#I skipped like half a scene but apart from that it's just been all go

[sysig]

Me when I get another 2k words into another Helix fic despite having not finished any of the previous ones: 😔😭✍✨

[unabashegirl]

the cover | part 1

Y/N and Harry, lifelong best friends, pretend to be a couple for a family wedding weekend in Edinburgh. As they navigate the event, old feelings resurface, and what starts as an act turns into something real, leading them to confront their true emotions for one another.

Author's note: hello everyone! I hope you are doing great. I wanted to post The Cover on Tumblr BUT keep some EXCLUSIVENESS for my Patreon subscribers. So, I took some scenes out of the story while keep the plot intact. it is obviously going to be shorter here on Tumblr. However, the story still leads to the same thing. I hope you enjoy

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word count: 1.8K

The soft hum of the evening surrounded them as they sat on Harry’s couch, the warmth of the candles filling the air. His house, though spacious, had an intimate feel, with low lighting casting cozy shadows around the room. Harry sat beside Y/N, half-turned toward her, reading a book. The way he tucked his legs beneath him and the casualness of his white t-shirt gave the moment a softness that made Y/N's thoughts wander.

Y/N tried to focus on the book in her hands, something about leadership, but the words blurred as she kept glancing at Harry. His usual confidence and public persona seemed far away, replaced by a quiet charm. She couldn’t help but think back to the way things used to be before his rise to stardom—just the two of them, as friends.

And that’s what made it so hard now. Despite the easy conversations and long history they shared, Y/N was always reminded of the one-sided feelings she’d harbored for years. Sitting next to him now, she could feel the pull of those feelings, threatening to unravel her carefully constructed walls.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Harry asked, breaking the silence. His voice was low, filled with the same warmth and curiosity he always had when talking to her. “You’ve been staring at that page for a while now.”

Y/N laughed lightly, closing the book. “Just thinking about family stuff,” she said, dodging the real reason behind her distraction.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Family stuff?”

She sighed. “My cousin’s getting married soon, and they’re all pressuring me to bring a date.”

Harry leaned back, his expression softening. “You know you don’t have to do anything just to please them, right?”

“I know, but it’s hard when everyone expects you to show up with someone.” Y/N smiled weakly, shrugging. “It just makes me feel like I’m falling behind.”

For a moment, Harry just watched her, like he was considering something. Then, his voice cut through the silence again, casual but certain. “I’ll go with you.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “What?”

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “I’ll be your date. that'll stop them from asking questions, right?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Harry being her date? Even just as a favor, the idea felt surreal. But his offer was sincere, and she could feel the tension easing from her shoulders at the thought of having him there with her.

“Are you sure?” she asked softly, trying to gauge if he really meant it.

“Of course,” he said with that familiar grin of his. “Who wouldn’t want to show up with me as their date?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing, her anxiety slowly melting away. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. With Harry at her side, it might actually be… fun.

“He’s going with you?!” Maddie’s voice echoed through the apartment, laced with disbelief.

Y/N, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, groaned and called back, “I know!”

A moment later, Maddie appeared in the doorway, eyes wide. “Harry Styles—your best friend—is going to this wedding as your date? I mean, what?!”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, flopping back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Trust me, I’m still trying to process it.”

Maddie crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Okay, first of all—this wedding is a whole weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. “We’re leaving Friday and staying until Sunday. So… two full days of family, dinners, receptions, small talk.”

“And does Harry know it’s a full weekend?” Maddie asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N bit her lip. “Not exactly…”

Maddie’s eyes widened even further. “Y/N, you have to tell him! What if he backs out once he realizes it’s not just a one-night thing?”

Y/N sighed, already feeling the weight of it. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. I just… I hope he doesn’t change his mind.”

Maddie smiled knowingly. “Well, you’ll need to distract yourself with something else for now—like your outfits!” She grinned. “You have to look incredible.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Maddie…”

The next day, Y/N stood outside Harry’s house, a small bouquet of flowers in hand. She smiled as she reached for the familiar key in her pocket—the one Harry had given her ages ago. She slid it into the lock, the soft click bringing her a sense of comfort. His place had always felt like a second home, sometimes even more than her own.

Walking inside, the familiar scent of fresh linen greeted her. She made her way to the kitchen and placed the flowers on the counter, searching for a vase. After arranging them, she admired the pop of color they brought to the space. It was something she liked to do whenever she visited—add a little warmth to the room.

“Harry?” she called out, already heading towards the hallway that led to his bedroom.

“Closet!” his voice echoed back, slightly muffled.

She stepped into his room, which looked as it always did—organized chaos. A mix of designer clothes and little pieces of Harry’s life were scattered around, but one thing stood out: his suitcase, open on the floor, already halfway packed.

He’s really going through with it, Y/N thought, excitement mixing with a flutter of nerves.

As she approached the closet, Harry emerged, fresh from the shower, casually drying his hair with a towel. His grin widened when he saw her. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

Y/N chuckled. “You’re already packing? You’re way ahead of me.”

“I figured I’d get a head start. I’ve got to be prepared for this weekend,” he teased, tossing the towel over his shoulder.

Y/N leaned against the doorway. “I haven’t even started yet. But you know, I might need help picking outfits. And I know you have opinions.”

Harry shot her a playful smirk. “You know I do.”

Despite the light banter, Y/N couldn’t shake the growing tension in her chest. She still hadn’t told him everything—the weekend wasn’t just a one-night affair. Clearing her throat, she said, “Harry, there’s something I forgot to mention about the wedding.”

His eyebrow raised, but his smile stayed. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Well… it’s not just the ceremony. It’s kind of a whole weekend event.”

Harry stopped mid-motion, the towel draped over his shoulders as he turned to face her fully. “A whole weekend?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, fidgeting slightly. “It’s in Edinburgh. There’s a dinner on Friday, the wedding on Saturday, and a brunch on Sunday. It’s like… a three-day thing.”

For a moment, Harry just stared at her, blinking. Then, with a chuckle, he said, “A full-on wedding, huh?”

Y/N let out a breath. “Yeah… I probably should’ve told you earlier. But I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Harry shook his head, his grin widening. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. A weekend in Edinburgh with you? Sounds fun.”

Relief flooded through Y/N. “You’re sure? I mean, it’s a lot.”

“I’m sure,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Besides, I think your family’s going to love me.” He winked, adding, “When do we leave?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her nerves fading. He really was in this with her, and suddenly, the weekend didn’t seem so intimidating.

Y/N and Harry sat cross-legged on the floor of his living room, plates of Indian takeout spread across the coffee table. The familiar aroma of curry and naan filled the room, while How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days played on the TV in the background. They had seen the movie so many times, but it never got old. Harry always laughed at the same moments, and Y/N couldn’t help teasing him for knowing the lines better than she did.

As Y/N scooped up a bite of butter chicken with her naan, she noticed Harry looking at her with a mischievous grin. “What’s that look for?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Harry leaned back against the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. “I was just thinking about the wedding.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Y/N groaned, shaking her head. “I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that you’re actually going.”

“Don’t worry, I’m still in,” Harry assured her, nudging her gently. “But I had a thought… Why don’t we drive to Edinburgh?”

Y/N blinked, lowering her fork. “Drive? From here to Edinburgh? That’s over eight hours.”

“Exactly!” Harry’s eyes lit up, like it was the best idea he’d ever had. “Think about it. If we drive, we’re in control. If things get awkward at the wedding, we’ll have a getaway car. No waiting for flights—we can just leave.”

Y/N gave him a skeptical look. “Planning an escape before we even get there?”

He shrugged, popping a piece of naan into his mouth. “It’s all about being prepared. Plus, think of the road trip! Snacks, music, random stops. Remember the last time we did a long drive?”

Y/N smiled at the memory. “Yeah, and you made us stop at every service station to try the food.”

Harry grinned even wider. “Exactly! Imagine all the snacks we could pack—crisps, chocolate, samosas. And the playlist—oh, the playlist! We’ll sing the whole way, windows down, no stress.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “You just want an excuse to sing loudly, don’t you?”

“Hey, I have great taste in road trip tunes,” he said, pretending to be offended. “And it would be fun! Eight hours, just us, no rush.”

She tilted her head, considering it. A carefree road trip with Harry did sound appealing, but the practical side of her had concerns. “Flying is faster. We’ll be there in two hours and won’t be exhausted when we arrive. We’ll need all the energy we can get for my family and the wedding.”

Harry pouted, leaning back against the couch. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Y/N looked over at him, smiling at his enthusiasm. There was something irresistible about the way his eyes sparkled at the idea.

“You know what?” she said after a beat. “Let’s do it. Let’s drive.”

Harry’s face lit up, his eyes wide with excitement. “Really? You mean it?”

Y/N nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah, why not? It could be fun. And having the car might come in handy if we need an escape—or if we just want to explore a bit.”

Harry practically beamed. “I can’t wait”.

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PART 2

[torchstelechos]

Do yall think about the ending of ISAT in any other characters POV? Cause I think about it so much, that must be buck fucking wild. Like, you get to Dormont after MONTHS of traveling with these people, you're feeling strong, you feel like you have a chance, so yall go separate directions to get everything done before the big day tomorrow and your buddy Siffrin goes to take a nap. You're like, ah! Classic Siffrin, so silly and nonchalant about everything, they never once thought we would lose. What a swell fella :). Then not even a full half a day later, more like a few hours later, he appears out of no where with a fucked up face and starts hitting you exactly where it hurts emotionally. No reason! You didn't do a fucking thing! They just fucking went for it! And now you're pissed cause that was a close friend of yours that you considered family, you're sad, you're mad, you dont understand what happened. You meet up with everyone at the clocktower early because apparently he did that to everyone! So good! Good! It's not just a you thing! You all talk it out and you all agree that maybe you should leave them behind tomorrow if they keep acting like this. Except. Except. They never came to the clocktower, they never came to talk to you about what happened and thats. Not acceptable. You need to understand what happened because after sleeping on it, why did he do that? They wouldn't ever do that to all of you, so something must have happened!

And then a Star appears.

And you learn exactly what has been happening behind the scenes but it doesnt make sense. But you know that your buddy just went to solo the house and you know they arent strong enough to do so, you know exactly what their level and strength and weaknesses are and the King is rock type! He's going to kill Siffrin if you dont go save them! So you start running through the house to go save them while the Star guides you, but the doors are all unlocked. There are ghosts everywhere. The hallways dont make sense. Something is broken, failing, and you are running out of time. so you climb up and up and up until finally you get to the final floor and then to the King's room expecting Siffrin to be a splat on the floor but. He's still alive, theres a chance! So you go and protect them from the King but uh, huh. The King is nearly dead? Siffrin almost solo'ed the King? A scissors type versus a rock type nearly won? And it was only a nearly and not a he won because Siffrin was frozen in time? What???? So you freeze the King, you save Siffrin, but they're injured and sick and have a fever so you try to take them to the head housemaiden to get healed but uh. Shes speaking nonsense??? Utter bullshit. Skipping, repeating, saying things out of order, and then she says you all can go home and everything falls apart around you.

Cause Siffrin? Yeah, your buddy who was being a tad bit of an asshole? And they just solo'ed the bad guy without you? Yeah, he's the last boss you need to beat actually. And they're huge! So big! You get ready for them to fight you, except he. Attacks himself. In front of all of you while crying. He's sad. They're hurting themself. You can not do anything but you start to connect the dots and you figure everything out. Then everything becomes normal again and they say what they wished for and hey! You wanted that too! So you hug them as he cries himself out and all of you are tired. That was a lot. They're craft tired and sick but they're okay. So you're happy and relax. They want to go back to Dormont, so you all go. Then THIS LITTLE ASSHOLE WALTZES OFF ONLY TO COME BACK INJURED TO HELL AND BACK???? He said he was going to go say thanks to that Star person, who you still aren't sure is a person but whatever, and then he comes back exhausted and clearly just used craft after being told not to?

And YOU STILL DONT KNOW HOW SIFFRIN BEAT THAT FUCKER AFTER SOLOING THE HOUSE, OR THE DEAL WITH THAT WEIRD SHADE IN THE SKY IN THE SHAPE OF SOME FUCKING WEIRD LEGUME. WHAT. HOW???? WHY??????????

Anyway I think about this a lot, it must have been a long and confusing two days from their POV

[jburrgf]

Easily.

“Don’t you tell me it wasn’t mean to be, call it quits, call it destiny. Just because it won’t come easily, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

pairing: joe burrow x reader

summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship, reunion, patient x nurse, first love, a lot of fluff

description: after playing with his nephews, joe strained his ankle and ran to the ER. but he didn’t though he was going to meet his childhood best friend there.

—————————————

It was past midnight, the time when the world outside the hospital walls seemed to stand still. Inside, though, it was a different story. The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly above me as I made my way down the hallway of the ER. My feet ached, the usual dull throb that comes after ten hours on your feet, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to. Nights like this were routine, predictable even, and I had learned to find comfort in the chaos.

I adjusted my stethoscope and glanced at the clock above the nurse’s station—1:37 AM. Still hours to go. The hum of monitors and the occasional beeping of machines filled the space, blending into the background noise I’d grown accustomed to over the years. My shift had been steady, a couple of minor accidents, a handful of routine check-ups, nothing too serious. Until the doors of the ER flew open, and everything changed.

I didn’t look up right away, too focused on updating a patient’s chart, but the sudden rush of voices—urgent, yet not panicked—caught my attention. I turned to see two nurse helping a patient to get on a stretcher, their faces set in calm determination. One of them was giving a brief rundown to the admitting nurse.

“Thirty minutes ago, pickup football game. Possible sprained ankle, maybe a mild concussion, conscious the whole time, though.”

I barely glanced at the patient on the stretcher at first, but then something made me pause. The man lying there was in a football jersey, but it wasn’t the jersey that gave me pause—it was his face. He had one hand pressed against his head, his eyes half-closed in obvious discomfort. But it wasn’t the injury that had my heart skipping a beat. It was him.

Joe Burrow.

The name echoed in my mind before I could stop it. Joe Burrow, Joey, my childhood friend, the boy who lived down the street, the one I used to spend all my summer afternoons with before life drifted us apart. The boy who had grown into one of the NFL’s brightest stars.

And now, apparently, my patient.

I blinked, trying to process the scene in front of me. Joe Burrow, here, in my ER, in the middle of the night, looking very different from the kid I used to race bikes with down the block.

"Y/N, can you take this one?" The nurse's voice broke through my daze, and I nodded, my training kicking in despite the sudden rush of memories swirling in my mind.

I approached the stretcher, my steps slower than usual, my mind still catching up with the present. Joe hadn’t noticed me yet. He was too busy wincing as one of the paramedics adjusted the ice pack on his ankle. My hands trembled slightly as I picked up his chart, scanning it quickly.

“Joe Burrow,” I said softly, almost testing the name out loud to see if it would break the spell of disbelief hanging over me.

At the sound of my voice, his head turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes were unfocused, likely from the mild concussion they suspected. But then his gaze sharpened, recognition flickering in his eyes. He blinked, then squinted, as if trying to place me, and I saw the exact moment it clicked.

“Y/N?” His voice was rough, slightly hoarse from exertion, but there was a hint of surprise there, maybe even something softer—something familiar.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, professional, even though my heart was doing somersaults in my chest. “Looks like you’ve had quite the night.”

He let out a short, breathy laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a small smile despite the pain etched across his face. “You could say that.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the years between us hanging in the air like something tangible. It felt like an eternity since we’d last seen each other, though in reality, it had only been... What, ten years? Maybe more? The boy I remembered was long gone, replaced by the man lying in front of me — taller, broader, more grown-up in every way. But the spark in his eyes was the same, that playful glint that always used to get us into trouble.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the lingering sense of nostalgia. “Let’s get you checked out. You said you were playing football?”

“Yeah, with my nephews,” Joe replied, wincing again as he shifted on the stretcher. “Thought I’d show them a few moves, but I guess I got a little too into it.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” I teased, grabbing the clipboard to make notes. “Still trying to prove you’re the toughest one out there?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Some things don’t change.”

As I moved to assess his injury, my hands were steady, but my mind raced with questions. How had he ended up here, in this hospital, on this night? And how had we managed to go so long without crossing paths again? Life had taken us in such different directions, but in this moment, it felt like the universe had pushed us back together.

“Alright,” I said, snapping back to the present. “Let’s take a look at that ankle.”

I knelt down beside the stretcher to examine his ankle. The swelling was already visible, and the skin around it was starting to turn a soft shade of purple. It didn’t seem like anything too serious, but given the hit to his head, he’d probably need to stay overnight for observation. My fingers brushed against his skin as I checked for tenderness, and I couldn’t help but notice how much he’d changed. Stronger, tougher than the lanky boy I remembered, but still the same person, somewhere underneath all that.

“This looks like a sprain,” I said, grabbing an Ace bandage from the tray beside me. “We’ll get you some crutches and probably keep you here for a bit to monitor your head injury. How does your head feel? Any dizziness or nausea?”

He grimaced slightly. “Just a headache. Nothing too bad, though. I’ve had worse hits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like I should be more worried about your career than this injury.”

His laugh was soft, but it was there. “Maybe, but I think I can survive a game with some six-year-olds.”

I wrapped the bandage around his ankle carefully, trying not to let my hands shake. It was bizarre how easily we fell into conversation, even after all these years. We’d lost so much time, and yet it felt oddly natural to be here with him, even if it was under the fluorescent lights of an emergency room.

Once I finished wrapping his ankle, I stood up and met his eyes again. There was a question in them, unspoken but heavy in the silence that followed.

“So…” Joe began slowly, his voice quieter now, as if we were stepping into more uncertain territory. “How long has it been?”

“Since we last saw each other?” I asked, tilting my head as I thought back. “I don’t know… over ten years, I think.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He shifted his weight slightly, sitting up more on the stretcher. “I meant to stay in touch, you know. Things just got… crazy.”

I could see the apology in his eyes, though he didn’t say the words outright. And I understood. Life had a way of sweeping you up, pulling you in directions you never saw coming. He had his NFL career, the spotlight, the pressure. I had my nursing career, the long hours, the exhaustion that came with it. Still, there was a small part of me that wondered how different things might have been if we’d made more of an effort. If I had.

“Yeah,” I said, offering him a small smile. “Life does that.”

There was a beat of silence, not uncomfortable but reflective. We were both thinking about the past, the what-ifs and the roads we didn’t take. But before I could dwell on it too long, Joe spoke up again, breaking the tension.

“You look good,” he said, his tone genuine but light. “Not much has changed. Except the scrubs, maybe.”

I laughed softly, grateful for the shift in conversation. “I could say the same about you. Except maybe… all of this,” I gestured vaguely to him—the athletic build, the worn jersey, the presence that came with someone used to being in the spotlight.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed a little,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But you know, underneath all of this, I’m still the same guy who used to lose every bike race to you.”

I smirked. “Oh, I remember. You hated losing.”

“I still do.” His eyes sparkled with that playful glint I recognized so well.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, talking about everything and nothing as I finished up his assessment. It was strange how easy it was, how natural it felt to slip back into the banter we used to share. I’d always liked that about Joe—he made you feel at ease, like no matter how much time passed, nothing between us had really changed.

As I finished updating his chart, the doctor on call came over to check him out, confirming what I’d suspected: Joe would need to stay overnight for observation, just to be safe. I told him I’d come back once I was done with my rounds, but I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked away.

[…]

Couple hours passed, the usual rhythm of the ER taking over once again. But every now and then, I found my thoughts drifting back to Joe. He was resting in one of the private rooms now, probably bored out of his mind. And for some reason, I felt compelled to check on him, even though I knew he didn’t really need me. It was something about seeing him again—after all this time, after all we’d been through separately—that made me want to stay close, to not let this second chance slip away.

By the time I finally had a break, it was close to 4 AM. The hospital had quieted down, the late-night lull settling in. I made my way back to Joe’s room, my heart beating a little faster than I’d like to admit. I told myself it was just a routine check-up, nothing more. But deep down, I knew it was more than that.

When I pushed open the door, Joe was awake, staring at the ceiling, his expression lost in thought. His head turned at the sound of my entrance, and a small smile crossed his lips when he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up slightly. “Back to check on me again?”

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Can’t leave you alone for too long. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N. I mean it.”

I shrugged, trying to keep things light, but there was something about the way he said it that made my chest tighten just a little. “Just doing my job.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure something out. “It’s been good seeing you again. I didn’t think I’d run into you like this, but… I’m glad I did.”

“Me too,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. The air between us felt heavier, like there was more to be said, but neither of us knew exactly how to say it.

For a while, we just talked—about life, work, the things that had happened since we last saw each other. Joe opened up about the pressures of being in the NFL, how sometimes it felt like everything was spinning too fast and he couldn’t slow it down. I shared a little about my life too, about how nursing had become my world and how hard it was to balance that with anything else. We were both a little vulnerable, a little raw in the way you could only be when the rest of the world was asleep and you were left with nothing but your thoughts and the quiet of the night.

The conversation between us flowed easily, like slipping back into a comfortable rhythm. There was something about talking to Joe in the middle of the night, the world outside the hospital walls so still, that made the years between us seem to melt away. It was like we were kids again, sitting on the porch steps after a long day of playing outside, just talking about anything and everything.

“So, you stayed in Cincinnati?” Joe asked, shifting on the hospital bed to sit up more comfortably.

I nodded. “Yeah, never really left. Got into nursing school here and stuck around. I like the pace of it. My family’s here, too.”

He smiled softly. “It’s good that you stayed close to them. I’ve missed a lot of that, being away.”

I could hear the hint of longing in his voice, the weight of the sacrifices he’d made for his career. Joe had always been focused, even when we were kids. When he said he was going to be a football player, I believed him because he believed it with his whole heart. But I could see now, in his eyes, that the road had taken a toll.

“You’re always traveling, huh?” I asked, curious.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he replied. “It’s part of the job, but it gets lonely sometimes. The only time I get back home is for the off-season, and even then, it’s not much.

I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. He was living the dream, the one we’d all seen coming, but it was clear there was a price. I hadn’t thought much about that before, what his life must be like now. To everyone else, he was Joe Burrow, NFL star, the guy who won championships. But sitting here, under the soft glow of the hospital room lights, he just seemed like the same boy I used to know—the one who liked backyard football and riding bikes through the neighborhood.

“It’s not easy, is it?” I asked softly, sensing the exhaustion behind his smile. “Being Joe Burrow.”

He looked at me, his eyes locking on mine, and for a moment, I saw something vulnerable there—something real. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, wincing slightly as he touched the sore spot on his head.

“It’s not always what people think,” he admitted quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. Football’s everything to me. But there’s so much more that comes with it—the pressure, the expectations. Sometimes it feels like I’m always on. Like I can’t just...be.”

His words hung in the air between us, raw and unguarded. I hadn’t expected him to open up like this, but maybe that’s what the night did to people. Maybe it made us feel safe enough to say the things we wouldn’t admit in the daylight.

“I get that,” I said after a beat. “In a different way, I mean. Being a nurse… it’s all-consuming sometimes. I see my family when I can, but I’m always here, always on call. You start to lose parts of yourself, you know?”

Joe nodded, his eyes softening as he listened. “Yeah. It’s like you give so much of yourself to what you do that there’s not much left for anything else.”

I swallowed, realizing how true that was for both of us. We’d grown up chasing different dreams, but somehow, we’d both ended up feeling the same way—exhausted, a little lost, trying to figure out how to balance it all.

Silence fell between us for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that comes when two people are just...understanding each other. No need for words, just a shared recognition of something deeper.

I laughed softly, and the tension between us seemed to ease a little. It was strange how easy it was to be around him again, like no time had passed at all. But there was also something new between us now—something unspoken but very real.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he said again, his voice quieter this time, more serious. “I don’t know if I said that already, but... I mean it.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, meeting his gaze. “It’s my job, after all.”

Joe shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “No, I mean... thanks for being here. I needed this. More than I realized.”

The quiet of the night wrapped around us, like the world outside had fallen away and left just the two of us in this small, dimly lit room. I sat down on the edge of the chair beside Joe’s bed, my mind still buzzing with everything we’d talked about—the years that had passed, the memories we shared, and the things we’d never said.

I watched him for a moment, noting the way his face softened when he wasn’t wearing that confident, composed mask that the public always saw. He looked more like the boy I used to know, the one who’d always been up for an adventure, always quick with a joke or a grin. But now, there was a weight behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before, a heaviness that came from carrying the expectations of an entire city on his shoulders.

“How do you do it?” I asked quietly, my voice almost a whisper in the stillness of the room.

Joe’s brow furrowed, and he turned his head to look at me. “Do what?”

“Handle the pressure,” I said, gesturing vaguely to him, to the life he lived now. “Everyone watching you, expecting so much from you all the time. Doesn’t it get overwhelming?”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. It does.” His voice was low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t used to admitting that to anyone. “I mean, I love the game. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But sometimes, it feels like it’s all moving so fast, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

I nodded, understanding more than I thought I would. It wasn’t the same as the pressures he faced, but I knew what it felt like to be stretched thin, to feel like there was never enough time or energy to meet everyone’s expectations.

“There are moments,” he continued, “when I think back to when we were kids, and everything was just… easier, you know? No pressure, no cameras, no one expecting anything from me except to show up and play. It felt simple back then.”

I smiled at the memory, my mind drifting back to those endless summer days when we’d race our bikes down the street or spend hours at the park, just the two of us against the world. “Yeah, it was simpler. We didn’t have a care in the world.”

Joe looked at me, something softer in his gaze now. “You know, I’ve thought about you a lot over the years.”

That caught me off guard. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat at the unexpected confession. “You have?”

He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve kept up with you a little, here and there, through social media and stuff. But it wasn’t the same. I always wondered what happened—why we lost touch.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling a small pang of guilt. “I wondered the same thing sometimes. Life just got in the way, I guess.”

Joe smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “Yeah. But it’s good to see you now. Even if I had to get knocked out by a bunch of kids to do it.” He was quiet for a moment, like he was working up the courage to say something. Then, his voice dropped even lower, almost like he was afraid to let the words out. “You were… my first love, you know. Back when we were fourteen.”

The room seemed to still completely, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart thudded in my chest. “What?”

Joe met my gaze, his expression open, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “I never told you back then, but you were. I had the biggest crush on you. I was too scared to say anything, though, so I just... never did.”

My mind was reeling, flashes of our time together when we were kids playing in my head—the way he’d always try to impress me, the way he’d get competitive when we played games, the times we’d sit in the park talking about anything and everything. And now, it all made sense.

“Joe…” I started, my voice soft, unsure of what to say. “I had no idea.”

He laughed a little, though there was a hint of nervousness in it. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly smooth back then. I thought maybe you figured it out when I kept challenging you to races just to spend more time with you.”

I laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension between us. “I just thought you really hated losing.”

“I did,” he admitted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I hated the idea of not being around you even more.”

There was something so honest about the way he said it, and it hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. All this time, I’d thought we were just two kids having fun, never realizing that there was more beneath the surface. And now, sitting here with him all these years later, it felt like a door had opened, revealing all the things we hadn’t said back then.

“I used to think about you a lot too,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “After you moved away for college, I wondered what would’ve happened if we’d stayed in touch.”

His eyes softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the edge of the bed. His touch was warm, grounding, and my breath hitched at the contact.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “But maybe we can find out now.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The air between us felt charged, like the years we’d spent apart had collapsed into this one moment, and everything was suddenly within reach—everything we hadn’t said, everything we hadn’t done.

I looked into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, maybe, or just the courage to let myself feel what I was feeling. And what I felt was undeniable. All those years ago, when we were kids, I hadn’t realized what was growing between us. But now… now I could feel it, and it was as real as the heartbeat thrumming in my chest.

“You really had a crush on me, huh?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment, though my voice wavered slightly.

Joe laughed softly, but there was nothing teasing in his gaze. “Yeah. And maybe I still do. And I know it can sound weird, but I know you don’t have anyone now. So I think it’s ok if I hit on you… I guess.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of us. I felt the warmth of his hand against mine, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself wonder what could happen—what this could mean.

The moment hung between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Joe’s hand lingered on mine, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a warmth through me I hadn’t felt in years. It was surreal, sitting here in the quiet of the hospital room, realizing how much had passed between us, and how much still remained.

“So,” Joe said after a beat, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “Maybe it’s time we don’t lose touch again.”

I looked up at him, my heart still racing, a small smile playing on my lips. “What are you saying, Joe?”

He held my gaze, his expression serious but hopeful. “I’m saying… I want to see you again. Outside of this hospital.” His smile grew slightly, a little more of that old playfulness creeping back into his voice. “Maybe when I’m not half-concussed and in a hospital gown.”

I laughed at that, though my stomach fluttered at the idea of it. “You’re asking me out?”

“Yeah,” he said, more confidently this time, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m asking you out, Y/N. I don’t want to miss out on this again. I don’t want to wonder what would’ve happened if we’d given this—us—a real shot.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. There was something so earnest in the way he said it, like he’d been carrying this feeling for a long time. And maybe I had been too. All these years, I’d tucked away those memories, convinced that whatever we could have had was lost in the past. But now, sitting here with him, it felt like the door had opened again.

I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to say yes, but because this felt big. It wasn’t just a casual date—it was a reconnection with the person who had been a part of some of the best years of my life.

“Joe…” I started, unsure of how to put my feelings into words.

He squeezed my hand gently, his eyes soft and understanding. “I know. It’s a lot. But I don’t want to let you slip away again, Y/N. Not this time.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then nodded. “Okay. Let’s give it a shot.”

His smile lit up the room, and it sent a rush of warmth through me. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said, my own smile widening. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what happens.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt my heart skip a beat. There was something in the way he was looking at me—something different from how he used to look at me when we were kids. It was deeper now, more intense, like he was seeing me for the first time in a long time, really seeing me.

Before I could say anything, the doctor stepped in, clearing his throat as he entered the room. The moment broke, and I stepped back, letting the doctor check Joe’s vitals one last time. The distraction gave me a moment to breathe, to calm the fluttering in my chest that his words had caused.

“Alright, Joe,” the doctor said after a brief exam. “Everything looks good. You’re clear to go, but take it easy for a few days, alright? No more football with the nephews.”

Joe grinned. “No promises, doc.”

The doctor chuckled, handing me the discharge paperwork. “He’s in your hands now, Nurse Y/N. Make sure he behaves.”

“I’ll try,” I said with a smirk, shooting Joe a playful look.

As the doctor left, I turned back to Joe, holding the paperwork in my hands. “Looks like you’re free to go.”

Joe nodded, though there was a glimmer of something playful in his eyes. “I guess that means you get to help me to my car, too.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at my lips. “Don’t push your luck, Burrow.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his ankle wrapped and his movements slow as he tested his balance with the crutches the nurse had given him. I stood by the door, watching as he struggled for a second, clearly still groggy from his head injury.

“Need a hand?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

He glanced up at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think I’m good, but if you want to help, I’m not going to say no.”

I laughed, stepping forward and looping my arm around his back, steadying him as he got to his feet. His arm draped over my shoulder, and I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine, a small reminder of how close we were.

We made our way down the hallway slowly, Joe leaning on me more than he probably needed to, though I didn’t mind. As we stepped outside, the cool morning air greeted us, fresh and quiet, the world still waking up. Joe’s black SUV was parked a few steps away, and I helped him hobble over to the passenger side.

“You really don’t have to help me into the car, you know,” he said, though there was no real protest in his voice.

“Just shut up and let me do my job,” I teased, opening the passenger door and carefully guiding him as he eased himself into the seat. His face tightened in discomfort for a moment as he shifted his injured ankle into the car, but I held onto him, making sure he was steady.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer now, his eyes meeting mine. And for a moment, we just stood there, his hand still on my arm, our faces inches apart. The morning light cast a soft glow over everything, making it feel like we were in our own little world again, like there was nothing between us but the weight of this moment.

Without thinking, I leaned down slightly to help him adjust his seatbelt, and that’s when it happened. His hand slipped from my arm to my waist, his grip firm but gentle, pulling me just a little closer. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, and when I looked up, his eyes were locked on mine, something intense and unspoken passing between us.

Before I could say anything, before I could even think, Joe leaned in, his lips brushing mine in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It wasn’t rushed or urgent, but it was full of everything we hadn’t said, everything we’d been holding onto for years. His hand tightened slightly on my waist, and I could feel the warmth of his body pulling me in.

I kissed him back, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with all the memories of us, of the boy he used to be and the man he was now. And for that moment, nothing else mattered. Just him, just this.

When we finally pulled away, I could feel the flush on my cheeks, the air between us charged with the promise of something more. Joe smiled, that familiar, lopsided grin that made my heart skip a beat.

“Well,” he said, his voice soft but full of that teasing edge, “I guess that was a good start.”

I laughed, trying to steady my breath. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“About that date…” Joe began, his eyes still locked on mine. “How about tomorrow night? Dinner? Maybe a chance to do this properly?”

I smiled, the excitement bubbling up inside me. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

He grinned, and for a moment, we were just two people who’d finally found their way back to each other, after all these years. As I stepped back, closing the passenger door, I felt lighter, like something had shifted between us—something good.

“Drive safe, Burrow,” I called out, stepping away as he started the engine.

Joe smirked, giving me a mock salute as he pulled out of the parking lot. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And as I watched his SUV disappear down the quiet street, I couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was only the beginning of something we’d both been waiting for.

——————————

we kinda lost today lol, but I wanted to give this one for you guys. love a fluffy joey in love with his best friend (wishing it was me).

[riqomi]

valentines day ˖ 박성훈

박성훈 ˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fluff est. relationship ──── BOOKSHELF (894) tw: kissing request? yes

the city was alive with love—shop windows glowing with heart-shaped decorations, couples strolling down the streets, laughter and warmth filling the crisp winter air. the scent of roses and freshly baked chocolate treats lingered around every corner, making everything feel like a scene from a romance movie.

as you wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, your phone buzzed with a message.

sunghoon: almost ready? i’ll be waiting downstairs.

your heart skipped a beat. sunghoon had been unusually secretive about tonight’s plans, only telling you to dress warmly. you quickly checked your reflection in the mirror, adjusting your coat before heading outside.

when you reached the lobby of your apartment, you spotted him leaning against his sleek black car, hands tucked into the pockets of his long wool coat. the soft glow of the streetlights illuminated his flawless features—his sharp jawline, the tip of his nose slightly pink from the cold, and the familiar half-smirk that made your stomach flutter.

the moment he saw you, his eyes softened, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “hey, gorgeous.”

you laughed, feeling warmth spread through you despite the cold. “you’re being extra smooth today.”

sunghoon opened the car door for you with a playful bow. “i mean, it is valentine’s day. gotta impress my date.”

as he drove through the city, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other occasionally adjusting the heater to make sure you were warm enough, you couldn’t help but admire him. his side profile was breathtaking—the way his lashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks, the gentle hum of his voice when he asked if you were comfortable.

"are you really not gonna give me a hint about where we’re going?" you asked, turning to him with curiosity.

he simply smirked. "nope. you’ll see when we get there."

after a short drive, the car pulled up to a quiet park, the entrance lined with twinkling fairy lights. your eyes widened as you stepped out, the sight before you making your breath hitch.

a private outdoor ice-skating rink lay ahead, nestled between trees dusted with snow. the fairy lights cast a golden glow over the ice, making it look like something straight out of a winter fairytale.

"surprise," sunghoon said, watching your reaction. "i know you always wanted to skate under the stars."

you turned to him in awe. "you planned all this?"

he rubbed the back of his neck, a little bashful. "yeah… i had to book it in advance. didn’t want anyone ruining our moment."

your heart melted at how much thought he had put into this.

after lacing up your skates, you hesitantly stepped onto the ice, wobbling slightly. sunghoon, the natural skater, glided beside you effortlessly.

he chuckled, reaching for your hands. "come here. i won’t let you fall."

you pouted. "that’s easy for you to say, mr. figure skater."

sunghoon only grinned before pulling you closer. his hands wrapped around yours firmly, guiding you as you slowly moved across the ice. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had faded away.

"you’re doing great," he murmured, his voice soft as he gazed at you.

"only because you’re holding me up," you teased, laughing as he effortlessly spun you, catching you smoothly before you could stumble.

his arms circled your waist, holding you close. "that’s the plan," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

for a moment, neither of you moved. the air between you was thick with unspoken words, your faces just inches apart. the twinkle of the lights reflected in his dark brown eyes, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the world—made your heart hammer in your chest.

"sunghoon…" you whispered.

he reached up, brushing a stray snowflake from your hair before cupping your cheek gently. "can i kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely above a breath.

your lips parted, your breath hitching as you nodded.

sunghoon leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours until the very last moment. then, finally, his lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss. the world seemed to fade as he kissed you tenderly, his arms tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go. the cold air no longer mattered, the snow falling around you only adding to the magic of the moment.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

"you’re freezing," he murmured, running his thumb over your cheek.

"and whose fault is that?" you teased, breathless.

he chuckled before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. "i’ll warm you up," he whispered against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

as the night stretched on, you skated hand in hand, stopping only to sip hot chocolate from a thermos he had prepared. when it was finally time to leave, sunghoon led you back to the car, but not before pressing another kiss to your lips under the softly falling snow.

"happy valentine’s day, love," he whispered.

"best valentine’s ever," you murmured, leaning into him as he held you close.

and in that moment, under the glow of the city and the quiet whisper of winter, you knew—sunghoon was your forever.

[raplinesmoon]

Breaking The Ice (KNJ x F!Reader) - teaser

pairing: hockeyplayer!namjoon x f. reader

genre/au: ice hockey au, college au, roommates au / smut, fluff, slow burn

rating: explicit/18+

summary: after last season, namjoon knows he can’t afford anymore mishaps. when you show up on namjoon’s doorstep looking to share his apartment, he thinks it couldn’t be more perfect. medical school has you even busier than he is, but what happens when what used to be the perfect arrangement turns into a bigger distraction than either of you bargained for?

word count: 911 for this teaser

warnings: clumsy Joon, injuries, lots of swearing, Joon gets a boner, OC is pretty and way too nice

a/n: *taps mic* is this thing on? happy Joon day! (i hope i made the deadline). I remembered I had this sitting on the bench (get it lol) as a scene from my wip for the 🏒on ice: for the boys collab that was announced a long time ago! I decided to spruce up this little scene and publish it, even though the final fic is nowhere near complete. This can probably even be read as a standalone (a cute moment between roomies)! I hope you enjoy this piece and happy bday again to Joonie! credits for the banner go to @joheunsaram!

You okay, Namjoon-ah?

Namjoon wants to deck Kim Seokjin and his stupid pretty boy smile into the boards just for asking, when that motherfucker knows he’s at fault for Namjoon’s current state. He feels a painful twinge in his side, sucking in a sharp breath. Practice had barely ended before Namjoon was hobbling out of the arena, the rough-housing that normally accompanied Bangtan’s practice going a little too far today.

When he sees the steps of his building come into view, he nearly wants to sob with relief. Cursing, he stumbles up them, skipping two at a time in the hopes that it’ll get him up and able to faceplant into the couch faster. Knowing his luck though, he’d probably eat his words and end up with his face straight into the ugly grey shag carpet instead.

As he limps down the hallway, he’s struck by dueling aromas – the earthy, nutty mellowness of freshly brewed coffee, and the warm, spicy cinnamon scent of cinnamon. Both coming from his door, propped open slightly, where he can hear the faint lilt of classical music escape. 

Anatomy must have been whooping your ass again.

Namjoon takes special care to slip inside quietly, wincing when he puts weight on his knee. He glances down to see that it’s swelled to an alarming size. Fucking Seokjin.

He knew he should have probably gotten it checked out by the team medic. Yoongi’s nagging is already echoing in the back of his mind, reminding Namjoon that if he wanted to be clumsy, he had to stay on top of his injuries. For the sake of his team.

But somehow getting his limbs checked by a crusty old guy who was past the retirement age didn’t seem nearly as exciting when there was you. 

You who always wore the comfiest sweats, ones he was half-tempted to steal from your closet. You and your penchant for always looking for a pen, when you always had one tucked behind your ear or in your hoodie pocket. You and your stress baking, winning the adoration of his teammates (Stupid Seokjin and his flirting), but most of all him. Your damn cinammon rolls were worth every extra minute he had to spend in the weight room keeping them off.

“Hey Joon, I was just finishing up the cinnamon rolls, they’re on the cooling rack— what happened?” Your smile falls when you take him in, knee as red as his jersey, and a nasty cut under his eyebrow, skin turning purplish underneath.

Namjoon thinks he might pass out, either from the pain or from the way your face falls in disappointment, and the plush cushions of the couch seem like a great place to bury his head into right now.

He’s given a few quiet moments to stew before he feels a soft tap on his shoulder. Lifting his head up, he swears when your face nearly collides with his, noses bumping with such force that you have to take a step back, rubbing gingerly at the bridge.

Great fucking impression you’re making on your pretty roommate, Namjoon. She’s totally into getting clocked in the face. The little devil on his shoulder must be having a ball right now.

“Fuck, ___, I’m so sorry, fuck–”

“It’s okay, Joon, I know you didn’t mean to. But we only have the resources for one injured party in this apartment, yeah?”

Namjoon feels his face heat, not sure if he’s just embarrassed or you’re too close close to him. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when you pick up his knee, studying it with a furrow in your brow.

What a day to decide to wear grey sweatpants. His dick-print was so happy with him right now, and he silently prays that your eyes remain downwards.

“We need to wrap this up. Give me a sec and I’ll help you.” 

Is he dreaming, or does your face look a little flushed? If you notice his boner, he’s happy you don’t say anything, humming softly s you disappear into the hallway, rummaging around in the closet for the first-aid kit.

You re-appear moments later, a roll full of medical tape in your hand, and you’re back to prodding at his knee again. Namjoon sinks into the couch, body relaxing at your gentle touch.

Only to jolt a few seconds later when he feels something cold hit his aching joints, nearly whacking you a second time. God, he had to be more careful.

“Shhh,” you put a finger to his lips, and Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat. “Gotta put some ice on it.”

“You should really increase your fees, doc. I’m pretty sure at-home care isn’t included in the job description.”

Is he flirting? Fuck, okay he’s flirting. He’s doing this.

“Maybe I like knowing I’ll always have a patient who keeps me in business,” you wink, fingers lingering longer than necessary on his knee when you finish wrapping it. Your hands move next to the cut underneath his brow.

“Now what are we gonna do with you?”

Oh fuck, abort, abort mission! Namjoon shoots straight up, grimacing at your shocked gasp.

“YouknowIjustrememberedIhaveanassignmentdueatmidnighttoday! I should really go work on that!”

You say nothing as he limps into his room, smiling widely at him the whole time. Namjoon collapses on his bed, groaning into the pillows.

Maybe getting banged up wasn’t so bad after all. Not when he always had you around to patch him up.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[solar4seekstron]

Before and So Forth - Chapter Eight: Megatronus, Sentinel, and Starscream

Transformers One x Cybertronian!GN!Reader

Solars Indie Series

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven

-Timeline One: Sentinel

-Timeline Two: Starscream

Introduction Indie Series

Content: 18+, Megatronus is such a husband in this I can’t-

TW/Tags: Angst with Starscream and a bit with Soundwave, Megatronus is my beloved OMFG, a bit of sexual harassment, death, fake death, sad endings.

Notes: While writing this for some reason I imagine his voice sounding like Bryan Tyree Henry's voice. Silly but while writing for Megatronus here I was like “OH LORD THIS MAN IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS-“ so- yeah-.

It was peaceful in Iacon. The light making its way through the cracks in the underground Iacon city. The Sun shines through the windows of many apartments in different directions.

Megatronus awakens in his berth as the sun shines over his optics. A small smile plastered on his dermas. Optics looking at his open window.

Showing the beautiful city around and above him. A perfect way to start the day. Meanwhile to same happening to another special bot apartment. Yours.

You woke up from your peaceful recharge as soon as the sun hit your optics. For the first time in a good while. A smile was on your dermas once awaken.

Soon, sitting up on your berth. You then stood up and started to get yourself polished.

During your clean-up, you soon felt a tug in your spark. Megatronus sending you a warm feeling through the bond as a good morning. You smiled and sent another one to him. You continued after he didn't respond.

Your frame is nice and shiny all over. You chuckled to yourself. Mostly like a girly giggle. Your pedes kicked a little in the air as you sat in a chair. After grabbing a piece of energy, you made your way to your door with a skip.

Primus you must seem ridiculous, soon flying to the tower. Making your way towards the entrance. Once inside you made your way into the halls. Getting closer and closer. That’s when you ran into the chest of Soundwave. Who was waiting for you at the corner of the hall? He knew you’d bump into him once you turned to the next hall.

The halls. We’re pretty quiet. Many must have been getting ready for a mission based on the report you received before waking up.

Before you could respond, he then grabbed your wrist. Pulling your frame back against his own. His other arm moves around your waist.

His upper frame leaned forward, making your upper half lean back.

He then played through his blaster the intro song of that drama series you and Shockwave watched the other day as one of the main mech characters' voice speaks over the sound. “Let us rule to city..together. With Our Passion My Love!.”

Soundwave acting according to the scene to the sound. Not speaking. You just stared at him for a moment before crossing your arms between you both.

Trying to hold in a chuckle while he remained looking at you. You then well nonchalantly your words, taking him by surprise. “This ain’t going be enough to change my mind Soundwave?” Soundwave helm lay low while you kept staring at him with a smirk. You are both still in the same position.

Frenzy then spoke from behind. “Well, we tried. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Rumble hit the back of Franzys helm while Ravage just did a frog blink. Soundwave standing fully straight while still holding you. Finally letting you go and just looked down. You then placed a cervo on his shoulder as you spoke.

”We can talk about the success of the prime after the meeting. Alright?”

Soundwave just watched you while you made your way past him. You then give Rumble and Frenzy ‘the look’ as your pet ravages on the head. Fully passing them to one of the meeting rooms with Starscream and the other primes.

Not seeing Soundwave glaring at both Rumble and Frenzy who just chuckles nervously while Ravage scratches herself against the wall.

At the meeting. You took your seat next to Shockwave. His one optic followed you while he spoke to you. His optic even doing a full 180n as he watched you walk past behind him and then sit.

“Ah, Y/N how did Soundwave's little attempt at romance drama go for you?” His voice spoke with curiosity. You let out a chuckle.

”it was as romantic as he could make it. Sadly it’s not enough as it would in a TV show.” Shockwave let out a sigh and started to read on a data pad that was in his cervo while he spoke. “I remember when he tried that with me after we broke up. It didn’t work but I still appreciated.” He said so casually.

You were reading a data pad that was at your seat. Until his words are finally processed in your mind. You then turn your helm towards him in a bit of confusion.

His optic looking down at his data pad while he is reading. His one optic showing it. You were about to ask, not being aware of his and Soundwave's former relationship. But then you’re cut off when Megatronus's voice is heard.

Both you and Shockwave turn your helms towards him. You already had your usual smile on your dermas.

So it was harder to not let it grow larger as you watched and listened to Megatronus speak. “Now then my soldiers. Today is the day the me and the other primes go to the surface to end this war. Megatron's voice boomed. Sitting at the head of the table.

Alchemist and Nexus Prime were there with him. Taking their seats at both sides of him while he spoke. You looked down at your data with your usual smile.

The others did the same while he continued to speak. You glanced at him. Seeing that he was looking at you too. Your smile grew a bit larger as your optics stared down at your data pad once more. You know he’s smiling under his mask.

He then looks back at his data pad. Never have stopped talking.

“As for the rest of you, the order is that some of you stay here to keep watch and guard the city. More of the guards coming with us as a possible backup. We already made it clear for Soundwave and Starscream to be sure to reach any of you who choose to stay in case of any changes and emergencies. Is that clear?”

Everyone in the room nodded in agreement. You placed the data pad down while Megatronus continued. He continued while you listened. Looking at him just like Shockwave did. Mostly to not seem suspicious.

“Now we leave at 2. Arriving an hour before their meet-up. Keep your guard up and don’t disappoint. You are the high guard. You don’t just serve us primes. You also serve Iacon.” For a moment he stared at everyone else. He glanced at you for a little while longer before looking away. You knew he meant that on purpose.

“Dismissed.” He kept holding his larger datapad while the other two primes then started speaking. You walking along with the others next to Shockwave.

Your optics choose to glance towards Megatronus once more. But you noticed his optics seemed almost sad while he stared down at his data pad. Nexus speaking as Megatronus and Alchemist just nodded in agreement. You continued to walk out through the hall with Shockwave.

He made sure to wave you goodbye with his cervo. You doing the same.

Then looking down at your data pad while you made your way to the waiting room to join the others. That is until someone grabbed your arm. Stopping you. When you looked back, you were met with Starscream.

A frown as usual on his dermas while he stared down at you. You spoke. Your voice is streaky and calm. “Starscream? Is something up.”

He seemed to be in deep thought before speaking. His expression and optics are a bit softer. “This mission will be very dangerous. I would hate for you and your Conjunx to join us. Because we don’t know what to expect once there.”

He leaned down a bit. His voice grew quieter.

You just stared at him with your bright yellow optics. His cervo still holding your arm. You finally responded in a hushed tone. There are still others around you two of course.

”I’ll make that choice with my partner. So you’ll see me when you see me.” You can see the annoyance in his expression. You then leaned your helm up closer to his own. His own remained still while you both continued to stare at each other.

”Why don’t we wait to do this, after the meeting yeah? See you then.” You finally leaned your helm back. Pulling your arm away and walking away from him. Starscreams cervo is now down to his side while he watches you walk away with narrowed optics.

Seeming to be deep in thought. His optics continue to stare at you, while Soundwave, Rumble, and Frenzy Peaked your helms out from the corner of the hall looking at you walk away and Starscream still standing there.

You make your way closer and closer to the room. Descending to wait to speak to Megatronus before it was time. It was still morning after all.

As you got closer, you noticed this purple femme walking by. She was built differently than the bots who you usually see around here. She just looked at you with a side optic. A frown on her dermas before she walked into a room. Sentinel quarters..You watched as the door opened.

Sentinel was there holding a data pad. As you continued walking you’d noticed this strange red button on the data pad he was holding. He didn’t seem. To notice you when she closed the door behind you.

You looked down for a moment as you kept walking with the others down the hall. So, you kept moving forward. But then you got an idea. And start to make your way to the training room you always go to. That’ll be a good place to clear your mind and possibly wait for Megatronus call.

Once there, you made sure to take a seat on the floor. Close enough to the door without getting hit. You then pulled out your sword. Not being able to use them for a while. You then looked down at it.

Seeing your reflection, seeing your scar on your cheek. You’re optics unsure and scared of what’ll happen in a few hours. It’s only the sixth day of this damn week. Yet it feels so much longer. You then look up unsure. You felt certain of your choice before. But now.

Going against bigger Quintessons. You might not come back. Even if Megatronus is there or not. If you stay then you’ll have a better chance at surviving. Waiting for his return.

But would that make you less of a warrior? Maybe not.

Staying to protect Iacon is part of your job as well. You let out a choked sob. You didn’t even realize you were crying. Everything changed in more ways than one, this week. And now you’re down to a choice that can go bad in every other way.

If Megatronus ones return to you, then it can be the end of your current relationship with Starscream, Soundwave, and possibly even Shockwave.

Primus, why can’t life in Iacon be simple?

You didn’t realize you were sitting there for several minutes. You were so deep in thought. Only being able to be taken out of your thoughts when a larger cervo placed itself on your shoulder.

You then turned your helm towards the bot. It was Megatronus. You were about to stand, but his cervo on your shoulder kept you in place.

He then makes himself comfortable next to you. His cervo then holding the side of your waist he then pulls out his cog. Making his frame turn smaller and smaller next to you. His cervo remains on your waist. He noticed the worry on your face. Then speaking. “Don’t worry. The doors are locked.”

He let out a chuckle while he took off his mask. You let out a soft sigh.

“My apologies, Megatronus. I just. Well, don’t know what’s the right choice. I wish to stay to protect Iacon and come as backup. But shouldn’t I also join you in the fight? What if…” You sigh. “Megatronus these are the higher up Quintissons. What if I’m not as strong enough?

Megatronus other cervo gently held your chin. Making you look at him, making you stop. You stared up at him while he stared down at you. You then watched as he leaned down. Giving you a gentle and loving kiss.

You return the kiss. Your optics closing while you take the moment. His optics staring down at you.

His optics are soft and bright. His white optics admire your every feature. Your kiss remains. Quiet. Yet enough to be heard in the room. You let out a soft sigh between kisses. His cervo once holding your chin moved to gently hold one of your cervos.

He is the one to pull away before leaning down again to kiss your cheek. Then your neck.

Then your shoulder. Every kiss is soft and delicate. Your optics remain close. Both his servos holding you and keeping you close to his frame. Your cervos instinctively take their place on his shoulders.

Megatronus continued for a couple more minutes before he let out a deep chuckle.

“You speak as if anything will happen to you. I will never let anything happen to you. As long as I live.” He looks at you once more. His cervo around yours gives a good squeeze of reassurance.

“Remember Sweetspark. You are MY Conjunx. So when I return. No matter what choice you make. I better see a smile on your dermas and in my arms without wasting another second.” He said all with a smile. He then let out another deep chuckle while you just stared at him with unsure optics once more.

He gives you another gentle kiss on your dermas.

His dermas only a couple of inches from yours when he pulled back. Then whispering in his softer tone. “Tonight, I’ll be the one making the dinner. You just stay by my side and look wonderful for me my love. After all. You made sure your frame looked extra nice today. Didn’t you?”

A bright yellow blush appears on your cheeks. Your optics widened a little. He noticed you cleaned up your frame with an extra polish. He let out another deep chuckle. “Make your choice my love. No matter what. We will reunite with each other.”

”I Promise.”

You responded with a shaky voice. “I know you will. My Love.” You finished. As soon as his dermas connect with yours one last time. The kiss lasted for a whole minute until he finally pulled away. Receiving a call from Sentinel.

Megatronus let out a soft groan. His cervo once on your waist moves to his audio sensors to answer the call. His other remains on your cervo.

He talked through the call while you waited. Your helm slowly and hesitantly rests on the side of your helm on his shoulder. Almost hearing his spark while he continued to speak. His frame was so warm. The side of your frame, starting with your shoulder was against his front frame.

Your optics close for a moment while trying to at least enjoy another moment with him. The call was soon over and he let out an annoyed sigh. He looked down at you. Then placing a soft kiss on the top of your helm.

Speaking once more. “I’m sorry my dear. It appears we’ll have to head out earlier. Like..30 minutes..I deeply apologize.” You panicked a little. Sitting up a little more.

Your helm and frame were no longer on him as you spoke. “Megatronus-“

”Shh shh listen. Nothing will change. It’s just the timing. Make your choice. And whatever you pick. I’ll love you as you are.”

He gives you one last kiss before pressing his forehead against yours. Optics closed for a moment. Yours closing as well. “I..” You spoke for a moment. Before continuing. “I’ll see you then. After my choice.” You gave a reassuring smile.

His smile grew a little more. He then put back on his mask. “Until then, Sweetspark.” He stood up before you. You watch while he puts on his cog and makes his way to the door while his frame grows larger. His helm turning to face you. He then gives you a nod. Unlocking the door. Then walking out.

Once the door closes behind you, you feel a warmth in your spark. Megatronus gently pulls at your spark. You let out a soft chuckle, your cervo placing itself over your chest.

You let out a soft sigh. Sitting there for another few minutes. Optics are closed while you imagine everything from this week with everyone. To when Megatronus first placed his dermas on your own for the first time. When Starscream kissed your shoulder and the many times he spoke to you.

Shockwaves questions to you when you both watched your favorite show. Your small yet meaningful moments with Soundwave. Along with what Rumble and Frenzy said to you.

Not to mention everything with Sentinel Prime. The kiss he forced upon you. And the lady from earlier today meeting with Sentinel.

Your moment last night when you finally bonded with Megatronus for the first time after such a blessed night. And then. The moment of you and Megatronus in each other's arms. Sharing a wonderful kiss just from minutes ago.

A smile remains on your dermas.

You have to make a choice now. Thinking about both Megatronus and Starscream's words..what can you do? You sit thinking for just a few more moments. As many mechs words flow through your mind.

Until you finally got it.

You stood up. Getting in front of the door. Determination in your optics as the doors soon open. You taking a step out. For a moment you glanced down the hall across from you. Where the sentinel door was, where that femme walked through. You thought for just a moment. Looking down until you pulled yourself together.

Finally, your pede takes a step before you. Making your way to your destination.

————————————————————————————————

Timeline One Sentinel

You made your way to the left to the room where bots would be staying as backup.

Opening the door where you don’t see many bots. Just two. A purple femme and a green mech were currently speaking to each other. You made your way to one of the bleachers of the lobby. Waiting for orders by one of the primes or a superior. You then send a message of a feeling through your spark.

Megatronus meanwhile was getting his weapons ready. He felt the pull through his spark. Knowing what it meant thanks to the feeling. He smiled under his dermas and sent a pull through the bond.

Letting you know it’s alright. And an “I love you” through the spark. You smiled gently while the other two didn't pay much attention.

Along with the other high guard, Starscream and Soundwave were waiting for orders near the entrance for the other primes. Ready and sure of themselves to get started with the mission. Shockwave antennas move around now and then.

It’s been almost 15 minutes since. So you sat there and waited with the other two. The two not paying much toward you. Eventually, when the high guard was about to in a couple of minutes. Sentinel then opened the door. Walking in so casually as he spoke.

” Well isn’t this interesting. Three guards choose to stay to protect the city and then join the primes. The other two bots huffing while you remained silent. He continued.

”Well, I only hope you all stay on top of your mission because who knows who we might need out there.” His helm then turned to face you. You remained still as he winked at you with a grin. “So! See you three then. If we ever need you guys of course.” He chuckled making the others scoff.

He then gave you one final look with that damn smile before casually walking out of the room. Cervos behind his back while he walks out. The doors then closed behind him. Making the room silent.

After a few minutes, the high guard and Megatronus had already left. Out of nowhere, the room became dark. You looked around, using your night vision sensors as you looked around frantically. The other two bots doing the same. You then hear one of them speak. “Hey what are you-“

SLAM

You blacked out.

After several moments, your slumber almost pencil. You’re then jolted awake with a stinging pain in your spark. You soon feel yourself screaming in pain. Finding yourself in restraints by your wrists and ankles. This continued for a moment longer until someone stabbed something into the side of your neck.

This causes you to fall asleep once more. The pain leaves sometime after you knock out.

During your slumber. You began to awaken when you heard a faded voice. Slowly your optics became online. And your frame was soon hit with much pain over your frame. On your neck and your chest.

You felt that the restraints were no longer holding you down. You slowly sit up despite the pain, soon feeling a cervo on the middle of your back. But you don’t think much to react. Sentinel's voice slowly becoming more clear. Your frame then leaned to the side. Resting against it while he stood there next to you.

His other cervo holding the side of your waist while you continue to lean against him trying to gather your thoughts. He continued while you just listened. “Shh shh hey just calm yourself. You were knocked by those traitors of guards. Luckily my apprentice arachnid saved you.”

Your optics would open and close while he spoke. Megatronus's face with his smile soon appears in your mind. You start to try moving out of his arms and off the table you were currently on.

”T-The war. Meeting. They-“ Sentinel then interrupted you. He holding you firmly by the waist and arm.

”Hold on there Y/N. I’m afraid you’re too late.” His voice almost sounded sincere. You just stared at him in confusion until he spoke once more. Turning your frame to face him. Legs dangling off the table.

”I’m afraid we…” He stopped for a moment. You then spoke as you stared at him.

Being at the same height as him. “Sentinel, what happened? Did they win? Is the war over?”

He just let out a sigh. Staring you dead in the optics as he continues. “It was an ambush. And those two bots there. We’re meant to try to kill whoever was left to send word to the damn enemies. My apprentice was able to save you in time while I was out helping the primes…I was….the only one able to make it out I’m afraid.”

He watched you as his words set in. Your optics slowly grow wider and wider from the realization.

No…no no no! NO! “No that- that can’t be right!!! They’re the Primes they can’t lose!!! I- I have to go there. Maybe at least one survived.” You were able to almost get past Sentinel until he fully wrapped his arms around you. Holding you still as you got yourself to the floor.

Tears fell from your optics while you cried out. “No not them! Not them!!” Starscream, Soundwaves, Shockwave, and Megatronus images appear in your mind as you try to get out of Sentinel's grasp.

Their smiles and joyful optics appear while your optics start getting blurry from the tears.

Sentinel continues to hold you close. Not noticing his annoyed expression while holding you back from running to the surface. Minutes went by as you kept trying to get out of his grasp. He spoke next to your audio sensors as you kept struggling.

”You need to calm yourself. There’s nothing you can do now. This was hours ago! He’s gone Y/N. They all are! We are all that’s left now! Iacon needs you now! I need you by my side to carry on The Prime legacy! You hear me?!” His words boomed in your mind. Feeling yourself slowly stop struggling.

Your frame slowly stopped while you stared at the floor. Sentinel's arms remained still for a moment longer. Slowly letting go while he sat on the floor with you. Then getting next to you.

You then felt his cervo gently holding your chin. Making you turn your helm towards him. Tears still falling while he spoke. “You must stand. You are a part of the High Guard. With you, you can carry on the High Guard legacy, even if you didn’t fight alongside them today.”

He then helped you up after grabbing both your cervos. You stood as you continued to listen to him. “Many made sure I was able to escape so the city would at least have a leader to protect them. But I can’t do that without your helm.”

He helped you sit at the table once more. You continue to stare at him as he makes himself stand between your legs.

”You can either remain strong or join me by my side. And help me keep Iacon up and running. While I search for the matrix that Primus has set to be somewhere at the surface of the planet. Or..” He paused. Leaning his helm close to yours he continued. “You can leave. And be seen as a traitor and failure just like those bots.”

You stared at him confused. “Because I’m the only bot who can protect you. So what will it be? Because I won’t wait long this time sweetspark.”

You both continue to stare at each other. You then looked down between you both as you thought of his options. But the news of the Primes dead is still racing through your mind.

His cervo held your chin once more. So your optics stare at him. Instead of a worried Sentinel as of before. He was just glaring at you.

You felt your voice caught in your throat. Your dermas parted to try to speak but couldn’t. He then got annoyed. Speaking once more as his helm leaned a little closer to yours. “If I were you, I’d say “Yes Sentinel Sir.” Because I can’t promise that I’ll be a nice leader. Understood?”

You felt yourself shake a little more. You realized. This is Sentinel.

You most likely don’t have a choice. Slowly, very slowly. You gave a nod. Sentinels had a perfect smirk on his dermas while his optics stared down at you.

You remained silent. He let out a deep chuckle, his helm leaning to be next to yours. His cervos gripping the side of your waist once I spoke once more. “Glad to have you. My personal bodyguard.” He deeply chuckled once more.

Your optics open a little. Your cervos instinctively went against his shoulders when he pulled your frame closer to his own.

His helm turned to the side to press his dermas under your audio sensors as he whispered. “I’ll have my apprentice guide you to your new sleeping quarters in the Primes tower. Give you enough time to process your grief of Megatronus.”

Tears were still falling down your optics. Sentinel stood there with a smile for a moment longer. Then turning around making his way to the door. Once the door fully shut. The tears fully went don’t.

They were gone…truly gone now. You’re alone. Your cervo then moved to hold the spot where Sentinel placed a kiss. The feeling only stinging above the spot.

The same spot Megatronus kissed.

———————————————————————————

Timeline Two Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave

You turned right, heading to join the other guards for the mission.

Once out of the tower you flew alongside others to the surface. Once landing, you soon see that all of the high-guards army was there.

You continued to walk deeper and deeper through the crowd. Seeing the main three somewhere at the front. Soundwave seemed to be staring in your direction. You stared at him while he stayed still. But when he moved his helm to the side you figured he must not saw you.

So you continued walking until you were somewhere near the middle but still close enough that Megatronus could see you.

After some time, Megatronus has sent you another pull. Asking if you’re alright. You of course responded and let him you’re prepared to fight for the planet. You and Megatronus continue this dance for a little while more. You tried to hold in your chuckle when he teased and messed with your spark.

You then heard the other primes coming. Zeta was the first to transform and stand. The other Primes walked behind him. Megatronus then transformed taking his place near the end. His optics dim but you know he’s staring at you.

Finding you easily in the crowd. You glance at him. You both smiled at each other while Zeta continued.

You then felt a smaller cervo grab your own. When you looked down, you saw Rumble. You had a smile on his dermas. He wanted your attention.

You looked back up at Megatronus who was still staring at you. You then got a bond through your spark. Him telling you through the bond it’s fine, to talk soon, before looking around once more. You leaned down a little. Luckily the baits in front of you were taller.

Rumble then whispered to your audio sensors without being too loud.

“You’re one of the strongest bots who works well with Soundwave and Starscream. I and the others were thinking we’d have a better chance of defeating those tentacle monsters!”

You let out a soft chuckle at his words. You thought for a moment before you nodded in agreement. He keeps his usual smile.

He then put his arms up asking for permission. You then roll your optics before picking him up. Holding him like a little kid while you both watched Zeta continue.

Once he was finished, Megatronus then glanced at you one more time. He seemed to be. Holding in a chuckle when he saw rumble in your arms like a little sparkling.

Soon it was time to leave. Zeta then yells to encourage everyone.

“Now High Guard! Let’s show those Quintessons that we cybertronians are not to be messed with!”

Everyone including yourself and Rumble cheered along together. The Primes join each other. Everyone then started to transform and fly to the destination.

You stayed behind a bit to make sure Rumble gets to Soundwave.

You then notice Megatronus pulling away his arm from Solus. You seemed to be trying to talk to him. But he was fast to transform and leave her behind. Solus then flew behind him.

You then transformed flying behind the others. Eventually at the forest waiting with the other scattered guard for orders. The main three were nowhere to be seen. And so minutes went by.

The others were speaking amongst themselves while you watched the mountain. Waiting for at least a sign from afar.

But as you were about to turn your helm away. Everyone soon got a comm link to my Starscream.

“HIGH GUARD RETREAT! WE HAVE BEEN BETRAYED!!! THE PRIMES ARE DOWN EVACUATE TO THE FOREST AND SCATTER!!!!!!!!��

The warning became a surprise. You looked at the mountain.

Only to see Quintessons and…wait what are the iacon officers doing here?! They started to shoot. You and the others soon start running into the forest.

Getting further and further from the scene. And then out of nowhere, an immediate pain surged through your spark. It was the bond. You fell to your knees. Your body falling and dragging across the dirt.

Two of the cone heads grabbed your arms on each side and started to run. Helping you while the pain continues.

One by one more guards were shot from behind. Your pedes just kept moving.

Eventually, it seemed like almost an hour went by. You and a few others who weren’t shot were able to get far enough. It was dark out. You looked around as others did the same.

The cone heads who helped you out checked on you before going their seperat way to help the others.

You stood there for a moment until Soundwave appeared to you and the others speaking about what happened. “High Guard. We have been betrayed by the one we trusted. Sentinel Prime.”

The others looked at each other while you stared at him. Shock on your face with wide optics. Soundwave then sends a message through the comms of where to go. Somewhere sentinel can’t find them.

The pain was still there but a little faded. You walked closer to Soundwave. He noticed you struggling and reached his cervos out for you.

Helping you stand after the cone heads left. You then tried to speak. “Soundwave…the primes they.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N…they’re gone..and so are many of the high guards.” You started to tear up.

Your helm pressed against his chest as you felt yourself cheer up. Soundwave then gently wrapped his arms around you. Keeping you close as the others flew off.

You continued while he stared down at you. Rumble and the other cassettes in his chest watching.

After a few moments, soundwave spoke once more. Holding you by your shoulders to move you back a little. You stared at him once he spoke. “We must move. And not fail now.”

You both stared at each other for a moment longer. After a minute, you finally gave him a nod. His cervo wipes away your tears.

You both then transform together and make your way to the others at the destination. You both flew in silence. But while it continued your mind started to race.

Flashes of Megatronus smile. His touch. His voice. Was all you heard and saw.

Your frame slowly shook when you remembered everything he told you. How everything changed so fast all at once. Your life is so different now. Everything has changed now.

But at least here. You’re not alone.

When you land at the destination. Where everyone was at an abandoned ship. Soundwave was the first to transform before you. Once you did, you wiped away the tears from under your optics.

Soundwave placed a cervo on your shoulder as comfort. Starscream and Shockwave walking over to you both.

Starscream is the first to speak. “glad to see most of us made it out alive. Y/N you were able to get out thanks to two cone heads?” You stood a little straighter. Shockwave remained quiet while you spoke.

“There was a struggle on my part..” You turned your helm away. Shockwave stared at you while Soundwave looked down at you.

Starscream realized what you meant. Soon enough he stumbled with his words for a second before speaking. “Soundwave. Shockwave. Go make sure we know how many guards we have. I wish to speak to Y/N alone.”

The two stared at him for a moment. Then back at you. Returning their stares to Starscream before giving a nod. Then walking away to give the two of you some space. Starscream stared down at you for a moment longer before taking a step closer. His expression is almost blank.

He finally spoke. “He was one of the guards closest. Wasn't he?”

He asked curious. You just gave a nod. Starscream stays silent for a moment longer. He held your chin with his cervo. Making you look at him. Speaking once more. “This is our new life now Y/N> He would want you to live. So let’s survive and carry on the high guard legacy…understood?”

You stared at him with dry optics. Then at last speaking. “Yes, sir”

He then placed the cervo once on your chin to sit on your shoulder. Reassuring you, that you aren’t alone.

Happy New Year!

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 24: Decompress

Here you go @calimanc 💞

She's had a long fucking day. She couldn't even begin to detail what's been so exhausting about it. She's too worn out. It was all the things she did and all the people she dealt with and the disappointing sandwich at lunch she only ate a few bites of and the pebble that nearly turned her ankle and the weird smell in her car from some fast food remnant that had gotten lodged under the seat somehow. Just one damn thing after the other from the moment her alarm went off. The coffee filter overflowed and she got a mouthful of grounds. Her favorite pen disappeared. Her coat pocket has a hole in it and there are miscellaneous little objects inside the lining that bump against her as she walks.

Scully just wants to lie down and hope sleep overtakes her before hunger does.

She opens her apartment door and recoils, her hand going to the grip of her pistol. Someone's been here. Someone is here, or at least she hopes so, because there are lit candles on her table. Artfully arranged around them is a tasteful display of takeout boxes. She sniffs: steamed rice, General Tso's chicken, beef with broccoli, and the off-menu garlic eggplant she can't resist. All her favorites. There's a container of egg drop soup, too, and a greasy bag that surely contains egg rolls. The tv is on, the opening scene of The Exorcist frozen on the screen.

Mulder emerges from her bathroom. "I couldn't find napkins," he says, brandishing a couple of washcloths.

She steps into the apartment and takes the washcloths from him. "Napkins are in the kitchen."

"I didn't want to go through all your drawers," he says with a cheeky little wink.

She tosses the washcloths onto the little table with the answering machine and goes to get cloth napkins out of the drawer in which she keeps them, as if she throws a lot of dinner parties. As if she's thrown any since her father passed away. But she still has the napkins. They're aspirational. She hands a couple to Mulder and he puts them on the table, silverware arrayed on top. He puts the cutlery down correctly next to the plates, which doesn't really surprise her; he has those old-money manners.

She's too tired to even ask him why he's here. She looks at him mutely, one eyebrow ghosting higher.

"You skipped lunch, Scully," he says, answering her unspoken question as he helps her out of her jacket and hangs it up.

"I had a sandwich," she says in a doubtful voice.

"You had two bites of a sandwich." He pats the back of a chair. "Sit down."

She sits. He spoons portions of the various dishes onto her plate, adds an egg roll with a flourish. He brings her a glass of water with just the right amount of ice. He sits and serves himself, and they eat. He talks, but he doesn't ask her questions. It's what she thinks of as Mulderchatter, an endless patter of interesting facts and outlandish theories. It washes over her like a warm bath.

When they've eaten, he maneuvers her to the couch and washes the dishes. The leftovers are stored tidily in the fridge. The candles are snuffed. When he's done, he joins her. She's just staring into space. He picks up her remote, presses play, pulls her feet into his lap, and takes off her shoes. He squeezes her feet gently with his big hands. It feels nice. She's too tender to want the pressure of a real massage, either emotional or physical.

They watch the movie. She's seen it a number of times, can mouth some of the dialogue. He flinches at the scary moments, which is satisfying, because she doesn't. She lets herself drift, anchored by the weight of his hands still cupped over her feet. By the time the movie's over, she's half-asleep.

Mulder wiggles out from under her feet and scoops her up, helping her stand. He slips one arm around her and walks her to her bedroom. There's a pair of clean pajamas lying on her comforter, so he did go through some of her drawers. Somehow that's comforting too, even though she's absolutely certain he's now seen her underwear. He's seen it before. She's got nothing to hide from him.

"Don't go yet," she says. "Please."

"You got me," he promises.

He turns his back while she changes. When she's done, he helps her into the bed. She stares up at him until he sits on the edge of her mattress. He toes off his shoes. She scoots over to make room for him and he lies down on top of the covers. He puts his arm over her.

She shouldn't be soothed by this, probably, but she is. She accepts that about herself at this point. She tries to be superhuman, but everyone needs touch. She's not a wire monkey. She needs Mulder: the bulk of his body next to hers, the even rhythm of his breathing, the faint whiff of cologne from his skin.

She knows he'll be gone when she wakes up, but he'll stay until she's at peace. That's what matters. He did this for her: saw her aching inarticulate need and brought her gifts to nourish her, body and soul.

"Mulder," she mumbles.

"I'm here," he assures her, and she thinks she feels his lips brush her forehead, but she's already sliding into sleep. It's all right. He knows.

[horoscope1078]

It was a bright, sunny morning when Gavi pulled up in front of your apartment.. the engine of his sleek car humming quietly. He had offered to give you a ride to work since your car was in the shop and he was more than happy to help. Plus it gave him the perfect excuse to spend some extra time with you.

You stepped out of the building, looking fresh and ready for the day and smiled when you saw him waiting. Gavi couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat. You were effortlessly stunning even in your simple work attire.

“Hey, thanks for picking me up.” you said as you slid into the passenger seat.

“No problem at all.” Gavi replied flashing a grin. “Ready to go?”

You nodded buckling your seatbelt. “Yup, let’s do it.”

As soon as you were settled Gavi revved the engine, eager to impress you with his driving skills. He wasn’t known for being the most cautious driver but he played football at a high speed, why not drive the same way?

He pulled out of the parking spot with a bit more force than necessary and the car shot forward, making you grip the door handle tightly.

“Uh.. you’re in a bit of a rush this morning, aren’t you?” you said, half-laughing though your eyes were already wide.

Gavi glanced over smirking. “Just making sure you get to work on time!”

You sped down the narrow streets, weaving in and out of lanes like Gavi was dodging defenders on the pitch. The car swerved as he overtook a slow-moving vehicle. His foot was pressing hard on the accelerator.

Your laughter turned into a nervous chuckle. “Ok.. maybe we can slow down a little bit?”

But Gavi was too caught up in the thrill of the drive. He barely noticed the growing panic on your face as he took a sharp turn without really braking. The tires screeched against the asphalt and your hand immediately flew to the dashboard to steady yourself.

“Gavi! Seriously!” you exclaimed as your voice rising a little.

“What?” he said grinning. “You don’t trust me?”

“I do, but..” you cut herself off as Gavi zoomed through a yellow light just as it was about to turn red. “Oh my God!”

He laughed.. glancing over at you, clearly thinking this was all fun and games. “Relax.. I’ve got this under control.”

Your knuckles were practically white as you clung to the seat. Your heart was racing, not from his charm but from sheer terror. You tried to focus on the scenery outside but it was all a blur as you zoomed down the road like a rocket.

Gavi meanwhile, looked completely at ease. He was tapping the steering wheel in time with the music playing softly on the radio, utterly oblivious to the fact that his reckless driving was making you feel like you were in the middle of a high-speed chase scene from an action movie.

The car hit a slight bump in the road and your stomach dropped. You let out a squeak, clutching the seatbelt across your chest as if it would somehow keep you grounded. “Gavi, seriously.. please slow down. I’d like to survive this trip!”

He glanced over. His grin was faltering for a second. “I’m not going that fast, am I?”

You shot him a look that said otherwise. “Yes.. yes you are.”

Reluctantly Gavi eased off the gas and the car’s speed decreased slightly. “Alright alright.” he said still chuckling. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You let out a long breath. Your heartbeat was slowly returning to a more normal pace. “You’re like.. an f1 driver in disguise.”

He grinned, taking it as a compliment. “I take that as a good thing.”

“Not when I’m in the car with you.” you muttered as you were still gripping the seat. “I swear, I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

Gavi finally realised that maybe he’d pushed things a bit too far. He glanced over at you, seeing how tense you still were and immediately felt a pang of guilt. He had just wanted to impress you, to make the drive fun but clearly he’d gone overboard.

“Sorry..” he said more sincerely this time. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I was just.. I don’t know, trying to show off a little.. I guess.”

You turned to him, still shaken but smiling a little now that the car had slowed to a reasonable speed. “Well.. mission accomplished. I’m definitely impressed, just not in the way you were hoping for.”

Gavi laughed embarrassed. “Yes.. probably not my best idea. I’ll drive like a normal person from now on.”

“Good.” you said relaxing slightly. “I’d appreciate that.”

You drove the rest of the way at a much slower pace though Gavi couldn’t resist the occasional playful rev of the engine which made you give him a warning look. But there was a lightness in the air now and even though you had been terrified moments ago you couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation had been.

As you pulled up outside your office building, Gavi parked the car gently, making a point to be as smooth as possible. He turned to you with his usual grin back on his face. “Well.. you made it. Safe and sound.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt, shaking your head with a laugh. “Barely.”

“Come on.. I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“You were.” you said stepping out of the car and leaning in through the window. “But I’ll let it slide this time. Thanks for the ride Gavi. Even if it was a little.. thrilling.”

He laughed, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. “Anytime. I’ll work on my driving skills for next time.”

You gave him one last smile before turning to head inside and Gavi couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He might have scared you half to death but at least you were still smiling and that to him was a win.

[deliciouskeys]

1 for ZM please

About a month late because this was the hardest ask on that meme I think!

Fanfic/Authors ask meme : Write a scene from [ZM] in another character’s POV

Terror POV for the entire fic: Ever since my dad brought me to this house, I'm trying to figure out what the deal is between him and his friend. They speak in angry tones a lot, but my dad really works to take care of him. They also get in bed and rub on each other, in which case they're not usually angry. My dad's friend seems disabled or something, because my dad wraps him up in a very long shiny leash. Maybe his friend will fall apart if he's not held together by that?-- I haven't seen him without it. He can't even eat on his own, he never goes outside, and he's usually in a bad mood. Like even more than my dad usually is. I'm really not sure what's wrong with him, but I'm having a good time living out here in a house with a yard.

Juuuust kidding lol.

I rewrote the second half (after the time skip asterisks) of chapter 4 (Depression) in HL's POV. It's probably not that different-- I'd like to think I write in such a way that you can tell what both halves of a dialogue are thinking, even if the third person narration is closely aligned with only one. But someone at some point was asking me what HL's gambit really was in that scene. Well here you go, 3.9k words. Not all of it brand new, of course.

~~~

Homelander never expected to find himself in such impossible circumstances. When he first found himself blind and unable to move, all his other senses felt that much sharper, and he was keenly aware of everything around him. But the more time he's spent in this state, the more it feels like he's undergoing mental vertigo. He's left alone for… he's not even sure how long. Time is now measured by how hungry he's gotten, how often he's urinated on the floor beside himself. His days used to be so full, agendas with meetings, appearances, rescues, end to end, 8 am to 8 pm at minimum, weekends included. Other members of the Seven got tired of it, took daily breaks, took long vacations. Maeve couldn't stand being forced to account for her time, and she her schedule was much more sparse than his. Homelander never resented the full agendas. No, what he dreaded was free, unstructured time, dreaded holidays when everyone would stop caring about business. He always felt uncomfortable in his own skin if he had to spend any more time alone in his apartment than the time it took him to get a full night's rest. And for his physiology a full night's rest was, for better or worse, usually only a few hours. So he'd often go on flights while most of the city still slept– he told himself he was patrolling for crime, but really he just didn't want to feel like he had to stay still in any sort of confined space. And now… now that's all he can do– lying on the floor, maybe contorting himself into a sitting position if he's feeling really ambitious. With absolutely nothing to do, nothing to see, no ability to leave, he feels numb. He feels like he's losing his mind, and not in the flashy way– just slowly feeling his sense of self disintegrating. When he was a child he used to be able to converse with himself without looking at a reflection, but that was when he was younger, and not when he was forcibly blinded. Now he only listens to the voice in his head telling him that he was stupid to think he'd be able to free himself, telling him he was going to die without seeing anything again, telling him he may have already gone blind for all he knows.

It must have been at least fifteen days since he was put in this cage, but maybe it's been thirty. He got depressed and stopped trying to keep diligent track of William's comings and goings at some point. He needs to get back to thinking clearly, if he's ever going to escape out of here, but there's nothing left that he wants to think about. He doesn't want to try to think of ways to free himself, because he spent the better part of a week trying all sorts of maneuvers and never made any tangible progress. He doesn't want to think about anything to do with his past life, because every thought is tainted by remembering that higher-ups at Vought were ones who decided to betray him and sacrifice him. Because of what? That he dared to try to act on his own instincts instead of just obeying? That he was too dangerous if he so much as expressed mild disagreement with their tactics? 

So Homelander's thoughts turn to the most basic fixations. Thirst, hunger– those get satisfied periodically, although never in the way he really wants, and he still daydreams about warm milk, other warm, bland, sweet things that could soothe his nerves. His other need has started to gnaw on him day in and day out. At this point, if one of his hands somehow managed to free itself, he'd probably waste precious time jerking himself off before trying to free the rest of his body. He daydreams about being able to shove himself inside something warm and slippery, reminisces about his vigorous nights with Maeve when she still tolerated him, remembers that one precious time with Madelyn. But he can't think himself to completion, it only makes matters worse, and he whines quietly as his painfully hard erection dies down.

His other favorite daydream these days is about being reunited with Ryan. Like the first time he found him, but even more dramatic this time. In these fantasies Ryan would come running, leap into his arms, wrap his arms around his neck, and Homelander would take off into the sky with him, take him someplace safe, away from Vought, away from Butcher's band of misfits, away from the US government. When he thinks about Ryan too long, a lump starts forming in his throat and he starts crying at the unfairness of it all– of being deprived of his son almost as soon as he found out about his existence. He can't open his eyes, but the tears seep out anyway, drip out of the metal plate, dribble down his chin, and he can't even wipe them away.

It should be embarrassing that William returns during one of these bouts of feeling sorry for himself. Homelander can recognize his car from miles away, so he sits up, legs bent, forehead pressed into his knees in a last ditch effort to retain some dignity. But there's nowhere to hide. 

"You alright mate?" he asks, and Homelander genuinely wonders if he means him or his damned dog whose loud breathing is the only sign of anyone else in his vicinity. William must be able to see that Homelander's face is covered in snot and tears. And why should he care or try to hide any of it? Any sense of embarrassment Homelander may have had is long gone. Even in the days of the lab, he was never kept this helpless for this long, and never had so many basic functions tended to by someone else. If William wants to keep him here and clean up after him for the rest of his life, that was certainly his prerogative. 

"Oi, I said, you alright?"

"Oh, fucking fantastic," Homelander says, raising his head had off his knees.

"I'll get you some more water," William says.

Homelander leans back against the unforgiving bars of the cage. The metal William has used to trap him makes him feel weak as he touches it, but it's becoming almost an addictive feeling, the strange diffusion across his muscles that makes them weak, ordinary. Is this what being a normal human feels like? Has he become warped enough that he enjoys feeling like his body's fibers are turning into jelly?

He can hear William refill his bowl of water and set it down next to him. It's a wonder that Butcher hasn't laid out newspapers on the floor for him yet, or maybe some nice sawdust or whatever it is they put in rat cages.

"You want anything else?" William has the nerve to ask.

Why yes, being allowed to feel like a person again would be nice, Homelander thinks. "You can't treat me like a fucking... hamster. You leave me here all day with some water. Nothing to fucking listen to. I'm bored out of my mind. You have a TV in here, but you're just a heartless sadist who won't even turn on some Vought News."

"You know I ain't turning Vought News on," William tells him, as if it's something to be proud of. "Here, you can listen to this."

Homelander feels stupid for being curious for a moment before he hears what must be that painter from TV describing what colors he's about to use. "Motherfucker," he mutters when he hears that William's left the house. 

Today I'm using an 18 by 24 inch double prime pre-stretched canvas, but you use whatever size you'd like.

Is he supposed to feel calm from listening to this infuriatingly self-possessed voice droning on and on about painting techniques?

And I've just covered the entire canvas with a very thin coat of liquid white. The liquid white is just designed to make the canvas wet and to make it slick, it allows us to actually blend color right here on the canvas.

Homelander groans. The slightest allusion to anything that could be remotely sexual wakes his body up, as if it's not in on what dire situation he's in. His body doesn't care. It's begging for an orgasm. Homelander tips back on the floor, desperately trying move his thighs against his cock, but it's not effective. It doesn't help that the painter has moved on to describing the painting techniques and once again, but he's still desperate. Homelander struggles, praying that he can pry his arms apart– sure, the metal wrapping them his forearms together behind his back makes them as limp as noodles, but shouldn't his desperation to touch himself count for something? It doesn't, and Homelander's body finally gives up after getting no physical encouragement.

No, this can't go on like this. He's unable to think straight. Most powerful man on earth and he can't manage to touch himself? He has to get his mind off this infernal fixation.

William comes back in, and although Homelander hasn't spoken to him much in the last few days, he just has to try to extract some information out of him, reorient himself, get back to living in the real world rather than drifting around in his thoughts. If nothing else, he has to better acquaint himself with William, because he clearly underestimated his patience and his cruelty.

"Did they hold a funeral for me yet? I can't even keep track of the days like, this."

He listens to William's breathing change, but he doesn't know if it means he's about to be lied to. "They announced they'll have one. Finally deemed you MIA enough on a classified mission that they're going to have some pomp and circumstance. The whole nation is in mourning. I'm sure Starlight is going to record a new song in your honor."

"Fuck her," Homelander spits out. The fact that she saw him in this pathetic situation, and gets to go back to her dayjob– on his team– makes him that much angrier. "What're you gonna tell Ryan, hm?" he asks. "Or are you not showing him any TV, keeping him captive too. You seem to like that, William. You and Vought."

"Fuck you. I'll tell him the same bullshit the media is going to say. You died overseas on a mission."

And although this should make Homelander feel more hopeless– Vought announcing his funeral means they've really decided he's as good as dead and won't ever return– this gives him a sudden renewed sense of purpose to get out of this confinement and show them all what he's capable of. "You're a sadistic, lying bastard," he mutters, not even sure William's impaired hearing will notice, but he heard.

"And it took you this long to deduce that, mate?"

Homelander can hear that his jailer is grinning ear to ear, clearly pleased with himself. It's a tone he hates, the tone of William when he thinks he's won something. He's won nothing, as far as Homelander is concerned. If he's so proud of being sadistic, and Homelander isn't– not in any particular way–, why aren't their positions reversed if there was any justice in this world?

"You'd be just like me if you had powers," Homelander says. "I guarantee you."

"Whataboutism rubbish. You may well be right," William says. "But I don't have powers and you do, and here we are."

It's a dead end with someone this stubborn and myopic. But Homelander just wants to keep talking. If he can't see, at least talking to someone proves he's not alone– something the voice in his head starts telling him when the house is empty and he only hears William's dog milling about.

"Can I see my son?' he demands, seeing how this tone might work out for him. He has so little that he doesn't really have anything to lose.

"Really? You're going to ask me that? Mate, you're not going to see anything ever again, not if I can help it."

It's an odd sensation, but Homelander can actually feel his eyes rolling despite the metal plate pressed firmly against them. "Fine, can I hear my son?! Jesus Christ. I haven't had contact with him in a year."

Homelander doesn't expect William to agree of course, so his breath hitches when William answers him with a curt "Fine." followed by a child's voice saying "Hello?" 

Homelander's heart skips a beat– it's Ryan's voice, distorted by the phone, maybe sounding older, because God knows he hasn't heard him in a year and that alone make Homelander emotional, that he's missed even more of his childhood. He scrambles to answer, stuttering in his agitation  "Ryan? Ryan, it's your dad, your real dad, don't believe the—"

"Hello?" But of course it was too good to be true. Homelander's shoulders slump as he realizes that he was on mute. 

"You're a fucking monster," he says, sighing, sitting back against the wall and burying his face in his knees again. This is why he stopped talking to William in the first place. It's always frustrating exchanges like these. But this last part was a dirtier trick than usual. Homelander hates that he can feel tears pricking at his eyes yet again. He should be grateful he could hear Ryan was alive and well, but that's a low bar if there ever was one.

"He's doing good, he's in good hands," William assures him, and oh Homelander's hands curl into fists, wanting to punch him full-force. There's be nothing left, and he wouldn't have to hear this patronizing tone anymore.

But as much as he hates talking to William, this is also the most exciting part of his day, and he might as well get all his questions out now that he's deigned to speak to him again and break his short-lived vow of silence. "What are they saying about me online? Can you at least tell me that?" he asks. He's glad he can still pull off an angry, haughty tone despite feeling less and less sure he'll ever be able to get out of this embarrassing imprisonment.

"I don't rightly know, I don't have time to look through Twitterspheres and Reddit threads searching your name. I'm sure it's mostly positive."

Homelander can feel his mouth twist into something that would look ugly on camera but it's just William here, and he has no reasons to disguise his emotions here. "Yeah, and people are just going to forget I exist in another couple of weeks."

"They'll always have the movie franchises to remember you by."

Homelander sniffs in disgust. He never guessed he'd be trapped long enough to even have this conversation. When he was first captured this ragtag band of misfits tried so many different methods to off him, and he thought they were bound to make a mistake somewhere along the way. With William taking him on alone, it seemed even more probable. But William barely touches him nowadays except for what's absolutely necessary– including retightening the wires around his body with annoying regularity so there's little hope of escape.

"Why haven't you even tried to fucking kill me?!" he finally yells. 

"Like I told ya. I want to really hurt you. And you are really fucking hurting like this," Butcher says. "I get to live my life, come home and get to watch you suffer. Don't see any reason to change it."

Homelander would see red if he could see anything. In what universe was any of this fair? What crimes has he committed that deserve being so tortured with boredom and humiliation by turns. He's tired of being talked down to. He's tired of being lectured by someone who clearly has his own demons and issues. He wasn't going to say this, because he wasn't sure of how the conversation would pan out, but at this point Homelander's desperate to get any sort of riled up reaction from William. Anything that increases the chances of William doing something out of the ordinary would increase his chances of escape more than being despondent and doing nothing.

"May I make a personal remark?" he asks.

"Never seen you stop and ask before," William replies, sounding amused but curious.

"Well. People tend to take offense at this one." Homelander pauses one last time, wondering if he's right to play this card now, but at this point he's desperate to shift anything about this terrible setup. "Ever since you undressed me... well, even before that sometimes, but definitely after... you just... reek of wanting to fuck me."

William burst out laughing and for some reason that's one reaction Homelander didn't anticipate in response.

"No I mean it, literally reek. I know it when I smell it. Fucking disgusting, but explains a lot. Wish you'd get it over with already, if that's really what you want, and then let me fucking go on my way."

He pauses but William's still laughing, and it's a sound Homelander hasn't heard before. William isn't faking it. He's actually in rollicking spirits after hearing this, probably because he doesn't believe him. Homelander is at a loss.

"Hurts to hear, I'm sure," he adds but his voice is getting smaller. Is there really nothing he can say to perturb this man?

William finally comes up for air from his convulsive laughing. "Mate... oh my god… Thanks for that, I haven't had that good of a laugh in years."

Homelander can't believe it, all that bitter venom roiling and unable to come up with anything more hurtful. "It's not my fault you're attracted to the man you keep accusing of raping your wife. That's fucked up, I must say," Homelander blurts out, desperate to find something to pique this man, and realizes he's found the magic topic.

He hears William approaching but can't move away before he's grabbed by the neck. "Oi, you fucking self-aggrandizing cunt. You mention Becca again, I dare you, I fucking dare you."

And Homelander opts not to say more even though this is what he wanted– contact, violent contact, and William losing his calm and maybe making mistakes in his rage. But he's out of ideas, and he hates how good it feels to be touched when he's had so little contact. His throat bobs under William's grip, and WIlliam releases him, as if somehow guessing that Homelander's getting something pleasant out of it and immediately depriving him of it.

"And you can tell all that just from the way I smell, can you?" he asks, no longer laughing, but sounding unconvinced. Homelander knows what he senses. He shouldn't be surprised his captor's not aware of his own feelings and proclivities.

"I’ve smelled it plenty. You walk into a crowd of fans, there's always a bunch of mouthbreathers drooling over you. Women mostly, but some men too. But I must say William, I didn't see it coming from you."

"Well, it's rich coming from you," William says. "Getting all worked up every time I say you've behaved yourself, or threaten you with something real embarrassing."

Homelander bristles. "That has nothing to do with you," he mumbles. "Whataboutism," he adds vindictively.

"Maybe, but let me just demonstrate. I'll fucking upload a video of you on your knees in your cage, hovering over a bowl of milk, lapping it up like a little cat or whatever the fuck, ass up in the air."

Homelander can feel the color drain from his face, but unfortunately can also feel the instant reaction. He remembers when it happened. He was desperate for something to soothe his nerves. William served him the milk he asked for but made him get into an awkward humiliating position to drink it. Not like William didn't exude a whole cloud of lusting pheromones or whatever it is that Homelander senses. But apparently only he's the one being blamed for getting hard over strange things. 

"Least dignified thing I've ever seen in my life. I'll fucking do it. They can think that's your captivity footage from your overseas classified mission before you ended up 'dead.'"

There's nowhere to hide. Homelander hates it, but he knows his body responds. When he was growing up in the lab, the scolding over masturbation intertwined shame and arousal into a weird mixture in his mind until they were, if not always inseparable, still unfortunately concomitant.

"Yeah, you like being praised and humiliated, you fucking sick cunt." William sounds triumphant, even though none of this seems particularly relevant. Homelander's not attracted to him, at least. And as soon as that thought crosses Homelander's mind, another one follows closely on its heels, and he regrets it. It's so easy to imagine William sucking him off, and his body has been so desperate for release that the thought is suddenly very appealing.

"I'm not the one collecting footage on his phone," Homelander says, trying to sound angry to cover up how shaky he feels, and how obsessed he's immediately gotten with the idea of making William act on his stupid depraved wishes.

"Look at yourself. Your cock is right begging for it."

"Then touch it." Homelander blurts out without thinking, his cock already throbbing, his body so so hopeful that thinking about sex means it's going to happen. He's feeling so disoriented that he doesn't immediately comprehend that William really reached through the bars, really wrapped his calloused hand around his erection. It feels so blissfully wonderful when his hands starts to move that Homelander's moved to tears of gratitude. And yet just as the corners of his mouth turn up, lost in the pleasure of it all, the contact is gone.

"MOTHERFUCKER," Homelander pants. "You're a FUCKING sadist." He bucks his hips seeking contact with anything. He knows there's nothing around him that could really satisfy– he's tried countless times. "Please, William, please don't just..." Homelander can't even get the words out, before he feels the hand again, just one stingy touch this time, only making things worse.

"Fuck," Homelander practically sobs out. When he hears William recede from the cage, he realizes this is it, he's about to be abandoned again, and that he's only armed William with yet another form of torture against him. He moans and weeps, not caring about how pathetic it looks and sounds, not caring if William is filming him again, sick mind that he has. Homelander tries to rub his erection against the floor, jammed between the hard surface and his body, but it never cut it before, and apparently won't cut it now either.

Homelander is reeling with so much unfulfillment that he hardly notices that William leaves the room entirely. His ears finally perk up when he hears something coming from the room William sleeps in. He can't be sure but it sounds like masturbation.

I hope you're thinking of me while you're doing it, you stupid cruel savage, Homelander curses to himself. He's close to shouting it loud. He would, if he thought there was any chance William would come back and finish what he sadistically started.

Homelander has no cards left to play, no relevant secrets. He could try to bargain, information about Vought for … for what exactly? Handjobs? William wasn't going to let him go for anything, he knows that.

[velvetm00light]

Rescue: Spencer's POV

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Chapter Three of Save Me in SPENCER'S POV

Y/N'S POV: here

Previous Chapters: one, two

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: You're abducted by a brutal serial killer who's been stalking you. Spencer and your entire team work tirelessly to find you. But Spencer is fighting with more than just his worry for a friend, he's finding over the guilt he feels for not telling you how he felt beforehand.

Warnings: Torture, kidnapping, dead parents, suggestions of sexual assault, knives and cutting torture, sense deprivation (sight), emotional manipulation, fear, grief. In future parts, will mention PinV, oral, domxsub situations, grief, bondage, physical harm, etc.

A/N: I feel like I don't see a lot of writings from Spencer's POV because technically it's all in the "you" perspective but I thought this would be a cool twist for ya'll to be able to read what's happening in both of their heads during the same time period! This chapter is also written in Y/N's pov so you can read that instead or skip both all together (there is a big detail at the end of Y/N's chapter so you can avoid the rest of the chapter and just read the end if you want:)). The chapters after this will be tamer but as always, warnings will be listed before the chapter!

PANIC BEGINS TO SETTLE in his stomach as your phone rings and rings, and he only keeps getting your voicemail. "Something's wrong," Spencer chokes out, fighting back the tears threatening to spill across his cheeks. "She's not picking up. She didn't text Hotch back for her hourly check in and didn't pick up for him either."

Seeing the look plastered across Spencer's face, Morgan doesn't waste any time comforting with false hopes. They both immediately jump out of the car they've been cooped up in for the past 12 hours. Spencer's legs wobble beneath him, half from sitting in the same position for so long and the other half from the fear he feels coursing through his blood like poison.

He and Morgan race up your apartment stairs, taking them two at a time until they're face-to-face with your intact apartment door. Morgan tries the handle first, but when the door doesn't budge he ignores all other conservative options. The door gives easily under Morgan's heavy kick, and both men rush into the apartment.

The first thing Spencer notices is the blood splattered all over your living room carpet. He lets out a defeated whine and feels himself frozen in place, unable to go any further. It's obvious that whoever has been stalking you has finally grown the balls to abduct you and he begins to worry that when he finally finds the guy who took you, he just might actually kill him. Fuck that, he will fucking kill him.

He barely registers Morgan on the phone with Hotch as he slowly begins to analyze the scene before him. Your blood and spit ruining your carpet, the balcony door curtains thrown carelessly to the side, all your hidden gun compartments open and guns missing from each of them. He quickly wipes the tears that escape down his face before Morgan can notice.

"We're going to stay here and learn everything we possibly can from her apartment while the rest of them get back to the office to find this son of a bitch," Morgan explains to Spencer. "Reid, we're going to find her." Morgan lays a comforting hand on Spencer's shoulder as Spencer stays motionless, staring at the fresh blood from your face on the floor.

"If you don't think you can handle this, it's okay, Reid."

"I can handle this," Spencer breathes. He straightens his spine and goes through your entire apartment painstakingly slow. He tells himself over and over again not to miss a single detail or else he might never forgive himself for missing something that could possibly save your life.

His heart begins to hurt more and more as he notices all the locked windows, the coffee pot still sitting on the kitchen counter, the blood starting to dry on your bedroom floor, and your phone and empty gun holster resting on your nightstand. His chest constricts at the fact that he was the one who told you to rest, that he would protect you. He's unsure if he'll ever begin to forgive himself for it.

At the round table, Spencer can't help but tell his team every single detail he noticed around your apartment. It was almost just as hard to go through your entire life as seeing your blood on your apartment floors. He and Morgan practically trashed every room, going through photo albums, your phone, and anything else they could get their hands on. Your entire team felt icky about diving into your life to such an extent but they knew you would forgive them if it meant they found you alive.

Garcia bursts into the conference room with her laptop in hand. "He hacked into the surveillance system."

"What?" Everyone's voiced echoed in unison.

"He-He hacked into the cameras. I have no idea how long he's had access or how he even managed to do it. He's gotta be mega good because I'm the best of the best and to get past all of my alarms...God, this guy is frustrating."

Spencer's breath caught in his throat. "So, he's been watching her everywhere she goes?"

"Most likely. If he can hack into our cameras I don't doubt he has access to all the cities traffic cameras, businesses security cameras.."

"We have to assume he's watching us now. We give him no indication that we know who he is," Hotch commanded. The team nods and silently resumes their work.

Random names are written on the board, random case files are scattered on the table, assuming they're all being watched.

Spencer stands frozen in front of the whiteboard, staring at your picture underneath with the word "abducted" written in angry, uppercase letters under it. He doesn't realize the entire team has gone off to do whatever Hotch has demanded of them until a gentle hand is placed on his shoulder. "We're gonna find her, Spence."

He snaps his attention to JJ, who stands tall beside him. The tears attempt to betray him again and it's almost impossible to hide them. "I..I don't know what I'd do with myself if I lost her."

"I know. We're all scared, and we all want to find this son of a bitch. But, I know, Spence. I see it."

He looks at her puzzlingly, his brain mush from the lack of sleep and the intense stress and guilt he's been drowning in.

"Spence...we all know. You two think you're so great at hiding it, but we see it. The longing, the love, the care. Just focus on getting her back so you finally have a chance to tell her."

This brought the tears flowing from his eyes and coating his cheeks. JJ wraps him in an embrace and runs a motherly hand up and down his back. "I'm afraid that I'll be too late and she'll never know how I feel," he chokes out, his tears soaking into JJ's blazer.

"You won't be, we're going to bring her home, you're going to bring her home. But, you need to focus. We need your brilliant brain more than ever right now."

He backs away from JJ's embrace, wiping his slick cheeks on his cardigan sleeve, and nods.

Their attentions are forced to the team entering back into the conference room. "Everyone look normal, we've got something to talk about," Hotch declares as your team takes their seats at the round table once more.

Garcia sits with her back away from the camera to ensure nothing on her computer can be seen, and then she begins.

"Our unsub is Blake Rixley, he's (y/n)'s foster brother. A picture of him and all his details have been sent to your phones."

"Foster brother?" Prentiss asks, her brows knitting together.

"When her parents died, she was sent to a foster home with Blake and a few other kids. She ran away when she was 11 from her foster home and from what I can find, stayed with a distant aunt until she was 18."

"Why did they send her to foster care if she had a family member she could have lived with in the first place?"

"Her aunt lived in Canada and under a different last name. Y/n managed to contact her and made her way over the boarder. How, I have absolutely no idea. But that's why I can't find anything from the age of 11-18 on her," Garcia explained.

Spencer's blood runs aflame as he imagines you at 11, a mere child, sneaking across the boarder by yourself, trying to survive on your own.

"Why did she run away?"

"I'm not sure.."

"Maybe it was because of her foster brother," Prentiss suggests. "Maybe he tried to take advantage of her, or maybe flirt with her or something and she rejected him because even though they weren't related by blood it felt wrong."

"He's also 8 years older than her..." Garcia pointed out. "He was 14 when she came into the house."

"He could have easily used his position in the house to manipulate her into doing things. Garcia, is Blake the son of the foster parents?"

Garcia types furiously on her laptop and her eyes go wide. "Yes."

Spencer's heart just about cleaves in two. He can't help but picturing you as a small child, losing your parents and being taken advantage of on top of it. Unable to bare any more information, he abruptly gets out of his chair, swinging the conference door room open, and slamming it shut behind him.

He decides to get some air to ease the bile rising in his throat.

As he makes it outside, he finally lets the pent up heartache free. He stumbles to a bench and throws himself down onto it, his body shuddering with his sobs. His thoughts come fast and heavy, suffocating him in his grief. He begins to wonder if you'll ever forgive him for suggesting you go to sleep, for not being there to protect you, for not doing enough to make sure you weren't taken in the first place, and worse of all, for not telling you how he felt from the start. He can't help but weep harder at the possibility that you might never know how he feels, how the curve of your lips distracts him just about every day of his life. How no matter how many times he sees you and even when you're together for days on end working on a case, he is still awestruck over your beauty and itches to be with you when you're apart. How he could listen to you talk about the most boring subject on earth for hours on end. How he has been completely and utterly in love with you since the day you accidentally fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet coming home from a case, shortly after you joined the Bureau.

Spencer and Prentiss sit in a strained silence on the way back from surveying a few farms and abandoned buildings on the prospect list. After each place that turned up empty, the hole within Spencer's heart felt as if it was growing bigger and bigger, becoming a void threatening to destroy him.

Spencer has never been so frustrated in his life, and he would know. He was frustrated when he didn't even notice when one of the suspects he interviewed had Dissociative Identity Disorder and switched right in front of him. He was frustrated when an unsub kept crossing state lines and it look the team almost a week to catch up to him. He was frustrated a million times over when a new victim was found and they were not fast enough to stop the killer. But this...This really takes the cake.

The tension feels almost like a wire tethered from Spencer to the entire world, taut to almost it's breaking point. That wire of tension loosens a bit when Emily's phone rang and he allows a small bubble of hope to begin to stir.

He attempts to listen to the conversation, his body aching to rip the phone from her hand and demand to know if they've found you. Emily glimpses at Spencer for a moment, then turns her attention back to the road. "We'll be there in 5," she says as a goodbye.

She takes a deep breath, steadying herself before explaining to Spencer what she heard. "Reid, before I tell you anything, you have to promise me something."

His stomach basically fell into his ass at her tone. He wonders if sometimes people assume he's normal, and not someone who can basically detect the mood of someone like some sick sixth sense.

"We're on our way to an old farm that the unsubs father used to live on when his father was a child. I'm not going to guarantee you this is where she is. But if she is there, don't be stupid."

Emily eyes him again, judging the tells on his face. She knows better than anyone that he would love to watch the life exit this guy's body at his doing, preferably with his bare hands. If circumstances were perfect, Spencer would love to do exactly what he's done to her and worse, to the sick bastard.

"I hope he gives me a reason."

Emily doesn't have to ask what he means. She gains her composure and schools her features as they pull down a winding, dirt road. A farm looms up ahead, a sizable, wooden, red barn stands tall behind smaller disheveled shacks and barns - some sunken in on themselves, others with caved in roofs, wood slats missing off the sides. The farm looked worse for wear, and that was being generous.

Emily comes to a stop at the edge of the farm, and they are met with the rest of their team. Everyone is already adjusting their bulletproof vests, checking their guns, and discussing any last minute details to whatever plan they cracked while Spencer and Emily were away.

"Prentiss, Reid, take that cabin on the left. JJ, Morgan, take the small blue barn to the right. Rossi and I are going to stake out the parameter and we'll meet together at the big red barn in the back," Hotch explained. The entire team split up into their groups and wasted no time getting to their respective buildings.

Spencer just about jumps into a sprint towards the cabin, his heart screaming at him to go. Emily hauls after him, not judging or chastising him for his urgency. They stalk the perimeter first, peeking into the dirty windows. "I'll go in through the back, you go in through the front," Emily orders. Spencer quietly makes his way to the front, peeking again into all the windows as he passes, trying to find the son of a bitch.

They open their respective doors in unison, bursting into the small cabin. Spencer enters what appears to be a dining room and kitchen, a semi-rotten wooden table just a few feet away from a stove and countertops that probably haven't been changed out since Christ himself was born. There were empty cans scattered across the countertop and dirty dishes in the sink.

A living room sat just beyond, a half wall the only thing separating the rooms. The hardwood under his boots turn to carpet as he slowly makes his way through the house towards Emily. His attention snaps towards the sound of Emily's voice.

"Put the gun down, Blake."

Spencer picks up his pace, trying his best to stay as quiet as possible. He turns a corner and spots Emily, her gun raised and pointed at the man standing in between them, oblivious to the other agent directly behind him. He holds a shotgun, one powerful enough to probably make a hole deep enough to reach the Earth's damn core.

Emily lifts her hands up in surrender as she spots you, holstering her gun. "I just want to talk, that's all."

"It was a mistake coming here by yourself," he snarls. Spencer couldn't see his face but he was damn sure this sick bastard was probably smiling.

"Put the gun down so we can talk," she tries again.

"I'm not a fucking fool! Of course you don't want to just talk," he growls. Spencer almost pulls his trigger just by the way the man in front of him begins to shake with anger, his shotgun rattling softly in his hands.

"If you cooperate we can help you, we know what she did. She hurt you, Blake,"

Spencer's fingers tighten around the grip of his gun. He isn't sure he can stand to listen to Emily blame you for all of this. He knows she doesn't mean it, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Unlucky for you, I promised a certain someone I would teach her lesson for that specific reason," he says smugly. All too quickly, he cocks the shotgun and takes aim and before Spencer can even hesitate, he squeezes the trigger.

The man slumps to the ground between them. His chest heaving in small, shallow breaths as a pool of blood begins to form underneath him. Spencer leans down to the mans face and whispers, "I would kill you a million times over again for what you took from her, but I guess once one time is just going to have to be enough."

The man's eyes swell in rage until they hold nothing inside them at all. Spencer stands up slowly and meets Emily's gaze. "You did the right thing," she claims, patting his shoulder as she walks by him and out of the cabin.

After one last look at the man who within a few days has taken everything from the women he loves and the woman he loves from him, he follows Prentiss out of the cabin and toward the red barn.

After a short walk, they reach the looming barn doors. "I think we should wait," Emily starts but Spencer cuts her off. "He's already dead. I'm not letting her be here a moment longer, she's suffered enough."

Before Emily can argue, Spencer swings open the barn doors and just about falls to his damn knees at the sight. "She's here!" He calls. He and Emily rush to you, instantly grabbing at the handcuffs around your wrists. As you're released, he falls to the floor along side you, trying to avoid a hard impact with the floor. "(Y/n)?" He whimpers, feeling for a pulse.

"Take it off.." you whimper. His heart cleaves in two. The sight of you battered, sliced open, and isolated inside a metal mask makes him want to crawl into the depths of hell just to kill the fucking bastard again.

"I'm trying.." He fumbles with the straps on the mask, his hands trembling so terribly he can barely grip the straps.

"Take it off!" you cry, ripping at the mask with your fingernails. His hands pick up speed.

"(Y/n), please, I'm trying. Hold on.."

The mask finally releases and he lets out a relieved sigh. You curl up into him and let out shuddering sobs that pain him to the ends of the Earth. All he wishes is to be able to stop the grief and pain you're experiencing. "I'm here, you're safe now," he coos, running a gentle hand through your hair in comforting strokes.

When your cries begin to quiet, he softly grabs the sides of your head and lifts your eyes up to meet his face, slick with tears and battered to hell with stress.

"Spencer.." you choke out, throwing your hands around his neck. "I'm so sorry..."

Rage courses through him, "(Y/n), why? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about." It kills him to hear you apologizing for this. He wants to do nothing more than you spill out his whole mind to you, but he isn't sure it would even help in this moment.

"He..he told me he would hurt you, all of you, if I fought back."

Tears well up in his eyes and he embraces you again, attempting to hide the fact that he's been crying this entire time. "I'm here."

You lift your gaze to his as you whimper out, "Spencer..."

"Yes, love?" He responses, cupping your wet cheek with a calloused hand.

"The only thing that got me through...what he did, was you."

He truly didn't think anything could have made this worse. He should be ecstatic that he's the reason you survived, that he was able to help you get through it even though he wasn't there to save you originally. But..he just can't find it in himself to be happy about it. You should have never had to go through this in the first place, and worse, you had to go through things he can't even begin to fathom probably thinking everything will always just be a fantasy. "I am so sorry."

"You found me," you smile sadly up at him.

As paramedics rush into the barn, Spencer lays you on the floor so they can reach and treat all of your wounds. He couldn't help feeling hollow and empty pulling away from you. "Don't leave.." you whine, and he greedily grabs your outstretched hand. He continues to hold your hand in comfort the entire walk to the ambulance and as they continue working on you on the way to the hospital.

"I love you," you whisper and he can tell you've already fallen asleep, using the last of your energy doing the one thing he wished he was man enough to do before.

"I love you, too." He whispers back, kissing the back of your hand. He felt the need to say it back right then and there whether you heard him or not. He aches to tell you everything he feels about you and can't wait to finally tell you to your face rather than keep everything in his brain this time.

He stares at you the entire ride to the hospital, monitoring your breathing, his eyes roaming from each cut on your body, the bruises forming on your abdomen, and the exhausted look on your face. He is grateful this part is over, but a whole new difficult journey lays ahead. But, he's not afraid. He's ready to be at your side every second of the day possible, and he's ready to be your savior.

TAG LIST: @qatiee @dottirose @thisaintredwine @jay-2s-world @ruziazyn

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

okay so TENATIVE predictions for season 4: it looks like they're going to be playing into the mandela effect. half the universe remembers the umbrella timeline, half the universe remembers the sparrow timeline, and the ONLY thing both groups remember is Ben.

I've been praying since day one that Ben will have memories of both lives in his head, and judging by the fact he appears to be Going Through It in the trailer I assume that'll be the case.

since Ben is at the center of the conspiracy, I almost want to say he's who they're supposed to be rescuing? like, maybe instead of One Ben Two Lives, it's Two Bens One Cup. I don't think they'll do that, though. They're probably trying to rescue Jennifer. HOWEVER I do think it would be really sexy if Nick Offerman and Megahn Mullally weren't playing a couple but were instead playing the same person from different universes (hence being named Gene and Jean), and they somehow found each other and that's why they're leading this conspiracy.

Mystery Jennifer is stressing me out. obviously by the glowing she's got something going on. I'm thinking there's a possibility she was erased from the family's memories after Ben's death- the trailer makes it seem like Reginald made Allison rumor them after the fact. there's probably a decent chance they all knew her, she lost control of her powers, Ben died, Reginald locked her away and erased all traces of her. maybe in the sparrow timeline she died instead, or maybe she was always locked up there and Ben was drawing her from memories that were already starting to leak through from the og timeline, but either way probably in trying to uncover how Ben died they figure out they have to save her. idk!

also, six is like. a random number of years I'm sorry. why wouldn't they just say five years later? maybe another thing to do with Ben bc umbrella Ben was number six? I'm probably reading too much into that one.

I'm truly SO scared they're gonna reveal none of them have spoken during the time skip. Five doesn't deserve that 😭😭. in my perfect world him and Viktor have an apartment but the show writers 100% forgot they said those two were best friends when they were kids judging by the rest of the series rip. when the Gene and Jean characters were first announced I thought maybe Five got stuck in the foster system and they took him in, and that could still be the case (maybe that's how they noticed the universe is a lie in the first place, the boy loves to Yap) but I think it's less likely now idk

if Diego and Lila's daughter isn't named Gracie....what was this all for. what was this all building towards. what's the point. LMFAO I know the popular fanon one is Anita (personally in my head I've been calling her Poppy and I Don't Know Why) but like Gracie is the only name that makes sense, Diego is Too Much of a mama's boy to accept anything else.

this one isn't a prediction it's just a demand- I DEMAND a white violin icon moment set to extraordinary girl by green day. they can 100% get away with just doing an instrumental version since Viktor's not a girl lmfao, but it literally Haunts Me that they didn't do that at the end of season 1 (or at LEAST play the opening of letterbomb when Viktor was in the basement hallucinating) so they NEED to make up for that. it's the last season. play the fucking song oh my God.

there might be too much going on to bring the sparrows back in any meaningful way, but like! I liked them! I especially wanted more Marcus last season, he and Viktor had good chemistry. and Fei was an icon. Why Are We Hiding Sloane Tho. I considered maybe they were rescuing Sloane, but like, Luther just seems a little too happy for that to be the case? that's why I also think Diego and Lila's kid isn't the one being rescued like I saw some theories suggest- Diego is so excited and Lila's grinning in the car scene. can't imagine their 5 year old is missing.

Five is absolutely gonna die. like I'm sorry since episode 1 there's never been a believable outcome where everything's okay and he lives. HOWEVER I think there's a very strong chance the series could end with the timeline is finally saved and set right, and grandpa Five died- but then right at the end 2002 baby Five shows up and gets stuck in the safe timeline. Five has been a walking paradox the whole series. it'd be bittersweet to lose the Five we love, but know that he's still technically getting a happy ending because he doesn't have to live through the apocalypse and become an assassin. I think that's like the best outcome we can hope for.

I think it'd be EXTREMELY funny if Reginald is just super nice now that Abigail is back. like the entire excuse for 30 years of insane behavior was that he missed his wife. bestie there are better ways to cope than abusing superpowered kids </3 but lmao I'm intrigued by him and Viktor being together in both trailers! I've always gotten the feeling that Viktor is one of his 'favorites' (to the best of his ability anyway), and from the brief childhood flashbacks we see that he had baby V acting as an assistant for him, so I'd like to see their relationship expanded a little bit. honestly I just want a lot about Reginald cleared up- he does give off the distinct impression that he actually cares about his kids, even though he's abusive. I'm assuming the explanation will be something along the lines of 'well I always planned to bring you back and safe in the New Universe', that he was approaching it as a 'they have to suffer now to save the universe, and then they can be happy' mindset. that would be interesting. but I'm also a little worried they'll wave his behavior off with 'oh he's an alien he just can't understand how he affected them', which, would suck writing-wise.

I'm worried about Allison- I'm sure they're gonna want her to have a full redemption by the end of the series, but what she did to Viktor and Luther last season...like I just don't know that they'll pull off a meaningful redemption, to where it's believable that they forgive her (other than the fact they're both softies and push overs). not with the shorter season, anyway! I *think* the person Viktor was punching in the trailer was Allison. but I'm worried that instead of actually fixing the issue the writers will just have her do a sacrifice play. especially since, bless her, she's the least sacrificial person in the family, so I could see the argument that it'll be a meaningful character growth moment, but like...if they don't actually have her believably fix her mistakes it'll just feel like a lazy writing move. also, I love her and I don't want any of them to die. as I said, the only death I'm willing to accept is Five's WITH the promise of baby Five getting a happy ending.

I want the Handler to come back, even if it's only for one scene. sorry, I think her absence was one of the low points of season 3.

I think if Grace appears in this season at all it won't be the robot version we're used to, but an older version of her human self that Diego met in the 60s. could be very bittersweet. I just don't think the robot exists in this universe bc honestly if my husband revived me from the dead but then I found out he's been living without me just fine, but made a robot copy of a pretty young fling he had after my death and seemingly can't live without her. I'd be a little pissed! sorry! lmao that said I also have personally been headcannoning that Grace is actually a cyborg and not a robot this whole time, the kids just don't know because of all the insane protocols Reginald set up, so if they do something with that instead I'll be really excited.

Diego and Lila's daughter deserves powers<3

alright I think that's all I got for now. but I wanna hear more theories!!

[softie-rain]

ask for thoughts and you shall receive

I've just been thinking about patching them up after fights lately,, like if Billy (or cowboy!sej) stumbled in late one night after a fight. his lip is busted and he's all bloody, still slightly shaking with adrenaline,, shirt a mess and half unbuttoned,, hair ruffled,, you help him clean up and his skin is all hot :(( kissing him and getting a liiittle bit of blood in your mouth,, hhhh sorry i like cowboys

ogmgomgogmgogmgogomgogmbfwelaiu never apologize for talking about cowboys. I have a playlist called save a horse ride a cowboy to which I study to.

Imagine Billy ending up in a fight at the saloon, probably over something dumb like accusing the wrong guy of cheating at poker. He comes out as the winner but he's pretty messed up, like you know that scene in the show? the "let's fight with our fucking fists"???????? that scene makes me feel so many things I swear.

Having no one else to ask for help he comes to you, knocking at your door and praying you're still awake. When you open the door and see him standing all bloody, hair messy and lip busted your heart skips a bit. You immediately bring him inside and start fix him up without even asking questions (which he loves about you cause he knows he can always rely on you <33)

I have very vivid images of you laying him down on the couch and carefully fully unbuttoning his shirt, checking his chest for any wounds, and he just stares at you still slightly panting from the fight observing as you blush. And he starts grinning at you

As you check him out check if he's fine you accidentally hit a bruise on his ribs and he flinches away and kinda complains.

"How am I supposed to help you if I can't touch you?"

"Well, maybe you can try touching where it doesn't hurt, can't 'ya?" If you've seen Indiana Jones you know where this is going.

You sigh and nod, moving away a little. "Can you show me where it doesn't hurt, then?" He points to his stomach and you leave a small kiss there, backing away immediately after to see his reaction.

When you see how red he is in the face (you ignore that it could be for the fight) you keep going, leaving small kisses on every inch of his body he points at

and then points at his lips.

You slowly lean in and kiss him. He immediately draws you in with his hand immediately going to your hair. He tries to get you on the couch with him but he gets hurt again so he winces and you break apart, and you've got some of his blood on your own lips.

"I allowed you to steal my heart sweetheart, are you so desperate you want my blood too?"

and you get all flustered and he just laughs in an adorable way, but then his ribs hurt and it's your time to laugh

when he feels better he fucks you on the couch nice and easily cause yes

[daughterofheartshaven]

This is a rant about the 2023 Doctor Who specials. I was typing up another post about why I do like a bunch of other Who stories then got distracted so decided to make this.

I normally really try to be positive about Doctor Who. Everyone's tastes are valid, and if you like the 2023 specials I am genuinely glad that you do! I don't think these specials are objectively bad or the Death of The Show or anything like that, I just personally Do Not Like Them and have decided I want to rant about why. If you want some insight into how I think about these stories (or also don't like them and want to see someone else talk about why they didn't work for her) I hope you enjoy! But if you don't wanna read something like that, skip this and I promise I'll be nicer next post.

So I should probably start by saying that I am a Known Thirteen Defender and consider The Power of the Doctor to be my favorite episode the show has done, so it's fair to say that these three specials were probably never gonna be my favorites following that.

I also wasn't a huge fan of the Tenth Doctor on tv. He's been redeemed in my eyes by Big Finish and Titan Comics, but his tv run didn't do it for me. This means, much as I think David Tennant is a cool person (from what I know about him anyway), his return wasn't something I was exited about. I was exited to see Ncuti Gatwa as the new Doctor, so my reaction to the reveal that nope! David Tennant again! was basically anger that Gatwa was getting benched (and, yes, I know that the whole reason they did this was that Gatwa was busy and couldn't have done these specials. Still doesn't change my emotional reaction to that twist).

And finally, I cannot express in words how much I was not interested in Donna Noble returning. Don't get me wrong, I think Donna is a fantastically written character. But the reason she is so fascinating is because she is deeply relatable. She is a character who the audience is expertly designed to relate to and someone they would like. Meanwhile I, and I cannot stress this enough, am nothing like Donna Noble. I think I would like the character a lot more if I felt like she contrasted with the other Tenth Doctor companions, but she's the third modern-day earth human in a row, and I'm not interested in that archetype. So the result is I just kind of think of Donna as "that time they did Tegan again" and that's that.

All of this is to say that I doubt I would have totally loved the specials even if they'd been great. I wasn't interested in the core concepts. But even beyond that, they dropped the ball in my eyes.

So, the Star Beast.

I actually really like this episode for most of its runtime. Its an adaptation of a comic story from the 70s, and it does a great job balancing being faithful to its source material and actually being a good 2020s tv episode. I'm maybe not the hugest fan of the trial scene - the comic has a much more action-oriented way it handles the reveal - but overall, I really think this episode does a good job. I also love Shirley, and she was basically replacing Osgood. I love Osgood. Selling me on a character who was Osgood's replacement was gonna be hard, and they actually did it. Shirley is great. Rose is also great, too - like, she's not that deep or interesting, but like. I cannot emphasize enough how seeing a trans woman of color matters. And she's written well enough for the most part.

Of course then it falls apart at the end. The Doctor has to return Donna's memories and then it turns out she isn't going to die after all! Because she gave some of this energy to her daughter! And she can just give up the rest!

Okay, I am against any sort of "Donna's memories return" plotline, because Donna losing her memories is the emotional core that underruns all of her time with the Tenth Doctor and his time after her. Like, in my opinion, that one fact - that Donna loses everything she grew into while traveling with the Doctor - is the emotional underpinning of the back half of the Tenth Doctor era, so removing that makes that whole arc seem a lot cheaper and shallower in retrospect. I was expecting the midwipe thing to be undone, but I was expecting it to be an arc over all three episodes.

And all of that would apply if they had pulled this off well, but as you can probably tell, I do not think they did that. The "Rose got some of the Metacrisis" twist is decently pulled off, but the "we can let the regeneration energy go" thing... after how much grief the Tenth Doctor went through over this stuff, the concept that this would just not occur to him because he was a man (??) makes no sense to me. If there was a viable solution, he would have found it. And saying that women just intuitively get this better is super confusing and off-putting. And, for the record, I am in fact a woman.

I don't really have much to say about Wild Blue Yonder. It's basically a great example of a Meh episode for me. I don't care for it, but that's mostly because a lot of it feels like "the Doctor and Donna, back as normal for a new adventure!" and like I said above this isn't gonna be all that interesting if I don't like Donna. The actual barebones plot - the episode's structures and twists - is pretty good, but I haven't gotten a chance to like the new Doctor yet and I'm not into the companion.

And then the Giggle comes around and it has the Doctor commit mitosis out of nowhere and robs Ncuti Gatwa of having a proper post-regeneration story and doesn't even utilize the guest characters and makes Donna and Mel seem Special To The Doctor instead of the companions who I actually like who were just on the show and like I'm sorry but why did we have to leave Yaz and Ace and Tegan in the dust like that and (takes a deep breath).

Okay, let's go through all of that, but more slowly.

Much like The Star Beast, my problems with The Giggle are mostly about how it finishes. I have less good things to say about the build-up, but there's nothing all that bad. My only gripe is that for having Kate and Shirley and Mel, none of those characters feel like they had to be there - none of them do much except explain the plot to the Doctor. They don't really help resolve it. Compare The Power of the Doctor, which utilized all of its guest stars incredibly well - each of them was crucial to the narrative and the story as presented would not work without any of those characters doing the things they had done. (I guess you could argue Graham as an exception, but I feel like his setting up of the support group at the very end was more than enough to justify his presence in the narrative). This leaves Kate, Shirley, and Mel feeling underused.

And then we get to the bigeneration scene. Okay, first of all, the concept came out of nowhere. I've seen people defend it by pointing out all of the other things in the show that came out of nowhere, but, like. They had the basic lore of how regeneration worked locked down back in the 70s. Messing with that now doesn't feel like adding something new to the mythos, it feels like messing with a preexisting thing for... reasons?

And like that's the thing about the bigeneration. I just don't understand why, narratively, this makes a better story. Like I don't like the Timeless Child stuff either, but I can see how Chris Chibnall was going for new narrative opportunities. I don't see how we can return to Fourteen after this story and make an interesting narrative out of it without trampling on the point this story is trying to make: that the Doctor deserves to retire for a bit.

(Which is deeply funny if you stop to remember the amount of times the Doctor has been stuck in one time and place for some reason, but I don't need to get into that one).

I'm bothered by bigeneration mostly because of the fact that they robbed Ncuti Gatwa of a post-regeneration story. Having the Doctor recover from a regeneration and work out who they are is something I really really value and skipping over that with Gatwa is a disservice to him and his Doctor, in my mind.

The catch game also feels weird because Doctor Who is all about winning by being smart and brave and kind. Being good at catch isn't really smart or good or kind, so it being the solution feels like a cop out.

And finally, the show having the Doctor go and live with Donna stung for me, because, how many times can I say it, I don't care about Donna. However, we just left Yaz (my favorite NuWho companion), Ace (my one of my favorite classic series companions), and Tegan (who I don't love quite as much as Ace but also love very much), so the show going out of the way to claim the Doctor changed his face because he needed to find Donna to "come home" specifically feels like a slap in the face for all three of them.

I think that last bit is the reason I stay salty about the Giggle even over a year later. I acknowledge that Donna is a great companion, and I don't think I have to like her for her to be great. But to put her above three of my favorite companions like that stings.

And what really kills it for me is that I can see such a great story in this trillogy.

Like, imagine the Star Beast going as seen, except Donna actually dies when we expect her to. She saved London. She saved her daughter. But she died to do it. The Doctor, dealing badly with his grief, tries to flee in his Tardis, but Rose manages to follow him on board, demanding answers as to why her mom is now dead.

This leads straight into Wild Blue Yonder. The Doctor wants to get Rose home but they're both grieving Donna and she doesn't trust him one jot and blames him for her mother's death. The Not-Things try to play into this - driving a wedge between Rose and the Doctor, but the two manage to work together to work out what's going on and escape with their lives. In the process, they both heal a little. The Doctor accepts that Donna made her choice, and Rose accepts that the Doctor didn't kill her mother.

And then when they return to Earth in the Giggle, they are able to work together to stop the Toymaker. At the end, the Doctor is shot and actually regenerates as normal, but he's able to use his regeneration as a distraction, giving Rose the room to defeat the Toymaker. She is then able to help him get through his post-regenerative process and they leave on good terms. Rose is still grieving her mother, but she can understand why Donna chose to travel with the Doctor and she makes sure he knows he is still welcome in their house.

Like, come on. It's the same plots, basically, but it actually has an emotional arc that lasts longer than one episode, is in line with prior emotional arcs, and uses the heavily advertised trans woman of color that we all got exited for instead of benching her after the first story and gives her a good deal of depth.

(Yes I know if RTD had killed Donna off and replaced her with a trans woman of color there would have been so much bigoted backlash but I still think it would have been a better story).

Okay, I'm done now. If you have any counterarguments to this or want to add on to any of this, I do want to hear it! One thing I love about Doctor Who is that different people love it for different reasons and love different things. If you're a fan of The Giggle and read this anyway, then massive respect for making your way through all of this and I'd love to see you talk about why you loved it so much!

[neiptune]

easier

c/w: 2k wc, female reader, barely proofread, established relationship, nagi needs a fucking break from existing, i need to get all the love i have for him out of my system somehow

Something is wrong and it didn’t exactly take Reo screaming bloody murder in your ear for the past fifteen minutes to notice.

It was already evident by the slight slump of his shoulders, the lukewarm greeting when you arrived at his apartment, by the way he excused himself after lunch with a kiss to the crown of your head and some mumbling about feeling tired. You know better than to follow him upstairs and pressure him to talk, sometimes he just needs to close in himself and be alone with his thoughts for a while. A concept Reo is not really familiar with.

Although you have achieved your fair share of successes throughout the years (he has stopped sending Nagi venmo transactions whenever he complains about feeling demotivated, he no longer shows up at your apartment unannounced and he finally broke the habit of buying you stock trading books for your birthday), you are still unable to control his anxiety and sheer panic that inevitably turn into scenes of biblical proportions every single time things get out of his control. Like today, which apparently marks a week since his best friend has not only been skipping practice but has also stopped picking up his calls.

Calls being an occurrance that takes place approximately twenty to thirty-five times per day.

So you had to spend half an hour babying him on the phone, promising that no shimmering soccer dream is collapsing, that yes they are still going to win the world cup and no he will not be abandoned by his best friend right at the beginning of their “very fucking promising” careers.

“You have to talk to him because he won’t talk to me”.

“I’m on it chief, just relax”.

“Don’t tell me to relax, he’s about to throw his talent away and live a miserable life as an office worker or some shit!”.

“Reo, just take a deep breath and leave him be. I’ll talk to him if he wants to talk to me, maybe he just needs some t—”

“I swear to fuck if you’re about to say he needs time—”

“Bye, Reo”.

It’s a good relationship, the one you have with Nagi. Just a little too crowded, every now and then.

So you take your time, get comfortable on the couch and scroll away on social media, finding it hilarious how your boyfriend and his friends always manage to come up on your feed in suggested posts and reels. You don’t follow any of their fan accounts but are guilty of having liked one or two fancams and the algorithm has not left you alone since. Which is fine, as it gives you the chance to forward some of the juicy content to the interested parties (mostly Chigiri: he’s the one who will get the most annoyed, has already typed back several send me another one of these cuffing season edits and I’ll block you forever). Isagi usually just replies with blushing emojis, the only one who always indulges you and adds to the fun is Meguru. You’ll send him a video and he’ll like it, leave an inappropriate comment and share it in his stories all in the span of ten seconds.

When you get up and head upstairs at last, a reasonable amount of time punctuated by a non reasonable amount of texts from Reo has passed. You half expect Nagi to be napping but it’s not entirely surprising to find him sprawled on his bed with a gaming headset and a laptop balanced on his lap instead. As you lean against the doorway with a little smile tugging at your lips, his eyes dart to you right away. He pats the empty spot next to him and mouths a quiet just one more game but you shake your head in reassurance as you climb onto the king size bed: you’re not there to rush him or demand his attention.

You make sure not to prevent his hands and arms from moving freely when you rest your head on his shoulder. You recognize the game as it’s one of his favorites, he always plays Ikaruga or any other STG when he’s stressed out. The ship turns white and Nagi moves it around skillfully to absorb as many white bullets as possible to store their power, in preparation for his special laser attack. At the same time, he does his best to avoid all the black bullets fired by enemies and succeeds in destroying an opponent with the same polarity as his ship but ends up changing polarities too quickly and ultimately fails to prevent new bullets from destroying his ship. With a sharp sigh, he takes off his headphones, shuts the laptop and roughly places it on his empty nightstand before the mocking game over writing can even have the chance to flash before his eyes.

“Sorry”, he mutters, head tilted back to rest against the wall, one arm finding its way around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“For losing? I forgive you, it’s a hard game”, you chuckle and his quiet huff tickles your forehead.

“For Reo. He’s been on my ass for a week and now he’s tormenting you”.

“That was taken into account when we started dating, you two are kind of a package deal”.

He doesn’t laugh, the stubborn silence following your joke prompting you to peer up at him.

“Wanna talk about it?”.

Nagi looks down and meets your gaze.

“About what?”.

“Whatever’s on your mind”.

He shuts his eyes for a second. Doesn’t question how you know something’s actually up and he’s not just being his usual, lazy self.

“Need a hug”, he mumbles and tightens his arm around you, annoyed at how you simply reach over to his shoulder with your other arm “no, s’not enough, closer”, you can practically hear the pout as you hum and position yourself in his lap, legs wrapping around his waist the way you know he likes it. Nagi closes his arms around you and buries his face in the curve of your shoulder, nose grazing your neck and thick, white hair tickling your cheek. Your nails gently scrape his nape, fingers playing with the softer locks at the base as your lips press to the side of his head.

“Would you still love me if I stopped playin’?”, the question is so hushed you can barely discern the words whispered into your very soul from how hard he’s pressing himself to you.

“Hmm”, you fake hesitation, “you mean if you didn’t have to be gone all the time? If I could see you every day and you wouldn’t collapse on me from how tired you are when we’re watching a movie together? I think I’d make the effort, yeah”.

Again, he doesn’t laugh, but you’re not Reo. You’re not gonna panic about a scenario you know it’s nothing more than an innocent, naive fantasy.

“Lately everything’s such a fucking pain. They’re all on my back, all the time. If I score a goal and it’s not genius enough, if I don’t stay the evening for extra training, if I don’t give enough interviews, if my talent is just blind luck. Maybe I should just stop”.

You let the words sink in for a moment, frustration bubbling in the pit of your stomach at the unfairness of it all. Soccer is the only true passion he’s ever discovered and yes, it may have happened purely by chance, but it still had awakened him. He’s started playing out of boredom and has then found a whole world of prodigies passionate enough to be willing to dedicate their entire lives to the game. He’s allowed their passion to motivate him enough to discover his own. Nagi has become someone who actually cares and strives to set new limits always meant to be overcome. He’s only truly alive when he’s on the field, doing what he actually loves and is talented enough to pursue for the rest of his life. You can’t forgive anyone who is slowly dimming that light of his, you won’t allow them to extinguish that blaze.

“Seishiro”, you slowly pull back because you want him to look at you “yes, you are lucky to be so insanely talented, but may I remind you just how much quite frankly obsessive work you have put into it ever since you came out of Ego’s fucked up dungeon?”.

He pinches your hip and you flinch, but don’t mirror his little smile.

“It’s been years, stop calling it a fucked up dungeon”.

You roll your eyes.

“What I'm hearing is, you stopped having fun. Don’t let them ruin soccer for you, Sei. Every goal you score is a genius goal to me, never forget how proud I am of you. Just start having fun again, yeah? You should enjoy it, I want to see you enjoy it”.

“Sometimes I’m scared I’ll just get sick of it”, he leans into your touch as you stroke his cheek, “m'not good at anything else”.

“You don’t love anything else. They locked you up in a lair full of lunatics and instead of getting sick of it, you became one of them. You can do whatever you want with your life but would you love anything as much as you love soccer?”.

Nagi furrows his brows as his features morph into a sarcastic expression.

“I love you. Even if you just called me a lunatic”, as your hand is still on his cheek, he turns his head slightly to softly nibble at your wrist, which you retract with a giggle.

“The point being, I believe in you. Chase that excitement again, have fun, tell Reo to shut the fuck up and let you have a break when you need one. Don’t let them drain you, okay?”, cautiously, you bring your hand up again to brush some hair away from his forehead. He shuts his eyes again, gentle exhale slipping past his parted lips.

“I have practice in an hour. I know you get bored—”

“I’ll come. If I can wear your jersey”.

Nagi opens his eyes again, a slight blush already tinting the tips of his ears.

“But that’s embarrassing”.

With fake outrage, your mouth hangs open in an “o” shape.

“Embarrassing? Wow, maybe you’ll get sick of me before you get sick of socc—”

“Never”, he’s so quick to cut you off and take your face in his big hands, you don’t really have time to react. His grip is still tight, even as nimble fingers brush hair away from your face, eyes so intently focused on you your pulse taps a little quicker against your skin. “So pretty”, he cocks his head a little, inching forward enough for the tip of his nose to gently nudge yours one time, two times “the prettiest. And all mine”, he whispers against your lips as he wets his own with the tip of his tongue, still keeping you in place to have complete control. You’re easily deceived by the first, soft touch of his mouth, nothing more than a reminder of how how gentle his love can be. But then his lips chase yours again and it’s wet, messy, pads of fingers sinking into the flesh of your cheeks and jaw, the whimper easing from your throat stretching his pretty mouth in a smirk right before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“Thanks for loving me”, Nagi hooks a finger underneath your chin and lifts your face nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just kissed all the wind out of your lungs, “I know how much work that is”.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way”, you attempt a smile, still busy catching your breath.

Truth is, loving Seishiro does require some work. Sleepless nights, long trips, petty arguments when he’s too tired and takes it out on you, navigating disappointing championships, a mindset so stubborn and frustrating it has you clenching your fists, nails digging into your palms to keep you from exploding.

But at the end of the day, he’s always, always the Seishiro that melts underneath your touch and presses your body impossibly closer to his. The Sei that runs to hug you at the end of every single game, before entire stadiums. The Sei that will have your favorite flowers randomly delivered to you just because, no matter if he’s in his room or halfway around the world.

At the end of the day, he makes it easy. So, as you press your lips to his forehead and his arms tighten around you once more, you hope you get to make it all a little easier for him, too.

[sunnysunsins]

Since recently everything here has been taken over by dipshits who lack media literacy, i will come back here to say - RWBY is a good show. It is good. It has good story and good writing and good characters. Does it have stumbles and limitations? Of course, like everything else ever created. Is it the real reason yall are dedicating your lives to religiously following and picking apart every detail to find something, anything, to hate on and make it your whole personality? Nah.

Yall are just pissy your hc wasn't canon. And i'm only half-joking.

Yall are just stuck in the expectation of "cute girls in school fighting monsters and baddies", which it hasn't been for almost a decade. Let Beacon fucking die already, it was the most boring part of the story anyway. If you like it so much, watch.. idk, high guardian spice. Or maybe my hero academia, it has godawful writing too with your favorite Adam-like and Ironwood-like archetypes you adore so much.

And if you didn't click off already in hissy rage, and want to challenge me on the writing point:

Yall are complaining about pacing, characterization lacking, skipped development, insert some other reason, how "show went to shit after volume 3". Well, newsflash, look back at volume 1. REALLY look at it, without your nostalgia boner.

How, in what actually can fit into 3.5 full-length episodes, it skips a whole semester with only a few moments shown in like 3-8 minutes. Notice how Ruby and Pyrrha interacted like 2 times in 3 volumes total. Ruby and Penny? Yeah, they barely interacted too. Ren hasn't talked to rwby girls at all aside from ensemble scenes.

Too many characters in later volumes? Honey, 1-3 had SO many pointless grunts and you ate them up. The whole Vytal festival was filled with them.

Can you tell me the plot of volume 2 from the top of your head? Yeah, me neither. If i think maybe i can remember there was a mecha fight, a dance and a train, but beyond that what was the point of that entire volume again?

Your favorite, pedestalled, volume 3, most of which is fighty-fighty filler and the only stuff you actually remember when jizzing your pants about it is last 3 episodes.

Most character interactions and development happened after Beacon arc. Most actual plot and bigger story happened after it too. Yall are stuck circlejerking to *filler*, setup, which only purpose was to show the status quo to later destroy it and start to show the real picture.

Do you know why v4 and 5 feel so empty and missing something? Sure, juggling multiple plots gave it's pacing issues too, but it felt empty because there were no side characters to fill out the world and make it feel alive. V5 cast was so tiny it felt like nobody interacted at all. Because there were none of those "extras" yall hate on so much. The extras make the world feel real. Which is why Atlas feels alive when Mistral wasn't.

The most complaints about later volumes are chucked down to lack of media literacy and nuanced reading of situations and characters. Translated for your easier understanding: the writing was too nuanced for your "cute girls go fighty fighty brrr" brain to comprehend. Sometimes things require you to put the situation into character perspectives. Sometimes their decisions are made under stress + personality + influence of events and interactions. But i guess yall don't want to think, yall just want to watch "girl go brrr killy killy monster"

I can continue writing down all these other points, but i'm hungry and should get up so i won't. Bottom text: RWBY is a good show with good story and good writing and good characters. It has struggles and fumbles like every other piece of media. But for some reason, because it's indie, it's held to a much higher standard and everyone feels entitled to pick apart every detail of it to make themselves feel justified for feeling sad over their dead headcanons, even though they'd never do the same picking for big production popular series with much *much* worse writing than even the worst of RWBY's fumbles.

If you made it this far and are a member of rwde, congratulations, you still have a reasonable bone or few. Most others i guess clicked off at first point and blocked me after sending me some kinda death threat, idk, i haven't posted this yet after all.

So yeah, feel free to leave your takes and death threats below, i'll happily discuss further later