his feelings

- Nanami never brought up that night’s conversation details to Gojo. He just let that night be what it was and moved on (the best thing for the both of them, more so for Gojo tbh)

Now present time, they still do their usual meetups, but maybe it’s the years of life slowly sanding them down because now, it feels more like a weird check up with one another than just a quick hookup

- It started with them just getting drinks for the night, nothing happened, they both just got drunk and passed out in Gojo’s Living room

- Then it slowly progressed from getting a quick bite to eat, to having planned dinners together

- Sometimes it leads to something, sometimes it doesn’t.

- Is it healthier than what they were doing at the beginning? Not really.

- They still don’t share their feelings that openly nor do they go out of their ways to comfort each other.

- But I guess just the mutual understanding from someone who has also lived through some fucked up stuff quietly sharing a drink or meal with you is somewhat comforting and helps you stay grounded.

End.

#sorry #there’s no good ending to this #also #if you read all of this you deserve some reward #is there errors and flaws? yes #but im just gonna close my eyes and ignore it lmao #nanago #nanami kento #satoru gojo #gojo x nanami #jjk headcanons

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crazy-loca-blog · 3 years ago

Note

Hello hello! Are you ready for a change? Here we go with:

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Hey Bree!!!

Oh... my... God (read it in Janice's voice, of course)... this is brilliant!!

In my head, there was a time where they both were trying to figure out whether their feelings were real or if everything was just a consequence of spending so much time together (nope, it's canon that Casey has a lot of doubts about herself and her abilities to be a doctor, so given the fact that she lacks of confidence, there is no way in my head that Ethan was the only one having doubts about them and their feelings for each other). So this is before Miami, somewhere around chapter 8, but before chapter 9. The interview takes place at the diagnostics team office... and Bree herself is the one in charge of asking the questions this time!

Masterlist

Ethan: Please remind me why are we doing this instead of taking care of our patients...

Casey: Because you deserve to do things for fun... and our shifts ended an hour ago... now stop complaining, Bree is already here to ask us some questions...

~~*~~*~~

For Both:

Bree: When I first saw them, I thought __________

Casey: I didn't think anything... I was freaking out because the patient was dying! I was only fully aware that he was next to me when he held my hand because I was shaking. The whole situation is a little blurry in my head.

Ethan: I thought she was the only one in the room with the minimal knowledge to help me save that woman. I couldn't understand why she was just standing there instead of helping.

Bree: What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Both, in unison: fuck!

*Laughs*

Ethan: She also says "dammit" when things don't go the way she wants, but you know that she is really mad when she begins to swear in German. Or what she says is German.

Casey: An exchange student at medical school taught me a few things, so yes, it's German. He also says "Christ" and "Jesus" quite a lot. Weird for a non-religious guy, if you ask me...

Bree: Quick: What color are their eyes?

Casey: Blue

Ethan: Green

*They look in the eyes and smile to each other ... maybe longer than expected*

Bree: *thinking to herself* Why am I suddenly feeling like the third wheel here?

Bree: Three people at work your coworker hates?

Casey: Not fair! He hates everyone at work!

Ethan: I don't hate you

Casey: Now I do feel special

Ethan: You should

*Casey wide-opens her eyes and tries not to blush*

Ethan: *realizing what he just said* I... I mean... what I'm trying to say is that you're not as the other interns, so working with you is very enjoyable, even though you're still stubborn and a pain in my ass... don't let it go to your head...

Casey: Too late... I feel honored... but going back to the question, I don't think it's that hard... Dr. Cyrus, Dr. Thorne...

Ethan: *under his breath* ...assholes...

Casey: ...and even though you don't hate her as a person, you've made Dr. Emery's job a hell this year, so I'm not so sure if you actually like working with her...

Ethan: It's equally hard for me because you seem to like everyone and everyone seems to like you... but... even if you don't seem to hate them, I know at least three interns that you'd prefer not to work with: Dr. Emery, she left you dealing with your first patient by yourself and she only takes the cases that she finds interesting and challenging... Dr. Varma, she is a very good doctor, but I have no doubt that she'd throw you under the bus to win the competition... and the other one is your roommate...

Casey: Sienna? I mean... Dr. Trinh?

Ethan: No, no, the guy...

Casey: Dr. Greene?

Ethan: No, the other one...

Casey: Dr. Olsen?

Ethan: Him! I always forget his name... You both are like oil and water. The way you envision patient care is very different to his, so you don't feel comfortable working with him.

Casey: How do you know that?

Ethan: Simple observation... don't forget that I'm constantly evaluating you all.

Bree: What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Casey: He pinches the bridge of his nose more times than I can count in a day.

Ethan: She unconsciously fidgets with her hands when she's nervous and she bites her lip when she's too concentrated thinking about something or when she knows she did something wrong.

Bree: If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

Ethan: Don't deny it, I've seen you with the paramedic... and the surgeon...

Casey: Your people watching abilities must be failing, Dr. Ramsey... I adore them, but they're just friends...

Ethan: I'm very convinced that they don't see you "as a friend"...

Casey: *blushing* Do you think so?

Ethan: I don't "think so", I know it

Casey: What about Dr. Emery? I might have seen things, too...

Ethan: I don't know what was I thinking when I told you we used to date...

~~*~~*~~

Never have I Ever:

Casey: Yay! Bring the drinks!

Ethan: Rookie, we're at a hospital.

Casey: Who said anything about alcohol? I was thinking about the coffee...

Ethan: *Pinching the bridge of his nose* Interns...

Bree: come into work hungover

*They both drink coffee*

Casey: How many times?

Ethan: Once, in my intern year... I learned my lesson the hard way... what about you?

Casey: Same...

Ethan: So, here is the deal... you don't tell my secret and I don't tell yours...

Casey: Deal!

Bree: had a fistfight

*They both drink coffee*

Ethan: *surprised* You?!

Casey: It wasn't a fistfight, but I might have punched a girl back in high school... she was bullying me... I tried talking to her, but apparently she didn't get the message... there is a part of me that regrets it, but there is also a part of me that tells me I did the right thing.

Ethan: Did she keep bullying you after that?

Casey: Nope

Ethan: Then you did the right thing, Rookie

Casey: *smiling* What about you?

Ethan: Same, actually... never been on a fight, but I punched an ass once

Casey: *laughing* Do you expect me to believe that?

Ethan: What?

Casey: None of what you said! There is no way that you punched a person just once...

Bree: been kicked out of a bar

*Casey drinks coffee*

Ethan: Again?

Casey: One of my friends fell asleep at the bar...

Ethan: No comments...

Bree: gotten a tattoo

*None of them drink coffee*

Casey: ...nope...

Ethan: ...not my type of thing...

Bree: broken someone’s heart

*None of them drink coffee*

Casey: Not that I know...

Ethan: I have no idea...

Casey: Come on... I'm sure you have... look at that face!

*Casey points at Ethan's face*

*Ethan drinks coffee*

Ethan: Maybe in my teen years...

Casey: I knew it!

Bree: been in love

*None of them drink coffee*

Casey: I thought I had, but I've been thinking a lot about it lately... and I'd say no.

Ethan: Intimate feelings are just neurochemical responses, I don't even think that "being in love" is a thing.

~~*~~*~~

For Casey (Ethan is not there)

Bree: For this part of the interview, I want you to know that your answers will remain confidential... everything will stay between us.

Casey: Okay...

Bree: Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Casey: This is Ethan Ramsey we're talking about. He could do whatever he wants to and he'll succeed. He's driven and a perfectionist, so he'll always find a way to achieve his goals. I don't see him leaving Edenbrook, he would have left forever ago if he had wanted, so I guess he feels comfortable here. An admin? I don't think so, his passion is working with patients. But you never know.

Bree: What about his personal life?

Casey: I just want him to be happy. He has a tough exterior and I know he seems to be an ass at first, but he's one of the most caring people I've met. And even though I don't know what exactly happened, after you get to know him, you can tell he's gone through a lot, so he deserves the best in life.

Bree: What do you find the most impressive about him?

Casey: The most logical answer would be his mind. He is a brilliant doctor. But above all, he is an amazing human being. He has morals, he is noble and he'll always go the extra mile for the people he cares, in his very Ethan Ramsey's way that is. Most of the time, he is not conscious of what a good guy he is.

Bree: Last thing he texted you?

Casey: His address... we are treating a patient who asked us to keep things private, so there are some things about this case we can't discuss at the hospital.

Bree: If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

Casey: He won't know these answers, right?

Bree: Nope.

Casey: Pinky promise?

Bree: Pinky promise

Casey: *blushing* Okay, so... thinking about this as a very hypothetical situation where he asks me out... because we know that's not going to happen because he is my boss and I'm an intern... not that you can't do it, but it just wouldn't be okay... I think I'd say yes. I mean... look at him! He is incredibly handsome and he could have any woman he wanted! Just add his mind to the mixture and you have the full package... yes, he is the type of person that I'd want to get to know better.

Bree: *smiling* Thank you, Dr. Valentine!

~~*~~*~~

For Ethan (Casey is not there)

Bree: Okay, Dr. Ramsey, for this part of the interview, I want you to know that your answers will remain confidential... everything will stay between us.

Ethan: This is scary...

Bree: Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Ethan: She'll take over the world by storm. I know she is supposed to be at Edenbrook for three years, but if she wants to stay and I have to do it, I will fight every person on the board to retain her here, losing her as an attending would be an irreparable loss for this hospital. But she'll always shine, wherever she decides to go after her residency.

Bree: What about her personal life?

Ethan: I don't care about what my coworkers do outside the hospital, so I don't think it's correct for me to talk about it. But of course I want her to be happy, she is a good person, so she deserves the best... I really hope that she manages to find the balance between her personal life and her professional development... *shows some sadness in his eyes* ...being a doctor is not easy.

Bree: What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Ethan: *coughs* I don't know if it's appropriate to answer that, she is my intern after all.

Bree: She did answer...

Ethan: *visibly uncomfortable* Did she? Of course she did... she is brutally honest... and she is the best secret keeper I've ever known... she is also gentle, caring and an amazing doctor... and her eyes and her smile say a lot... *realizing that he's telling more than he's actually willing to say* next question?

Bree: Last thing she texted you?

Ethan: That she was coming late to the place we had agreed to meet because she had a last minute problem on her shift.

Bree: If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ethan: I assume she answered this one, too...

*Bree smiles and nods at him*

Ethan: *blushing and visibly uncomfortable* Okay, so... I'm going to give you two answers. As a doctor, I would have to decline her invitation. Not only we are colleagues, I'm also her boss. My mission as her boss is to push her to be the best doctor she can be, she has the potential for it, I can see it. Also, she is participating on a competition to earn a spot in my team. So any type of relationship outside the work between us not only is inappropriate, it's unfair for the rest of the interns. As a man... you promise me that this conversation stays between us?

Bree: Yes

Ethan: Then... as a man... not only she is a beautiful woman, she is also smart and caring... she is incredible, and I don't understand how in the world she's been single for so long. No one would dare to say "no" to her.

Bree: Thanks a lot for your time, Dr. Ramsey...

*Bree starts to leave the room, but she suddenly turns back*

Bree: Dr. Ramsey, can I give you one piece of advise?

Ethan: I don't think I need it, but go ahead, Ms. Bree...

Bree: You should ask her out...

#long post #newlyweds game with your host bree #newlyweds game #newlyweds ask game #not yet wed questions #answered asks #ethan ramsey #casey valentine #ethan x casey

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danipixel · 4 years ago

Text

Wherever the Force May Go pt3

Tags: Tags: @maulieber @botherbother-blog @spookiifi @zabrak-show @alicedoestheinternet @rogue-wonderful

Summary: The new business opportunity on Mandalore isn’t exactly panning out as planned. Daia’s new employer doesn’t trust her at all. Tempers flare and she makes a decision that will decide if she remains welcome, or faces the wrath of Maul and Death Watch.

Part 1 Part 2

The bright Mandalorian sunrise filtered through the windows of Daia’s room slowly beckoning her back to consciousness. Blinking the sleep from her eyes as she sat up, she surveyed her surroundings to get recenter herself. She was still in Sundari palace and the room still looked like a thermal detonator went off in it. Standing up from the bed she let out a groan as all of her muscles protested the movement. “Ah shit. Okay so yesterday really did happen.” She quickly dressed herself and worked on making herself look presentable.

A loud pounding on the door interrupted her morning routine. The door then slid open revealing Savage surrounded by an air of impatience. “Get up. You’re expected at the morning briefings.”

“Just a moment, I’m almost done.” She set about fetching her boots from the pile she’d left them in the previous night. “You could have waited more than 5 seconds before opening the door, you know. I could have been indecent.” Savage snorted and rolled his eyes. She finished pulling on her boots and placing her weapons in their usual homes, with her blaster prominently displayed. There had been no indication as to what would be expected of her today besides to learn, so she might as well look like she belonged among the Mando’ade. If Death Watch was anything like they used to be, they held more respect for those that armed themselves. “Okay, ready.”

Savage led her down the long hallways of the palace at a quick pace. His long strides forced Daia to slightly jog in order to keep up with him. They walked the halls in silence for a few minutes before Daia finally broke the quiet. “It’s Savage, right?”

He momentarily flicked his eyes in her direction before answering. “Yes.” An answer is better than being ignored, I guess.

She took a deep breath before speaking again. “Does Death Watch know about me? I mean, they obviously know I exist but, do they know I used to be a Jedi?” Savage still would not look in her direction while speaking. “They know what you told them. Why does it matter?” There’s the million credit question.

Her hands ran over her face a few times before she had a semblance of an answer for him. “Things get...complicated when people find out. Especially when they’re Mandalorian.” Exactly one member of Death Watch had found out about her past before, and had immediately tried to kill Daia for it. That woman was now a corpse in Concordia’s forests. Mandalorian distrust of Force users runs deep.

Savage finally glanced at her but never broke his stride. He didn’t seem to understand her dislike of revealing her past to most people. “Death Watch remains unaware. Hide what you are if you wish, Jedi.”

“Not a Jedi.” Daia whispered to herself. The two continued down the halls of the palace. Her mind unfocused, Daia kept trying to find anything to keep her mind busy. Patience and quiet were never her strong suits. She settled on studying the man she was walking with. He was huge, that much was obvious. He carried himself with less grace than his brother but with the same confidence in his own power. Wait, how did I not notice this yesterday? Her eyes focused on his left arm as she realized the entire thing was synthetic. That was a detail she had failed to notice the previous day. Whatever life the two Zabrak had led before coming to Mandalore, it had obviously been a violent one. A sudden thought crossed her mind about the previous night’s… What even was that? An attack? A test?

She held her hand up to get his attention. “Hey, Savage. I want to apologize for last night.”

He fully looked at her after hearing her words. “What? Apologize for what?” He didn’t understand what there was to apologize for.

“For the table.” She gestured at her face and then at his. “I know we were fighting but still. Sorry about that.”

“Last night” Savage’s voice took a slightly threatening edge, “was not a fight.”

“You’re right. Had it been a real fight,” Daia stretched out her painfully sore arms. “one of us wouldn’t be here this morning.”

Savage stopped walking to turn and study her for a moment. Confusion and mild surprise painted his yellow and black features. “I accept your apology.” That’s it? He’s just fine?

The two rounded the corner into the familiar hallway that led to the throne room. The door slid open to the brightly lit throne room and it was already filled with people. Savage entered first nodding to his brother as he guided Daia to stand far to the side of the throne. Maul was at his rightful place in Mandalore’s throne, one leg thrown over the arm of his seat while he leaned on the other. Daia made momentary eye contact with him as she walked past and smiled. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

Maul studied her face a moment but didn’t respond to her. Instead he addressed the rest of the room while they took their seats. “Many of you met Daia after her...entrance yesterday morning. She will be joining us for these meetings for the time being.” He turned to pin her in place with his gaze. “Pay her presence no mind.”

Savage whispered to her before taking his place at Maul’s right hand. “Stay here and stay quiet.” She was beginning to feel more and more like a captive than an employee.

The meeting began with a wave of Maul’s hand. The first priorities of the day being domestic matters. Almec droned on and on for what felt like hours. While he kept talking, Daia took stock of who was in the room with her. Several members of Death Watch lined the room, acting as a palace guard force. Saxon and Kast stood near Maul with their helmets removed. Kast had changed her hairstyle since the last time Daia had seen her but that was no surprise. Saxon still looked like he had just eaten something sour. Can he make any other expressions? In the seats near Almec were two holographic figures. A Falleen and a Pyke. That was never a good combination to see. He’s got Black Sun and the Pykes working for him? Shit. Daia was unaware of just how much power Maul wielded from this world but it was obviously substantial. She took a quick glance over to the two brothers. They seemed just as bored as she was but Maul seemed to mask it better than both her and Savage.

After about a week of speaking, Almec finally surrendered the floor to someone else. Thank the Force, he’s done. It was Rook Kast’s turn to speak. “There are some new weapons we’ve been trying to get a hold of for weeks on Agamar. The Separatist fleet is still an obstacle.” Savage visibly perked up at the mention of weaponry but Maul only reacted with the slightest of expression change. Had she not been a Force user, Daia most certainly would have missed it. Maul had a greater amount of control over himself than his brother.

Maul shifted to lean forward in his seat. “Are these weapons something we truly need?” Mandalorians need weapons like they need air. Of course she’s gonna say yes.

Saxon stepped forward to answer for Kast. “My Lord Mand’alor, these weapons are more powerful than the ones we are currently equipped with and as our ranks increase, so too do our needs to arm them appropriately.”

Maul considered his soldier’s words for a moment before turning to the holograms before him. “What about Black Sun or the Pykes? Can your ships make it to the surface?” Daia snorted softly and rolled her eyes. The Pykes were drug lords. They didn’t care if they got caught. They’d just send more spice on a different ship. Black Sun was no better. They were brutes. Sure, they could provide capable soldiers and bounty hunters but they lacked the finesse needed to sneak past military vessels. He’s lucky he hired me.

The transparent Pyke spoke first. “There’s no guarantee of success but we will send the ships, my Lord.” They’ll just get caught. The Falleen also responded. “Our pilots will succeed when the Pykes fail.” Like hell they will.

Daia couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Maul was making a mistake by letting these two idiots try to get his shipments. She stepped forward from her place by the wall and addressed Maul specifically. “I can get those weapons for you. I’ve slipped past Separatists plenty of times before.”

Maul fixed her with a glare that could burn a hole through a star. “You will do no such thing.” He was clearly angry at the sudden interruption. Daia felt the Force flare out with his outburst. To his side, Savage narrowed his eyes with a similar look of displeasure.

She knew she was right and continued to press the matter “But you…” Maul quickly stood and threw her back to the wall and held her in place with the Force. “No. That is final.” He continued holding her in place as he stalked in her direction to snarl directly in her face. “Is that understood?” She felt her temper flare but let it go before she could do something else stupid. “Of course, Lord Mand’alor.” Maul released his hold on Daia and turned to return to his throne.

The rest of the meeting continued without incident. Daia stayed focused on Maul the entire time. The information being shared didn’t matter to her anymore. She was pissed and he knew it. There was no way he couldn’t feel it.

Once the meeting ended and those in attendance started to filter out of the throne room, Daia left her spot on the wall to leave as well. Maul quickly barked her name to stop her. I guess he’s not done. Fine. Quickly she made her way back to the throne and started talking before he could berate her. “You said I would start work today. Smuggling weapons past a Separatist fleet sounds an awful lot like what you hired me to do.”

Maul rose and immediately entered her personal space, never once letting go of her gaze. “I also told you that you are to remain in this city until I decide you may leave it.”

Daia’s eyes may have lacked the flaming appearance of Maul’s but the fire was certainly present regardless. “Very well Lord Mand’alor.” She dipped into an exaggerated bow. “Shall I inform you when I eat, bathe, and sleep as well? If there are no more restrictions on my movements, I’d like to go to my ship and let my job contacts know I’ll be unavailable for longer than I expected.”

A soft growl left Maul’s throat before he stepped back. “I expect you back here in the morning.” “Of course. Whatever my lord wishes, right?” She turned on her heels and strode back out of the throne room.

The long walk to her ship was thankfully uneventful, the only people she was forced to interact with being the same dock guards she’d seen the other day. Lowering the ramp of the Fever Dream, she trudged her way up and into the small freighter. Thoughts about how the last two days could have gone so wrong so fast had slowed her usual confident gait. Lost in thought she was suddenly in the cockpit in front of the long range communication console. The console was lit up to alert her to waiting messages. Pressing a couple buttons revealed a small holoprojection of a Rodian missing his left antennae. “Daia I asked around and I finally got a couple jobs for you. These are gonna get snatched up quick so get back to me asap.” Well shit. Aside from Death Watch, Skax always found the best paying work. It wasn’t always necessarily safe or completely legal but it kept plenty of credits in her hands and fuel in the ship.

With a sigh she sent a signal out to Corellia hoping the Rodian would answer. After a minute a similar holoprojection to before shimmered before her eyes. “Well if it isn’t my favorite pilot! You get my message?” If his joyful demeanor was anymore painted on, it would flake off his face.

“Yeah Skax. I got your message. Look, I’m gonna be unavailable for a while. I may have done something stupid.” May have was an understatement. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that this whole trip had been a mistake. The Force had tried to warn her something was off but she didn’t listen.

Skax muttered in Rodese for a moment before switching back to Basic. “What do you mean unavailable? Is your ship damaged? That thing never breaks.” That’s because I don’t tell you how often I fix it.

Daia shook her head with a small insincere smile. “No, she’s not broken. I’m just gonna be grounded on Mandalore for a while. I’ll contact you when I can leave again.” With no indication as to how long she’d be stuck in Sundari, a while was the best answer she had.

The Rodian’s sickly pleasant demeanor finally dropped as he threw his arms in the air. “What the fuck are you even doing on Mandalore? I thought you stopped going back there months ago.”

“So did I. Look, I’m fine. I just can’t take any work right now. Let someone else have them. I’ll get in touch with you later. Try not to miss me too much.” She ended the transmission before he could argue with her. She knew he’d get over being cut off. He always did.

The second day of her extended stay at the palace began the same as the previous, with a pounding on her door, but this time Savage waited outside instead of forcing his way in. After a final check of her clothing and weapons she stuffed a large yellow fruit between her teeth and walked out the door after her chaperone. Walking down the hallway she finally took a bite of her breakfast. The fruit flooded her mouth with a bright sweet flavor that made her momentarily forget she was under house arrest. Savage’s words broke her silent reverie. “What is that?”

“This?” She held up the fruit in her hand. “A meiloorun. You can get them in every market from here to Coruscant. I love them.”

He just shrugged and shook his head at the unfamiliar fruit. He’s never had one? That won’t do at all. Carnivore or not, every sapient being had to try one at least once. “Hang on a second.” She pulled a small knife out of her pocket and Savage instinctively grabbed her wrist to stop her movements. “It’s for the fruit, not you. Knife’s not big enough anyway.” Once he let go of the vice grip on her wrist she cut the fruit in half and offered one to Savage. “Here. It’s illegal to be a grown man and have never tried it once.”

Savage looked between Daia and the fruit with extreme suspicion but made no move to take the offered fruit. She huffed and slapped it into his hand. “If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t use a fruit. Just eat it.”

He sniffed at it and tentatively took a small bite while Daia rolled her eyes at him. The juice and sweetness caused his eyes to widen in surprise before he greedily finished the rest. A small smile crept onto his face before he was able to hide the unbidden expression. After a few seconds of wrestling with his thoughts, Savage muttered “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She couldn’t help the smile on her face as they finished walking to the throne room for what was sure to be another mind numbing meeting.

The throne room was the same as the previous morning, the only difference being Almec’s clothing and Maul’s ever changing seating position on the throne. Maul’s gaze followed her as she and Savage walked across the room to her place on the wall. She nodded and smiled at him as she passed but said nothing.

The meeting began with a wave of Maul’s hand as it had the day before. Almec droned on again, Saxon and Kast gave their reports on Death Watch’s work. Daia half watched Maul’s reactions and half pretended she was somewhere else until she heard the Pyke representative mention the weapons waiting on Agamar. “My lord Maul, we have not heard word from our ship sent to Agamar. We have sent a second to ensure their success. We...we hope to hear from them by day’s end.” You won’t.

Maul’s irritation whipped dark waves around him in the Force. Everyone in the chamber fell silent, It didn’t take Force sensitivity to sense his feelings about failure. He completely ignored the holographic Pyke as he addressed the Falleen. “Have your ships ready to go to Agamar by morning.” He snapped his head back to the Pyke “For your own sake, you had best bring news of your success tomorrow.” The Pyke took a step back despite being on another planet. “Ye-yes lord Maul.”

Daia sent out a small message through the Force to Maul before the next person spoke. A simple sensation more than words. A push to say that she could perform whatever task was laid before her. He responded to her intrusion by shoving her back into the wall without so much as looking in her direction. All heads turned in her direction at the sound of her back smacking into the wall. “It’s nothing, please continue.”

The daily briefing finished as it had before and Daia walked out the door with the rest of those who had attended. She spent the rest of her day walking through the city or fighting with P4R-E in the palace training room.

The next day started with another pound on the door from Savage. This time when Daia left the room she tossed him his own meiloorun with a grin. “Since you liked the last one so much.”

Savage responded with a smile of his own before enjoying his gift. The two walked in comfortable silence to the throne room for Daia’s third day of being Maul’s wall decoration.

Once again Almec droned, then Kast and Saxon delivered reports. Again, Daia kept her eyes on Maul monitoring his responses, both visible and only present in the Force. This time, a different Pyke representative was present. I guess they failed. Big surprise. Maul spoke to the Falleen hologram “Send your ships. Do not fail me.” The Falleen bowed, “Yes lord Maul.”

Daia stepped away from the wall and cleared her throat. “Lord Mand’alor, I believe that you would have more success if I was permitted to accompany the Black Sun ships in my own ship. I swear to you, I can make it to the surface of that planet.” Maul stared at her for a moment, his expression completely unreadable to her. “No.” Why am I even here if he won’t listen?

She left the room as soon as everyone had finished. The Death Watch target range called to her. She needed to shoot something, or several things many times. Death Watch had taken over a section of the gardens to convert into their own personal target range. Armored warriors joked and showed off their marksmanship for one another. A few kept to themselves and stayed focused on their targets while others still crowded around benches to clean and maintain their weapons after their firing exercises.

Daia pulled her blaster out of its holster and gave it a quick once over as she made her way to join the others. It could use a good cleaning. She’d have to disassemble it and scrub it clean after her practice today. She’d been too lost in thought to keep an eye on what was in front of her until she collided with an armored chest. Looking up she found herself face to face with Gar Saxon, wearing a particularly intense look of disapproval. “What are you doing here smuggler?”

“The same thing as the rest of you.” She looked around as if he could have been speaking to anybody else. “Perfecting my aim and taking care of my blaster.” Saxon crossed his arms and stayed planted directly in her path. “You aren’t welcome here.” Daia rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. Shit, did he find out? “I was welcome amongst you all the last time you saw me. In fact, I recall sharing drinks with most of you.” “Last time we saw you, you were bringing much needed supplies to Concordia.” Saxon leaned down close to her face. She should have felt threatened but with the way her week had been going, she was just irritated. “Then you stopped without notice. Some of our soldiers starved without those rations. What makes you think you’d be welcome among us after that?” “I’m sorry but last I checked, you stopped contacting me.” After her last visit, Almec had been thrown in prison and Viszla had tried killing a Jedi in his attempt to take Mandalore for the Duchess. It was best that Daia remain scarce until somebody from Mandalore or Concordia contacted her. Nobody ever did. “It’s a little hard to set up cargo drop off when your contacts are either in prison, exiled, or dead.”

“Let her through, Saxon.” Kast came up from behind him and gave him a shove to the side. “Mand’alor told her to make herself at home in the palace. Like it or not, she can be here too.”

Saxon snorted and shoved his way past Daia, bumping her shoulder with his armored one on the way out. Feeling petty, she lightly flicked her fingers as she slightly tripped him up with the Force. His quiet curse brought a satisfied smirk to her face. “Vor’e, Kast. Would you care to join me? There’s no shortage of targets.”

“Ba’gedet’ye.” Kast waved away Daia’s thanks. “I guess I’ll have to stay and teach you how to shoot properly.”

“Is that so?” Daia barked out a laugh and made her way to the nearest shooting lane. She pulled out her blaster again and took aim at the humanoid shape downrange. “I look forward to making you eat those words.”

She stayed at the range for a few hours, trading shots with Kast and mocking each other whenever a blaster bolt went wide. It felt good to have a friend on Mandalore again. When they’d had their fill the two cleaned their weapons and went their separate ways, but not before making plans to meet up for target practice again. After Kast left, Daia found herself a meal and took off to the training room for P4R-E's company for the rest of the evening. Perhaps fighting with her droid would erase her frustration with her employer.

Another morning, another pounding on her door. Five days since she had come to Mandalore and four of them spent as Maul's silent pet. This time she walked past Savage without stopping as she deposited a meiloorun in his waiting hand. "Come on. Your brother's waiting for me to hold up the throne room wall again." The path to the throne room was beyond familiar and allowed her mind to wander until she once again found herself leaning in the same spot she'd occupied for most of the week. Her mind slipped into the Force, feeling the failure of the Black Sun before anyone could address it. Maul must have felt it too. His presence in the Force had become an inky rolling boil, a significant change from its usual flowing shadows. Somewhere in the room Daia distantly heard someone mention contacting the Hutts for a ship to make the pickup. The boil around Maul managed to become even more intense as she felt her own temper flare simultaneously. The Hutts? Only if you want them to steal a quarter of your cargo and claim they lost it. Her patience had finally met its end. The moment others began to leave, she flew out of the room without a word and back to her own.

Daia's mind was a flurry of thoughts as she gathered the necessary things for a fast trip off of Mandalore. I'll get those fucking weapons. She shouldered her bag and paused a moment to leave a bowl of meilooruns on the table with a note, “Savage, these are all yours.” She stormed out the door and made a beeline for the Fever Dream. The same guards she’d seen every time nodded as she passed. “Just dropping some things I don’t need at the ship. I’ll be right back,” She lied.

Once out of sight she dropped her bag and ran for the cockpit. “Who does he think he is? Sending Hutts to do my fucking job. Bastard.” Daia’s hands flew over the controls of her ship, skipping through her usual preflight checks and firing up the engines. The ship rose from the platform and began to turn in place to head out of the city. Over the roar of the engines, Daia could just make out the guards shouting at her, probably to land the ship before they shoot. She waved at them out the window before closing the loading ramp and flying up into the atmosphere.

Before she could rise high enough to watch the sky turn from blue to black her comm crackled and Saxon’s furious voice filled the cockpit. “What do you think you are doing?!”

She checked her proximity sensors. No one was following her. Not yet anyway. She hit the comm to open the channel so she could answer the man. “I’m doing my damn job.”

Saxon wasn’t hearing it. She didn’t think he would anyway. “You have exactly 15 seconds to turn around before I blast that piece of garbage out of the sky.” Daia let out a sharp laugh at his threat. “Now now Saxon, why would you shoot someone else’s ship down when it’s me you’re mad at?” Every moment she kept him arguing with her was another moment for her to fly out of his range.

The supercommando ignored her and began counting down. “15...14...13...12...11…10...9...” She cut off his countdown. “I’m sorry, I’m having difficulty hearing you. Did you say ‘nine’ or ‘good flying’?” A few more seconds was all she needed before being able to jump to hyperspace.

Maul’s voice rolled out of her comm’s speaker. “Let her go.” He must have been standing there listening the entire time. “I’m sorry Lord Maul, what?” came Saxon’s confused reply.

“I said, let her go.” Daia could hear the irritation in his voice at being questioned. There was also a hint of curiosity behind it. He wants to see if I can do it, doesn’t he? “Either she returns with the weapons or she dies and is no longer our concern. I trust you heard that Daia. Either you return with those weapons, or don’t bother coming back at all.”

Again she let out a short laugh. “Oh that won’t be a problem at all, handsome. Hopefully the palace doesn’t collapse without me holding up the walls. Try not to miss me too much.” Her ship had cleared the atmosphere completely. She was free. With one last glance back to the planet behind her, she hit the hyperdrive and was thrown away from Mandalore and towards Agamar and her prize.

#darth maul #fanfic #star wars tcw #oc #Daia Veeral #Maul is not always the best person to work for #Savage is much nicer

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