#find a mechanic you trust and let them do their damn job

[muttever]

as someone who was raised by a mechanic, hearing so many people insist that you should be able to change your own oil or else you havent been prepared to live as an adult drives (ha) me insane

automotive repair is a trade that requires a LOT of highly specialized knowledge and equipment to do properly (and not doing it properly could get you or someone else injured or killed)

anyway, in case no one has ever told you, mechanics typically do more than just change your oil when you bring it in for that reason. stop looking down on trades

[last-dropsevi]

I read all of your works until now, and I loved them, so I'd like to request something (if I sound too formal, sorry, English is not my first language)

So, my request is a Sevika x reader, where Sevika is hesitant to trader participating in the final fight, against the noxians, cause she's scared that reader might get hurt. Reader ends up getting a bit hurt but nothing serious, and after the whole Arcane thing, Sevika finds reader looking for her on the battlefield.

Aww thank u for the compliment also woohooo ur my first ever request 🥳. I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted since I took alil artistic lliberty.sorry

𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕭𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊

Pairing: Sevika x Reader

Warning: Toward the end of season 2 so blood, fighting, war normal, cursing, possessive behavior, fire arms/weapons, death. (wrd count 1.8k)

Materlist

The streets of Zaun were eerily quiet the night before the battle, the anticipation so thick it suffocated everything else. The dim glow of neon lights reflected off rain-slicked cobblestones as the city braced for the storm to come. Inside the cramped warehouse that served as a makeshift war room, the tension between you and Sevika was palpable, a raw wound left to fester.

The argument had been brewing all day, a slow boil beneath the surface until it finally spilled over.

“You’re not ready for this,” Sevika said, her voice low but unmistakably firm. She stood with her arms crossed, the dim light catching the dull shine of her mechanical arm. Her gaze bore into you, a mixture of frustration and something softer—something harder for her to admit.

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” you snapped, your voice rising to match the intensity of your emotions. “You think I’m still some rookie who doesn’t know how to fight? I’ve been with you through every skirmish, every backroom deal, every damn battlefield! Don’t stand there and tell me I can’t handle this.” “It’s not about whether you can handle it!” Sevika barked back, her tone sharper now. Her jaw clenched, and you could see the muscles in her neck tighten as she tried—and failed—to keep her temper in check. “This isn’t like the jobs we used to run. This is war. And you’re not invincible.” “Neither are you,” you countered, stepping closer. Your fists were clenched at your sides, your nails biting into your palms.

“But you don’t see me telling you to sit this one out. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t do, Sevika. I’ve earned my place here, just like you.” Her expression darkened, her brows knitting together as she loomed over you. “Do you think I’m doing this to insult you? To put you down? For once in your life, stop being so damn stubborn and listen. I’m worried about you.” You froze, caught off guard by the raw emotion in her voice. She rarely let her guard down like this, even with you. But the anger still simmered beneath your skin, and you weren’t ready to back down.

“Worried about me? Since when do you care? You’ve never had a problem throwing me into the thick of things before.” “That’s not fair, and you know it,” Sevika growled, her mechanical fist clenching at her side. Sparks flickered from the joints, a physical manifestation of her frustration. “I care more than you realize. That’s why I’m telling you to stay the hell out of this. If something happens to you—” Her voice broke off, and she turned away, pacing a few steps before running a hand down her face. She looked like she wanted to punch a hole through the wall—or maybe through herself. “Why can’t you just trust me to make my own decisions?” you demanded, your voice trembling now, not with fear but with the weight of everything left unsaid between you.

“You act like I’m some fragile thing that needs protecting, but I’ve been at your side for years. I’ve bled for Zaun, for you. What else do I need to prove?” “It’s not about proving anything,” she muttered, her back still to you. “It’s about me not wanting to lose you.” The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for far too long. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The rain outside had started to fall harder, the sound of it filling the silence like a heartbeat. But the moment of vulnerability passed quickly, buried under layers of pride and pain. You shook your head, biting back the surge of emotion that threatened to choke you.

“If you can’t respect me enough to trust me, then maybe we’ve been fooling ourselves this whole time.” With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out, leaving Sevika standing there, her fists clenched and her heart aching. She wanted to call after you, to say something—anything—but the words refused to come. Instead, she slammed her mechanical fist into the nearest table, sending a shower of splinters into the air.

The dawn brought with it the sounds of preparation: the clinking of metal, the hum of machinery, and the low murmur of voices. Sevika had thrown herself into the work, sharpening her blade and overseeing the distribution of weapons. It kept her mind occupied, kept her from dwelling on the argument that had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She hadn’t seen you all morning, but part of her assumed—hoped—you were keeping your distance because you had actually listened to her. Maybe you’d decided to stay out of the thick of the fight, working logistics or coordinating from the sidelines. The thought brought her some comfort, though it was fleeting. Sevika didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The battlefield erupted in chaos, the deafening roar of artillery blending with the cries of soldiers. Ambessa moved with commanding precision, her blade a blur as she tore through enemy lines. Blood streaked her armor, and bruises marred her skin, but she didn’t falter, driven by sheer determination and the thrill of combat.

Unbeknownst to her, you had ignored her stern warnings and joined Loris at one of the heavy machines. The two of you worked side by side, firing relentlessly to hold the line against the advancing enemy. Sweat dripped from your brow as the machine roared, each shot sending shockwaves through your arms. Then, in an instant, everything shifted. An arrow, sharp and swift, pierced Loris’s neck, cutting his commands short as blood sprayed across the machine. Your breath hitched, the chaos around you fading into a cold, sharp focus as his lifeless body crumpled beside you.

You froze as Loris crumpled to the ground, his lifeless eyes staring up at nothing, blood pooling beneath him in a stark, vivid red. Panic clawed at your throat, the sounds of battle muffled as the world seemed to spin around you. Your chest tightened, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, but there was no time to grieve—no time to let fear paralyze you. Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to move, snatching a rifle from a fallen alliy with trembling hands. With a surge of determination, you threw yourself into the fray, firing shot after shot, every muscle in your body trembling but resolute.

You weren’t as strong as Sevika, but you fought with everything you had, striking down enemy soldiers with a ferocity born of desperation. Each blow sent pain through your bruised and battered body, your muscles screaming with every movement. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on you, but something deeper -maybe loris- kept you going.

Through the chaos, your eyes locked onto Sevika, crouched behind a crumbling wall. Her chest heaved with labored breaths, her shoulders rising and falling as she tried to steady herself amid the storm of battle. Relief flooded through you, and you ran toward her, dodging through the mess of bodies, dead and alive. But just as you reached her, a stray bullet—meant for Ambessa—tore through your thigh. The scream that tore from your throat was involuntary, raw with pain and shock.

You dropped to the ground, clutching at the wound as blood seeped between your fingers. Around you, the battle raged on, your scream lost in the cacophony. No one noticed—no one but Vika.

Her head snapped up at the sound, her heart lurching in her chest. She knew that voice, that scream. It was imprinted in her mind, as familiar as her own. She spun, her eyes scanning the battlefield until they locked onto you. Her stomach dropped at the sight of you crumpled.

The battle raged on, chaos spreading in every direction. Sevika’s focus had been singular—getting you out of harm’s way. But as her eyes locked on yours and she saw the pain etched into your face, her relief was short-lived. From the far end of the battlefield, a surge of Viktor’s forces began to overwhelm Zaun’s defenders. The enemy soldiers moved with mechanical precision, their glowing eyes reflecting the unmistakable influence of Hextech augmentation.

Sevika’s body tensed, her instincts screaming at her to act. She raised her blade, ready to defend you again. But before she could charge, something changed. The first wave of Viktor’s soldiers stopped abruptly, their weapons dropping to their sides as their bodies stiffened unnaturally

. A soft, eerie hum filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Then, like a ripple through the crowd, others began to freeze in place, their movements arrested as their bodies jerked under the influence of some unseen force. Sevika’s brow furrowed, her gaze darting across the battlefield. “What the hell is this?” she muttered, her voice low and wary. You, still clutching your wounded leg, tried to push yourself up to get a better view.

The hum grew louder, and your heart sank as you realized what was happening. A faint, unnatural light pulsed through the crowd—Hextech. But this wasn’t just augmentation. This was control. “Vika,” you rasped, your voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.” Before she could respond, the glow of the Hexcore reached the soldiers nearest to you.

Their bodies stiffened as their faces went slack. Sevika stepped forward, her blade at the ready. “Stay behind me,” she ordered, her voice sharp. But it wasn’t just the enemy soldiers. The glow was spreading. Zaunites, your own people began to fall victim to the glowing influence. One by one, they froze, their weapons clattering to the ground as their minds were overtaken.

“Shit,” Sevika cursed, her movements growing more frantic. Their bodies moved like machines, unstoppable and unyielding. And then it happened. The glow reached Sevika. Appearing straight from the sky like an angle. Her flesh arm twitched, trying to resist, but it was no use. Her body jerked unnaturally as the Hextech took hold, her blade falling from her grip. “Sevika!” you screamed, your voice breaking with panic.

Her eyes met yours for a fleeting moment, wide with fear and frustration. “Run—” she managed to rasp before her voice cut off. Her body froze completely, her head tilting upward slightly as her gaze became vacant, her expression eerily calm. “Sevika?” you whispered, your voice trembling as the realization set in. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t fighting.

She was gone, her mind no longer her own. The hum grew louder, and the glow inched closer to you. Your heart pounded as you tried to crawl away, but your wounded leg made it impossible to move fast enough. “Stay with me,” you pleaded softly, looking at Sevika even though you knew she couldn’t hear you. Then, the glow reached you. unexpectedly as everyone else's. Your body jerked as the Hextech seized control, your limbs relaxing against your will. Panic surged through you, but it was quickly smothered by the overwhelming numbness that followed. You tried to fight it, to resist, but it was like screaming into a void.

Masterlist

Are yall tired of me writing angst like be honest with me i can handle it T-T

[gillyweedgrl]

You should be watching Pit Babe! - A Brief Review

Saddens me to think how many people are missing out on a great show because they think it’s not worth more than a trash watch, if that.

I mean, realistically, is it the most amazing cinematic work of all time? No, not unless pretty-boy power bottoms with daddy issues are your thing, which in my case they are, so let's talk about Pit Babe!

Note: I've tried to keep the spoilers to a minimum, they're mainly in the tags and links so follow them at your own risk, you've been warned.

Honestly, Pit Babe is a pretty damn good show, especially if you A) pretend the Omegaverse factor doesn’t exist and take the show for what it is and B) you don't mind not knowing what's going on half the time, just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

Overall, Pit Babe has got a good production value, a slightly absurd yet entertaining plot, a great choice of cast with amazing chemistry and pretty decent acting skills amongst the mix of seasoned actors and newbies.

For a totally biased fair and balanced review: There are some details that are left vague instead of being explained in depth or at all (yet), but that’s to be expected when you adapt a novel into a movie or series. It would get boring for the audience if the pace was interrupted to explain all those little details that we’re likely to find out along the way anyways (shout out to those who've watched the latest episode; finally!).

There are also some scenes that feel like they’re not as necessary and some background/plot devices that made a little more sense in the novel but I personally don’t feel like they detract too much from my viewing experience.

Babe (played by Pavel) and Charlie (played by Pooh) as the main leads do a really good job at shouldering a large percentage of screen time. Charlie comes across as happy-go-lucky, a bit clumsy/goofy, entirely fearless and a little naive, which is mostly true, but there's clearly more to him than that. Right from the start Babe is clearly someone guarded, detirmined and skilled at what he does (racing cars and having sex) and he has a very tight cirlce of people he trusts. There's a winning combo right there, quite tsundere/sunshine from the outside but definitely more breath the surface that gets exploded as they go.

Way (played by Nut) is Babe's best friend and racing companion, they've been racing together at Team X-Hunter for years but there's clearly more than friendship on the mind for Way, though the feelings appear to be one sided.

Alan (played by Sailub) is the owner of Team X-Hunter and an all-round cool Uncle (which the whole team call's him (despite barely being in his mid 30's). He's kind but firm, he cares for his team like they’re his family and it does seem as though they’re his only family.

And the rest of the cast consists primarily of:

Team X-Hunter:

Dean (played by Lee); a junior racer with slight douche vibes

North and Sonic (played by Michael and TopTen); everyone’s babies, they’re junior racers and content creators

Jeff (played by Pon); the newest member of the team, he’s a part time mechanic and full time conspicuous

Pete (played by Ping); the money guy Alan brings on board to sponsor the team

Team Red Racing (the rival team):

Winner (played by Pop); the guy who never seems to win against Babe

Kim (played by Benz); the new racer they hired to beat Babe

Tony (played by S Vorarit); Red Racing's newest benefactor and *shock horror* Babe's former foster father (try saying that ten times fast)

Kenta (played by Garfield); Tony's right hand man

Then, there’s the 🌶🔥🤯

I, personally, enjoy a little spice/heat in my shows. It’s not necessary for every show, of course, but I do think that when it serves a purpose to the story and it’s done well then it can be quite enjoyable and this cast/production team is doing it really well.

As I said, the chemistry between the cast really is amazing (both on and off the screen, if you're interested in that kind of thing) and although the spicy scenes aren’t nearly as abundant as they are in the novel, there are some really good ones. I decided to bite the bullet and binge read the novel over the past couple of weeks, I blame @pharawee’s breakdown posts for those sleepless nights, and it was worth it for me but not necessary for watching the series.

Lastly (as if this post isn't long winded enough as it is) there are a handful of things in this series that we don't see too often in BL's and make it worth watching even more:

It's got race cars, murder attempts, mafia influence and supernatural powers (at least half the characters have one).

There's no evil ex-lover out to get revenge or get back together with one of the mains (thank the BL gods).

It's got a Soft Top/Dominant Bottom dynamic where the title character is both super masc and a pretty princess.

And we can't forget, it is technically an Omegaverse series (or rather, it's Omegaverse-lite) which none of us saw coming!

Anywho, to conclude; yes, you should be watching Pit Babe. No, you don't have to read the novel to understand what's going on because none of us understand what the hell is going on at any given time. Charlie and Babe are fucking around and finding out, the rest of us are just long for the ride, Alan and Jeff are having a whole ass rom-com-drama in the corner, the babies are making their content and having a blast and the others aren't quite on the map yet (or are they? *wink, wink*), but I sure hope they will be soon!

If you made it this far, thank you and are you okay? Do you need to have your brain checked?

[skellyflowers]

Catch a Shuttle

AN: I'm back

I truly did not expect to enjoy relearning how to use the force, but Kal is a good teacher. He helped me not feel self-conscious about being older than all his other students. After a few days I had become more comfortable and opened up to the other students. It was a little odd that they looked up to me. I don’t think that anyone has done that before. Kal told me not to overthink it, I did survive the genocide of the jedi as a child. 

Training lasts from sunrise to sunset and even when I meditate I am only alone with my thoughts when I go to bed. When I do get to be alone my thoughts turn to IV. I wondered where he was and if he was ok. I didn’t know how long it would take to repair his ship inside and out but it had been 2 months since I last saw him.

I had completed my morning hike and found a nice high rock to meditate on for a while. Kal had really opened my eyes to how relaxing it can be. It also reminded me of the years I lived in the monastery, which was oddly comforting. It really became the best part of my day. I was on the rock for about 30 minutes before I heard frantic footsteps approaching.

“There you are.” Romor huffed. The poor Iktotchi clearly had been running for a while, his normally blue face is tinted purple.

“Romor, is everything ok?” I asked.

Romor takes a few moments to catch his breath. “He’s back! The Mandalorian!”

I jumped off the rock after he said that. “Really where is he!”

“He landed back at base. Kal is talking to him. Kal told me to find you”

“Thanks Romor.” I yell over my shoulder at him. I feel a little bad just running off and leaving him behind. But I think Romor will forgive me this time.

When I get back to the base I see IV’s ship. At least I think it’s his ship. It looks brand new with a new paint job and it looks like he got new engines on the back. The ship is a far cry from the hunk of metal that held together duct tape and hope.

“Do you approve?” A voice asks from behind me.

There he is! I’m happy to see him. There was a part of me that worried that he wouldn’t be able to make it to meet up with his friend.

“Ya it looks better than new.” I say. “Your friend is a great mechanic. I thought it was a new ship.”

“They’re my in-law now.” he says casually. “The wedding was the reason I couldn’t get back sooner.”

“Who got married?” I asked

“III and the mechanic I told you about. It was about damn time he was so whipped for her, it was getting embarrassing.”

“What is a Mandalorian wedding like?”

IV tilts his head at the question. Oh no. Should I not ask questions like that!

“It depends on the individual.” IV says after a long pause. “III loves a grand gesture, it was pretty flashy. I'm sure Vessel just said the vows with no bells and whistles.”

Before I can ask more follow up questions Kal arrives with the other students. Oh good Romor made it back.

“Good to see you two catching up.” Kal says with a faint smile. “Have you thought about my task?”

“I can get it done. I would just need a second pilot. Even a droid would do.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“I asked if IV could bring me a very specific ship.” Kal says, crossing his arms. “It was last seen in an Imperial scrap yard. We’re safe here but I want to be prepared, just in case.”

Kal is right. Just because we have been safe for a few months doesn’t mean the Empire would never come here. An emergency ship would be good to have. 

“You can take BD-1. He can help find the ship and pilot it back.”

“Is he capable of flying the ship you want? He is NOT flying my ship.”

“I guess you can't make an exception?” 

“There are only very specific exceptions. Droids aren't one of them.”

“I'll go with you.” I say. Everyone turns to look at me. “What? He just said he needs a second pilot.”

Kal lets out a quiet snicker. “Nothing. You're right, BD-1 isn't a good choice to fly the ship I'm trying to get back here.” Kal puts his hand on my shoulder. “Be careful.”

“I will. Thank you.” It was nice to know he was ready to trust me with this.

I head back to my tent and start to pack my things. I honestly started to get excited, my last trip with IV hadn't gone smoothly AT ALL but I still looked forward to it. As I finished packing my bag I heard footsteps approaching. I immediately think that it’s Kal coming to tell me He was going to trade places with me. As I prepare to defend my choice I turn to see IV.

“I’m surprised you volunteered to go. Our last trip wasn’t exactly great.”

“I know, but I think you deserve a chance to redeem yourself.” I joke. He responds with a laugh and I wondered what it would sound like without his helmet on.

“Well, I’m glad to get a second chance.” He pauses and touches a pouch on his belt. But then pulls his hand away. “I’ll see you at the ship.”

I head back to IV’s ship once I'm prepared. Kal and the other students are gathered outside. BD jumps into my bag and gives me a few happy boops. Kal and the others wish me and IV luck, but not Lila. She runs up to me and hugs me tight. She is the youngest and the top of her head only comes up to my stomach.

“Come back soon.” she says. Lila then looks around me and at IV. “YOU BETTER PROTECT MY FRIEND!” she then shouts.

“I swear on my life.” IV responds with his hands up in surrender.

With that IV and I head into the ship. BD jumps out my bag and enters the coordinates for the scrap yard. As the ship begins to take off I see everyone waving goodbye. As we left the atmosphere I leaned back in my seat and looked at IV.

“I think that Lila is a little worried about me.” I say sarcastically.

“I was scared for my life. It’s sweet she cares about you so much.”

“Lucky me you owe me a blood debt.” He laughs at that and puts the ship into hyperspace.

During the trip in hyperspace BD gives us the details of the scrap yard. It was fully automated. No people work in the yard, only retired battle droids. The ship we are looking for is a now decommissioned transport shuttle that was used before the Empire. It's a great choice if you need to move multiple people and be under the radar.

IV takes the ship out of hyperspace and lands outside of the sector security. We sneak to an unguarded security terminal and BD connected to it. We found the shuttle Kal requested, it is about a 30 minute walk from here. But it is right in the path of the battle droid's security path.

“Ok, we found the ship but now we just need to get past land and air security.” I say.

“Leave the droids to me.” IV says firmly. “I make sure they don’t stop you from getting to the ship.”

“And after? Assuming I can get the ship off the ground, I’m pretty sure that I saw anti-air cannons.”

Before IV can come up with an answer BD-1 makes a series of beeps and boops. IV tilts his head and looks at me. I guess I should translate.

“BD can send out a jamming signal for about two minutes.”

“That’s a big enough window to get back to my ship.” I nod.

“We can drop you off then get out of here.”

Now with a plan we start to sneak around the scrap yard. BD helped us avoid any droids that were patrolling the yard. Then we finally made it to the ship we were looking for. It was still in a good looking position. I hope this thing can still fly. BD locates the shuttle’s entrance and IV and I see that a cruiser cockpit blocks the door.

“Give me a little room, I’ll move it.” I say to IV. 

He moves behind me, but stays close. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I try to focus on the cruiser that was in the way but it’s a little hard when IV is watching. I really want to show him how much I have improved my skills, but he is also making me nervous. After a few seconds of focusing myself I feel the force around us. I move the stray cockpit out of the way and stack it on top of some other broken ship pieces. 

I am in a full sweat after placing the cockpit down. BD happily beeps and does a little dance. IV places a gentle hand on my shoulder when he checks on me. I wished I could see his face, his body language isn’t telling me if he was impressed or not. 

“Nice work.” He says, as if reading my mind. “I’m sure that was way heavier than a drunk in an alley.” Was that a joke!

“A little bit.” I joke back.

 After I catch my breath we head to the shuttle’s entrance. BD is able to open the door but it gets jammed. IV picked up a nearby piece of a metal bar. He uses his strength to hold the door open so BD and I can slip in around him.

The inside of the ship is covered in dirt and dust. Other than that, it is in pretty decent shape. BD runs up to the shuttle’s cockpit and plugs into the computer. One by one lights turn on in the ship. I sit in the pilot seat and watch the ship status update, one of the fuel lines is damaged, the shield generator is offline and the storage hatch is broken. Luckily the ship’s hyperdrive is online. IV comes up behind me to look over my shoulder to look at the monitors.

“I’m surprised this ship is doing this well.” I say. “I wasn’t sure it would even activate.”

“I had my doubts too. You think you can fly it?”

“If BD can put in the coordinates I should be fine by myself. Or else I'll be stuck following you.”

“If this rust bucket can get off the ground.” He laughs.

Before I can say anything a deafening bang comes from outside. The sudden sound makes me jump back and on IV. I briefly look up at him. My reaction was embarrassing but he made no comment on it.

“What was that?” he asked. IV then moves to the window and attempts to clean off some of the dirt.

The shuttle is now humming and finished running a system check. All flight systems are on line but the engines aren’t starting. Also the navigation is offline.

“That stack of junk next to us fell over.” IV tells me.

“Are we stuck?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m sure a patrol is on its way.” IV comes back over to me. “Are you going to be able to get this thing in the air?”

“Yes, but I might be screwed after that, navigation is totally disconnected.”

“Use the droid. He should be able to supplement the navigation.”

An alarm blares in the cockpit and red lights flash. BD tells me that a security alert has been sent for right where we are! 

“Let's get this thing in the air!”

The engine stalls and shakes the whole ship. After a few seconds the ship starts to move! Just as we get on the air I see a squad of battle droids running towards us. I just barely move the shuttle enough to not get hit with blaster fire.

IV directs me towards his ship and BD informs me that the droids are going to send out scout ships. That's not good. This ship’s shield generator is completely offline. Just as IV gets off the shuttle, the proximity alarm goes off. I can see that three objects are coming towards me. I move the shuttle away from IV so the droids don’t notice him. I then see that the droids are flying Tie Fighters. My shuttle is just fast enough to stay out of range of the fighters until the engine stalls again. 

They open fire once they get close enough. I do my best to avoid the blaster fire. The reactivated just as a hit lands on one of the wings. I look down at the radar and suddenly see a new dot. And it’s closing in fast! Now what! Then one of the dots behind me disappears, then another and then so does the last dot. I look up and realize that the mysterious fourth dot is IV! He flys alongside me and tags my comlink.

“Sorry I'm late. You two ok?”

“We’re both in one piece. Took damage to the wing.”

“Can you get off world?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You go first. I’ll follow.”

I start to pull the ship up. We get over the clouds and soon we are in orbit. IV following close behind me. BD inputs the home coordinates and activates the autopilot. Once the shuttle and IV’s ship are in hyperspace I relax. I let out a harsh breath and lean back in my seat. Why can’t things go smoothly with IV?

The trip in Hyperspace is thankfully uneventful. We make it back and BD helps me land the shuttle. IV landing next to me. Kal and the other students come out to greet us.

“You made it back.” Kal says.

“Yes, just barely.”

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just damage to the wing. The shuttle has no active shields.”

“We’ll check it out.” Kal then brings the others inside the shuttle leaving me IV outside.

“How come when we do something together it goes wrong?” I joke.

“Only twice.”

“At least you paid me back.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“The life debt. I know you didn’t forget that I saved your life.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah I would say you definitely saved my life.”

IV doesn’t answer, but I see him reach the pouch on his belt. He pulls it off his belt and gives it a look. Like he is really considering something.

“You ok? Did that bag offend you somehow?” I joke.

“I brought this for you.” his thumb gently runs over it. 

“What is it?” I reach out for the small bag.

“It’s a traditional gift.”

“What tradition?”

“Open it first. Then I’ll tell you.”

I opened the bag. It’s a bracelet? It is a simple link chain. It is very shiny and a little heavier than I would have thought.

“IV what is this?”

“A… courting gift.”

“YES!”

His head snaps to look at me. “Really?”

“Yes! Stupid!” I hold my wrist out to him.

“Ok.” his hands shake a little when he puts the bracelet on.

I hold my wrist up once he finishes. “Now you really can’t get rid of me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[webbedphantom]

Monkey Business

[@epitomees continued from HERE]

This guy was really ticking him off.

All he wanted was one quiet afternoon, just one shocking moment of peace where he could just relax and enjoy the company of one of his closest friends.

Instead, they now had to deal with someone tailing them. Whether they were here for him or for her he didn't know. And to be honest, he wasn't sure he cared. All that really mattered was this damn ape was making her uncomfortable. And that-

That was unacceptable.

Still, they didn't have many options for losing him. If they were in the Metaverse, he could just pick her up and leap up to the roof to lose him that way. But they weren't, and going in now could make things worse, either bringing in a random tagalong who got a little too close, or getting seen doing so.

Neither scenario seemed appealing.

"Not sure that would work..." He replied quietly, keeping his head facing forward while Arséne kept a third eye on the pursuing primate. "Not that many people in the bars this time of day. If they see us enter, they could easily find us inside, or just wait outside for us to leave."

He reached into his bag, thankful that Mona was hanging out with Futaba right now. It's a lot easier to search for something when you don't have a cat-adjacent creature in the way.

He didn't have many items that would work outside of the Metaverse, and the few that did, like smoke bombs, were a bit too conspicuous. Still, there had to be something in here that would-

"Bingo~"

He pulled out his grappling hook, a sophisticated device he and Morgana had made the night before their first real infiltration. It wasn't one he used too often, as his webs often did the job a lot better, if at a slight cost to his stamina, but it did come in handy on those longer Palace trips.

I'm unsure this is wise... You aren't as strong or agile out in the real world. Are you sure you can handle this?

"I'm sure. This thing was made to support up to 500 pounds, and the reeling mechanism will be doing most of the work. Besides, I may not have super strength out here, but I'm still in good shape."

Even still, you made it for the Metaverse. You have no idea if it'll even work the same way out here!

"It'll work, trust me. If there's one thing I'm an expert on, it's mechanical engineering. And unless you can think of a better way to lose Sinister Simian-"

Sinister Simian-?

"-then this is our best bet."

His Persona was silent for a moment, considering their options. They had already tried losing him the easy way, it was clear whoever this was, was going to be persistent. Still... was this really their best option?

Arsene sighed... I suggest we leave it up to our resident strategist. The grappling hook would work, but considering the risks, it should probably be saved as a last resort.

Aaron let out a small huff, but nodded. He couldn't argue with his logic... no matter how much he hated agreeing with his other self.

"Makoto, what's your take on this? Do we go with grappling hook, or try something else first?"

[musesbykai]

Mal visibly flinched and took a step back. She could tell his threats were anything but empty, and very much wanted to stay alive.

V looked over their shoulder at Oron and shook their head. “She ain’t got trauma team in our universe. Lost that when some goons from HQ took her offa the roster as Arasaka’s personal Fixer and Netrunner.” They then glared at the rat standing before them. “How ‘bout we not call mah family any variation of ‘dog’, hm? He’s got an even shorter fuse than I do and you’re a lil too useful to let die.”

Mal’s black optics with white, monster iris’ and pupils remained focused on Oron. Family? Seriously? Would that impulsive merc’s old nomad life ever stop getting in the way?

Clearly not.

“Fine,” the bitch said through cleaned teeth.

“Your word.”

Mal groaned in irritation. Obviously this was a common interaction between her and the merc. One always having to make a promise to the other in order to make things work between them. “Alright, fine. You have my word, V. But only because you’re literally the only monster in cyberspace I trust to keep me alive.”

“Damn right ah am.” V sounded far more friendly and proud now. Looked it, too, with the way they stood straighter and moved to stand next to the woman. Metal arm wrapped around her shoulders in a sign of both being on friendly terms, and a clear threat of what could happen if she did anything to annoy them. The claws were certainly a little too close to Mal’s still organic neck for her comfort.

Seems even a friendly approach could be weaponized if used by the right people.

And yet, Mal instinctively leaned into the merc.

“By the way, V, next time ya want to get into the big leagues, don’t accept jobs involving Arasaka. That shit you two pulled nearly gave me a heart attack in both hearts.”

V simply laughed as if she just told a joke. “No promises, chica.” ~ kaiju-crimson-storyandask

“Look.” Oron spoke up, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m all for chit chat but we gotta keep moving. There’s three of us here now and we’re kind of exposed.” The Australian looked around, as if trying to find anything suspicious around him. He was also choosing to ignore that statement about accepting Arasaka jobs. For now.

 “If you’ve worked in Arasaka, you know who Smasher is.Well… he’s kinda after both our arses.” There was a grumble from the mechanic as he moved towards his truck. 

“We’re getting you a hotel and you are gonna lay low. All of us are on very thin ice with the locals and one wrong move could attract some attention from people we can’t afford to fuck with.” Oron opened the door for her to get in. His commander's voice came through with what he was going to say next.

“Do you understand?”

@kaiju-crimson-storyandask

[lee-em-dee]

“I think they are just as Bellarke as before only a bit older and more evolved” 100%, I totally agree. 

That bit about them not feeling like OG bellarke is baffling to me because I felt that the entire point of s6 was to rectify how disconnected they were in s5 with their different priorities/reversal of roles (Head Bellamy/Heart Clarke), reminding us why they fit so well together as partners and coleaders pre-Praimfaya. Their original dynamic came back strong to compensate for all of the miscommunication and angst induced by a six-year separation, and to me that was as OG bellarke as it could get—Bell followed his heart, and Clarke had to think her way out of her own head. Despite being separated for the majority of the season, they were never more unified as they worked Together to save their people and find their way back to each other. We even got the explicit line “Heart over head. That was my favorite Bellamy” to emphasize how Clarke’s “death” in s6 was the tipping point that kickstarted Bell’s emotion-driven instincts. It pushed him to follow his heart and save the girl he loved, damn the consequences. At the end of the season they even made it a point to show Clarke gazing in admiration as Bell gave an inspiring speech to the people of Sanctum—s1 Bellamy to a tee. 

The “evolved” part came with Monty’s “do better” mentality as Bell and Clarke honored his legacy and learned from their past mistakes. I think the beauty of s6 was that, though Heart Bell and Head Clarke were back in full force, they also internalized aspects of each other and acted as better, more well-rounded leaders because of it (Bell strategizing + choosing to make a peace deal to ensure their people’s safety instead of taking revenge, Clarke finding strength in her love for Bellamy + later relying on love to bring Madi back the way Bellamy’s love did for her). 

As for the CPR scene, tbh I’m kind of confused why people would make fun of the way it was performed?? If it’s because his wasn’t the most proper CPR technique, I’d argue (from an in-universe perspective and not regarding the way Bob performed it) that Bell’s ineptness/lack of familiarity with performing CPR makes the scene that much more powerful. There was that small moment in s3 (3x11 “Nevermore”) when Bell bandages Clarke’s wound, and then later we see her readjusting/fixing the bandage because it presumably wasn’t put on right. The important aspect of that tiny moment was that Clarke, the healer and the one with the medical expertise, let Bellamy bandage her wound—not because she couldn’t do it herself and do a better job of it, but because the writers wanted to show us that Bell was the only person she trusted enough to let her guard down with in that way. As someone so isolated and self-reliant, she trusted him to take care of her and metaphorically tend to her emotional wounds. She didn’t need him to do so, but she wanted it precisely because it was Bellamy, and that was the kind of relationship they had—the kind of comfort they’ve always provided for each other.

To me, the CPR scene has that same undercurrent of deep emotional intimacy. Bell is a fighter and a survivor, not a healer. He may not have performed CPR absolutely perfectly, but the mechanics of the act were not what saved Clarke’s life. In fact, the CPR itself wasn’t necessary. It was Bellamy’s words, words of pure love and devotion, that inspired Clarke to fight for her life. “You’ve got such a big heart, Bellamy. People follow you, you inspire them because of [your heart].” Clarke needed that heart, needed his drive and his fighting spirit rather than his technical skills, to get herself out of her head.

Gabriel said, “When the head stops telling the heart to beat, it’s over,” but in actuality it was the heart that told the head to keep breathing, keep fighting, and it listened. Against all odds, with the only doctor in the room telling him it was a lost cause, Bellamy’s love defied logic and the laws of nature, overcoming death and characterizing love as the ultimate strength rather than a weakness. And that’s why the inexperienced way Bell performed CPR makes the scene 100x more emotionally profound.

Hi, I saw your rant about s6 just now and wanted to say I completely agree with you. I wasn't aware so many blarkes hated that season and quite honestly that baffles me. As you said, the entire storyline was about Bellamy coming to terms with his feelings about Clarke (emotions that he never got a chance to fully process in s5 because of the fast-paced conflict), and that was the first time the season's main storyline/point of conflict was directly entwined with bellarke's romantic relationship. The plot for s6 WAS bellarke, the love and devotion they had for each other which transcended death. I also think s6 was so important for Bell and Clarke's individual character arcs because it allowed them to reestablish the core essence of their characters (aka the renewal the head and the heart) as Bell touched base with his emotions/examined the relationships in his life and Clarke reclaimed her role as a hero and leader. And the latter wouldn't have been possible if not for Bellamy (he was the sole reason she initially stopped fighting for her life after she thought he gave up on her, and he was the reason she fought for her life after and succeeded), which goes to show just how deep Clarke's love for Bellamy was, and vice versa. Everything about s6 was so blatantly romantic (the radio calls convo? the longing looks in the Sanctum rave? Bell grieving by himself near the pond? Bell wanting to burn Sanctum to the ground? The giant drawings of him in Clarke's mindspace? "I guess you just care about her more"? the fucking pause before "I won't let you die"? "I don't need you anymore" -> "Clarke, I need you"???) and culminated in the goddamn cinematic masterpiece that was the CPR scene. Everything about s6 affirmed how Bell and Clarke were the strongest, fullest, most authentic versions of themselves when they were fighting for and with each other.

Anyway, apologies for the rant--evidently I'm very passionate about s6 and will gladly die on that hill. Just wanted to let you know you're very much not alone.

I'm glad to know there's others on my opinion! This too is the hill I am okay dying on like you. I can't explain it but I've seen it a lot on twitter, people bashing not just the last one but the sixth too. Yes, there are things to be desired but I personally enjoyed it a lot. I know old-ish bellarkers and fic writers (as well as you know the c.ls ) make fun of the CPR scene because of the way he is performing it I guess but to me it's like that for a reason that doesn't have anything to do with Bob's ability to perform it the right way that I won't go into now. Many of them said that it didn't feel like OG bellarke but to me they did and especially bellamy's fighting for Clarke was just so...Bellamy. I know Bob had a tough time performing because of his knee then and that played a role in some of the first episode scenes but I think they are just as Bellarke as before only a bit older and more evolved. Anyway I know what those older fans mean i just am not with them on this one even if I too am an older fan but I guess I saw things differently than even those who shipped my ship always. Then again perhaps it's better to not be involved in a ship part of the fandom and just enjoy what you do. Either way I was surprised and still am to see things like this on here or twitter the Hellsite.

Please, don't apologize for the rant! Rant away! I like discussing stuff like this with people!

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

So I've been seeing a ton of submas art with the cool triangle pupils and I LOVE IT. Sometimes artists will make Emmet's white, and while I love that too bc DOPE character design, I always think "he does look a bit like he's blind."

So I guess my brain cooked up a new AU!

Blinding Radiance AU

After Ingo goes missing, Emmet does his very best to find leads. It doesn't take him too long to decide to turn to Arceus for help. Or to fistfight, he doesn't not care which. After months of trying, of being unstoppable in his research... He makes a breakthrough, somehow. Im still trying to think of how. Maybe some wild ultra beast and wormhole lore, maybe another legendary, but he finds his way to Arceus's personal realm.

Unfortunately, human eyes weren't meant to see that. Emmet is basically instantly blinded. Hence the white pupils. Arceus actually feels quite bad about this (since this is my Arceus and it actually does care about humanity and the Pokémon of the world, even if it can do surprisingly little)

As a consolation for inadvertently taking his sight, Arceus removes some of the memories of being blinded from Emmet... and leaves him with the knowledge that in a year's time, Ingo will come home.

Emmet is sent back to Gear Station, and his life continues. There is an OBVIOUS adjustment. Elesa helps a lot, but is so relieved that Emmet seems actually much more himself.

Emmet doesn't remember how he lost his sight. But he DOES remember speaking to Arceus and hearing that his brother will be back. Some people believe him. Elesa does because he speaks with such conviction about this, like he truly does KNOW something they do not. Most people who are close to Emmet believe him due to this.

The world at large is more skeptical. Some think he lost his mind a bit when he lost his sight. Buy most people are just glad he's healing and feels happy again. Maybe if he's wrong when the time comes, he'll have gained good coping mechanisms!

After adjusting, he does end up going back to work. Sure he can't drive the trains or direct them but he can still do his other boss duties and run double battles all the same! Everyone has him take it slow at first, it's a big adjustment! But he figures it out verrry quickly.

His galvantula becomes his seeing eye spider. It has six of them, it can spare two! It learns very quickly bc it's always been incredibly in tune with Emmet. Archeops and Eelektross were considered for the job, but neither really walks on the ground and thus might miss uneven footing and stuff like that. He also gets a white cane; I’ve read a few conflicting things via google (thaaaanks google really trust you for info) about color coding. Originally, I was going to have it be white with red stripes and line up with the pattern on Emmet’s coat when held upright to uphold his traffic cone vibes. But it seems that prooobably would mean he’s got hearing loss too, though some sites said ‘totally blind and/or deaf’ so I don’t actually know! Seems to also vary by country! So let’s just stick with white, at least that seems to have a consensus.

While Emmet doesn’t have hearing that functions any better than any other humans’, he’s used to listening for nuance. For using his ears rather than his eyes to pick up on his brother’s emotions. So he would be DAMN good at reading people. And his perception of touch is already somewhat heightened; time to use that to his advantage!

So yeah! Emmet gets along just fine! And he is happy, because he knows his brother is safe and will return to him. He just has to be patient.

...

Ingo does come home, just when Arceus said he would. Safe and sound, he’s deposited in Gear Station. He finds it strange, that he recognizes Emmet before Emmet recognizes him. He approaches, unable to form words around the lump in his throat, and his brother (because that is his twin brother!) doesn’t react...?

He only gets a reaction when he finally reaches him and hugs him, and even then it’s just a jolt. To Emmet, this is stress inducing. No one had done this to him because they KNEW not to... But then he hears the voice, and he can hardly dare hope...

“Ingo?” he asks, and it’s then that Ingo sees Emmet’s face and realizes that he can’t see. “Has it been a year? No, this can’t be real.” Even after hearing Arceus itself, Emmet did hold some doubts...

But all of that vanishes when Ingo takes Emmet’s hands in his and puts them on either side of his face. A moment, a bright recognition from Emmet, and then 

“You are Ingo. No one else would have such a stupid hairstyle.”

And immediately as if on instinct “we are IDENTICAL!!”

Cue laughing and tears and the usual sibling squabbles. Emmet patting his brother’s hat and shoulders and discovering the rips in his uniform like “what did you do to your hat and coat?!” and just. General bullshittery!

I have no clue what would happen after that! They’d probably just go back to being the subway master duo, happy and good at their jobs lol

Whew that was a lot of typing. Take a sketch of Emmet in this AU that gave me a lot of trouble!!

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. I

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst 

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning? 

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”  

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“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.” 

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.” 

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.” 

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.” 

“And why is that?” 

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.” 

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.” 

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.” 

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!” 

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.” 

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across. 

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him. 

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.  

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now. 

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face. 

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more. 

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.” 

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?” 

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?” 

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move. 

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book. 

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg. 

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?   

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time. 

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her? 

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.  

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment. 

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct. 

You just seemed different. 

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!” 

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?” 

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!” 

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?” 

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air. 

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...” 

“Marriage, huh?” 

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away. 

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied. 

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness. 

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him. 

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all. 

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?” 

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped. 

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated. 

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet. 

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life. 

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed. 

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?” 

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage. 

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.  

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands. 

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life. 

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man? 

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating. 

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall. 

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general. 

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his. 

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.” 

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly. 

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you. 

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go. 

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together. 

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back. 

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.” 

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?” 

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.” 

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest. 

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands. 

It was kinda cute. 

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized. 

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.  

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.  

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now? 

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake. 

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct. 

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’. 

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest. 

You feel him tense underneath you. 

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory. 

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation. 

“Yes, so you do remember!” 

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding. 

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around. 

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait. 

Oh God, not him. 

Anything but him. 

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.  

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was? 

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be. 

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear? 

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something? 

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name. 

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!” 

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking. 

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering. 

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead. 

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable. 

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself. 

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong. 

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold. 

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep. 

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.” 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Better than ever. You?” 

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation. 

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively. 

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately. 

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you. 

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle. 

Dear God, you took your time with this one. 

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream. 

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight. 

“Who the fuck was that?” 

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for. 

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips. 

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore? 

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you? 

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours. 

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. 

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise. 

 “So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face. 

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock. 

“Says the one who was thinking about me.” 

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you. 

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you. 

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?” 

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.  

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall. 

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve. 

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband. 

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests. 

It was the day of the wedding. 

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today. 

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony. 

And none of it was your real choice. 

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite. 

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another. 

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own. 

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage. 

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself. 

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.  

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event. 

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.  

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept. 

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye. 

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself. 

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate. 

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips. 

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy. 

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate. 

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life. 

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love. 

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering. 

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality. 

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.  

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you. 

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of. 

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from. 

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.  

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing. 

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light. 

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.  

He at least owed you that.  

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life. 

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection. 

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.   

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.  

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue. 

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner. 

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner. 

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested. 

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful. 

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official. 

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally. 

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play. 

The fool. 

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so. 

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again. 

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous. 

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains. 

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think. 

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe. 

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one. 

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.  

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move. 

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either. 

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him. 

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.  

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner. 

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room. 

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed. 

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him. 

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up. 

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?” 

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions. 

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.” 

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so. 

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush. 

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed. 

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight. 

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look. 

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting. 

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.  

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly. 

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution. 

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar. 

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things. 

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself. 

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked? 

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute. 

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.  

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss. 

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange. 

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it. 

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you. 

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve. 

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened. 

You took a deep breath. 

Maybe Taehyung is different after all. 

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[mandos-sluts]

The Ambiguous Bet

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, mentions of sex work

Summary: Mando doesn’t think you could handle being a sex worker and you set out to prove him wrong

A/N: This is our first time writing any sort of fan fiction (much more to come) so we would really appreciate reblogging/reposting! We would LOVE feedback as well!

You’ve been working on the Razor Crest for about six months ever since the Mandalorian hired you to be his live-on mechanic. With everything the Crest has been through, Mando knew he had to hire you once he observed your mastery mechanical skills…you being drop dead gorgeous had nothing to do with it, Mando told himself.

Of course, Mando’s attraction was not one sided. You had watched him take down ruthless criminals with no problem at all. It didn’t matter that you had never seen his face. His strength, composure, and confidence (perhaps cockiness) made him incredibly attractive. Not to mention his rock-hard body. Every night you would lay on your cot and wish that he would just storm in and fuck you sensless. Alsa he never did, so you defaulted to pleasuring yourself and imagining that scenario.

Mando would never act on his desire for you, however. In fact, he often went out of his way to give you more than enough space or make the conversation more than appropriate. But this was becoming harder and harder for him to do. Before hiring you, Mando would relieve his stress and sexual tension at the local brothels on whatever planet he was hunting a bounty on. But once you came aboard, he stopped this practice as he could never find the time or excuse to leave the ship without you for enough time. Since you had started accompanying him on his bounty hunts to assist him in whatever he may need.

***********************

You were pleading with Mando. The two of you were walking back to the ship after acquiring a new puck, and you were starving and there was no food back on the Crest.

“Fine.” Mando snapped with his low modulated voice. “We can stop quickly at the cantina and grab something to eat.”

The two of you walked through the door. “Alright, hurry up–” Mando said, turning to you.

But before he could even finish his sentence, you were running up to a random group of girls, none of whom he recognized.

“OMG hiiiiii‼!” One of them screeched.

“Y/n what are you doing here?!?” Another one exclaimed.

Mando just stood a few feet away watching you excitedly greet the four girls.

***********************

They were old friends of yours. It turns out, they all worked at the brothel down the road. While catching up with them, they told how fun and effortless their jobs were. They made great money having great sex for a living. It was a high-end brothel, and it was completely safe and clean; clients had to pass health and background tests before purchasing services. Your friends made thousands of credits and spent them travelling the galaxy, going out to fancy clubs, and buying luxury goods.

After getting a drink with them, you walked back to the ship. Mando had already returned. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t want to join you and your loud friends for a drink.

You step into the Crest. You take in the filthy floors and musty smell and can only think about the flashy and cushy lifestyle that your old friends are living as sex workers. You honestly love working with Mando and travelling with him as a mechanic/assistant. But a lot of the excitement of the job revolved around your flirtatious relationship with Mando, and you couldn’t help wonder how much longer that would last. You let out a deep sign, and climb the ladder to the cockpit.

“Finally.” Mando says standing up and facing you. You stood in the doorway. “You need to rewire the calcinator before we take off. Get to it.” He said shortly.

You stand there, and simply stare at Mando.

“...What?” Mando says with his modulated voice.

“Ohhhhhh nothing.” You sign crossing your arms and slouching. “I’m just thinking about how much more glamerous my life would be if I were a sex worker instead of a rouge Mandalorian’s mechanic.”

Mando scoffs. “That’s funny.”

You tilt your head as you stare into his visor.

“You would never last as a sex worker. Trust me, y/n, you’re much better suited being my mechanic.”

“What?!” you say, feeling slightly offended. “Excuse me, but I would be an amazing sex worker. Trust me, Mando.”

“Yeah…definitely not.” Mando says.

“And why is that?” You shoot back.

“You’re too stuborn to be a sex worker.” Mando says nonchalantly, leaning back into his chair. “You have to put up a lot of shit. You basically have to do whatever your client wants you to do. You have to let creepy guys fuck you any way they want.” Mando says.

“Creepy guys like you?” You say with a smirk, staring directly into his visor.

“Exactly.” Mando expresses, maintaining “eye” contact with you.

You take in a breath. “Alright, Mando, I’m bored, and our next bounty isn’t due for three days.” You say stepping closer to the chair he’s sitting on.

“I’m going to work at the brothel tomorrow and prove that I can be a great sex worker.”

“Ha, I bet you won’t last a day.” Mando spits, crossing his arms.

“You’re on.”

***********************

The terms of your bet were unclear or nonexistent? But it didn’t matter to you, and apparently not to Mando either.

You weren’t a registered sex worker, but your friends pulled some strings and you were able to work at the brothel for the day under the pretence that you were “shadowing” one of your friends to see how the job worked.

Inside the brothel, you sat in the area where the girls hung out. This was a lavish, very expensive brothel. The procedure was simple: the sex workers all lounged around this beautiful gold hotel loby. Clients who didn’t already know which sex worker they wanted would enter and observe the sex workers, speak to some of them, and choose one (or more).

You sat comfortably in a big velvet chair. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. But the deal was that you only had to make it through a day. Maybe you wouldn’t get any clients at all! There were a considerable number of sex workers, and perhaps no one would choose you. Just as you were starting to feel better at that thought, the manager called your name.

“Y/n! You have a client. Head up to room 279, they’ll be up there shortly.”

Your heart starts beating fast. Okay, so you have a client within the first five minutes of starting your day, no big deal!

You head up to the room with your heart still racing. It’s a really nice room. It’s gold pleated and there’s a lounge area, a bar, and a huge bed. You walk over to a large mirror and examine yourself. You’re wearing a red silk and lace two-piece set. You look super hot, this is definitely the hottest you’ve looked since taking the job on the Crest. You take your hair clip out to redo it when the door swings open.

Your heart drops and your head swings around to see who your client is. To your surprise, Mando stands at the door. He stands tall and confident, legs a little further than shoulder width apart.

“Mando! What are you doing here?” You say in confusion.

He doesn’t say a word, but takes one step into the room.

Your confusion is written on your face.

“Mando, you have to get out of here. I have a client on the way.”  

He still says nothing

“Seriously! They’ll be here any moment, you really need to go!” You say with urgence.

His silence continues as he slowly creeps forward, slamming the door behind him.

“Why would I leave?” He purrs. “I paid for this.”

“Wait, you're my client!?” You ask.

Mando stops just a few in front of you. In a slow, deep voice, Mando says “Y/n, you can quit now, admit you were wrong... and we’ll head back to the ship.” You can tell he has a devilish smirk under his helmet.

You pause for a moment. “Ha…..no way, Mando. I’m not backing down.” You say nervously.

“Are you sure about that, pretty girl?” He says, taking another step closer to you. He looks down on you, staring directly into your eyes. Your “gulp” is audible. Your pussy starts to pulse as you take in everything that’s happening.

Towering over you, he puts his fingers under your chin and lightly tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “Because I won’t hold back.” He asserts. “I’ll be as rough with you as I am with every other whore I’ve fucked.” He says, pulling off his gloves.

“Good.” You say. “Don’t hold back.”

With that, he steps forward grabbing your neck, shoving you into the wall. You whimper loudly and he grinds his rock hard cock onto your crotch before turning you around and pushing you harder into the wall, and rolling his cock against your ass. You could tell he was big, very big. He quickly pulls back and shoves your shorts down with a grunt, exposing your bare ass. You gasp and he rubs the soft skin on your butt before slapping it hard. You let out a yelp as your mouth falls open. He aggressively slaps your ass several more times.

He chuckles lightly. “You said you could take this, so show me how good of a slut for me you can be, little girl.” He says. Your pussy throbs at the filthy language he’s using.

He drags you to the bed and bends you over. One finger enters you as you moan. “I spent a lot of credits on this, it better be worth it.” He says as he pumps his finger in you repeatedly. You cry out.

“Damn this pussy is fucking tight!” Mando says through his modulator. You moan loudly as his thumb starts circling your clit.

Still bent over the bed, and his free hand moves up your body and roughly grabs and kneads your tits. He aggressively rips off your shirt. You can feel your pussy dripping on Mando’s hand as your arousal pulses through. He continues to tease you as he circles your clit. “Fuck, this pussy is wetter and tighter than I imagined. Why you so wet, little girl, you like it rough?” Mando says.

All you can respond with are light, breathy moans. And then, Mando pulls his fingers out and lightly slaps your pussy. You let out a yelp. “Answer me.” Mando commands.

“Ye– Yes. Fuck, I like it rough Mando.” You respond.

“Good. Let’s see your skills, my little whore” he says as he kicks your feet apart to spread your legs. You feel his finger flick your clit and you whine loudly.

Without warning you feel his thick long cock enter your pussy. The pain was so pleasurable that you see stars. He sets a brutal pace. He continues to rail into you as you scream his name. “Mando! Fuck Mando, ahh!” You hear his heavy breathing through his modulator.

“Fuck.” Mando spits out. “This is the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

“You– you ha– have the biggest cock– cock that has ever fuc– fucked me.” You return. Your pussy starts to throb. Without warning you cum and release a rush of fluid onto his cock as your entire body shakes.

“Ahhh, what a good girl, cuming around my cock” Mando says as he pulls out of you.

Your leg muscles give in, you sink forward into the bed. Mando flips you over so you’re lying down facing up toward him. “What a desperate little thing you are.” He growls. Mando takes a moment and admires your completely naked body all spread out for him. You are so small underneath him. Your doe-eyes are wide, your mouth still agape, panting for breath, and your pussy glistening from your cum.

Mando then grabs you by your waist. “On your knees.” He orders as he shoves you to your knees. He takes his length in his hand and strokes his cock in front of your face a few times.

You quickly gather your composure and take a second to admire his enormous member. You bite your lip and look up to him. Mando puts his hand on the back of your head and takes a fist full of your hair. You stick your tongue out and lick his cock up and down a few times before putting the tip in your mouth. You try your best to tease him, but before long, Mando pushes your head further down his cock. You start bobbing your head up and down, trying each time to take more of him in your mouth. Mando remains still at first, just using his hand to guide your head up and down his shaft. You start moaning and move your eyes up to his helmet, with this Mando begins thrusting into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuuuucckkk.” Mando lets out while face fucking you. You hear his little moans in between your gagging. “I love the sound of you gagging on my cock.” Mando asserts. “And you look so pretty on your knees with it shoved down your throat.”

Doing your best to breathe through your nose, you can feel his length tensing in your mouth. “Mm gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours up with my cum.” You let out a moan and can feel his hot liquid shooting into your mouth. Mando pulls out of you and puts himself back in his pants. You’re now naked kneeling in front of him while he towers over you fully clothed and armored. You’ve never been so turned on in your life.

You pant and look up at him. Your face is covered in spit and cum and your hair is a mess. He bends down and runs his thumb across your bottom lip before putting it in your mouth. You suck his thumb. “Good girl.” Mando purrs.

Mando pulls his thumb out of your mouth, stands up, and takes a few steps back. You slowly rise up and take a deep breath, trying to comprehend everything that just happened. You turn around to reach for your clothes.

“Thanks for destroying my new work clothes, Mando.” You say picking up the ripped pieces of the tiny top he tore off of you.

“You won’t need them anymore, you’re only working here for a day.” You grab a short white silk robe hanging on the wall, and put it on. “And what if I have other clients today?” You say mockingly.

“You won’t.” Mando says. “I purchased you for the entire day.” He says walking to the door. You stand there feeling a mixture of astonishment and arousal at the knowledge that Mando paid a ship load so that only he would be able to fuck you.

Mando opens the door. “After you.”

“You realize that this means I win the bet, right? You understand that you paid me in order for you to lose the bet?”

“Sure, sweetheart. Congratulations. Now, we need to get back to the ship, and you need to rewire the calcinator.”

***************************************

Masterlist

[marvelouslytrekking]

The Code

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader Summary: Mando leaves specific instructions not to leave the ship while he is out on a hunt. Disobey those instructions leads to very terrible consequences - will Mando make it back in time? Word Count: 3232 Warning: Mention of blood, pain, knife, torture, canon-typical violence A/N: I decided to see if the Whumptober prompts inspired anything and here this is.... days 1, 2, & 3 all in one! The specific prompts used were: 1: Bound 2: Gagged 3: “Who did this to you” I hope y'all enjoy! Also don’t forget Feedback Feeds my Soul

Main Masterlist | Other Din fics 

You knew that you should have listened to him, he told you not to leave the ship but you wanted to find something other than the terrible rations to eat. You thought that you would be fine. You made sure that the kid was secure in the ship, and you made sure that the ship was in your line of sight, you’d be able to get back to it if you needed.

Everything had been going well, you had found some fruit that was growing and from what you could tell, was edible. You had begun picking the fruit, excited to see what all you could make with what you were finding.

You heard a branch snap, but it wasn’t from your own feet. You scanned the area, surely it was just an animal but you suddenly got a sick feeling in your gut, and knew you needed to get back to the ship. You would just need to engage ground security protocols once you were onboard and both you and the child would be safe.

You had turned to head back to the ship, but it was too late. You saw that they were closer than you, there was no way for you to make it onboard before they did. You didn’t even have to think, the decision had been an easy one, you used the remote controls to engage the protocols, locking the child in the ship when the hunters wouldn’t be able to get to him. It would buy him time until Mando could get back and kill them off.

You then tried to hunker down, they hadn’t seen you yet and you had hoped that it would stay that way. It had bought you some time. You watched from the foliage as they tried to get in the ship to no avail. You felt relief knowing the child was safe, though that relief was only short lived as you suddenly heard movement behind you.

You whipped around quickly, trying to get a blaster shot off but he was faster than you expected and managed to dodge the shot, which just meant that you had signaled the others to your location. You were luckily fast enough to rip your arm panel with the controls for the ship off your arm and shoot that. You got one good step on it too before a blaster shot hit your thigh.

You crumbled to the ground from the pain of the close range shot, you desperately tried to focus on getting out of the situation or fighting your way out of the 5 men, but before you could find your footing again, the man’s foot was on your shoulder, painfully pressing it into the ground. You still tried to get a shot off at him, but he was easily able to pry your blaster from your hand.

“He sure picked a feisty one.” The hunter chucked before grabbing you by the shoulder and pulling you upright. You were surrounded by 2 other men before you were fully upright, one on each side of you, dragging you back towards the ship.

“She destroyed her controls.” The first man told the others, lifting the destroyed band.

“That’s fine, her biometrics should open the ship using the panel at the door.” Another pointed out. You were never more thankful for how paranoid Mando was, while your biometrics were required to get to the controls, to undo something like ground protocols, or really anything, a 6 digit code was also needed. And only you knew your code.

You probably should have let them figure that out themselves but you couldn’t help but laugh at them.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He growled.

“Oh, just that even with a big ass head, you have a tiny fucking brain.” You chuckled. Your insult only earned you two fingers pushing into the wound on your leg, making you cry out.

“Not laughing now.” He smirked, happy with his work. He didn’t waste his time forcing you to the panel, pressing your hand to the reader. You could feel how smug he was when the light went green. There was a moment of anticipation, then the code boxes popped up and you felt the anger and annoyance that he felt realizing what had happened.

You felt the blaster pressed into the back of your head as he took a step away from you. “Open that door right now or I will shoot you.”

“If you kill me you’ll never get in.” You pointed out. You knew that the next few hours or days, depending on how long Mando took, wasn’t going to be pleasant, but you had no plans on giving them that code. You would rather be killed. “Go ahead and shoot me now, because it does not matter what you do, I will never give up that code.”

You turned around slowly, looking down the barrel of the gun, directly into the man’s eyes. You refused to let him think he had you scared, you wanted him to realize that he would fail, that you would die before even thinking about giving up Mando or the kid.

“We’ll see about that.” He locked eyes on you, lowering the gun only slightly. “Tie them up,” You were quickly grabbed and dragged over to a tree that was near the entrance of the ship, you were bound to the tree tightly, a little wiggling told you that you weren’t getting out very easily.

“Alimar! Can you get that damn door open?” The man you assumed was in charge asked the smallest man, who was beside the panel.

“I am trying sir, but the security is very tight and I am afraid that one wrong move and it will just lock down more.”

“Well don’t make a wrong move. I want that damn door open before The Mandalorian gets back here.”

“Now you, you’re going to make his job unneeded and you’re going to tell us your code.”

“Again, not happening.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your answer earned you a swift and strong fist to your gut. You groaned at the pain but straightened yourself.

“Fine, stop, the code is 654321.” You said, making yourself sound more out of breath then you were.

“Don’t enter that!” The man in front of you shouted to Alimar, who was about to enter it as if you would give up that easy.

“Is that the code you enter to warn your little mandalorian? You think I’m that stupid?”

“I guess you’ll never know if I ever even give you the right code or if what I say will do any number of things, from warn Mando, to locking it down further, to self destroying the ship.”

“You wouldn’t risk the kid’s life.” He glared at you, but you could tell the wheels in his brain were turning. He had to think of a way to get you to give him the code, but he had to be able to be sure it was the right one.

“Well I guess that just leaves the hard way. Can’t trust you until I can break you.”

He wasn’t lying, he had no intentions of going easy on you. He had started by changing your position, tying your hands on a branch that happened to be at the perfect height above your head. You knew this position left you much more vulnerable, and he took full advantage of that.

He started with his blaster, a shot to your shin, followed by asking for the code. You gave another random combination of 6 digits. He then walked away, towards the panel, he would examine it, then walk back. A shot to your forearm, followed by the same question. You gave another 6 numbers. He walked away, only to come back, this time with a knife.

He gave you a deep cut on the outside of the thigh that hadn’t been shot previously. You hadn’t been able to hold in the screamed pains you had been letting out after each infliction, which only seemed to make the man in front of you smile.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you did notice the sun beginning to set. He started to leave you alone for longer periods, which was good. You weren’t sure how many more you were going to be able to take. You were just praying that Mando would be back soon.

Even if you didn’t last much longer, you also started to worry about their resident mechanic. You kept your eye on his progress and were scared that he could actually manage to get through the door.

It had quickly become dark, the only light coming from the lights on the ship. You could tell it was also cooling down as well. You tried to ignore the shivers that were running through your body but there was no use.

“Shit!” You heard the man who had been on watch utter. “Boss! We got a problem, he’s here.”

“Fuck!” The man in charge frantically looked around trying to figure something out. You were about to let out a scream, something to warm Mando, but right as you opened your mouth, one of them shoved a cloth into your mouth.

“Not gonna happen.” He tightened it around your head, making sure you weren’t able to spit it out to warn Mando.

“Good, all we need to do is hide, when he gets here, he’ll be distracted with them, and by the time they can even try to warn him, we’ll jump him.” Their leader told them. They were quickly to gather the little they had and find themselves spots that they would go unseen.

You just prayed that Mando would catch their body signatures through his visor first. If he noticed them before he noticed you, then he would have a chance of fighting them off. If their plan went their way, and he was distracted by you, there was a chance they could overpower him.

You heard your name being shouted, you turned your head to see Mando, his focus solely on you. His helmet never left you, even as you shook your head viciously, trying to get him to look anywhere else, but he was in front of you quickly.

Mando was looking you over, you could feel the anger and tension that was radiating from him. Though at the moment all you could think about was warning him. You were trying to yell through the gag, but it stopped anything comprehensible from coming out.

“Who did this to you!?” Mando asked, a sharp edge to his voice, one that sent a shiver down your spine. He was quick to untie to gag, realizing you were trying to say something.

“Behind you!” Was all you could manage to get out as soon as the gag was undone.

He only had a moment to turn around and realize that he was faced with exactly who did this. His blaster was fired off before he even fully had time to process what was transpiring. His shot landed, though you were sad to realize it took down the least threatening, the mechanic.

He begins to go for the other four men, but one manages to kick his blaster out of his hand, he is left trying to fight all of them with just his hands. You tried to get out of your ropes again, to no avail and were left to watch in panic and he tried to fight them all off. He had been knocked to the ground. Not one, but two of the men on top of him holding him down. You watched as he went to use his flame thrower on his arm to get them off him, when the leader was quick to step down hard on his wrist, stopping his ability to get the flames anywhere that would be helpful.

You watched in panic as he thrashed around, trying to gain any leverage but he was outnumbered. The leader got the third man to take over holding his arm down. The two men on top of him shifted slightly, just enough so that their leader could bend down in front of Mando.

“It looks like you aren’t as sharp as everyone says.” He taunted. “I was expecting more of a fight, I didn’t think that you cared about anything under all that metal. But looks like all it took to take down the great Mandalorian was capturing his favorite little companion.”

“Leave them out of this!” He seethed, thrashing more at the mention of you.

“Oh, but why would I, when we had so much fun today while you were gone.” He smiled disgustingly. “Honestly surprised they are even awake with all I put them through today.”

His attention flickered to you for a moment, he was quick to notice you looked more panicked now than you had all day and he realized he might have just hit the jackpot.

“You know, I always wondered what you looked like under that tin can. I bet you are hideous, it’s not some creed that keeps that helmet on, but more that you are just so ugly no one would want to look at you.” He began to bend down towards Mando. If he had been thrashing beforehand, now he was frantic.

“Stop!!” You screamed, grabbing the leader and Mando’s attention. “Stop! I will give you the code, please, just leave him alone,”

“Is that all it takes to break you? You don’t want to know what he looks like? Afraid he will have to kill you after you know?”

“I think I have made it pretty clear today that my life is not what matters here.” You sighed, “Just leave him alone and I will give you the code.”

“Don’t!” You heard him beg you, but your heart was shattering, you refused to allow these men to break Mando of his creed. A creed that you had witnessed how seriously he took. You would not be a part of that happening.

You locked your eyes with his visor, hoping that you were meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t watch them hurt you.”  

“Good.” The leader smiled, standing up over Mando. “Now no games. If the code you give me does not open that door, then I will take that helmet, kill your precious Mandalorian slowly, and make you watch. Then I will blow my way through this ship anyway and get the kid, and leave you to die. Do you understand?

“Yes. No games, just promise you won’t hurt him.” You pleaded.

“You have my word.” You knew the word of a hunter like him meant nothing, and when you noticed that Mando’s free hand was reaching slightly for a blade in the side of his pants, you realized you had a plan, one that gave Mando the time he needed to get the upper hand.

“Okay. My code is 827364.” You sighed, you gave the right number up until the last digit. The panel would light green for every correct digit, meaning that until the last moment, he would think that you were right. But you also knew he had to untie you because your bioscan would have timed out. This would hopefully allow you to give Mando some form of help, though you had minimal strength left in your body, you would try.

“Fuck.” He marched back over to you. “Don’t even think of trying anything.” He told you as he untied you from the tree. You realized just how weak you were when you nearly collapsed. You saw Mando twitch at seeing just how bad of shape you were in, but now neither of you had time to do anything about it.

“Looks like you won’t be doing anything even if you wanted to.” He smirked, practically dragging you to the ship panel. He pressed your hand to it, reading your signal. Once he was no longer in need of you, he threw you to the ground away from him.

You groaned as you hit the ground. Watching as he entered the numbers you had given him. You realized he had made a mistake when you saw a blaster that was in your reach.

You put all your effort into stretching just enough to grab it without signalling to him or the others what you were doing. You saw him tap the last number and as soon as the panel turned red you let your blaster shot go off.

The man whose foot had been holding Mando’s hand down was suddenly stumbling back, and hit the ground. Mando wasted no time, his arm coming up and the flames engulfing the two men holding him down.

They screamed in agony as they rolled off the mandalorian. He got to his feet in record time and before the leader could think to retaliate against you, a knife was plunged into his chest.

Mando marched over to him and was above him as he stumbled back into the ship. Without a word he rips the blade out and stabs it back in the other side. The knife is out of him again, this time finding a place in his stomach. Next his thigh, until finally he has enough and with a quick swipe, the man’s neck is sliced open. He tried to helplessly grab at his neck but within moments he was bleeding out on the ground.

You heard three more blaster shots before Mando was in your vision. “You’re okay, you’re going to be okay.”

You tried to nod, tried to stand up, but your body had given up on you. “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out. If you had only listened to him, you would have been in the ship and not put all of you in such danger.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He told you softly as he wrapped his arms gingerly under you. “Let’s get you patched up.”

“I could have gotten us all killed.” You whined at the pain as he lifted you.

“But you didn’t.” He sighed. He was trying to hold in the worry and anger that was still coursing through his veins. The pain and anger he felt seeing you tied to that tree, the last thing he was worried about had been his creed, and yet, you had. You refused to let them take away something that you didn’t even fully understand and he couldn’t help but love you a little more for that.

While that anger and worry could lead him to taking it out on you, you had disobeyed him, but you also risked your life for him and the child, and he couldn’t be mad at you for that. Instead he left all his anger to the men that were dead outside the ship.

He was as careful as he could be with you as he finally unlocked the ship and walked you up the ramp and quickly laid you on a cot so he could begin to patch you up.

“You saved us.” He adds softly as he notices you slip into sleep. He hoped you would sleep through the worst of the treatments if he was being honest, once he was sure you couldn’t hear him he added, “You saved me.”

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

*****************

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

[tippytopdays]

Reason

-sips tea-

I wrote this instead of working on other things solely because i had an idea.

The thrilling third part to these two

Weak Tenacity

_____________________________________________________________

The metal bits between his fingers were so small he wasn’t really sure why he was trying. They clanged about whenever he made even the slightest twitch let alone actually pick them up to fiddle with them, to clean them like he was intending to.

He didn’t know why you’d remained. Why you hadn’t just bolted when the opportunity presented itself. You were just so damn weak, it was hilarious honestly. He could probably knock you over with a stiff breath on your neck. Yet here you were, resilient as a tumor.

And they said he was insane.

He wasn’t an idiot, nor so up himself that he wouldn’t hear what the other mercs would say behind his back. The rumors that would whisper down the halls about what he’d done, the acts of violence so petty and levels of brutality so intense that they’d send a seasoned MAG running.

They weren’t exactly wrong, per say, but he didn’t enjoy having others speak about him without his knowledge. Not that they’d ever know he was there, just outside the doors listening to their every word. He knew everything that went down in this base, after all. From the muttered rantings of that doctor to the sarcastic quips of the mildly entertaining smoker; there wasn’t a damn thing that went down in that base that he wasn’t at least aware about.

And then there was you. Simple, meek, pathetic you.

Why had he gone out of his way to just, bring you here? To save you? To help you? Maybe you just looked particularly pathetic that day and it was getting on his nerves?

The tool flipped in his hands, metal clinking as it loosened another screw.

No, he knew why. He just hated it.

Because you just had to be in that alley, just had to hold him, to comfort him when he was the weakest he’d been in years. Damn Agents got lucky.

A piece clicked free, the screws clattering on the table.

Never again.

After he’d hauled you in like the fresh corpse you were mere days from he’d gotten a rather nasty glare from the good doctor. Once he was satisfied you weren’t actually dead he’d turned on him, ready to snap at him for something or another but he’d simply turned his back, tromping up the stairs to his room.

Like Hell was he going to sit through another lecture. Or anything else he wanted to do to him. The blood wasn’t his anyway; or yours.

More screws undone, more pieces pulled apart. It was already quite a mess but he still had a lot to take out and separate before he could get to the meat of the matter.

Visiting Doc became your norm for several days. With how weak and malnourished you were the man didn’t seem to like the idea of you wandering around without some weight on your bones to steady you. Not to mention the mess you’d been made into from living in what he could only assume was an actual dumpster from how nasty you looked.

Now that he thought about it why did he carry you? You could walk, couldn’t you?

Whatever, he probably would have done it regardless of how bad you smelled. Not like he could trust you to actually be unarmed

The doctor’s plan to get your appearance into some kind of order wasn’t something he’d been privy to at the time. It was certainly something to get accustomed to at first. He didn’t even recognize you once Doc had finished cutting your hair, nearly slicing your throat the second he’d seen you again.

A twitch, the tool missed the mark and scraped across the metal. His brow twitched; odd, but nothing serious. No scratches at least.

He continued.

It only took a snippet of your voice to bring him to his senses. Granted it was also because he’d taken the time to actually look at you. Staring into his prey’s eyes as the life faded from them was something he’d relish, the fear and terror coating their black pits made it all the more satisfying to dispose of the freaks. But with yours it didn’t look right, didn’t sit well.

He’d stepped a bit too far away from you after that.

You’d been stuck wandering the base to pass the time once you’d been cleared, since there wasn’t anything that you could do anyways. No job was simple enough for your weak hands and nothing within the computers was for your eyes to see; you were completely useless to them honestly. Just another mouth to feed. More supplies to waste.

And yet, you were allowed to stay despite that.

The grip popped open along the seam, allowing better access to the mechanisms inside.

He hadn’t done much after dropping your ass off with Doc. There were better, more interesting things than some random woman he’d hauled off after all. However he’d still run across you on occasion. Sometimes you’d be in his presence, sometimes he’d be in yours. But there was no real interaction, not since he’d brought you here. Hell he’d never even spoken to you; not like you were worth the time of course but, it was something he’d noticed.

But he didn’t have any reason, no answer as to why he’d even brought you here. You were just some stray, a useless pain in the ass that he’d have to deal with.

More screws, more bits. He’d never really dug into one of these things but now that he had he could understand some of the mercs appall at how he treated them. It wasn’t enough to make him care, sure, but he could at least see why.

Maybe it was how your voice was soft enough he’d almost missed it.

“….Can I….ask you s-something…?”

Just the sound of your voice had snapped him out of whatever thoughts he’d had, the lenses of his goggles turning to face you.

You were shuffling on your sock clad feet, nearly shivering on the spot once his eyes landed on you standing there with the door at your back. Your hands fiddled with something, some small bit of rubbish you’d probably had on your person as you made to speak again, “…W-Why…Why did y-you bring me here?”

He’d sat there, staring at you for a good few moments while you shuddered under his gaze. And for the first time since he’d met you, he spoke.

“I have no fucking idea.”

It definitely wasn’t what you wanted to hear, if he wanted to judge from the furrow in your brow, but it was the truth. No point in lying about it anyways, not like you were worth it. What were you going to do anyways, stare at him disappointedly? No thanks, there was already enough slots taken in that thank you very much.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what he’d been thinking about once you’d left, even if he’d thought it was important to ruminate on it for the past half hour.

Maybe it was because after that conversation you seemed more, prominent. For whatever personal reason you’d come up with.

Usually you ended up appearing somewhere nearby or at least entering the room at some point. For a few days he’d believed you were stalking him, until of course he’d payed slightly more attention to notice the way you jumped whenever you spotted him. How you flinched away each time he even did so much as glance in your direction. With how pathetic you were, of course it made little sense to stalk anyone, let alone him of all people.

He would have chased you off if you were, however. Stormed up to you and scared the living Hell out of you to keep you off his case.

The crunch between his fingers brought him out of his thoughts. It had snapped quite easily, the end of the tool hanging limply from the handle. Unusual but it didn’t hinder him much, he had extras; the mercs were good at one thing at least.

Not a good idea. Doc would have his balls again if he could judge by the sudden irritation in the man’s face—or whatever he could see of it—when he even mentioned you. He wanted to stay a man for a bit longer; not because he was scared of the doctor but because then he couldn’t piss off the grunts anymore.

Maybe it was the weakness in your hands. The tiny, useless little mitts that you had were so pathetically small that nothing could stay in them normally let alone any weapon you might have found. You couldn’t even grip a railing without slipping, which he found utterly hilarious.

He hadn’t moved so fast without intent to kill until you’d nearly fallen off the second story.

A sharp squeal broke that train of thought. The nice jagged scratch across the black steel glinted in the light. Hope that wasn’t too important.

Maybe it was how small you were. Granted, everyone was ridiculously dwarfed the second he entered a room. It was a habit now, to stare at them from so high above their heads. So small, so weak.

Easy prey.

But you were particularly tiny, almost mockingly so. Most of the mercs at least had some muscle to them but you still remained so fucking pathetic even after Doc’s so-called therapy. You’re shoulders were thin, your limbs even more so. Not even your face was spared by the lack of mass in your cheeks. You were just, far too small.

You wouldn’t survive at all if he’d left you out there by yourself for any longer.

Another click, the firing pin popping out with a clatter. He carefully scooted it to the side.

Maybe, when he thought about it, it was because you were nice.

Nice was the best way to put whatever it was you would do when others would be upset over something. It was odd how you would fret over Doc’s muttering fits, how you’d clutch at his arm and drag him back to his office. Just bizarre how the smoker would relax when you’d enter one of the training decks, water in hand and a smile on your face despite his presence there watching from the more obscured corners during the mandatory breaks he had to take. Unreal even when the arsonist would offer a friendly wave as you’d enter the cafeteria with your own lunch and offer a seat with you.

The solution stung his nose but he’d have to deal with it. So long as it cleaned, it was necessary. He just hoped he wasn’t cleaning the wrong thing.

He didn’t want to even start with why he’d allowed you into his room. It was inane, if he looked back on it; you’d just find something and get yourself hurt. Or worse, try to betray them—that is if you could even hold onto the weapon in the first place. He had plenty in there, sure, but most of them were supposed to be for someone his size, not a dainty little clump of flesh he’d dragged in.

It was also a mess so that probably had something to do with why you’d reacted the way you did. He had an order for things but you just had to put your own tiny mitts onto everything and make an even bigger mess out of it; organization may not be his style but it wasn’t like he didn’t know where everything was at the least. If he were honest he probably would have chased you out the moment he’d caught you organizing things.

The rag squeaked, nearly tearing when it ran over a particularly sharp bit of metal. Too much force, simple enough. Adjust and clean the parts that looked bad enough.

Maybe it was because when he’d entered again he found you there, face first into a pillow he’d snatched.

Another squeak was followed by a soft rip. Yep, that tore it. No matter, he had another.

You were small, it was hard to miss.

But there, in his room, on his bed, you were positively tiny. A mere fleck of meat on the massive slab that was the bed he’d pilfered at some point or another. It seemed at some point during your attempt at cleaning his room you’d tried to reach behind the head of his bedframe for something, your arm jammed down the crevice between the wall and mattress. How weak you were, then, to fall asleep in the middle of it.

Within the room of the worst predator of all, none the less.

He’d stalked up to you, making no effort to hide his steps and yet you resolutely slumbered on, unaware of his pursuit. Not even a twitch within your sleep as he stood over your body, the lenses of his goggles tinting your form in red.

How dare you, sleep in his bed? Treat his space like it wasn’t inhabited by a living killing machine? Act all nice and forgiving, despite everything? He’d tainted himself, killed thousands; just because he’d spared you didn’t mean you could just do whatever you wanted. He wasn’t your friend; he was barely teammates with anyone.

Slowly, he reached for you.

He’d toss you out, not even flinch if you cried. Threaten to strangle the life out of you the next time you met. Torment you if you kept it up.

Soft strands of your hair tangled in his fingers firmly.

He didn’t care about you. You were just some wretch he’d found, nothing more. He didn’t have friends. He had nobody.

Your head was still just as small in his hand as it was that day.

Yet another rip. Being careful was not his forte.

He should have woken you up, yanked you by your hair and dragged your miserable body off his bed.

But the longer he stared, the longer he let his hand soak in the sheer hear you were giving off, the weaker that desire became. More muddied and unclear.

What was he doing? Why did he come here?

The grip on your hair loosened, the strands trailing down his fingers like water. Heat radiated off of your skull, scorching the palm of his hand.

It was too much.

The cushion of his mattress was blissfully cold, a respite from the heat you’d given. A soft sigh rasped through his teeth.

It was sucked back in again as you shuffled with a soft moan, directly beneath him.

He was never one to startle, nothing surprised him. Freezing was another feeling he wasn’t accustomed to. In combat it was life or death, and while he didn’t fear death nor the Hell that awaited, he couldn’t fathom the idea of something being so terrifying that others would rather do nothing than act.

But when he found himself leaned over, hand braced into the padding of his mattress, towering over you, he had indeed frozen on the spot. If he’d thought you were small before, nothing could even prepare him for the image of you resting cozily on the blankets underneath his bulk. You were so meek, so utterly encompassed that he could simply lean over the bedside and cover you in just his shadow.

You’d vanish completely if he mounted you.

A particularly loud clang was surprising enough to refocus him on the piece he’d been scrubbing at. For far too long, apparently, if the abruptly dismantled barrel said anything.

Maybe it was something he’d done, some form of shuffle or further indenting of the mattress with how heavily he’d started to lean onto it. Whatever he or some other power committed had brought you to stir, a soft breath of air breaking your silence. It didn’t really matter why you were awake, only that you were shuffling as if to move.

There was no thought as he pounced on top of you.

Immediately you’d yelped, scrambling in his hold as he wrangled your limbs into order. What order didn’t matter as long as you stayed still. He’d wrapped his arms around your waist, your squirming body back against his stomach. Once he was hunched over gripping onto you like you were a prize, he stopped.

It burned. Any flicker of movement along his skin was like fire and if he didn’t know any better he’d assume you were some live grenade he’d caught in his hands, ready to explode at any moment from just how hot you were.

Not to mention the scent smothered against his sheets that could only be described as something purely you being smashed into his nose as he’d braced against the pillow you were just laying on.

You whimpered in his hold. He’d gripped harder.

Crushing you in his hands would be easy. Just a twist of a wrist and a pull on an arm and you’d crumple in his hold, spine shattered to bits. You’d die, you’d suffer.

You held onto his hands, your mitts barely able to wrap around his arms to reach them.

You’d leave. And take the heat with you.

Reassembling would be a pain he noticed. The pieces were everywhere, and half of them he’d completely forgotten where he’d even pulled them out from. But he’d figure it out, it’s what he did.

He’d barely noticed when you muttered, voice muffled under his chest. Nothing you said would matter even if you did, he wasn’t letting go. Wasn’t letting you leave.

It didn’t matter if it burned.

Somehow you’d found a footing from his grip on you. In your attempt to find stability or possibly escape you shuffled upwards, ass grinding against his crotch. But he shoved you right back down with a tight snarl forced out of his throat, hips snapping. Finally he’d taken a look, annoyed you’d even considered moving.

He had imagined you’d disappear under him, but the image he was granted was something else entirely. Your face was practically stuffed into the blankets with your ass held up high by his hold. All of your limbs had vanished without any hint that you were there at all aside from your wide eyes; even the edges of his coat had draped over you, free of the confines the harness he normally wore had. You had completely and utterly vanished; if anyone even dared to enter they wouldn’t be able to see a lick of your skin.

This sight, this heat, was his and his alone. A scorching treat for a cold beast.

A sharp huff hissed between his teeth as he ground against you.

What was he doing then?

A soft rumble rasped in his throat when his hold on you loosened.

Why did he let it happen?

Your gasp was so sweet, so delectable. And the heat rising to your cheeks was even more so.

There was nothing to gain from this. You had nothing he wanted. He should have just killed you. Punished you.

The softest of whimpers graced his ears as your head pushed against his chest in attempt to hide. It was so feeble it could have made him coo like you were an animal to tame. Another sharp hump to your backside pulled a squeal, to which he’d laughed. He couldn’t help it.

The slightest of grins tugged on his jaw.

There were many ways to punish. So many delightful and even more delicious ways. Maybe he could show you, teach you.

A dark rumble from his chest had you jolting in his hold, looking up at him. His jaws parted, mask stretching.

Claim you.

The trigger was missing.

He could swear he’d put it together properly; he’d even test triggered a few mechanisms to make sure it would still function. And yet the one piece it needed to actually work was absent. It wasn't even on the table.

A huff whispered through his jaw. Great. And after all he’d done. What a waste of time.

It clattered to the table as he tossed it aside. He’d just use another, nothing lost.

He never cleaned his guns anyways.

[aalbedo]

tartaglia x injured!reader

request: Hello! How about scenario where character offers help to injured!gn!reader, who is very mistrustful of and reluctant to accept it? I smh love the dynamic "no I don't want your help or anything to do with you but I don't really have a choice". And yeah, I feel like Tartaglia fits it well though you may choose whoever you feel like T v T

format: two-parter (part two here)

ship: tartaglia x reader

tags: reader is the traveler-ish (a completely separate character from aether and lumine, but still the traveler, does that make sense?)

warnings: blood, mildly graphic depiction of injury, stitches and needles

words: 1951

notes: this request awoke something in me, i feel like i could’ve written an entire 70k words fic on this if i had the energy. im sorry anon but i kinda went off the rails with this one hfjdkhfd i hope you still enjoy it. also yeah the header is mildly fucked up because i don’t have the energy to find a better png ok.

You fell to the ground, placing your hands right in a small puddle of your own blood, while a ruin hunter laid on the ground, defeated. Your legs had given in, as a sharp pain hit you through your entire left thigh. There was a large cut on your pants, through which you could see a long, bloody, wound on your skin left by the mechanical monstrosity. It wasn’t too deep, but damn if it hurt.

You squeezed your eyes closed, and let out a loud groan. Reaching a hand into your bag, you pulled out the antiseptic solution you always brought with you, and found out that the bottle was empty. You rummaged more through the bag, looking for a numbing cream, an analgesic potion, even just a remnant of a bandage, anything that could help. Nothing.

Panic started settling in your chest, you were completely alone, in the middle of Lisha, where Hilichurls could attack you at any moment, and you were injured just enough that you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone run away or even fight. You laid down with your back to the ground and covered your face with your hands, as your palms suffocated another loud groan.

You would have to crawl all the way back to the city, or until you found someone willing to help you before fainting from the slow, but consistent, loss of blood. Or worse, dying from shock.

Suddenly, you heard a voice in the distance yell “hey!” Then a second time, with a clearly worried tone in their voice. The pain in your leg made it almost impossible for you to focus on recognizing who that voice belonged to, but it didn’t matter - you were about to finally get some help. You kept your eyes closed as you raised a hand and waved it, showing whoever your savior was where you were.

As you didn’t move from the ground, you heard steps, quickly getting closer to you, until you could feel the presence of someone right above you.

“Oh thank the Archons, I’m completely out of-” you opened your eyes and were met with two bright blue irises staring into yours, and all of the sudden you recognized the voice from before.

“Did that ruin hunter hit you?” Tartaglia was perched right next to your injured leg, already starting to open a backpack that you didn’t recognize as his. He moved his eyes to your thigh and reached out a hand towards it. You swiftly moved the leg away from him, forgetting that it would make it hurt even more, and whimpered when the pain grew.

“I don’t want help from a Harbinger, least of all you” you spat out as you slowly sat up and used your hands to back away from him.

“Stop moving, or you’ll make it worse,” he said plainly as he stood up and followed you, while you kept backing away ignoring the pain through your leg.

“I’ll lose a leg before I let the fatui help me.”

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just watch you crawl all the way back to the Harbor.” He crossed his arms. Oh, he thought he was being funny?

You kept backing away with your arms, until you felt something hard hit your back. A rather large rock was blocking your way, and you would have to crawl around it, and the young man laughed, slowly walking towards you as he took his gloves off and put them in a pocket. You tried moving sideways, but he was quick to crouch down and grab you by the ankle, the one on the injured side, right when you moved.

You inhaled and closed your eyes as a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Are you out of your mind? That hurt!”

He kept your ankle pinned to the ground. “Don’t move,” he ordered. He used his free hand to carefully move the ripped fabric of your clothes out of the way, and get a better look of your wound. You started to feel lightheaded as you saw him tear the fabric further.

You felt some sort of damp cloth on your skin,figuring it was being used to clean the blood off your injury. Tartaglia was being so careful that you could barely feel it, it seemed like he had done this a million times before. You closed your eyes, placing a hand over them, and tilted your head forward, suddenly feeling overcome with dizziness.

“You’re losing a lot of blood. If you hadn’t moved, it would not be this bad right n-” he interrupted himself and he called your name. “You still with me?”

“Mh- huh-uh” you started feeling uneasy. You opened your eyes slightly and caught a glimpse of the wound and immediately looked away. So much blood.

“Stay awake, don’t close your eyes again.” You heard a ruffling of fabric, the damp cloth wasn’t on your skin anymore. “Tell me about the Archons.”

“What?”

“Tell me all of the Archons’ names and their elements,” he repeated. You couldn’t figure out why he wanted you to tell him, but you followed his order, keeping your eyes away from your wound, and instead fixating on the grass beneath you. You were feeling too dizzy to protest, your only choice was to trust him, despite all of your instincts yelling at you to get away from him.

“Okay, there’s... Barbatos, god of Anemo.” You heard more fabric rustling coming from him, but you refused to look at what he was doing.

“Yes, then?”

The dizziness was still overwhelming, but you managed to keep talking, “Morax, god of Geo.” Clinking of glass, probably bottles. “Tsaritsa, goddess of Cryo.”

“Mh-mh.” He sounded… focused. What was he doing?

“Baal, goddess of- Fuck!” The skin around the wound started burning, and so did the wound itself. You bit your lip hard and groaned as the burning kept going on and on, your skin was itching and for a split second it was almost unbearable. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Antiseptic potion,” he replied plainly. “I had to find a way to distract you or you wouldn’t have let me use it.”

“Bastard.” Your skin kept burning, but you slowly got used to the pain as you watched the clear potion sizzling over your still open wound.

He barked a laugh, “I’m trying to help you over here, you’re very welcome.”

You looked at his hands as he skillfully kept cleaning your wound, now there was way less blood coming out and you were starting to feel slightly more at easy. He lifted his head and looked right into your eyes.

“It’s not too deep, but it would probably be better if I stitched it.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Of course I have, you think these healed themselves?” he asked, pointing at the seemingly long scar that started from the base of his neck and went down under his shirt. “At some point you have to learn how to stitch them up yourself.”

You exhaled deeply, still keeping your eyes on his. You realized that his irises resembled the starconches you had seen laid in the sand of Yaoguang Shoal’s beaches.

“Do you have an anaesthetic something to make the stitching hurt less, at least?”

He looked into the bag, moving things around, as if he had no idea what was actually inside the backpack. So it definitely wasn’t his.

He shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. “No, sorry.”

“It’s…” you pondered over it. You would probably have to go all the way to Bubu pharmacy to get an anaesthetic, and on the way there you might lose even more blood. “It’s okay.”

From his backpack, that you hadn’t realized was laid on the ground by your feet, he pulled out a small tin box, and from the box he took out an interestingly shaped needle, recurved like a crescent moon, then a pair of tweezers and a thread so thin you could barely see it.

Just by looking at the needle, you felt uneasy again. “Are you sure we can’t go to the Harbour and get help there?”

“We can do that, if that’s what you prefer, but I would have to carry you - I doubt you could walk at all right now.”

Somehow, the embarrassment of other people seeing you being carried, bridal style, by Tartaglia was stronger than any pain you might have to go through to get these stitches done.

“Fuck it, do it. But be quick.”

“I will try my best,” he said, and his tone sounded genuine to you. You still couldn’t believe you were trusting him like this, after everything he had done to you. “Try to think about something else, focus on anything but the stitches, it’ll hurt less.” He passed the thread through the needle’s hole with surprising skill.

“Okay, uh-” you watched him hover the needle over your skin, probably thinking about the fastest and least painful way to do the job. You moved your gaze from the open would to look at his face, and his expression seemed calm enough to put you somewhat at ease.

His lips were slightly parted and you noticed that he was biting his own tongue, the amount of focus he was putting into helping you was so intriguing to you, you could have never had imagined that he would be so… caring. At least not to you.

You suddenly felt the needle prick through your skin and you whimpered slightly. “Sorry,” he quickly said, before using the tweezers to make the needle pass through your skin and grab it again on the other end.

He repeated the process a few times, slowly pulling the thread every now and then to make the stitch tighter. You observed him the entire time, his eyes quickly darting from one spot to the other, his nose and mouth breathing at a steady pace. You saw him scrunch up his nose a few times, probably to release tension.

Each stitch hurt, you could feel the entire needle pass through your skin and come out again every single time, but you didn’t protest at all, and instead focused on counting the freckles on Tartaglia’s nose bridge, watching the muscles under his skin move every time he swallowed, and carding your fingers through the grass, accidentally ripping some every now and then.

“Done,” you heard him say in an unexpectedly cheerful tone. “I have some bandages, but I don’t think they’re enough for this large of a cut. Though, now that it’s stitched up, it’s probably safe for you to move, and I can help you get to the Harbor where you can buy some numbing potion and bandages.”

You looked down at the wound, and to your relief the stitches looked like they would hold together pretty well. “Sure, I think I can hop for a while, if you hold me.”

He picked up both his and your bag, putting them over his shoulder, then reached out a hand towards you and you realized just how bloody his hands were, as well as his clothes. You grabbed it with your own bloody hand and slowly stood up, placing your weight on the healthy leg. He placed your arm around his shoulders and put his own behind your back, holding you up.

“Ready to go?”

“Mh-mh.” You started walking in the direction of the Harbor, hopping on one leg while Tartaglia held you up.

“Whose backpack is that?” you tried asking.

“Honestly? No idea.”

“What were you doing here in Lisha, anyway?”

“Just some Fatui business, don’t worry about it,” he quickly dismissed your question.

“Always so secretive.”

[universalistotalis]

Stiff That You Love

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Timeskip!) x Female reader

Masterlist!!!

You never thought you'd see him again. You almost choked on the truffle pasta that you ordered in this café when a certain beautiful giant waved and made his way to you.

"Holy damn." You whispered underneath your breath as his strides made their way towards your table. You knew he was already a show stopper back then, but now???!

You were so sure everyone would drop dead at the sight of him.

"Hi." He greeted with his deep voice. "Do you still remember me?"

Surprise filled your expression at his question but you smiled politely and nodded your head. "How could I forget? How are you Ushijima?"

You swore you saw a glint of relief and excitement in his eyes but it immediately wavered as he motioned to the chair in front of you.

"May I?" He asked again, holding the back of the chair.

Is he really going to sit here with me?!

"Sure, of course." Your voice squeaked at the feeling of your heart bursting out of your chest. His greeting was enough to kick the air out of your lungs but a whole conversation?! You didn't know how long you would last in his ever- intimidating presence.

-

It was already the last year in college and you were so determined to graduate with latin honors. Every single minute of your life, you dedicated it to studies, friends and family. They were all that mattered. And so you stayed until the wee hours at certain café spots around the university or at the library inside the campus. You went to meet up with friends during the weekends only for a simple dinner or lunch. You called your family members every chance you get during free time. That was your life. And you were content.

But then this boy came in to the picture.

"You will be partnered together and I shall assign the pair. Make sure you finish the written output, video presentation, and oral defense at the end of the semester." Those were the words of your professor during one of your classes before yours and his name were called out together.

You swore it was fate. Romance was really not in the forefront of your mind but as they say, "You'll find it best when you're not looking".

AND MY GOD WERE YOU SO WRONG!

This man named Ushijima Wakatoshi who came out from nowhere, looking as good they come, had no ounce of romance nor funny bone in his muscular body. He was the most dense, most serious, most infuriating man you've ever met in your whole life!!! He was a whole perfectionist, always so blunt at his comments about the outputs that you showed him. He was also so strict with the deadlines, not considering that you had other classes than this that had much more weight and importance.

You were so close to giving up but...

"Y/n?" You knew that voice only belonged to the certain antagonist in your story right now.

Your hands trembled as you wiped the tears streaming down your face after your meeting together at the library.

"Ushijima, hey!" You pretended to be your usual chirpy self as you turned around to face him.

It was already late so the lights surrounding the university casted an unworldly glow on his face. He was always so breathtaking no matter where you put him but damn those looks! He was just as heartless.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried tone.

"I'm fine. I'll be going home now. See you next week." You excused yourself.

"Wait." His cold fingers caught your arm and that made you stop your tracks.

"Is there a problem, Wakatoshi?"

He bowed his head before slowly releasing you in his grip. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"W-what?" You wanted to make sure if what your ears heard was right. He does not seem the type to apologize.

You heard another deep sigh as he looked at you. "I've always been told that I come off too much to others. I didn't realize it until recently when one of my friends told me."

"Oh, well..."

"I'll try to be better though. I'll be more careful from now on. And I'm really sorry if I ever hurt your feelings in the past." He said with all seriousness that you can't help but sigh and just nod.

"You can be really mean sometimes." You agreed and chuckled, letting a tear escape your eyes.

"You've been crying." He stated flatly as if he was reciting a trivia. "I'm still so sorry."

You giggled. "Yeah, I forgive you. Anyway, it's getting late, Wakatoshi. We have to head home."

"I'll walk you home." He said with a finality in his voice. You were again, surprised by his actions but just agreed because this was such a draining day.

And as you were nearing where you stayed, you were again surprised at how comforting his presence was.

--

You did find his presence after that night relaxing. He became more tactful and he started to insert jokes during your meetings which shocked you so much the first time that he felt a little offended. You became such close friends that his team mates in volleyball were again, shocked that he managed to get a friend outside the team. It was just a matter of getting used to, you thought to yourself. He's just so honest, mechanical, and straightforward to a fault and you got to master how to tell him off when needed. He also developed to trust you so whenever he needed advice, he would always go to you and trust your honest words.

Looking at him now, it made your heart warm at how far he'd come. It's amazing to have known him then. To have seen how he grew as an athlete, a student, and a person. He may still be a little stiff but that's just the Wakatoshi you've come to love.

"Soo..." He started while sitting back down again after claiming his coffee from the counter. "I am not disturbing you, am I?" He pointed at the laptop and papers next to you.

You laughed. "Not at all! I finished them anyway."

"How have you been then?" He asked. His elbows were resting on the table and his hands were holding on to the cup of coffee. The sight was a little funny considering his giant built was leaned onto a very small table.

You smiled gently. "I've been good! I got the job that I dreamed of having and I own some businesses too. Ho--"

"Your eyes sparkle the same way." He cut off.

"What?" You asked, surprised at his random comment.

"Your eyes..." He pointed out. "They sparkle the same way they did in college when you were talking about something you like."

"How did you notice that?" You laughed.

"I'm known to be observant." He smirked slightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, Mr. Oh-So-Observant, how are your matches going? I've been tuning in since the first tournament and it looks like you're going to the semi- finals!" You cheered not hiding your pride and excitement for the country's national volleyball team. When you searched on how to watch the live games, you insisted that you were there to cheer for the country and definitely NOT to cheer and simp for a certain brown- haired, serious player. Definitely NOT!

"You've been watching our games?" He asked, eyes slightly widening at the thought of you cheering for him. What he didn't know was that you were always watching his games since college, not missing even one match. You were always there, crying at how proud you were of him. Also, crying at how much he could never be yours.

"Of course, I have, silly!" You chuckled and pointed at your laptop. "I've been watching here and you're just so amazing and strong!"

He suddenly paused at your statement, silently raising a brow at you and smiling softly.

"I- I meant that your whole team is amazing and strong." You clarified, a blush automatically painting the whole of your face and ears.

"Would you like to go tomorrow?" He blinked, setting down his cup on the wooden surface. "To the game, I mean?"

Your eyes widened at his offer. "Are you serious?!"

He chuckled at your reaction. "Of course! We're allowed to bring spectators for the games, I'll just give you the tickets."

"Wow, Ushijima, thank you so much! It's an honor!" You chimed excitedly, jumping a little on your chair.

"The honor's mine." He replied, grinning at you.

He already knew back then that you were one of a kind. No one ever really stayed and tried to understand his demeanor and personality but you did. You were so honest and kind and you always knew what to do or say to keep him at ease. You accepted him for who he was and he's so thankful to have met such a beautiful soul. Even when you were doing nothing, even when you're just sitting across this table from him, without you knowing, you already made up his entire exhausting day. Hell, you made up all those exhausting years of not seeing each other since you two graduated. He suddenly imagined if being with you would always be like this. So peaceful and just pure bliss...

"You've got to be shitting on me! Is that Ushiwaka?" The pair sitting next to the glass walls of the café was oblivious of the red- haired tower and group of men walking past the street. All of them were wearing coats and casual attires as they're planning to go for lunch at their favorite restaurant for a little reunion. The all powerful Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team, headed by Ushijima in high school, cowered like puppies at the name of their captain being mentioned.

"Where?!" Goshiki stopped and shielded himself from an invisible force. "He said he couldn't make it!"

"I guess our baby's growing up, look!" Tendou hummed and pointed at the two of you laughing and looking at each other with heart eyes. "I bet they don't know that they're shooting hearts at each other."

"I never thought he could smile like that." Semi whispered.

"Yeah well, he's been crushing on that girl since college." Tendou filled the silent wonder of the whole group. "That's why she looked familiar! He kept sending me photos of them together studying or something..."

"Studying, my ass!" Shirabu laughed as they continued staring and hiding behind a post at the same time.

They all burst out laughing and again Tendou chuckled. "No seriously, they were studying!"

"Yeah well, they look good together. I hope he'd have the balls to ask her out. Please god!" Goshiki put his hands together as if seriously praying.

"Bet you 10, 000 yen, we'd be attending his wedding two years from now." Semi challenged.

"Nah, I'll go with a year." Tendou offered.

The men casted their bets on how long you and Ushijima would get married. They knew their captain so well to be sure enough that he was serious with you. Safe to say, Semi won the bet.

--

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor