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muletia · 20 hours ago

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[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader

summary: what if optimus' obsession bypassed his memory loss? what if he was so infatuated that even his past self yearned for you?

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, canon divergence: orion is taken by the autobots, obsessive thoughts, clinginess, orion literally cannot be left alone for one(1) second, tbh nothing happens in this, i just wanted to write obsessed!orion interacting with you, bad writing, silliness

an: i wanted to implement more ideas, but it came out as it did. i will definitely write some more fics with orion, maybe some smut??? ;)) who knows

word count: 4700

"Come to the base. It's urgent."

As you stare at the terse message from Ratchet, your chewing slows and stops. A storm of questions whirls in your mind, panic creeping into your body. Before you can even type a single letter, your phone rings. The caller is none other than the Autobot medic himself. You answer in less than a second.

"Hello? Ratchet, please don't scare me—what exactly happened?"

"It's about Optimus." Your heart skips a beat. "During the last mission, he was... injured. Or, to be precise, damaged."

"Is it serious?" you ask, pacing nervously around the break room. Lunch now long forgotten. "Will he be all right?"

"Physically—he's never looked or felt better. Mentally, however... that's a different story. I'll explain the details when you get here. And make it quick."

"Hold on, wait—I can't just leave work early like that. There's a whole procedure for this. I can't just waltz out, even though I’d love to leave right now."

"...In an hour and a half, I expect to see you here at the base. See you then."

He hangs up. You stare at your phone screen for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head. Something serious must have happened—Ratchet wouldn’t disturb you at work otherwise. And it involved Optimus... You bite your lip, torn by indecision. You need to at least make sure he's okay, to see with your own eyes what Ratchet was talking about. Otherwise, you'll regret your negligence and spend the rest of the day worrying.

Shoving the half-eaten sandwich into your bag, you rush to your computer to draft a request for early leave, praying fervently that your boss will grant it.

You kept pressing the gas, speeding toward the base, trying to balance obeying traffic laws with worrying about the Autobot. You knew he had been preparing for a mission recently, he had told you about it during a ride you shared, but you didn’t expect it to end like this. Maybe you should have, considering you were associated with a race of aliens deeply embroiled in a centuries-long war, but you always pushed such unpleasant thoughts to the back of your mind, wishing your friends the best. Now, though, all the worst scenarios were coming to the surface. Had he fallen into a coma? Was his processor damaged? Had he died? You didn’t want to think about such an ending. Optimus was alive. You were sure of that.

Seeing the familiar red rock, a tight knot of anxiety gripped your throat. In a few moments, you were about to drive into what was practically your second home, not knowing what awaited you. You glanced at the clock. You were half an hour late—well beyond the time Ratchet had given you.

As if on cue, the medic called you again.

“Don’t enter the hangar. Leave the vehicle at the entrance.”

He hung up before you could say a word, and you sighed. The situation had grown even more worrying.

Before you could say a word, he hung up, leaving you to sigh in frustration.

Following his instructions, you parked at the main entrance and made the rest of the journey on foot. The lights seemed especially harsh, glaring into your eyes as the tunnel stretched endlessly ahead of you, as if warning you, giving you one last chance to turn back. But no force on Earth could stop you now. Determined, you marched forward, needing to know what had happened to your friend.

The hangar was full of Autobots, their sheer presence intimidating. You had thought you were over the feeling of smallness that came with being one of the humans among them, but now it hit you again, hard, dredging up memories of when humans in their midst were still a novelty. You froze for a moment, your courage momentarily disappearing in the shadows of giants.

It wasn’t until your eyes landed on the reason you had left work early that you began to breathe again. Optimus stood there, seemingly whole and healthy, facing the platform where the kids likely were. Relief washed over you. He was alive. Your heart was still racing, but the weight of dread lifted slightly, leaving you braced for the next wave of bad news.

"Hey, sorry I’m late. Work took longer than I expected," you called out.

Your voice immediately caught his attention. Optimus turned to you so abruptly that it shocked everyone present, abandoning the conversation he had been engaged in. Tilting your head back to meet his gaze, you were surprised when he knelt down on one knee, making himself more accessible. You still had to look up, but now his face wasn’t obscured by his… windshields.

The first hint that something was off was his smile—wide, cheerful, and curious. Optimus didn’t smile like that, not even when something genuinely delighted him. Worry started gnawing at you again. Something was wrong.

"Greetings. You must be our next human ally, correct?"

At first, you were at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios you had imagined, memory loss hadn’t even crossed your mind. But before the conversation could veer into awkward territory or panic could take hold, you managed to reply, mirroring his smile.

"That’s right."

"You seem… familiar. As though we have met before."

The hangar fell silent, the atmosphere thickening.

"Of course he would remember her," Ratchet hissed under his breath. You shot him a glare filled with venom.

Focusing back on the mech before you, you forced a calm smile, masking the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You felt like you were on the verge of exploding—uncertain whether to jog his memories or pretend this was truly your first meeting. Why hadn’t anyone given you guidance on how to handle this?

"Erm, well…" you began, only for Ratchet to step in and spare you.

"Humans can look quite similar at first glance," the medic interjected. "Orion, this is [Name], the last human who should know of our existence."

A flicker of something lit up in his cyan optics—something indefinable, known only to him.

"Greetings, [Name]. It is a great pleasure to meet you."

He extended a servo toward you. Tentatively, you clasped one of his digits, ignoring the ache in your heart. This shouldn’t have been happening. You shouldn’t have to forge a new relationship with someone so dear to you. It felt uncanny—like he was wearing Optimus’s skin but was someone entirely different inside. It was unnerving, disorienting. Yet this stranger had knelt before you, reduced himself to your scale to show respect, just as Optimus always had. It was a glimpse of his alternate self, a sign of the inherent honor and kindness he still carried.

"Hello, Orion. The pleasure is all mine."

Letting go of his servo, you gave him an apologetic smile, signaling the end of the conversation. You needed answers, clarity about the situation, before you could decide how to proceed. As Orion straightened up, you stepped past him toward the platform. You could feel curious optics on you, particularly his, as you fist-bumped the kids. Unbeknownst to you, Orion clenched his servo in the same way you had during your handshake.

"So," you said to Ratchet, "what happened?"

The medic sighed, clearly weary of recounting the story yet again. But you had to know. You listened intently, the details unsettling and at times horrifying, but you felt a growing sense of calm. At least now you knew what you were dealing with—what topics to avoid, how to act. The relief faded, however, when you learned that the first attempt to restore Optimus’s memories had failed, and no date had been set for the next.

As Ratchet spoke, most of the team dispersed, leaving only you, the medic, and Orion in the hangar. Taking a moment to process everything, you glanced at Orion, catching his curious gaze.

This was your new reality. Optimus was gone, yet not entirely, standing just a few meters away, watching you intently. It was too much to dwell on. You needed something to distract yourself.

Standing from the couch, you headed down the stairs. You figured you’d be here for the rest of the evening, so you might as well find something productive to do.

"[Name]?" Orion’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He looked genuinely concerned. "Are you leaving already?"

His behavior puzzled you.

"I’m just going to grab my things. I’ll be right back."

"I see. May I accompany you?"

Oh, that was adorable—especially with the hopeful tone in his voice.

"I’m not sure you’ll fit in the tunnel in your current form," you teased with a laugh. "It won’t take long. I’ll be back in a minute."

This time, you quickened your pace.

For several hours, Orion's life had been filled with uncertainty. He didn’t know how he had ended up on this planet, who the Autobots around him were, or why they called him "Prime" when he felt he was unworthy of the title. And now, another enigma had appeared—you. Orion could not rationalize the overwhelming need to be near you. He had felt it the moment he laid his optics on you. The need to stay close, to converse, to observe. The need to know you better. Never before had such intense emotions stirred within him for anyone, let alone a stranger. But you weren’t a stranger. This may have been your first meeting, and he may have spoken to you for the first time, but you were not unfamiliar. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into hours since you had disappeared into the tunnel. He regretted not following you, even if it meant transforming into his alt-form. At least he would have kept an optic on you, preventing the gnawing feelings of confusion and longing from devouring him from inside.

Ratchet watched his friend closely. He recognized that look, that body language. He knew what it signified, what storm was brewing in Orion’s processor. Optimus had been the same when it came to you. For a brief moment, his friend was back. Too bad it was under such circumstances.

"Do you really remember that woman?" he asked.

"I am not certain," Orion replied, still gazing toward the tunnel. "I feel like she is not a stranger, even though I know this was our first encounter. And as… Prime, if I indeed held that title, was she close to me?"

Primus.

"Perhaps closer than any human, but only Optimus knew to what extent. That might explain why you recognized her."

"Then she is special."

"Everything points to that."

Orion glanced at him, offering a faint smile. For reasons Ratchet couldn’t quite explain, the gesture was hard to look at. Fortunately, you emerged from the tunnel, giving him an excuse to start working again.

"See? I told you it’d only take a minute," you laughed, a black backpack slung over your shoulder.

Orion didn’t confess the truth—that by his reckoning, you had been gone an eternity. He watched intently as you climbed the stairs and took a seat on the couch.

"So, Orion," you began, "what did you do on Cybertron?"

Oh. You were curious about him? Truly? He had never thought of himself as particularly interesting.

It was fortunate that you were not looking at him because his body language betrayed his embarrassment.

"I was an archivist. Do humans on Earth have similar professions?"

"Of course. You know, I’ve always admired archivists. It’s meticulous work, requiring patience and nerves of steel—if you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s an important job, and anyone who takes it up is very cool in my book."

"Cool?"

"You know, fascinating, impressive, admirable."

"Does that mean that... in your optics, I am… cool?"

He asked without thinking and immediately regretted it when you gave him an amused look. Embarrassed, he tilted his helm downward. For such a towering and formidable being, he was also astonishingly skittish. It was peculiar to see a former Prime in such a light, but it made him more relatable, more emotionally accessible. Even so, you couldn’t deny that you missed Optimus.

"Of course, you’re cool to me."

That answer brightened him. A spectacle of stars dances in his optics.

You returned to typing on your laptop, but Orion had other plans for you.

"It seems I still have much to learn about this planet."

"I think you’ll catch on quickly. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, the other bots don’t know everything either. If you’re ever unsure, just ask. I’ll do my best to help."

"Thank you, [Name]. Your kindness is very important to me."

"Anytime. If you’d like, you could also explore our literature—it’ll give you a good insight into what humanity is all about. That sounds like a fitting activity for an archivist, doesn’t it?"

He would much rather have you as his sole source of knowledge about your species, as it meant spending more time with you. He wanted to know not just what you were but who you were—your interests, where you worked, how you spent your free time, your philosophy, beliefs, and hobbies. Everything you were willing to share. He wanted to know you inside and out, to solidify this sense of connection and make it real. And if you wished, he would bare his own secrets, reveal his spark, and show you every part of himself. Perhaps then you might look at him just for a second longer.

"Yes, I believe that would be an enjoyable activity. And what is it that you do?"

He asked question after question, each answer adding a new layer of understanding about you. He shared a little in return, preferring listening to you—your opinions, your perspective.

Time passed swiftly in your company. Relentless and unforgiving, it waited for no one. Orion realized this when you set aside your device and began stretching. It was a mesmerizing sight—your movements were so different from those of Cybertronians, fluid, and light. That was until the air was pierced by the loud crack coming from your back.

Energon froze in his fuel lines, and his spark leaped to his intake.

"[Name]? Are you alright? Are you harmed?"

"Hm?" you hummed, confused. He looked as though calamity had befallen him, as though you’d been beheaded. Then you remembered—it was Orion, not Optimus, and the human body was weird. "Oh, that. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s perfectly normal." To prove your point, you began cracking your knuckles, stopping quickly when you saw his horrified expression. "Okay, sorry about that. But really, I’m fine. I just need to stretch."

"Alright…" he replied, though he didn’t seem convinced. You couldn’t blame him.

You rose from the couch and stepped down from the platform, intending to take a short walk. Panic erupted in his spark. Oh no. No, no, no. He didn’t want to be left alone, not after such a jarring experience. He wouldn’t let you out of his optics now—not even for a moment.

"May I accompany you?"

"Of course!" you replied without hesitation, smiling—a gesture he immediately mirrored. "It won’t be very exciting, though."

"On the contrary, I find you to be a most intriguing individual."

"Oh, thank you," you said, clearing your throat, embarrassed. Compliments delivered in that baritone still flustered you.

Together, you ventured deeper into the base, bypassing various sections. In the training room, Arcee worked on her speed, while Bulkhead struck a makeshift punching bag fashioned from an old car. The children watched the spectacle, occasionally entertaining themselves. You both quickly slipped past the always-open entryway and continued on your way.

“[Name]?” Orion inquires. You turn into an empty hangar with a high platform, starting to ascend the stairs.

“Hm?”

“How do humans attempt to court their partners?”

You hadn't expected that kind of question. You stop mid-step, pondering your answer. When you look at him, his expression is dead serious, though his optics betray a determination. Why would he want to know this? You decide it’s probably mere curiosity.

“It depends on the person.” You continue climbing the stairs until you finally reach the top, now level with his faceplate. “Some buy gifts like flowers, others go on elaborate dates. But the common factor is spending time together, and getting to know one another. Feelings tend to develop naturally that way,” you explain. “Actually, that’s an interesting topic. How did it work on Cybertron?”

“Similarly. However, instead of exchanging ‘flowers,’ we presented rare metals or crystals to leave the best impression. To demonstrate strength and potential as a partner.”

“I know a few people who would totally fall for that approach. Heh, I’d be thrilled to get a geode myself.”

Orion suddenly lights up. Were you suggesting something or just sharing an opinion? Whatever it was, he felt compelled to try. To prove himself worthy. Perhaps he could even find the ‘flowers’ you mentioned.

“I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome?” you reply, unsure exactly how you’ve helped, but the sight of his broad smile and bright optics makes it all worthwhile. He was utterly adorable.

The two of you chat casually until you’re forced to check the time. You inhale sharply, and Orion tilts his head slightly, curious about your reaction.

“It was great talking to you, but I really need to go. I have work tomorrow and I’d like to get some sleep.”

Panic flashes across his face. He had enjoyed your company so much. He didn’t feel alienated or alone when he was with you. The sense of connection played a significant role, but Orion had already let you into his spark. He had found a safe harbor in you and wasn’t ready to drift away just yet. He wasn’t ready to let go, even if the world around him were to crumble.

“May I accompany you?” he asks, desperation seeping into his tone.

“Excuse me?”

“May I accompany you?” he repeats, now begging.

“My home isn’t exactly designed to host a giant robot. Besides, it’s dangerous and... wait, do you even know the traffic regulations?”

His expression answers the question, but he still attempts to defend himself.

“I have acquainted myself with them partially.”

“Who has the right of way at an uncontrolled intersection?”

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, visibly crestfallen. He looks as though he might cry.

“Orion, we’ll see each other tomorrow,” you reassure him. “The first thing I’ll do after work is come here.”

He frantically searches for an argument to keep you with him—anything to prolong your company. Then he remembers his first encounter with human children.

“Every child was assigned a guardian who escorted them home and ensured their safety,” he states, refusing to give up. “Do you have a protector?”

“Unofficially, that was Optimus…”

“Then I would like to carry on his mission.”

“I’m not a child, Orion.”

“I understand that. I merely wish for your safety, [Name],” he explains earnestly. “And… I would prefer not to part from the company most dear to me.”

Your thoughts drift back to something he said earlier—how he recognized the bond you once shared, even though this was your first conversation. He hadn’t recognized Ratchet or anyone from his team—only you.

You tried to put yourself in his position. To suddenly find yourself in a foreign place, surrounded by strangers addressing you by a false name and feeding you information that might as well be fiction. And then, in a world where nothing is familiar, someone steps in—someone you vaguely recognize. You might not know their name, but you know there was once a connection. Wouldn’t you cling to that tiny thread, desperately pulling it closer if someone tried to take it away?

Orion had found solid ground, and you were unintentionally trying to undermine it. You exhale softly. You already knew you’d be saying goodbye to sleep tonight.

“Alright.” His smile makes it all worth it. It’s as though you’ve handed him a star from the sky. “Let’s see what Ratchet has to say about all this.”

"I see no objections."

Orion looks at you with excitement sparkling in his optics.

"Wow, that was quick."

"It's a good excuse for Orion to explore the area and get accustomed to his alt mode."

The medic refrains from adding that if the former leader remained at the base, he would likely have wasted away in longing for you, lamenting to every sentient being that he couldn't wait to see you again. Though the comment teeters on the edge of his glossa, he opts for discretion. Optimus, at least, had never vocalized his peculiar obsession with you quite so openly.

"Should anything unusual occur, contact me immediately. Someone will come for you in the morning," Ratchet advises his friend before turning to you. "Good night, [Name]."

You thank the medic for his diligence and ask him to take some rest, earning a piercing glare that almost feels lethal, then retrieve your backpack and head toward the tunnel. Orion stays close by, not leaving your side even after transforming. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you, visibly delighted at the prospect of your first shared drive together. In his mind, this was more than a mere drive—it was a deeply intimate act, almost akin to inviting a partner into one’s private space.

But his dreams are promptly shattered when you inform him that you have your own car.

The journey is uneventful but nerve-wracking; you constantly check your side mirror to ensure Orion is still following you. Thankfully, there are no issues, and he even remembers to use his turn signals when necessary. Everything proceeds smoothly until you pull into your driveway and are struck by a dreadful realization: Will a Peterbilt even fit in my garage?

You park your car to the side, leaving Orion enough space to drive safely. Exiting your vehicle, you open the garage door and wave at him to proceed. You nervously bite your thumb, watching the massive truck carefully edge into the space. There are barely three centimeters between the roof of the truck and the ceiling. When you close the garage door, the already limited space shrinks further.

"So, do you regret your decision now?" you ask, stepping around to the front of the truck.

Orion transforms with meticulous precision, carefully positioning his limbs and helm to avoid damaging the walls. The process goes well until his helm grazes the ceiling with an audible thud, dislodging a few small pieces of debris. He winces slightly and rubs his helm but offers you a warm smile.

"I do not regret my decision."

"Pfff, well, that's good. Are you all right?"

"I am unharmed."

You can’t help but feel guilty for confining him to such a cramped space, but it was his choice. If he insisted, he would simply have to endure it. Of course, that meant you would have to endure it, too, as the issues began almost immediately.

"All right, I’m going to grab my things. I’ll be back in a moment."

He panics again—something you’re beginning to expect from him.

"Please, do not leave me."

His voice is unchanging. A deep and thick baritone that permeates your body, speaking straight to your soul. It is strange to hear the same voice coming out of a shamed and uncertain being, begging you for company.

"I’ll only be gone for two minutes."

You reach for the door handle, but his servo shoots forward, blocking your exit.

"Orion," you chide, your tone sharp and reprimanding.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, his apprehension laid bare.

"Please, I do not wish to be alone."

"Two minutes," you say firmly, though your annoyance falters when you see the raw emotion in his optics. Sighing, you place a hand on the edge of his digit, catching his attention. "I’ll be back. I promise."

He believes you, of course he does. He trusts you to return, yes, he even knows it. It doesn't change the fact that he is frightened, he feels alone, and your proximity calms the storm raging through his processor. His whole body is clamoring for you, screaming for you to stay with him. He craves bodily contact, he wants your soft hands to stroke his metal and your lips to whisper sweet nothings. He wants more, he wants to feel the softness, more, more, more.

He takes his servo away.

"Good mech."

As you disappear through the door, Orion buries his face in his hands. Despite his embarrassment, he can’t suppress a grin. He had enjoyed that moment—far too much.

He wants to hear you say it again.

When you return, you’re carrying a blanket, a deck of UNO cards, some snacks, and your laptop. Orion beams at the sight of you but frowns when he notices you shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asks with concern.

"Hmm? A little, but I’ll warm up soon."

Without warning, he gently scoops you up in his servo, handling you with the utmost care. The shock is brief—you don’t even have time to protest before he places you on his chassis. His servo remains loosely wrapped around you as a precaution, but your back presses against his warm metal frame. Tilting your head up to glare at him for pulling such a stunt, you find him already watching you, amusement dancing in his optics.

"Ask next time before you do something like that," you scold lightly.

"I make no promises," he teases, earning a playful flick to his digit.

"I was planning to play UNO, but since you pulled that move, let’s watch a movie instead. Unless you’d rather do something else?"

"I leave myself entirely at your mercy."

He would have been content doing nothing as long as he could hold you close.

"All right, then. A movie it is."

It's hard for him to keep up with the plot when he's overstimulated, but he tries, because your questions encouraging discussion come out of nowhere. And it was just at moments when he started to drift off, when the optics shifted from the tiny screen to you; when there was only you and him in the world. Sometimes, however, he would focus for longer, especially during the romantic scenes. He longs to experience something similar with you, an indestructible, sappy love. To recite poetry into your ear and watch you blush, to announce to everyone how much you mean to him. To bestow expensive gifts, the geodes you mentioned earlier. He needs your tender words, your praise, your touch. You could do whatever you liked with him, and he would give you his spark.

He worries when you fall silent for too long.

"[Name]?" he calls softly, leaning closer to check on you. Relief washes over him when he sees you’ve simply fallen asleep. Poor thing—you must have been exhausted.

Still, a part of him resents it. He wanted to talk to you longer, watch more films, learn more about human romance to win your favor. But he knows his thoughts are selfish. Setting the laptop aside, he carefully covers you with his other servo, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.

He's not sure he'll be able to recharge. At least not now, when he was too absorbed in devouring you with his optics. You felt safe with him. You gave him your trust. You chose him.

A spark of possessiveness sweeps through his processor. He doesn't want to let you go. He doesn't want you to go to work tomorrow and leave him for eternity. He also knows he shouldn't think that way. The spark goes out.

Watching you sleep, his processor churns with thoughts. You trusted him. He vows to prove his worth tomorrow, to show you just how deep his feelings run.

Because he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be himself. How much longer he will remain as Orion Pax.

#transformers #transformers x reader #optimus prime x reader #optimus x reader #tfp #obsessed!optimus #orion pax x reader #obsessed!orion

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v1x3n · 21 hours ago

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SNAP! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - fluff, angst - panic attack, trauma, flinching.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

There's a sudden knock on the door to your room, your body dry and freshly washed, the minty smell from the soap bar fills your nostrils whilst you slump on the hospital bed. Curled in a way that was uncomfortable but it wasn't hurting any wounds so that would have to do.

The knock is followed by the door opening wide, revealing a man who you recognise, a man named Logan. The cheery fellow bounces into the room, suddenly the dingy lights seem brighter. "how's my favourite girl?" the man smiles while trotting inside, then closing the door behind him. "The nurse told me t' not bother ya sooo here I am!" he announces, smirking when you peer up at him. Your permanent frown slightly moves upwards when you see the goofy yet devious grin on his face.

Without a reply he sits down on the wooden chair placed by your bed, "you're looking better! my wounds are barely healing!" you wonder what had happened to him for a moment but then you remember that one of the first times he snook into your room, he rambled on for almost an hour. Telling you that he had been shot whilst on a mission, twice in the stomach. Luckily he survived. He smiles as he stretches out his hand, groaning, "I'm glad you're okay," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

A sigh falls from his lips when you sit up, "saw some big beefy guy leave your room before," john, he's obviously talking about john. "Looked real pissed off." Logan mumbles under his breath when he looks to the side. Fucking twat, he was pissed off? He doesn't deserve to be pissed off. "Ya know him?" He looks towards you for an answer. But you two both knew you weren't going to verbally say anything. You nodded hesitantly.

"Ya friends?" the man questions, this time it wasn't so hesitant. "No." You firmly said. Logan thought this was the first time you had spoken to him, it clearly must've been a trigger or something, "he is NOT my friend." Reaffirming your statement, pure rage boils through you at even thinking about being his friend. He lost that fucking privilege. "huh."

There's a silence that lingers in the air. The wet droplets from your freshly washed hair drips down, sending shivers down through your body. "Well, at least you have people visiting. My family is too busy t' visit. Or they just divnt wanna." he mutters the last part, "id kill for anyone t' visit."

"You know you get a lot of people lining outa your door? I can barely get through mine cause these bulky men will always be there." What? You questioned internally. "Ya friends with them?" you probably knew who he was talking about, it was probably the other knobheads that harmed you. None of them had really spoken to you since you arrived, john would sit down on the chair that Logan was currently sitting on sometimes, you two wouldnt talk though. Youd rather kill yourself than utter a single word to him.

"none of them are my friends, " gruffly talking again. Your throat kinda hurt so the sounds came out raspier than you had wanted them to. "hmm! Anywho! You wanna play some cards with me? I knowww.... Snap?" Then he puts on a dumb little smile.

After rolling your eyes at him, you nod. Magically he pulls out a card deck. Placing them on the blanket covering you. Once splitting the deck into two and passes you a half. Logan puts a card down gently on the blanket, not wanting to put it down too hard and hurt you. He didn't quite know what had happened to you but by the looks of it it was bad. You had nurses in all the time, your body was wrapped in bandages and by the looks of it, you only had 8 fingers.

"6 of clubs!" he announces. You place down a random card, 4 of hearts.

After a few rounds, you had won. For him having a deck of cards and wanting to play snap, he wasn't that good at it. A small smirk rises on your face, looking down at your massive stack whilst he had no cards left. "Well, well done." He grumbles with a mocking pout.

Once nodding you give him half your cards and he whacks them across the bed. Scattering the cards around, you gasp. Laughing, he observes the stunned look on your face before you shuffle the cards and half them. Dividing them into two halves, again making sure you both have a half each.

The word snap was yelled out from Logan's lips as he finally got ahead of you and slammed his callosed hand downwards onto the 2 of diamonds. When you flinch, he felt the weight of his face drop. "fuck, I'm sorry-" the look on your face could only be described as panicked, scared and fearful.

Suddenly a loud ringing blinds your ears. Your breathing grows. You take sharp and quick breaths when he looks towards you. You don't know why you panicked so much over something so stupid but then again - you do. "oh god I'm sorry!"

Logan's heart sank as he watched you struggle to catch your breath. He quickly slid closer, his voice gentle, "Hey- fuck- it's okay. I'm right here." He hesitated, unsure whether to reach out physically, but instead whispered, "Just breathe with me, nice and slow," trying to guide you back to calmness. But unfortunately that didn't help. You flinch back once more and shuffle under the blanket. The sounds of the room grew louder, the beeping of the machines sound over Logan's - trying to be - comforting voice. Your breath caught up once more. Your breathing is loud and fast. "it's okay-"

He gets cut off when a nurse comes into the room. She quickly rushes to you and all you see is almost a blur when your eyes prick with water. Distant yelling and you see the obscured bodies rush into the room, the nurse beside you and mumbling nonsense as the blob you think is Logan leaves.

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takumiraine · 2 days ago

Text

Once upon a time Chapter 6

In which Danny has a bad night and Jason is conflicted.

“So you know how your friend walks home from GU?” Oracle asked, apropos nothing one night while Jason was mid patrol. The pit had been angry, and Jason was just looking for a fight.

“Now is not the best time to talk about him O,” Jason growled, swinging between buildings just to feel the brief rush of adrenaline from stepping off the roof of a building and falling. Watching the ground rush up to meet him. The pit had been angry over the last half hour, and it was only seeming to get worse.

“Alright. Just thought you’d want to know he is in a 6v1 in the Bowery and B is on his way.” Her tone was nonchalant, with an air of ‘have it your way’ even though he knew she knew he wouldn’t be able to leave it at that.

Jason, to his credit, did not splat on the ground or crash into a wall. But it was a near thing. “What?”

“I thought now wasn’t the best time?” She teased, before sending the location to his visor. “From the looks of things, he’s been trained by someone. Just did a sick Judo throw that would make A proud.”

“Is B going to get there first?”

“Oh yeah.” Jason groaned. It wasn’t going to go well.

“Can’t reroute him?”

“You want to tell him why?” Nope. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

“No”

“There’s your answer.”

Jason groaned again, trying his best to swing faster. The closer he got, the more the pit writhed.

—-

Danny met the eyes of Batman, his grin dropping into a scowl. “Why are you here?” He asked, hands clenching back into fists.

“I came to help.” Batman said, beginning to zip tie the criminals hands.

“Help? Help?” Danny scoffed, kicking a rock towards Batman’s feet. “Now you want to help? I don’t need it anymore.” Danny took a step towards him, finger pointing in his direction menacingly. Batman paused and looked down at him again.

“I am very sorry I did not get here sooner, young man. But-“ Danny stormed towards him, getting into the masked superhero’s face.

“But you’re years late guano-man. I asked. And I asked. And I begged. All you” Danny jabbed him in his armored chest with two fingers, core screaming a litany of -rage-hurt-fear-“sent were those government assholes. You call yourselves heroes up there in that fancy ass tower, with your billionaire’s funding, but the reality is, if someone doesn’t live in one of your protected towns then they’re on their fucking own!” Danny shoved him back, and Batman took a couple steps then looked at something above and behind Danny’s head. He didn’t even have the time to look before Batman spoke.

“Hood, now is not the best time.”

Danny spun then, eyes widening then narrowing. “And you!” He stomped over to Red Hood, jabbing him in the chest for good measure. “Are you following me?! First with the stabbing, and I’m not even in your territory and you’re here! you claim you’re not with this asshole, but you’re here? You-“

Danny stopped himself mouth dropping open and core twisting into -recognition-shock-betrayal-angry- eyes glowing green before he could stop them. “oh this is fucking rich. You are stalking me. Knowing where I live isn’t enough? You have to insert yourself into my fucking life?” He backed away from the two masked vigilantes getting both of them into his eyeline. “None of you, or anyone else in your little justice mafia, ever talk to me or try to help me again.”

Danny backed up, circling until he was clear of both of them. Then once he was far enough away, he broke into a run, turning the corner at the end of the block.

—-

“Fuck.” Jason muttered as he realized he had been found out. Seeing the Lazarus green in Danny’s eyes, feeling the fear, shock, betrayal and anger just rolling off of him, his own pit responding in kind.

“Hey B? It was heavily staticked, so I might be wrong, but did the kid say you sent the government after him?” Oracle asked after a long moment of silence.

“He did.”

“I hate that I even have to ask but…. Did you?”

“No. Is there anything we need people on at present?”

Oracle’s typing was heard in their ears for a moment “No, it doesn’t look like it.”

“Recall everyone from patrol to meet at the cave. We need to go over every inch of this and find out what we’re dealing with.”

Jason was slowly moving his hand toward his grapnel. He needed to process this before anything else. Before he could, an engine revved and the Batmobile was pulling up.

“Hood. In.”

“But-“ Jason began to argue, only for Bruce to shake his head. Batman pointed and Jason felt like he was a kid getting caught stealing tires again. The pit in him demanded he fight back, but after a standoff that he knew felt longer than it was he slid into the passenger seat, door shutting behind him.

“He acted like he recognized you.” Bruce said after getting in himself.

“Yeah.” Jason wasn’t going to be forthcoming just yet he was still trying to process what the fuck just happened.

“Hm.” He could feel every ounce of focus not on the road on him and it rankled.

“Just come out and say it B,” Jason snapped.

“You know what.”

“Maybe I don’t. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Hm.” God he was so much like Damien. The apple fell from that tree and became nestled safely on the next branch down.

Thankfully the conversation was interrupted by the clicks of several people joining the main comm line.

“Hey, I heard the recall.” Dick. Great. Just what he needed. Big brother swooping in. “Everyone have their limbs?”

“Possible compromise situation.” Was the only reply Bruce gave. Jason resisted the urge to slump in his seat like a child being picked up from school for fighting.

“I’ll be in asap.” Dick had to be the responsible first born. Asshole.

“I’m also on about the same time frame. Orphan and I are just handing off a minor robbery.” Spoiler’s voice chimed in.

“Robin and I are en route from the south. Riddler was trying to be clever and we were having fun breaking his riddles before he could even finish his spiel.” Red Robin seemed smug. Really those two were the only ones that found Eddy boy the slightest bit amusing.

“I believe he was considering checking himself back into Arkham he was so frustrated with our prowess.” Damian’s smugness was rolling off him through the comm chat.

There was a little bit of extra chatter as they wrapped up the eta conversation, but Jason was trying to decide if he could dive out of the Batmobile and escape before Bruce could turn around.

As if reading his thoughts, Bruce looked over at him and gave him a look. He knew Oracle was keeping an eye on their route too so driving wasn’t needed to be a focus. Jason frowned and even though the mask hid it, he was sure Bruce knew.

When they got to the cave and parked, Bruce got out and removed the cowl. He stood there, watching as Jason got out, pulling his own helmet off. He could still feel the pit scraping his insides, and looking for an escape. How much was his and how much was Danny’s Jason didn’t know.

“Explain before the others get here.”

Jason turned and walked deeper into the cave, taking his usual spot against the wall. “About a month ago, I interrupted a mugging turned stabbing. Kid ran off with the knife still in him. O gave me basic info and I joined GU to start my threat assessment. He hates Batman and the assorted heroes, hadn’t said why, isn’t fond of Bruce Wayne because he supports the JL financially. Had some potential for becoming a rogue in the future but mostly just wanted to be left alone.”

Bruce gave a hum, settling at the Bat Computer and typing. Not making notes, but looking through the information Oracle had already collected. When Jason didn’t continue, Bruce turned to look at him again.

“Kid was broke. Looked like hell, so I fed him and paid him to catch me up in math. Even though he’s in remedial classes he’s practically at the replacement’s level. He said he had spent most of high school ghosting his classes because they were murder. Seeing his eyes today…. I believe he was being very literal. We…. Became friendly. He did not know who I was until tonight.”

“How did that happen?”

“The pit reacted to him. It… usually does, but not as intensely as tonight. It seems to be tied to his emotional state. He was pissed at you so… What did you do to the kid?”

Bruce sighed. “I’ve never met him before. I think that might be the problem.”

Jason scoffed, standing in silence and staring at Bruce’s tortured expression. Bruce, six foot two slab of muscle, who had just been yelled at by a scrawny young man easily six inches shorter and weighing a hundred pounds less.

Danny had fire, Jason would give him that. Blood pouring from his nose, the start of two black eyes from the break and still facing two masked vigilantes who were known for beating people up, or killing them in Jason’s case, like they were part of the problem.

It was…. It was kind of hot if Jason was being honest. The kind of hot he would openly deny and take to his grave (again).

One by one the different groups joined them in the cave. All in their patrol outfits. All of them staring at Jason and Bruce like they were expecting an announcement of Armageddon beginning.

Once they were all assembled, Oracle popped up on one of the screens.

“So here is what we know.” Bruce began a rundown of the night, starting with Danny getting jumped by some of Scarecrow’s guys and putting them all in their place before yelling at him and recognizing Jason.

Oracle put the cleaned up video of Danny fighting the guys on screen, and if Jason hadn’t thought Danny was hot before…. He would most certainly have now. The way he used his opponents’ weapons and momentum against them? It was beautiful. Danny at one point jabbed a goon in the stomach with one of the batons he stole, then kicked a second goon into him, sending them both sprawling. And the judo throw was nothing short of artistry.

“This is the concerning part.” Oracle zoomed in on Danny’s eyes during the confrontation with Jason. One second they were normal, the next they were very clearly glowing. Jason knew that shade of green too well.

“Have you managed to get any background on him?” Dick asked, eyeing both him and Bruce carefully.

“Only the basics and even then I’m pretty sure it’s doctored. I’ve tried doing reverse image searches on him, both with and without the enhancements I’ve done,” she popped up a side by side of various before and after pictures showing Danny in various states of glitching and the reassembled image from her work. “Every time I try to get anything more I run into this.” She put up what looked to be a standard ‘access required’ page complete with ‘To gain access please call’ and then a number.

“I’ve looked for any sneaky back entrances but they all seem pretty well guarded. I can get in but I would definitely be noticed.” For Oracle to admit that? That was some pretty high tech protection.

“Let’s call the number. Anyone got a burner they don’t want anymore?” Spoiler looked around, holding out her hand. Jason pulled one out of his belt and tossed it to her.

“O, pull my shit off of it?” He asked, planning on transferring all of his more illicit activities to a new number next week anyways.

“Done and done.”

Stephanie dialed and put it on speakerphone. It rang twice then there was the click of the line picking up. “Government Information Warehouse. Please state your name and identification number.”

“Oh my goooood, that asshole!” Stephanie had her high school voice on with just the faintest bit of squeal and complete with twirling her hair around her finger, even though those in the cave were the only ones who could see. “sorry, sorry, not you. I met a really hot guy. Like, hot hot, you know? And I thought we were really vibing. And he gave me his number and I was like, score! But then I call it and I get you! So like, I’m really sorry I won’t call again!” She hung up.

“Well that was disturbing.” From Tim who got an elbow in the ribs from Stephanie. “Steph’s acting aside, what’s our next play B?”

Bruce looked thoughtfully at the screen.

“Let me talk to him.” Jason was speaking before he was even aware of it. “Maybe…. He can explain.”

“He looked like he was a second away from punching you too little wing. You think he’ll talk?”

Jason had no idea. “Fifty fifty. Maybe better if we give him some time to calm down.”

“So long as nothing else happens, you have one week to let him calm down.” Bruce agreed. “The rest of you, stay extra vigilant. Frequent check ins when on patrol, and when away from the manor. Anything abnormal, no matter how small gets reported immediately.” The various bats and birds gave their agreements and started filing up to the manor for whatever food Alfred had laying around no doubt.

Jason stayed, debating going up. He had one week to figure out how he was going to do this.

One week was not a lot of time.

#writing #fanfiction #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #jason todd #red hood #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #batfam

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lesbo-tuliplvrr · 19 hours ago

Text

slumber party

bestfriend!abby x bestfriend!reader

summary: your best friend abby calls you up for a sleepover after having not spent time together in months.

clingy!abby, friends to lovers, college!abby, college!reader, fem!reader, y/n used once, medicalstudent!abby, fluff, minor angst but mostly it's one sided, no specific descriptions of reader other than them being shorter than abby and having their hair uncovered at night

wc: 3.2k

Abigail anderson. Your best friend since primary school. Your longest friendship. Your longest crush.

You hadn't always had a crush on Abby. Sure you loved her, but only really as a friend. That was, until junior year of highschool when her body had started noticeably changing. She started working out more, her biceps bulging through every tshirt. She had a growth spurt too, now almost towering over you. You yourself weren't that short but her stature made for a quite prominent difference.

You weren't usually shallow, But c'mon. Abby was already one of the best persons in your life; smart, caring, trustworthy. Turns out you only needed that little extra push to transform your platonic admiration for her into something else. This had been going on for 5 years and you had zero intention of ever letting her know.

It would just be way too risky, confessing something like that. What if she wanted to cut you off? What if she was disgusted by your feelings? What if being friends for so long bit you in the ass and she saw you more like a sister?!

And plus, dropping something like that on her when she was already swept up by her studies to become a doctor most of the time, would be horrible. You figured, you just had to let the feelings die. Of course it was taking much longer than expected, going onto the 6th year of having said crush, but it just had to be done.

So when Abby told you her dad would be out of town and that you should sleep over, you found yourself at a crossroads. You could go, and spend time with your best friend and it be a great night. Or you could go and be so incredibly uncomfortable hiding your feelings.

"Come on, we haven't had a slumber party in ages. I feel like we're always so busy we barely have any time for each other anymore. which is crazy for us!" Abby suggested as she spoke to you over the phone.

Yeah, totally not because I've been purposefully distancing myself to get rid of this festering crush.

You responded, "I mean , don't you have studying to do? I'll just distract you."

"Dont worry about me. Plus, you wouldn't distract me, you never do." She replied with her honey-like voice that would never cease to make you melt.

"We both know that's a lie but sure." You gave in. It was your best friend. Plus you really hadn't had time together in the past few months.

It was just a sleepover with Abby. All you had to do was act normal and it'd be fine. It's just Abby.

Abby answered the door when you arrived, immediately pulling you in a for a hug, stating how much she missed you and how long its been since you properly hung out, just the two of you.

"This place hasn't changed at all." you say, looking around at the familiar picture frames of her and her dad still plastered in their same spots on the walls.

"Yeah, we're both pretty busy all the time so," she trailed off. "You want anything to drink?" she asked, grabbing your overnight bag from you and heading to place it in her room.

"Nah, but I'll help myself, it's fine." you respond, following her into her room.

Her room has seen a few minor changes, none of which younwerent aware of though. It might have been years since you actually set foot into her bedroom, but you still saw it regularly. During your as frequent as possible facetime calls, you got to see through her camera the little changes she'd make to her walls. Even got to help in the decision process sometimes.

"It's been a while since you've been in here huh?" she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed, eyeing you as you peered at all her stuff.

"Yeah, cant believe how long it's been." you replied, distracted by the sheer amount of personality visible on her walls and desk.

Her college textbooks neatly tucked away on the side of her desk in a stack, near her pencil holder that held various shades of highlighters and pens. There were multiple pictures on the wall directly above her desk, along with many post it's of medical terms. Most of them were of her and her dad, or of her dog froma. few years ago, Alice. But right in the middle there were two of you and her. One from when you were much younger, closer to the time you first became friends and the other from your highschool graduation.

You made a mental note to take more pictures with her once you overcame your crush.

You looked around for a moment more, realising there was no mattress or anything on the ground. Sure, you slept on the same bed together before but that was when you were kids. Years ago.

"Soooo should I sleep on the couch or the ground?" you asked jokingly, secretly hoping she'd actually have an answer.

She laughed, "Oh come on, it might've been some time but we're not strangers." she joked with her beautiful smile.

Fuck.

You chuckled at this, hoping it seemed genuine and didn't expose the fear you felt of being so close to her for so long. Abby, however, noticed your shift in energy. Choosing not to say anything, she promptly changed the subject.

"Alright, what's for dinner?" she got up from the bed and led you both back out to the living room. Grabbing the TV remote, she put on one of her rnb playlists. "I was thinking we could cook something, chat and catch up for a bit then maybe watch a movie or something."

Gosh, she'd really thought this through. "Abby I hope that you don't have outstanding assignments due while you're doing all of this," you scolded her, already getting back into the groove of things.

She sighed, "Uugggghhh no, mom. I'll have you know that I am actually very ahead of my assignments. And even if I were behind, I'd still wanna be hanging with you tonight."

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow as she came around your frame to hug you from behind. You forgot how physically affectionate she was, and how much you missed it. You tried to not lean into it too much. The last thing you needed right now was to give yourself any false hope.

"I just- I really need this right now," she said with a sigh that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, dropping her head on your shoulder. You were so caught up in your own thoughts and feelings that you hadn't even stopped to think about how stressful school and everything must be for her. You turned your head slightly towards her, faces mere inches away from each other.

"I really need this right now and you're so fucking tense that I can't even give you a proper hug!" she stated, attacking you with tickles.

You screamed in laughter as she jammed her fingers into your sides, not giving up her mission to make you laugh. You tried running away but her grip on you was too strong, as expected of abby. Your attempts, however, did lead you to toppling over the couch, with her on top of you. She continued tickling you as you laughed, both smiling wide.

Through squeals and breaths you tried to reason it her, "Okay! Okay stop."

"There she is," she smiled, finally halting the tickles. You looked up at her, trying so very hard not to grab her by the collar and kiss her stupid.

She sat up, straddling your hips as you still lay on the couch, breathing heavily. You raised your head slightly, looking her directly in the eyes.

Gathering her breath, she started, "Okay. Now tell me, what's going on with you?" she asked, pushing her flyaways behind her ears.

Confused you asked, "Me?"

"Mhmm, you've been all distant and weird around me for quite some time." she supplied, hands resting on her thighs. her big, muscular thighs. snap out of it!

Shit, she noticed. "I-" you didn't know how to respond.

Worry evident on her face she continued, "Did I do something? Because if I did you gotta let me know, i- I've been so focused on school and-"

"No! no, n- it's not anything you've done. don't worry" you answered, "I guess I've just been feeling a bit...." you pulled something out your ass quickly, "lonely, lately."

Not entirely wrong. It was gonna have to work.

"I'm sorry." she replied, empathy clear on her face as she leaned forward to hold your arms. "But hey, I guess this came at the perfect time then huh? You won't be lonely tonight, I'll make sure of it. 'kay? Now let's go make something and you have to tell me everything that's been going on with you." she pat your thighs before coming off. Her weight would be a missed presence on your lap.

The music played at a comfortable volume as you two easily maneuver around the kitchen, cooking up a simple pasta dish. You talked about anything and everything, fully catching each other up on what the other had missed in their lives. In all your attempts at dodging her and keeping your distance, you'd forgotten why you two were best friends in the first place.

Abby was easy to talk to. She always knew how to cheer you up and how to comfort you. As did you to her. When you would hang out, there was always fun to ensue. Which is exactly why you fell in love with her. But as you were here, having chopped and prepared all the other ingredients and awaiting the water to boil, dancing and laughing around the kitchen hand in hand with Abby, you decided that just for tonight you could forget the complications that having a crush on Abby would cause and just lean into your best friend whom you missed so much.

When the meal was done, you both retreated to the couch where you sat closely next to each other in search of a movie to watch.

"I feel like nothing looks good," Abby stated, as she kept scrolling through the site.

"We could always hate watch something?" you suggested cheekliy, knowing that Abby was already not a big movie person and that it would be an utter waste of time for her to watch one that wasn't good.

"Ha ha very funny." she deadpanned, "What's that one you always wanted to watch when we were younger? Let's just watch that."

"Are you sure? Because you'll have to put up with me quoting almost the entire thing. And singing all of the songs." you weren't really asking seeing as she had already found the film, Tangled, and was ready to press play.

"I'll be fine pumpkin."

She hadn't called you that name in years. It was nice to hear it again.

As promised you quoted almost all of the movie, under your breath though, so as to not annoy Abby too much. It was more like a light whisper/lipsync. Unbeknownst to you, while you were thoroughly enjoying what was one of your favourite movies ever, Abby hadn't even been paying attention. She'd been looking at you for the majority of the film's runtime, only looking at the screen when you turned to look at her and found her not focused enough.

"You're missing important character development here Abby, he bought the apples for maximus!"

After the movie you both cleaned the dishes, then went to her room.

Another thing you forgot to consider in all your rumination, showering. You and Abby weren't the shower together type of best friends but it was definitely a 'not a big deal if we see each other naked' type of deal. So you'd often change into and out of clothes in front of each other with no problems. If the whole night so far wasn't gonna do it, this would be the fucking nail in the coffin. Abby, changing out of her clothes, right in front of you.

You didn't want to come off as suspicious by clearly turning away but you also didn't want to feel like a perv and look at her in her underwear, knowing full well that you wished it were under different circumstances. So you opted for casually directing your attention to somewhere else in the room as she stood naked a few feet in front of you.

"I guess I'll go in first," she annouced grabbing her towel and leaving the room.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding as you quickly undressed and wrapped your towel around your body. You sat at the edge of her bed and waited for her to be done as you tried to calm your nerves.

It absolutely did not help your nerves when she stepped out of the bathroom and into her room, glistening from the shower. Muscles on full display, unbraided hair cascading down her back while some stuck to her face. She looked like a goddess. You quickly got up and headed into the shower, leaving her in her room to change.

It was like the more you decided to just let go of your feelings for Abby, the more she'd do things that made you fall for her all over again. You ended up taking way longer than usual in the bathroom, mustering up the courage to face her again while also trying to steady your heart rate.

Finally exiting the bathroom, changed and ready for bed, she closed the door, took off her bedroom light and hopped in right next to you. At first you both stayed silent, staring up at the ceiling, before she broke the silence.

"I'm really glad you were able to come," she expressed, turning on her side to face you.

You mimicked her position, scooting a little closer to the middle of the bed. "I'm glad I did."

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, really taking the other in, before you spoke up again.

"You said you really needed this, what's going on with you?" you asked, poking a finger into her arm.

She looked down at where you touched her arm then back up into your eyes. Sighing with a smile, she responded, "School has been kinda stressful I guess, but to tell you the truth, I just missed you." She scooted closer to you, moving her hand from under her head to caressing yours.

No. She meant that as a friend of course. Do not get your hopes up again.

"You're tense again." she pointed out, hand still laying on your hair.

God, why was she so perceptive?!

"No I'm not?" you scoffed. Your deflection did not work on her.

"Yes you are. You've got that look in your eye again," she continued caressing your hair, "What's going on up there?"

You sat up, pulling away from her touch. She followed you in sitting upright on the bed.

You knew that lying about everything being fine would not work any better than it's been all day, so you figured you'd at least give her something.

"If I tell you, you might not want to hang around me anymore."

She looked at you incredulously. How could you ever think something like that? "Did you kill someone or something?" she teasingly suggested with a laugh, that being the only plausible situation in her head. She didn't miss how you looked at her, amusement absent on your face.

"Sorry, I just- no matter what it is, I won't stop being your friend y/n." she said seriously, one hand moving to touch your thigh.

"Please don't, because if I tell you and you really don't wanna be associated with me anymore it'll just hurt more." you barely got out, eyes becoming teary. You knew you were scared of something like this happening. Your increasing heartbeat and glassy eyes further proved just how terrified this made you.

If Abby wasn't worried before, she certainly was now. "Hey, I get to decide who stays in my circle and who doesn't okay?" She cradled your face.

You shook your head, still not giving into confession. "Everything's gonna change and I don't want it to so let's just forget it."

"If things have to change...then I'll just make sure it's for the better." How could she be so reassuring without even knowing what was going to be said? She held your chin, tilting your head to look at her.

With a sigh, you finally gave in, "I feel so much..love.....for you..since high school. And it's only gotten worse recently. I swear I've tried making it go away, I've tried so much. I don't wanna be a bad friend by springing this on you but i also know that trying and failing to hide it isnt doing me any favours either so.." Tears were streaming down your face, your sniffles becoming the most prominent sound in the room.

"And now because you know, things are never gonna be the same and I just wish I'd been better at hiding it. I wish I never had these feelings in the first place. Then this wouldn't be happening and I wouldn't have to lose my best friend right after we had so much fun together."

Abby was silent. Staring into your eyes, her expression unreadable. She looked down into her lap, a small smile growing on her lips, before looking back up at you.

She leaned forward till there was barely space in between the two of you. Abby glanced down at your lips then back up to your eyes, making it clear what she was referring to. "Can I?"

Your heart rate was through the roof. There's no way she wanted this too. "Are you not.. worried about how things are gonna be between us now?"

"I said I'd make sure the change was for the better, didn't I?"

"You can."

In what felt like zero time, Abby carefully crashed her lips onto yours. Her lips were soft, her touch gentle. It was exactly what you imagined this to be like.

Gently pulling away, she wiped your tears with her thumb, looking at you with so much love in her eyes you swore the rest of the world would now be void of it.

Through sniffles and smiles you apologized, "Sorry hah, I'm a mess."

"Did you really think I couldn't love you?" Abby asked, holding your face in her hands. "I've loved you before I even knew what love was, pumpkin."

Her efforts to wipe your tears were now fruitless, your eyes pouring out streams of emotion.

She pulled you in for a hug. This time, a proper one, without the weight of what could have been laying on your entire being. You shared one more kiss, Abby then kissing your forehead as you both lay down to finally sleep. A sleep void of worries and stress.

You were actually hers.

soooo sorry if that was basically 95% buildup for 5% payoff. I totally wrote this in a whim at late hours of the night. anyway, hope you enjoy. requests are open! to those whove requested, I am working on your stuff so have no fear :>

#abby anderson fluff #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou2 #lesbian #abby anderson x reader

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vaya-is-dead · 2 days ago

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Welcome to hour one of my delusional city

SO ABOUT JINX.... we have plenty to discuss. :))

*act three arcane spoilers under the cut don't read if you haven't watched it especially the last episode!!*

I have a theory.

Now many of you will point at me and call me delusional but I'm sorry. I think I might be right on this one for a change. (or at least it might be implied.)

OK, if you watch the final episode, you know that jinx made the sacrifice taking Warwick with her while Vi screams for her. This scene absolutely broke my heart and for about a good 15 minutes I thought she was dead.

Until I went back and watched the last couple of scenes.

Something that I found interesting is that Caitlyn was looking at the blueprint of the vent system, more specifically where Jinx made her ultimate sacrifice. We all know that arcane is not a show that would just throw in details all without reason. Everything has a point everything is calculated to either imply something or show something.

Why would Caitlyn be looking at the blueprint and why would the show creators specifically zoom in on certain airways? Well, of course, then none other to imply that Jinx could've escaped through one of these, therefore possibly surviving.

Now with that alone, it probably doesn't mean anything. It is nothing but a skeleton of what possibly could be, it needs flesh and muscle for it to actually be a Working theory.

But then, as I watched the final scene before the credits, tell me why an airship from Piltover airship very similar to the ones that we saw in episode one where powder said that she would be flying one of those one day. Why was it flying away into the distant sky, then followed by the classic Jinx glitches with the words the end?

Tell me why a show that is so focused on each, and every small detail, from micro expression to touches that linger just a second too long for it to be nothing, Even the drawings and graffiti around Zaun. why would a show so focused on those types of details do something like that if Jinx was not alive? It does not make any sense. It would not make any sense for the show.

Need more proof?

if you pay attention when Caitlyn and Vi are talking, specifically towards the end where Vi leans into Caitlyn, the expression on her face is not one of relief, but rather one of knowing something. She was the one looking at the blueprint, and she was the one who noticed the potential escape route that jinx would know better than anyone because it wasn't her sort of Home in the vent system? How could she not know how to escape?

it's also very satisfactory to her character arc, it was only in season two where we started to see her perception of death start to shift, it was only when Isha came into her life that she really started to understand her own mortality and not completely disregard her life like she used. the prison scene with Vi, where she's sort of regresses back to the mentality of everyone around me will get hurt because of me. while in act three she did begin to disregard her life again, I would like to think that her talk with Ekko might've snapped her back into place. So instead of losing jinx's character development in its entirety, she continues on the same path where she was while still keeping her goal of letting VI be happy the same.

Plus the pink streak coming up the side of the hex gate tower, it's similar to the way that Jinx charges at Vi in their fighting scene.

Now, this is the part where you go into the comments and call me delusional and make fun of my theory but thank you for comming to my Ted's talk

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loulovingho · 15 hours ago

Note

Rocker and Deacon are out shopping for groceries or whatever and Deacon just subconsciously reaches to hold Rocker's hand or to put his hand on Rocker's waist, while they're talking about something else, and Deacon not letting go even when they bump into someone they know.

Rocker is a little surprised because he remembers how they started off all clandestine and now Deacon is freely showing affection in front of others.

Okay, I saw this and had to write something about it 😩 then it turned into 1000 words! I hope you enjoy!

They've been together, really together, for four months now. No more hiding, no more affair, no more dirty little secret.

Deacon's moved into his own apartment, he's explained everything to the kids, he and Annie are figuring things out through their attorneys.

He and Rocker have even filled out all the proper relationship agreements at work.

All these steps came pretty naturally. They left both Deacon and Rocker feeling more free than they ever had their entire lives. Like a heavy weight had been lifted off of them.

They weren't exactly the most exciting pair. Sure, the sex was incredible, adventurous, sometimes daring, but life was about more than sex.

It was about fixing the broken cabinets in Deacon's apartment, it was dealing with the nightmares Rocker sometimes suffered from, it was making sure they got enough rest to be able to deal with whatever happened at work the next day.

It was figuring out who they were as a couple, all the things they liked and all the things they hated. It was laughing together, fighting together, helping each other, holding each other.

It was dealing with grocery shopping for two households on a Saturday afternoon.

“We should have gotten two carts.”

“You really want to try and maneuver two carts down every aisle through all these people?”

Deacon managed to step out of the way just before a lady could ram him with her cart. He sighed. “No. I just want to be done with this.”

“We just gotta get some breakfast foods for your place and we'll be finished.” He waved Deacon along. “Scoot scoot.”

With an eye roll, he turned and headed for the next aisle, Rocker following behind with the cart.

Deacon grabbed up a box of Fruity Pebbles and placed it on the side that had all his items, stopping with he noticed the look Rocker gave him.

“What?”

“That for you?” Rocker asked.

“Do I look like a Fruity Pebbles kinda guy to you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Deacon glared at him. “They're for the kids, Donovan. It's their favorite.”

Rocker shook his head, pushing the cart forward to get out of another man's way.

“What? What is that?” Deacon asked. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“They don't like Fruity Pebbles anymore.”

“Yes they do.”

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they- How would you know?”

“The last time they came over,” Rocker explained, “Lila mentioned that Samuel threw up Fruity Pebbles in the car and now none of the kids can handle the smell.”

Deacon picked up the box. “No Fruity Pebbles then,” he said, placing it back on the shelf. After letting three people pass between them, he moved back over to Rocker's side.

“Should I be offended that you know my children better than I do?” he questioned, wrapping an arm around Rocker's waist as they continued down the aisle.

Rocker smiled. “Well, technically you were in the shower when they told me, so...”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Deacon said with a laugh. “You were just gonna let me think I should know this information?”

Rocker shrugged as they turned the corner. “It's fun to see you squirm sometimes.”

“Oh, you're gonna be doing some sq-”

“David!”

A woman's voice had Rocker and Deacon turning their heads to the side.

“Mrs. Chase!” Deacon greeted, smiling brightly at the older woman. “Good to see you!”

“You too. Busy day in here today, isn't it?”

“That's what we were saying,” Deacon answered, giving Rocker a pat on his side before resting his hand back on the same spot.

It was a little thing, and Rocker knew he should be used to it by now, but he wasn't. They'd spent over a year hiding. Making sure no one saw a touch, a glance, heard an unprofessional word. They'd once driven an hour out of town to go out to dinner somewhere that they knew no one would know them. And even then, Deacon had to be sitting so he could face the entire restaurant, just in case someone were to enter that he recognized.

Now though, with this woman that Deacon knew but Rocker had never seen before, his hand remained just above his hip.

“Mrs. Chase, this is my boyfriend, Donovan Rocker,” Deacon introduced. “He goes by Rocker though.”

And damn, that still felt new too.

Boyfriend.

Not acquaintance.

Not co-worker.

Not friend.

Boyfriend.

It might seem a little juvenile to some, using the word boyfriend when the two of them were in their forties and fifties, but in their line of work “partner” could mean many things. So, boyfriend it was.

Deacon gave Rocker's waist a little squeeze, “Donny, this is Mrs. Chase from my old church. Makes the best pies in the world.”

Rocker smiled, reaching out to give her hand a shake. “Nice to meet you, Ma'am, I've actually heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my,” she replied with a little giggle, shaking his hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. “You're very handsome.”

“You're very sweet.”

She looked over at Deacon once she let go of Rocker's hand. “A lot of us have missed you at church, David.”

“I miss some of you guys too, it's just... that's Annie's place to go now. It wouldn't be fair to her.”

He left out the part of the news spreading like wildfire as soon as he and Annie filed for divorce. How the rumors had gotten so bad that the priest had called and asked him to not return. It wasn't like he was going to anyway, but that definitely put the final nail in the coffin.

Mrs. Chase nodded, her facial expression remaining soft, nonjudgmental. “Well, you have my number still, don't you?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Use it. Call me soon and I'll bring you a couple of my pies.” She looked back at Rocker. “You like cherry?”

“Love it.”

“Good. I better get going. It was good seeing you, David, and nice meeting you, Rocker.”

After saying their goodbye's, they started down the next aisle.

Using one hand to steer the cart, Rocker wrapped the other around Deacon's shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Can we get out of here now?” Deacon asked, gripping onto Rocker's shirt with his hand as they passed a group of very loud tourists.

“Breakfast foods,” Rocker reminded him.

Deacon dropped his head down. “Damn it.”

#deacon kay #donovan rocker #swat #swat cbs #rockon #🤘

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magical-reid · 17 hours ago

Text

The Rings We Keep Part 3 (Final Part)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 6.7K

Part 1 / Part 2

The days following your kiss with Spencer had been a whirlwind of barely contained feelings. It was unspoken but there—something unshakable between you and him. You had agreed to take things slow, to let your connection build naturally without forcing it into a label or rushing anything.

But the more time you spent together—both on and off cases—the more impossible it seemed to keep your growing bond a secret.

Growing Together

The weeks passed with surprising ease. You and Spencer began doing things together outside of work—real, honest-to-God dates. You went to that quiet café again, and Spencer insisted on getting the most obscure drink on the menu to make you laugh. You went to see a movie, and instead of just watching it, you spent the entire time discussing the plot afterward, each of you analyzing the other’s take on the characters and the themes. You cooked together more often, laughing when things went wrong, and celebrating when things went right. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

You realized, as your connection deepened, that it wasn’t the moments of perfection that mattered. It was the moments where you were both present. Where, even in the chaos of your careers, there was a softness between you that felt like home.

Spencer began leaving little notes for you—little reminders of things, like “don’t forget to hydrate” or “call me when you’re done with your shift so I can hear your voice.” They were small things, but they meant more than he could know. The affection was there, and it was becoming more tangible with each passing day.

One evening, as you walked out of the precinct after another long shift, Spencer stopped at the door and turned to face you. His expression was quiet, earnest.

“You know, we’re kind of doing this,” he said softly, his hand finding yours in a gesture that felt so natural. “A real relationship. No more pretending.”

You smiled back at him, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest. “Yeah, we are.”

The Leak That Led to Living Together

Things between you and Spencer had only grown closer, and you were starting to feel more at ease with your relationship. But one evening, after another grueling case, you got a call from your landlord about the persistent leak in your bathroom. The water had been dripping for weeks, and no matter how many times you had contacted maintenance, nothing had been fixed.

When you’d first reported it, the landlord’s maintenance team had insisted it was just a small issue with the seal around the tub—an easy fix, or so they’d claimed. But the leak hadn’t gone away. Instead, it had grown worse, and the water had started to spread beyond the bathroom floor, staining the ceiling beneath it.

This time, the landlord called with an update, telling you that the plumber had discovered a more serious problem. After taking a closer look at the pipes, they’d realized there was extensive water damage to the plumbing, likely caused by a burst pipe that had been slowly leaking for a while. The entire system needed to be replaced, and unfortunately, the damage was so severe that the apartment was now uninhabitable.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” the landlord said over the phone. “But it’s going to take weeks to fix this, and it’s not safe for you to stay there.”

You stared at the phone, feeling an odd sense of dread creep into your chest. Your apartment, the one place you’d tried to make home, was no longer a safe place to live. And now, you had no idea where to go.

That evening, you called Spencer, you could hear the usual soft smile that sat on his face in his voice, and when you explained the situation with the apartment, you could hear it drop and the sound of concern taking its place.

“You could… move in with me,” Spencer suggested after a long pause, his voice almost hesitant. “I know it’s sudden, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I have the space. You could even have the guest bedroom if you want.”

The offer hung in the air between you, filled with the weight of a thousand unsaid words. On one hand, it felt like a natural step forward; on the other, it made everything feel even more real. You’d only just started to find your rhythm with Spencer, and now you were being asked to share more than just occasional meals or nights spent watching movies. You were being asked to share your life.

“I don’t want to impose,” you said slowly, but deep down, you knew you needed something—someone—and Spencer had always been there for you.

“It’s not an imposition. I promise. And besides,” he added with a playful tone, “you’ve already spent enough time in my apartment, you might as well move in anyway.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you easing. It didn’t feel like a big leap anymore. It felt like a logical step. So, with a sigh of relief, you agreed.

Living Together

The transition to living together was smoother than you expected. You slowly brought in a few of your things, mostly clothes, some books, and a few personal mementos. Spencer had insisted on helping you rearrange the guest bedroom to make it more comfortable, though you mostly ended up sharing his room. His apartment, for all its quiet, neatness, had always felt a little impersonal—a place to sleep, a place to work. But now, with your things scattered around, it felt… like home.

The first week was awkward in some ways, but those little things that had once been awkward became comforting. Like how you both gravitated toward the kitchen to cook together or how Spencer would leave a cup of coffee on the counter for you, even though he knew you’d be up hours before him. There was the gentle hum of everyday life—the kind of life you hadn’t expected to build with anyone.

As the weeks went by, there were still moments when you caught each other’s eyes, the depth of your connection reflected in the soft gaze you exchanged. Spencer was still Spencer—quirky, brilliant, and occasionally awkward—but now, there was something more. Something comforting. Something real.

The BAU's Subtle Observations

It started with a few casual glances. A look exchanged when you thought no one was watching. Spencer offering you a small, private smile after a long day. Nothing overt, nothing that would raise suspicion… or so you thought. But of course, you weren’t fooling anyone.

It was a Tuesday morning when Emily Prentiss, ever perceptive, first noticed the change.

You were at the FBI field office, surrounded by your team, sorting through case files and preparing for a briefing. Spencer was deep in conversation with Hotch, his voice low and focused, but every time you passed him to grab a file, he would offer you a look—an expression of something deeper than just professional respect.

Emily raised an eyebrow, watching the exchange. You didn’t think she caught it, but you were wrong.

After the briefing, as the team dispersed to prep for the next part of the case, Emily approached you casually, her voice light but her eyes sharp.

“Everything okay between you and Spencer?” she asked, a small, knowing smirk on her face.

You stiffened, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, why?"

Emily shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a glint of amusement in her gaze. "I don’t know, just seems like you two have... chemistry." She paused, leaning in as if to whisper. "I mean, more than usual. Like… special chemistry."

Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t hide the flush creeping up your neck. “We’re just… working together, Em. You know how it is.”

Emily didn’t press any further, but she wasn’t buying it. She gave you one last look—a blend of curiosity and something close to satisfaction—before moving away.

Derek’s Unsubtle Observations

The next person to pick up on it was Derek Morgan. Of course, Derek. He had a way of reading people, of catching little things that others missed. And Spencer, despite his usual oblivion, wasn’t immune to Derek’s sharp eyes.

It was during a case briefing that Derek shot you an exaggerated grin from across the table. You felt a little off balance as he did, glancing over at Spencer who, of course, seemed blissfully unaware—head down, focused on the whiteboard.

When Derek caught your eye again, he leaned toward you, his voice lowered just enough that no one else could hear.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Reid. He’s definitely been… extra concerned about you lately.”

You froze, trying to remain casual, but Derek wasn’t having it.

“Extra careful, extra protective,” Derek continued, a grin tugging at his lips. "I mean, I can’t blame him. But it’s cute, the way you two dance around it."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you kept your tone steady. “You’re reading too much into it, Derek. We’re just… working the case together.” You realized too late that saying the words out loud didn’t make it sound any more convincing.

Derek’s grin only widened. "Oh yeah? 'Cause it sure looks like you’re both trying really hard not to actually admit what’s going on here."

You shook your head, trying to laugh it off. “Drop it, Derek.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you say. Just don’t be surprised if the whole office catches on sooner or later.”

Hotch and JJ’s Quiet Knowing

By the end of the week, the rumors were practically brewing behind closed doors. Even Hotch had noticed. You had no idea how, but there was something in his eyes when he looked between you and Spencer—a hint of quiet awareness.

You were in the middle of a strategy session, with the entire team gathered in the conference room. Spencer and you were standing next to each other, closer than usual, both scanning a map for clues. When you turned to point something out to Spencer, his hand brushed yours, and it was the lightest of touches, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Hotch.

Later, as the team filed out, Hotch approached you with a quiet, almost fatherly tone.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “if you and Spencer are figuring things out, just be careful. This kind of thing... it can get complicated.”

Your heart sank. You hadn’t expected Hotch—of all people—to bring it up. But of course, he’d been around long enough to know how these things worked. He knew how the lines between work and personal life could blur, especially in an environment like this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said quickly, your voice a little too high-pitched to sound casual.

Hotch gave you a small, understanding nod. “Just remember what’s at stake. I trust both of you. But you need to be sure about what this is.”

You swallowed hard. “We’re just... getting to know each other, sir.”

Hotch didn’t press further, but his look lingered, as though he was waiting for you to come to him with the truth when you were ready.

When you walked out of the room, you saw JJ talking quietly with Emily and Derek, her eyes flicking between the two of you. You knew they were all trying to be respectful, giving you the space to sort things out. But there was no doubt in your mind now that the cat was out of the bag. They all knew.

The Unit's Observations

It wasn’t just the BAU team that was starting to piece together what was happening between you and Spencer. Your own unit had begun to notice, too—particularly when it came to your seemingly frequent visits to the BAU.

It was a Friday morning when the comments started. You had just wrapped up a case with your team and had come over to the BAU to debrief, a habit that had become almost routine since you and Spencer started spending more time together. It wasn’t unusual for you to drop by, but your colleagues had begun to raise eyebrows at how often you were around—and this time, they weren't going to let it slide.

A Casual Observation

You were sitting at your desk, chatting with a few agents from your unit about the latest case developments when one of your colleagues, Michelle, leaned against the back of your chair. She had a mischievous grin on her face, and you could tell something was coming.

"Y/N," Michelle said casually, her tone teasing, "I think I need to have a little chat with you."

You turned to look at her, pretending to look confused. "About what?"

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "About how you're always over at the BAU. And not just when you're assigned to a case with them." She paused, making it sound as casual as possible. "I mean, you’re like a permanent fixture over there now. Kind of makes a person wonder if you're spending more time with them than you are with us.”

The rest of your team, who had been quietly watching the exchange, shifted in their seats, clearly waiting for your response. You laughed nervously, trying to play it off.

“What can I say? I’m just a really good team player," you replied, your tone light. "We’ve got a great working relationship. You know how it is."

Michelle leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Uh-huh. A ‘working relationship.’ Sure. So, are you really just popping over there to discuss case files and not, you know, just hanging out with your ‘husband’ Reid?”

You froze, eyes widening slightly. You had thought you were being subtle, but apparently, you hadn’t been as stealthy as you’d hoped. You shot Michelle a mock glare.

“Really?” you said, trying to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks. “You’re going to start with that?”

Michelle just grinned. “You know, the team’s been talking. We’re not blind. Besides he is your “husband”, we’re just waiting for you to admit it.”

Before you could come up with a clever response, another colleague, Greg, chimed in, his tone light but unmistakably teasing.

“Yeah, Y/N, you’re always over there, like, even when you don’t have a case to work on. And when you do show up, you’re practically glued to Spencer’s side. We get it—he’s a great guy, but you don’t have to keep pretending you’re just there to consult. We can tell what's going on.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, though you tried to keep it under control. "You guys are crazy. There’s nothing going on."

But your colleagues weren’t buying it. They exchanged knowing looks, their grins widening.

“I don’t know,” Greg said, nudging Michelle playfully. “I think we’ve been more than patient. It’s time for Y/N to spill the beans. Don’t you think?”

Michelle gave you a sideways glance. “Seriously, Y/N, you can’t fool us anymore. We’ve all seen the way Spencer looks at you. And, well... you’re always there.”

You laughed awkwardly, realizing there was no point in denying it.

"Okay, okay," you relented with a sigh, finally conceding. "You got me. It’s not just casework. Spencer and I... we’ve been spending time together."

The team’s reaction was immediate. Greg, with his usual playful grin, said, "Well, it’s about time!" while Michelle gave you a satisfied smirk. “Told you, Y/N. We can spot a love story from a mile away.”

But it was when your unit chief, Captain Harris, finally spoke up that you knew it was all over. He had been quiet during the exchange, simply observing with his arms crossed.

“I’m not one for gossip," he said, his voice low but carrying a sense of humor that you hadn’t expected. "But I gotta say, you’ve been spending a lot of time with the BAU lately. If you’re gonna keep coming around here, at least bring us some donuts next time. You know, for your ‘official work-related visits.’”

The group erupted into laughter, and for the first time in days, you found yourself relaxing. They weren’t angry, just amused. Your unit might’ve been a little surprised by the news, but they had no problem with it.

The BAU’s Silent Understanding

Back at the BAU headquarters later that day, the air was thick with unsaid words. Spencer was caught up in a phone call with Penelope, and you found yourself sitting with Emily at the desk, both of you pretending to focus on paperwork while silently trying to decipher the elephant in the room.

“So,” Emily said, finally breaking the silence. “You and Spencer…?”

You tried not to flinch, trying to maintain a cool facade. “We’re fine, Em. Really.”

Emily’s eyes softened, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not going to push you. But... if you two are figuring it out, I just want you to know that we’re here for you. You don’t have to hide it.”

You glanced over at Spencer, still engrossed in his conversation, and your heart squeezed in your chest. Could you really keep this hidden? Could you keep him hidden? The bond you shared felt undeniable, and yet, the idea of anyone else knowing—of being out in the open—was terrifying.

“I know,” you said softly. “It’s just... we’re not sure yet. I don’t want to make things complicated for the team. For us.”

Emily nodded, her smile understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But trust me, no one’s going to judge you. If you and Spencer want to take this further, you just have to trust yourselves.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile, though inside, you weren’t as sure as you wanted to be. Everyone—your coworkers, the BAU—had started to catch on, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came spilling out.

The Unspoken Decision

That night, after the case had wrapped up, you found yourself alone with Spencer in the quiet of the bullpen. The weight of everything—the team’s observations, the unspoken tension, the growing closeness between you—was pressing down on you, making it hard to think clearly.

Spencer was typing something on his laptop, oblivious to your thoughts. You stood in the doorway of his office, watching him, feeling a strange mix of longing and uncertainty.

Finally, Spencer looked up, sensing your presence. His expression was open, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were feeling.

“We need to talk, don’t we?” he said quietly.

You nodded, taking a step toward him, your heart racing.

“I think we do.”

The Slow Unraveling

Over the next few weeks, the quiet buzz around you and Spencer only grew. The teams was trying to be subtle—too subtle—but it didn’t take much to realize that they knew. The way their eyes would flicker between you and Spencer, the little smirks, the awkward attempts to cover up knowing smiles. You and Spencer tried your best to act normal, but it felt like the world was watching.

You were in the bullpen, sorting through case files, when Spencer walked up behind you, his voice soft but steady. “You find what you need?”

His presence was always comforting, but you could feel it today—there was an unspoken electricity between the two of you. You’d been careful not to make it obvious, but everything had changed since that first kiss. The way you found yourself seeking his gaze. The way your heart skipped a beat whenever his hand brushed against yours.

You nodded absently, trying to focus on the task at hand. But when Spencer leaned over to grab a file, his shoulder brushed against yours, and you could feel your pulse quicken.

“I’ll check in with Penelope about the latest report,” Spencer said, his voice steady, but you could hear the underlying warmth in it.

You didn’t reply immediately. Instead, you let yourself feel the quiet, unspoken weight of the moment. Spencer was always careful with you, and for some reason, that mattered more than it ever had before.

“I’ll be right here,” you finally managed, turning back to your work, trying to act like you weren’t both navigating a minefield of what comes next.

Spencer paused for just a second longer than necessary, and then he was gone, his steps light but purposeful.

And you were left behind, quietly trembling in the wake of his presence.

Emily's Subtle Prodding

It wasn’t just Spencer who was making things harder for you to ignore. Emily had, by now, practically perfected the art of nonchalantly mentioning things you could never fully ignore.

“Y/N, I was thinking we could grab lunch after this,” Emily said, her voice casual, but there was something in her tone that made you pause. You raised an eyebrow, instinctively looking toward Spencer, who was still at the other end of the bullpen, typing something on his laptop.

Emily leaned in, her voice lowering to a more conspiratorial tone. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to give me a play-by-play of the Reid Chronicles,” she teased, though there was a glimmer of something else in her eyes. “But, you know, if you and Spencer want to talk about whatever this is—whatever you are—feel free to do it over lunch. I’m just here for the ride.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t realized how much the team was piecing together—especially Emily, who was always so astute.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said with a forced laugh, though even you could hear the falter in your voice.

Emily gave you a soft smile, her expression almost too knowing. “Right,” she said, the grin still lingering. “Just thought you might want someone to talk to.”

You met her gaze for a moment, something unspoken passing between the two of you. She knows, you thought. And maybe, everyone else did too.

You couldn't deny it anymore—things were no longer subtle. Emily’s knowing smile was only the beginning. The team had been dropping hints, making observations that were becoming harder to ignore. You could feel the weight of their knowing looks whenever you and Spencer exchanged a quiet glance or lingered a second too long in conversation. It was like living in a house with the walls closing in. No matter how much you tried to downplay it, the quiet buzz was building, and soon enough, it was going to explode.

The Teasing Begins

Of course, it was Derek who noticed first. He was never one to miss anything, and the way he watched the two of you in the bullpen, you could tell he had put two and two together. It was the way Spencer had kept glancing at you—his gaze filled with something new, something unspoken. The way you two had been spending more time together lately, working late into the evening, sharing quiet moments that didn’t go unnoticed.

It all came to a head one morning during a case briefing. Spencer was scribbling equations and notes on the whiteboard, and you were at the table, trying to stay focused. But Derek was looking at the two of you with that mischievous grin on his face, clearly enjoying whatever he had figured out.

"Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Reid," Derek said, his voice laced with teasing, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "You’ve been... extra attentive to Y/N lately. Extra careful, extra protective."

"Yeah," Derek continued, turning to you. "I can see the way you two look at each other. It’s like you’re trying real hard to pretend you’re not a thing."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "Derek, it’s not like that," you said, trying to deflect.

"Oh, come on," Derek said, his grin widening. "You’ve been hanging out a lot more, spending all this time together... and don’t get me started on how you two finish each other’s sentences."

"What are you talking about, Derek?" Spencer asked, clearly oblivious to what Derek was implying.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You two are too cute for your own good. And I’ve got to say, it’s about time."

You groaned inwardly, glancing at Spencer again. The last thing you needed was for the whole team to catch on.

Before you could respond, Derek added with a wink, "Just make sure you two don’t get too distracted on the next case, alright? We all need you sharp, not distracted by how adorable you are together."

Hotch’s Proposition

It didn’t take long for Hotch to catch wind of the situation. He was always observant, always reading between the lines, and you had a feeling he knew something was going on with you and Spencer.

One afternoon, when the case was on hold for a moment, Hotch asked you to step into his office.

"Y/N," Hotch began, closing the door behind you. He seemed unusually serious. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

You gave a quick nod, trying not to let the nervous energy in your chest show. "Sure, Hotch. What’s up?"

"I’ve noticed you’ve been around more often," he said. "Not just on cases, but in general. Whether it's to consult or to visit Spencer, you’re practically a regular. This way, it’ll just be… more convenient. You’ll have access to all the resources here, and we can stop pretending that you’re not already basically a member of the team." Hotch shrugged, his smirk widening.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his bluntness. You appreciated his directness, and in a way, his offer felt like the culmination of everything that had already been happening. You had spent more time with the BAU than any outsider in recent memory, and not just for casework.

"I’m guessing this means you don’t mind having me around permanently?" you teased, half-expecting Hotch to shut down the joke.

But Hotch surprised you again, his smile turning more genuine. "You’re one of the best agents I’ve seen, Y/N. That’s why I’m offering you a permanent spot. We could use someone like you."

You felt a rush of pride at his words, but you also felt the weight of the decision. Joining the BAU wasn’t just a job—it was a life choice. Spencer and you had already crossed the threshold from colleagues to spouses. If you took this step, there was no going back.

"Let me think about it, Hotch," you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

"Take your time, you’ve got a lot to think about." he said with a small nod, his expression softening. "I just wanted to make sure you knew the offer was on the table, we’re all in this together. And I think Spencer would be happy to have you stay—officially, but don’t take too long. I think Spencer might be getting jealous of how much time you spend here."

You nodded slowly, feeling a weight settle in your chest. "I’ll think about it,” then chucked, “and I’ll be sure to tell him to keep his distance," you said, only half-joking.

Hotch’s smile was almost affectionate as he waved you off. "Good. Because if he keeps showing up to work with a take-out coffee for you, we’re going to have to have another conversation."

The Decision: Joining the BAU

A week later, you found yourself walking into Hotch’s office once again, this time with an answer. Spencer had teased you endlessly about your long deliberations, but you had already made up your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the right step for both your career and your relationship.

"I’ve thought about it," you said, standing in the doorway of Hotch’s office. "I’m in. I’ll transfer into the BAU. Just… don’t regret it."

Hotch looked pleased, but he gave you a knowing look. "Regret? Not a chance. Welcome to the team."

And with that, your new chapter truly began.

The Turning Point

Another week had gone by and you and Spencer were working late again. The case had been closed for hours, the team long gone by now, but you both had stayed behind to tie up loose ends. The quiet felt different now—calm, but charged with the weight of unspoken things. Spencer had just finished his report and was gathering his things when you caught his eye.

"You want to talk about it?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer hesitated for just a moment, his fingers frozen over the edge of his laptop. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, and for the first time in days, you saw the hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"I don’t think we can keep pretending that nothing’s happening," he said quietly, voice low but certain.

You felt your heart race. You had been trying to be so careful, so mindful of not making things too real too soon. But now, standing there with Spencer, the weight of everything between you finally felt like something worth acknowledging.

"I don’t want to lie anymore," you admitted. "Not to them. Not to ourselves."

Spencer’s lips curled into a small smile—tender, like a promise. "Me neither."

And just like that, in the quiet of the bullpen, the truth hung between you. You weren’t just figuring it out. You knew.

Telling the Team

The next day, after a brief but tense conversation with Spencer, you decided it was time to tell the team. It had to happen. There was no denying it anymore—they had figured it out long ago, and trying to keep it under wraps felt like an act of avoidance. It was time to own it.

You and Spencer had agreed that this would be a joint decision. It wasn’t just about you anymore—it was about both of you, navigating a new chapter in front of people you respected and trusted.

At the end of the day, as the team gathered in the break room to grab a quick bite before the next round of interviews, you stood by the door with Spencer, exchanging a glance.

"Do you think we’re ready for this?" you asked him softly.

He nodded, a small but sure gesture. "We’ve been ready since that first case."

You smiled and then walked into the room, feeling the team’s eyes immediately flicker to you both. The silence was almost oppressive as you and Spencer shared one last, unspoken look before you took a breath and spoke.

"Listen, guys…" you began, your voice steady but filled with the truth. "Spencer and I… we’ve been, well, figuring some things out. And I guess it’s time you knew—we’re together. Officially."

The room was still for a moment, and then Derek broke into a wide grin, clapping Spencer on the back. "Finally!" he exclaimed, clearly delighted. "Took you two long enough."

JJ and Emily exchanged knowing looks, while Hotch’s expression remained neutral, though there was a small flicker of approval in his eyes. Penelope practically bounced in her seat.

"I knew it!" Penelope exclaimed, grinning. "The lovebirds finally came clean!"

You and Spencer exchanged a quiet laugh at the chaos, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as the team erupted into laughter and teasing. It wasn’t just about the case anymore. It was about the two of you, and you had no idea what the future held—but you were both ready to face it, together.

A Real Beginning

The days following your confession to the team were a whirlwind of adjustments. There was no more hiding between the lines or pretending that nothing had changed. Now that everyone knew, you and Spencer could finally breathe—and, more importantly, finally be.

The Subtle Shift: Something More

The team was thrilled, though their reactions were a mix of teasing and support. Derek had joked about needing to buy wedding gifts, and Emily kept giving you knowing winks whenever Spencer was around. But beneath it all, there was a sense of ease that settled over the group—a sense of understanding that allowed you and Spencer to stop hiding, to stop pretending.

The strangest thing was how quickly your relationship settled into something more. What had started as an arrangement born of circumstance and convenience slowly, almost imperceptibly, turned into something deeper. The quiet moments shared in the hallways, the soft touches that were no longer brushed off as incidental, the steady, almost intimate communication that felt like second nature now.

There was the evening when Spencer came to your apartment after a long day of casework. You were both exhausted, but he’d insisted on making you dinner. He had done this before—he’d made you pasta, insisting that it was the "quickest recipe I know," only to end up with a kitchen disaster that both of you found hilarious. This time, though, it was different. The food was actually good, and there was no need for any laughing off awkwardness.

As you sat down to eat, Spencer caught your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You know," he said softly, "I think we’re… actually pretty good at this. The not-pretending part."

You raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised by his bluntness. "You mean being married?"

Spencer’s expression softened. "Yeah. That."

You chewed on your lip for a second, looking at him from across the table. The way he’d said it, with such quiet sincerity, made your heart ache in a way that was becoming more and more familiar. Spencer wasn’t just your husband by law anymore. He was someone you needed, someone you wanted, in ways that went beyond the comfort of knowing him as a colleague.

"I don’t know what this is, Spencer," you admitted, feeling a bit vulnerable in the quiet of the evening, "but I think it’s something real. Something I didn’t expect."

He smiled—a slow, warm smile that made your chest tighten. "I think I’d like to see where it goes. Together."

And that was when you both realized that the line between work and personal had faded. You were no longer just co-workers trying to make the best of an unexpected situation. You were… something more.

The Proposal As the weeks passed, life with the BAU began to feel like the new normal. Your official transfer had gone through without fanfare, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The dynamics of the team hadn’t changed—they were still as close-knit and unpredictable as ever—but now, there was a certain comfort in the way you and Spencer moved through the day. There was no need to keep your distance, no need to hide in the shadows or keep your relationship a secret. You were married. And, as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that your bond wasn’t just about paperwork—it was about something deeper, something more permanent.

Work was busy, as always, but there was a rhythm to your days now. Spencer, ever the brilliant mind, worked alongside you seamlessly, your roles in cases complementing each other. The team continued to tease you both, of course, but it was all lighthearted, filled with the camaraderie you had long come to expect. They had known the truth for some time, but now it was something everyone could openly acknowledge—without the lingering tension that had once colored those moments. Every stolen glance, every brush of hands, was no longer something you had to hide. It was something you could share with them, as well as with each other.

Yet, despite the ease of these days, there was an unspoken weight between you and Spencer—an unresolved feeling that neither of you had fully addressed. You’d already tied the knot in a way that felt true, but there was still something more, something unspoken that lingered in the quiet moments you shared. It wasn’t about a grand gesture or a fancy ceremony—it was about the commitment, the promise you had made to one another, in the simplest and most profound way. But Spencer was never one to leave things unsaid for long.

It all started with a case. Well, several cases, but one, in particular, brought you closer to Spencer Reid than you'd ever imagined. You had worked together on many investigations before, but this one was different. The case was grueling, and you had been called in to help, as usual. Your skillset and unique perspective had proven valuable to the team, and you had spent many late nights alongside Spencer, working through the complexities of the investigation.

One of those nights, after the rest of the team had gone home, you found yourself in the bullpen with Spencer, still poring over case files. The atmosphere in the office was quiet, almost intimate in the way you two moved around each other without saying much, both absorbed in the work.

Then, unexpectedly, Spencer stopped what he was doing and looked up at you.

"Y/N," he began, his voice tentative, "can I ask you something?"

You turned toward him, still absorbed in your own thoughts but curious at the change in his demeanor. Spencer’s gaze was intense, but it held something new, something vulnerable.

"Sure," you replied, wondering what was going on in that head of his.

Spencer hesitated for a long moment before speaking again, his words coming out in a rush. "Would you... would you marry me?"

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, you just stared at him, blinking in disbelief. "What?"

He immediately regretted it. You could see it in his face as he stammered, "I mean, not like marry me, marry me, but... it just seemed like the simplest way to... well, to say it."

"Say what?" you asked, trying to make sense of his jumble of words.

Spencer flushed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. I just—I thought... we’ve been working together so much, and I feel like we get each other, and—"

It clicked. You knew exactly what he meant. You’d felt it too—the late-night talks, the comfortable silences, the connection that had been there all along, unspoken, lingering in the air between the two of you.

You smiled softly, your voice quiet but warm. "Okay. I’ll marry you."

A Simple Wedding

The wedding that followed was everything you both wanted: small, intimate, and full of love. No big ceremony, just the team gathered around you in a quiet chapel, smiling and congratulating you. Spencer, dressed in a suit, looked more handsome than you had ever seen him. You, in a simple but elegant dress, felt like the luckiest person alive.

The vows were short but meaningful, exchanged between only the two of you, as your team stood by your side. No formal speeches, no extravagant rituals. Just love, spoken in simple words.

“I vow to always listen, always be there, and to love you, in all the ways that I can, for as long as I can,” Spencer said, his voice quiet but steady.

You smiled, your own vows coming out as you held his hand tightly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I vow to stand by you, through everything, and to love you in all the small moments as much as the big ones. I promise to always choose you, every single day.”

And as you walked out of the chapel hand-in-hand, you knew this was only the beginning.

No more secrets. No more pretending. Just the future you had always hoped for, finally in your grasp.

The day of the wedding arrived—quiet, intimate, and beautiful. No huge fanfare, just the people who mattered most: your closest friends, the team. Derek was there, teasing you both just as he always did, while Emily and JJ shared warm, knowing smiles. Penelope dabbed at her eyes, trying to hide her tears, and Hotch gave the kind of approving nod that you knew came from a place of true warmth.

The ceremony itself was simple—held in a small chapel, surrounded by the team, who had supported you both through the hardest and best of times. Spencer stood beside you, his hands slightly trembling as you exchanged vows.

When the officiant pronounced you both married, you kissed Spencer again—this time, without hesitation. The kiss was filled with everything you had been through together, and everything that was still to come.

The Future

Later, as you walked out of the chapel, hand-in-hand, Spencer leaned toward you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad we did this,” he said, his hand tightening around yours.

“Me too,” you replied softly, resting your head on his shoulder. Together, you stepped out into the future, finally knowing that it wasn’t just about the wedding—it was about the life you would build together.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x yn #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds series #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagines

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wonyowonyo · 10 hours ago

Text

Whispers Through Time (P. Hanni X M! Reader)

Guess who's back, it's none other than your ghosting author wonyo! Firstly, I'd like to apologize for my very long absence as life have just been too much of a bitch for me to have the time write. I can't certainly promise to update more in the future as I only have a week break right now, which is why I was able to write a new fic. This one's about 9k words, my longest? yet, so as always I hope you all enjoy this one and I'll see yall when I see ya.

The day had started like any other. Hanni strolled through the historic district, earbuds in, a soft breeze carrying the scent of aged stone and street vendors' offerings. She wasn’t quite sure what drew her into the small, dusty museum on the corner. Something about the old sign, its letters faded with time, beckoned her inside.

As she wandered past glass cases filled with relics—muskets, uniforms, yellowed parchments—her eyes landed on an antique pendant, its silver surface engraved with intricate symbols. She leaned closer, feeling an inexplicable pull.

“That belonged to an unknown revolutionary,” said an elderly curator, appearing beside her. His voice was soft, almost reverent. “No one knows his name, but legend has it he wore this during the final days of the rebellion.”

Hanni reached out, almost without thinking. Her fingertips brushed the glass, and a sudden rush of energy surged through her. The room seemed to spin, the walls melting into a blur of light and shadow. She gasped, stumbling backward—

And then, everything went dark.

————————————————————

When Hanni’s eyes fluttered open, the air was thick with smoke. Shouts echoed around her, mingling with the sharp crack of musket fire. She coughed, struggling to her feet, her heart pounding.

She wasn’t in the museum anymore.

Cobblestone streets stretched before her, lined with ramshackle buildings. People in period clothing—mud-smeared skirts, patched waistcoats—ran past, their faces twisted in fear or fury.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, but the acrid sting of gunpowder in her nostrils said otherwise.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her arm. She spun around to find a young man, his dark eyes fierce beneath a tricorn hat. “You there! What are you doing out in the open?” he hissed, pulling her into a shadowy alley.

“I—I don’t know,” Hanni stammered, heart racing. “Where am I?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not from around here, are you? This is no place for a lost soul.” His voice softened slightly, though the urgency remained. “Come. We need to get off the streets. The Redcoats are out in force.”

Hanni followed him deeper into the alley, her mind a whirlwind. The dim passage was narrow, the sounds of chaos fading as they moved.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced back, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can call me Y/n.”

————————————————————

Hanni followed Y/n through a maze of twisting alleys, her heart hammering in her chest. Every echo of musket fire or distant shout sent shivers down her spine. The air was thick with tension, the kind of fear and resolve that seemed to hang over the entire city.

Finally, Y/n stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door, its surface worn and weathered. He knocked three times in a specific rhythm. After a moment, the door creaked open, and a pair of wary eyes peered out.

"Another stray?" the man behind the door muttered, his voice gruff. He was older, with a scar running down one side of his face.

"She was wandering in the streets," Y/n replied, pushing the door open further. "We couldn't leave her out there."

The man sighed but stepped aside, letting them in. Hanni followed Y/n into the dimly lit room. It was small and crowded, with a handful of people huddled around a makeshift table, their faces lined with exhaustion. Maps and documents were spread out before them, illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle.

"Stay here," Y/n whispered, guiding her to a corner. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

Hanni nodded, sinking onto a tattered blanket. The reality of her situation was starting to sink in. This wasn't a dream. She had somehow been transported back in time, into the heart of a revolution. She watched as Y/n joined the others at the table, his expression serious as they spoke in hushed tones.

For a moment, she just observed him. There was a quiet intensity about him, a determination that seemed to burn beneath the surface. His clothes were worn, his face smudged with dirt, but his eyes—deep and fierce—were filled with a kind of resolve she'd never seen before.

————————————————————

After what felt like hours, Y/n returned to her corner, sinking down beside her. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but his eyes were sharp and watchful.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with tension.

Hanni nodded. "I... think so. I still don't understand how I got here."

Y/n studied her for a long moment, his gaze narrowing. "You keep saying that. What do you mean you don't know?" His tone was laced with suspicion now.

She hesitated. "It's... complicated. I come from a different time. A different world."

His eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly, as if she might be dangerous. "What are you talking about? Is this some kind of trick?" His voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of a few others in the room.

"No!" she whispered urgently, glancing around. "I know it sounds impossible, but it’s the truth. I was... in a museum, looking at an old artifact, and then... I woke up here."

Y/n's brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. "A museum? What kind of nonsense is that? You expect me to believe you came from... the future?"

Hanni swallowed hard. "Yes. I know how it sounds, but I swear, it’s true."

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed bitterly. "People are risking their lives out there, and you think this is a game? Some story to entertain us?"

"It’s not a story!" Hanni insisted, her voice breaking. "I don’t know how or why, but I was pulled here. Into your time. I don’t belong here."

Y/n shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. "I’ve seen men lose their minds in this war. Desperation makes people say all kinds of things. But this...?" He stood abruptly, pacing. "You expect me to believe you’re some kind of... time traveler?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I don’t know why I’m here, but... I think maybe it’s to help. To change something. Maybe even to help you."

He stopped, his gaze fixed on her. "Help me? How could you possibly help?" His voice was low, almost a whisper now, but the doubt was clear.

"Because I’ve seen how history unfolds," she said, her voice trembling. "I know what revolutions can become. What people like you can achieve."

For a moment, Y/n just stared at her, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. "If you’re lying... it could cost lives."

"I’m not," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please. Just trust me."

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging between them. Y/n's expression was still guarded, but there was something else now—a flicker of uncertainty, of hope.

"Then prove it," he said finally. "Show me something. Anything that could make me believe you."

Hanni’s heart raced. She had no idea how to prove what she was saying. But she knew one thing for certain: she had to make him believe.

————————————————————

Hanni’s mind raced, searching for something—anything—that would convince Y/n she was telling the truth. She opened her bag, still miraculously slung across her shoulder, and rifled through its contents. Amidst old receipts and a water bottle, she pulled out her smartphone.

Y/n's eyes narrowed. "What's that?" His voice was tight, wary.

"It’s… a device from my time," Hanni said, holding it out cautiously. She pressed the power button, but nothing happened—the battery had died. Her heart sank.

"It doesn’t even work," Y/n muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. He turned away, his shoulders rigid with frustration. "You’re wasting our time."

"Wait!" Hanni pleaded. "Even if it doesn’t work now, it’s real. Look at it—it’s made of materials you don’t have here. It has no seams, no screws. I can’t explain everything, but… you have to believe me."

Y/n hesitated, reaching out to touch the device. His fingers traced the smooth glass screen, his brow furrowing. "It’s… unlike anything I’ve seen," he admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. "But that doesn’t mean you’re from another time."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "What will it take, Y/n? I didn’t choose this. I’m scared, just like you."

The raw emotion in her voice seemed to reach him. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, the doubt wavered. "If what you say is true," he said slowly, "then why are you here? Why now?"

Hanni shook her head. "I don’t know. Maybe… maybe to help you. Maybe to change something."

Y/n’s eyes darkened. "Change what? We’re fighting a losing battle, Hanni. Every day, we lose more people. Hope is a dangerous thing here."

"But it’s all you have," she whispered, stepping closer. "You have to believe there’s a future worth fighting for."

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the tension between them shifted. The room seemed to shrink around them, the sounds of the rebellion fading into the background.

"You speak like someone who knows what we’re fighting for," Y/n said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you don't know our pain."

"I know courage," Hanni replied, her voice steady. "I see it in you. In all of you. And I know that what you’re doing matters."

Y/n’s expression softened, the walls he had built around himself beginning to crack. "You really believe that?"

"I do," she whispered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Y/n nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. "I don’t know if I believe your story," he said finally, his voice low. "But I believe in you."

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them—a fragile connection forged in the chaos of war.

————————————————————

The days passed like they were suspended in time, quiet moments broken only by the distant sounds of musket fire or the hushed whispers of rebels making plans. Hanni found herself swept deeper into the daily life of the revolution, but it wasn’t just the work that kept her there. It was the people. The people, and him—Y/n.

At first, it was the small things. He would catch her eye across the room and offer a slight nod of acknowledgment. There were moments when he would pause, as if considering saying something, but would always retreat back into himself, slipping into the shadows like he had before.

But each time, Hanni noticed. And slowly, his distant manner softened, though she could never quite understand why.

Her days were spent helping wherever she could. She learned how to prepare simple meals with the limited supplies they had—using techniques she never thought she’d need to know. When rebels returned from the front lines, bloodied and tired, she assisted in patching wounds and soothing the pain as best as she could with the little medicine they had. The acts were small, but the trust the rebels placed in her gave her a sense of purpose she hadn't expected.

Y/n, too, would linger on the outskirts, watching her in quiet contemplation. He would never ask her to do anything, but there was a silent appreciation in the way he observed her, a sense of something building just beneath the surface. Sometimes, he would glance her way, his expression unreadable, as though he was trying to piece something together.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her, not just with his eyes but with something deeper, something more searching.

And yet, every time she saw him, Hanni was reminded of the truth she had buried deep in her mind. This wasn’t her world. These weren’t her people. And no matter how strong her connection with Y/n felt in the moment, it was all doomed to end the second she returned to her time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him—it was the opposite. The more she saw of him, the more she understood his burdens, the more she felt for him, the more she realized how dangerous it was to get involved with someone in this time. How could she love someone who would never truly know her, who would never understand the world she came from?

Y/n’s life was a war. His fight was for something that might never be realized, something that could be extinguished by the very forces he fought against. What could she give him, knowing she didn’t belong here, knowing that every action she took would only alter their fate?

Her thoughts were spiraling when she found herself once again standing alone by the window of the safe house, staring out into the dark, wondering about the future.

She wasn’t even sure if she could call it "home" anymore. The longer she stayed, the more she learned, and the more she felt like she was betraying the very people who had taken her in. And Y/n—Y/n made everything feel more complicated.

It wasn’t fair to him. She was a ghost in his world, and she couldn’t even promise him a future. She’d always known she’d have to leave—whether she figured out how to go home or simply faded out of their history entirely. But the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. It was only a matter of time.

Y/n found her there, his footsteps quiet on the stone floor. He said nothing at first, simply stood beside her, gazing out at the same starry sky that stretched endlessly above them.

Finally, it was Hanni who broke the silence. "You’re always so quiet," she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the question. "Don’t you ever get tired of keeping everything inside?"

Y/n’s eyes shifted to her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he masked it with that same distant expression. He didn’t speak at first. Instead, he looked down at his hands, turning them over in his lap, as if weighing her words carefully.

"It’s easier that way," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. "If you don’t say anything, they can’t use it against you. If you don’t let anyone in..." His words trailed off, and he fell into silence again.

Hanni wanted to say something, to offer some comfort, but she found herself too tangled in her own thoughts. There was something about him, something in his sadness that mirrored her own confusion. She wanted to understand him, to help him bear his burden, but the more she understood, the more complicated it became.

"Is it... that bad?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him. "The fighting, I mean. The way you’re always running, always looking over your shoulder?"

Y/n’s jaw clenched at her question, and for a moment, it seemed like he might shut down completely. But instead, he spoke again, though it was with a far-off look in his eyes—a look that seemed to carry years of loss, of moments he couldn’t forget.

"It’s not just the fighting," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. "It’s the loss. It’s losing people, watching them fall one by one and knowing you couldn’t do enough. And it’s the guilt." His eyes met hers for the first time in what felt like forever, and there was a vulnerability there, raw and painful. "That’s what it is. The guilt. Because you can never do enough."

The weight of his words hit Hanni harder than she anticipated. She hadn’t been prepared for this side of him, the one he kept hidden beneath the steely resolve. There was so much pain, so much history she could never fully understand, no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart ached at the thought of the sacrifices he’d made, the endless battles he fought, and the people he had lost. But it wasn’t just sympathy she felt. It was a connection—a longing to help him, to take away some of that burden.

She stepped closer to him, her hand gently resting on his arm. "You don’t have to carry all of this alone," she murmured, her voice tender. "I’m here. I know it’s not much, but I’ll be here for you. If you need to talk, or just... have someone listen."

Y/n looked at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment. She could see the hesitation in him, as if he were unsure whether to accept her offer or push her away. But in the end, he didn’t pull back. He let her hand stay there.

Hanni didn’t know what else to say, so she simply stood there with him, offering him the silent support he didn’t know he needed. She wasn’t sure what would come next—whether he would open up or retreat even further into himself—but for now, she was content to simply be there, offering whatever comfort she could.

After a long pause, Y/n finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Hanni. I... I didn’t expect this. But it means more than I can say."

She gave him a small smile, her heart feeling lighter. "It’s nothing. You’ve been through so much, and I... I don’t know how to help, but I want to try."

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of the night around them. And in that silence, they shared something unspoken—a brief moment of understanding, of connection, where the world outside seemed to fade away.

Y/n stood up slowly, as if considering his next words carefully. He didn’t speak, but there was a softness in his gaze as he looked down at her. Without saying anything more, he reached out, giving her a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder before turning back toward the door.

"Rest," he said quietly. "We have a long road ahead."

As he left, Hanni lingered by the window, looking out at the stars, a quiet ache in her chest. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, for them, but in that moment, she knew one thing—she would stand by him, no matter what came next.

————————————————————

The safe house was quiet, save for the soft rustling of fabric as rebels settled in for the night. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, the warm glow offering a sense of fragile peace in a world that had long forgotten calm.

Hanni sat alone in the corner, her knees tucked up to her chest, gazing into the dying flames of the hearth. Thoughts swirled in her mind, all tangled up in the confusing mess of her emotions. The more time she spent with Y/n, the harder it became to ignore the deepening bond between them.

She couldn’t lie to herself. She cared for him—perhaps more than she was willing to admit. But that didn’t change the fact that she was from the future, a stranger in this time. How could she possibly belong here, in a world she didn’t understand, with someone who could never understand her?

And yet, in moments like these—when the world outside was chaos and the people around her were fighting for survival—Hanni found herself leaning into something she hadn’t expected: connection.

Y/n had become something more than just a revolutionary leader to her. He was a person—a person with fears and dreams, someone who wore his pain on his sleeve when no one was looking. There was so much she wanted to ask him, to know about his past, his life before the rebellion. But she also understood that there were things he could never say. Some scars went too deep to be shared so easily.

The sound of soft footsteps broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find Y/n standing in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the darkness beyond.

"You’re still awake," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

Hanni nodded, offering him a small, uncertain smile. "Just thinking," she said quietly. "It’s hard to sleep sometimes, with everything that’s going on."

Y/n didn’t reply immediately, stepping further into the room and sitting across from her. His gaze was soft but intense, studying her as though trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression.

"You’re still thinking about everything, aren’t you?" His words weren’t accusatory. They were simply a statement of fact.

Hanni hesitated, then sighed, pulling her knees closer. "I don’t know how to stop. This place, this time... it feels like I’m caught between two worlds. One that I don’t belong to anymore, and one that I can’t quite seem to find my way into."

There was a long pause before Y/n spoke again, his voice quiet but warm, as if he understood the weight of her words in a way that no one else could. "I know how you feel. Being stuck between two places. Torn between your past and your future."

Hanni’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if he meant it in the way she thought, or if it was just a way to connect. Either way, it felt like an opening—an invitation to say more, to let him in.

"I didn’t think it would be like this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t think I’d get attached. To you, to all of this. But I have. I’ve seen how you lead, how you fight. How much you care. And I’ve started caring, too. But I can’t..." She faltered, shaking her head, as if the words weren’t enough to express the conflicting emotions inside of her. "I can’t be the person you need, not when I’m from a world you can never know."

Y/n’s expression shifted then, his gaze softening with understanding. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes not leaving hers. "I don’t need you to be anything but yourself," he said, his voice sincere, as if the weight of his words carried more than just a comforting gesture. "I’ve been through a lot, Hanni. And I know what it’s like to feel like you're an outsider. But here, with us... you’ve already become part of something bigger. Part of the fight. And no matter where you came from, that means something."

Hanni’s chest tightened at his words. The weight of them settled over her like a warm blanket, but it also felt heavy, because she knew that soon, she would have to leave. Her time here, however much it felt like home, was not real. It couldn’t be real. Not in the way she wanted it to be.

And yet, she couldn’t help but feel an undeniable pull toward him. Y/n had been her anchor in this strange world, offering her moments of comfort when all she could do was stand on the sidelines and watch as history unfolded around her.

"Thank you," Hanni said softly, her voice almost cracking. "For saying that. It means more than you know."

Y/n’s eyes met hers, and for the briefest of moments, the room seemed to fall away. There were no sounds of rebellion, no distant gunshots, no whispering fears about the future. There was only this—this quiet moment where they both understood what was unsaid.

Y/n’s hand reached out then, resting lightly on hers. It was a simple gesture, but to Hanni, it felt like an unspoken promise. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if she’d ever see him again once she left, but in that moment, with the quiet hum of the world around them, she allowed herself to be present. To be there for him. And to let him be there for her.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them slowly easing. As the night deepened, Y/n stood up and extended his hand toward her, a small, wry smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You’ve been working hard. You deserve a rest."

Hanni looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with unspoken words. But she nodded, accepting his gesture without hesitation. She didn’t need to say anything. They didn’t need words to understand each other right now.

Instead, they stepped outside into the cool night air, where the stars hung like tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of the sky. The quiet of the world felt different here—softer, as if the very earth itself was holding its breath.

Y/n’s hand brushed against hers as they walked side by side, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They stopped for a moment, standing under the canopy of stars, each of them lost in their thoughts, but also somehow connected in that quiet solitude.

"This is freedom, isn’t it?" Hanni asked, her voice barely audible, but steady. "The kind you’re fighting for."

Y/n looked up at the stars for a long moment, his eyes reflecting the distant light. "Maybe," he murmured. "Freedom isn’t always about what’s out there—it’s about what we can hold onto, what we believe in, even when everything seems impossible."

Hanni nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. It was something she had been struggling to understand for days, ever since she arrived. Freedom wasn’t just about returning to her time, to her world—it was about what she could give in the here and now, even if it meant staying with him, with them, for as long as she could.

Y/n turned to her then, his eyes softer than they had been before. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time since arriving in this strange, violent era, Hanni allowed herself to believe him. Not because she was sure of the outcome—but because, right then, in that moment, it felt true.

They stood there for a while longer, side by side, under the vast, starry sky. The night was still, but the air between them was charged—full of the unspoken things they both needed but hadn’t yet found the words to express.

For a moment, Hanni forgot the distance between their worlds. She only knew the quiet comfort of his presence, and the strange but undeniable peace of the moment they were sharing.

————————————————————

The days seemed to stretch into one another, a mix of quiet moments and heavy responsibilities. Time, it seemed, was a constant weight pressing down on Hanni. Each passing day brought them closer to an inevitable confrontation with the colonial authorities, and Y/n’s position within the movement was more precarious than ever.

Hanni had long known that Y/n was a target for the regime. His intellect, his strategies, his speeches—everything about him made him a threat. The more she became involved with the rebels, the more she realized just how dangerous it was for him. But she never anticipated how deeply his fate would intertwine with her own, nor how much she would come to care for him.

Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be consumed by these feelings—not when she was from the future. She had seen the records, she had lived with the knowledge of how it all played out. Y/n’s rebellion, the bloodshed, the eventual collapse—she had witnessed it from afar in her own time. She knew his future in a way that no one else could.

And the thing was, she wasn’t sure how much of it she could change.

It was late one evening, after a long day of tending to the wounded and helping prepare supplies for the next battle, that Y/n found her alone in the corner of the safe house. She had been trying to make sense of everything—the war, the lives at stake, and her own internal conflict.

He stood silently for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. "We’re running out of time, Hanni."

Her heart sank. She had known this conversation was coming. She had felt it in the air, in the way everyone seemed to move more urgently, more carefully, as if aware that danger was circling them.

"I know," she said, looking up at him. She forced a calmness into her voice, but inside, her heart was beating faster than ever. "What are you planning?"

Y/n sat down across from her, his expression hard, but with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "We can’t wait any longer. The authorities are closing in. The others are preparing to flee the city, but I can’t just leave the cause behind." His words were filled with resolve, but Hanni could hear the strain in his voice. He was worn down, his mind heavy with the weight of leadership and the knowledge that his own death was becoming inevitable.

Her throat tightened. She already knew what he was planning—he was going to make himself a target, sacrifice himself for the cause. He had been so sure of it, even before she’d come into his life, even before they’d shared the quiet moments they now had. He had already made peace with the idea of dying for freedom, for the revolution.

And that was the problem.

Hanni had spent days, weeks, torn between what she knew of the future and what she wanted to do to save him. She couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t. Not when she knew the kind of impact he would have, the hope he would inspire, the lives that could be changed if he just survived a little longer.

But changing history wasn’t as simple as saving one person. The future—her future—was fragile. She had seen what happened when people interfered with time. The consequences were often unpredictable, violent. What if changing Y/n’s fate meant altering everything she knew, everything that had shaped the future she came from?

She struggled to keep the doubt out of her voice. "You’re not making this decision alone, Y/n. If you leave now, if you go alone, you’re not just risking your life—you’re risking everything we’ve fought for."

"I know," he said quietly. "But I don’t have a choice anymore. If we keep waiting, they’ll find us. We’ll all be dead."

Hanni’s heart twisted. She wanted to say something, to convince him to reconsider, but she couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t even tell him the truth—she couldn’t tell him that she knew how it would end. How he would end.

She had known for a long time now, ever since she’d arrived in this time and begun piecing together the fragments of history, that Y/n was going to die in a few months. The specifics were unclear—there were no exact dates in the records—but there were enough details to know his fate was sealed. His death would be a turning point for the revolution, a martyrdom that would galvanize the people and push them toward victory. But for all her knowledge, for all her understanding of the future, it felt cruel to just stand by and let him die.

He looked at her then, his gaze steady, as if he could read her conflicted thoughts. "I know you’re struggling with this, Hanni," he said softly. "I know you want to change things. You’ve always had that look in your eyes, like you’re waiting for the right moment to fix it all."

Hanni felt her breath catch in her throat. It was true—she had never fully accepted her place in the timeline. She had always wondered if there was something she could do, some way she could alter the future to save the people she had come to care for. But this was different. Y/n was different.

"I can’t just let you die," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I know it’s supposed to happen—I know it’s part of the history, part of the plan—but I can’t stand by and watch it happen. I’ve seen what you’ll do for this cause, Y/n. I’ve seen how much you’ll give. But you can’t die. You can’t—"

"Hanni," Y/n cut her off gently, his hand reaching across the table to grasp hers. His touch was warm, grounding her. "You’ve seen the future. You know that nothing stays the same. But what I do—what we do—still matters. Whether I’m here or not, we have to keep fighting. I’ve made my peace with this. But you have to make your peace, too."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears, though she struggled to keep them back. She had never wanted to hurt him. She didn’t want to change everything. But how could she let him die, knowing there was still time to save him? Could she really live with that choice?

"I don’t want to lose you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I don’t know if I can change things. I don’t know if it’s right to change anything at all."

Y/n squeezed her hand, his gaze softening. "Hanni, no matter what happens, we’ve done something. We’ve given everything for this cause. The people will carry it forward. You’ve already changed the future in ways you don’t even realize. Just by being here, just by standing with us, you’ve already made a difference."

Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about saving him, it was about the bigger picture—the revolution, the fight for freedom, the lives of countless others. But how could she stand by and let him die?

A painful silence stretched between them, heavy with the impossible decision she had to make. Would she try to change history? Could she? Or would she accept that some things were beyond her control, that sometimes the greatest acts of love were letting go?

She didn’t have an answer yet. Not right then.

But one thing was clear—she couldn’t keep running from the future forever.

————————————————————

The days that followed were tense, as the weight of Hanni's decision pressed heavily on her chest. Each conversation she had with Y/n seemed to deepen the growing conflict inside her. She wanted to believe in the cause, to stand by him, and yet, every time she looked into his eyes, the same thought haunted her: What if I could save him?

The safe house, once a refuge, had become a place of quiet desperation. The others were preparing to leave the city, to scatter and take their fight to the countryside, where they hoped to continue their struggle in the shadows. But Y/n refused to run—not when he was the beating heart of their movement, not when he had come so far.

Hanni spent her days helping with preparations, cooking, tending to the wounded, and even assisting with organizing supplies. But at night, when the others went to sleep, she would sit in the corner, staring at the wall, her mind racing. The future was so clear in her mind—his future—and yet she felt powerless to change it. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to save him. But the question still lingered: Should she?

It was late one evening when Y/n found her again, standing alone in the dim-lit courtyard of the safe house. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind a blanket of clouds. A cold breeze swept through the alley, making her shiver as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Y/n said, his voice low and careful, as if sensing the heavy burden she was carrying.

Hanni turned to face him, offering a weak smile. “I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been... thinking.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “About everything. About what comes next. About the choices I’ve made—and the ones I still have to make.”

The tension between them grew, thick and palpable. Y/n moved closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming. His gaze softened as he spoke, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re not the only one carrying a heavy load, you know.”

Hanni looked up at him, her heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice. “I know. I’ve seen the way you’re torn, Y/n. I know you’ve accepted what’s coming, but... it’s hard for me to do the same.”

He took a step closer, now just inches away from her, his hand reaching out to rest gently on her arm. “I know you care about me, Hanni. And I care about you, too. But you can’t carry this burden alone.”

A flicker of warmth spread through her chest at his words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the heavy weight of the decision she still had to make. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. How could she explain everything to him without revealing the truth of where she came from? How could she admit that she knew his future, his sacrifice, and yet still felt torn between letting history unfold as it was meant to—or changing it?

Y/n seemed to sense her internal struggle. “I’ve made peace with it, Hanni. I’ve fought for this cause, and I will die for it if I must. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave this world without knowing that you understand... what this all means. What it means to truly fight for something.”

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream that she couldn’t let him die, that she couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen. But that would change everything—everything she had come to know. The future, the world she knew, depended on certain things remaining in place.

“I do understand,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But... I don’t want you to die.”

Y/n’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know you don’t. But sometimes, we don’t get to choose our fate. Sometimes, the fight for freedom demands sacrifices we’re not ready to make. And when it comes down to it, I can’t regret that choice.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his conviction. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the heat of his touch on her skin, grounding her in the present moment. His hand lingered there, warm and steady.

“I’m not asking you to accept it,” he continued. “I’m just asking you to be here. With me. Until the end.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she met his eyes, her own filled with unshed tears. She wanted to argue, to beg him to leave, to fight another day. But the reality was clear. He was already committed. The revolution needed him. And she couldn’t change his path, no matter how much she wanted to.

The moment hung between them, fragile and delicate. Then, as if to break the silence, Y/n spoke again. “I know you want to change things, Hanni. But some things are bigger than us. The revolution... it will live on, with or without me.”

Hanni felt a surge of emotion at his words. She wanted to deny them, to argue that there was still time, that she could still save him. But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change what was already set in motion.

They stood there for a long time, neither of them speaking, just existing in the silence, sharing the weight of the future between them. Eventually, Hanni spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“What if I can’t let you go?”

Y/n’s hand slid down to hers, and he squeezed it gently. “You don’t have to. Just promise me that you’ll remember what we’re fighting for, Hanni. Not just the cause, but the people—the ones who will carry this fight forward. They’ll need you. The world will need you.”

The finality in his voice made her heart ache. But she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I promise.”

Y/n gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he knew the weight of the promise she had just made. “Then, let’s make the most of the time we have left.”

With that, he pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as if the moment could last forever. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, the steady beat of his heart that she had come to depend on. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, but for now, all that mattered was the present.

————————————————————

The night was quiet, but it carried an electric tension, like the calm before a storm. Hanni and Y/n spent the evening together, talking in the soft light of the safe house, sharing stories of their lives, of the world they came from. For a brief moment, the war seemed distant. For just a little while, they were not enemies, rebels, or future and past—they were simply two people, trying to hold on to something real.

Y/n took Hanni’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that you’ve made a difference in my life. And in the lives of the others. You’ve given us hope."

Hanni’s eyes shimmered with emotion, but she nodded, unable to speak the words she wanted to. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder, content in the moment. She wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but for tonight, she was with him—and that, for now, was enough.

————————————————————

The early morning light crept through the cracks in the safe house walls, casting long shadows across the floor. Hanni had hardly slept, her mind a tangled mess of regrets and what-ifs. She watched as the rebels moved quickly, preparing for their final stand. It was no surprise that the colonial forces were on their way—she had known it was coming, but knowing something in advance didn’t make it any easier.

Y/n moved among the rebels, his presence as steady and commanding as ever. He issued orders, encouraging those around him, all while maintaining a calm demeanor that belied the tension thick in the air. Hanni watched him closely from across the room. In his every movement, she saw the gravity of the choices they were all facing. And, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met.

A fleeting glance. But in it, Hanni saw everything that had brought them together, everything that would be lost, and everything she had yet to say. The things she should have said long before this moment.

Suddenly, the sound of distant explosions broke the morning silence, followed by a sharp, nerve-wracking crackle of gunfire. The colonial forces were moving in earlier than anticipated. Panic erupted in the safe house. The rebels scrambled, gathering their weapons and preparing to defend the position.

But Y/n was steady in the chaos. His voice was firm and unshaken as he directed everyone to their positions.

"Hanni," he called, motioning her over. His tone was different now, focused, but still carrying the same warmth that had drawn her to him since the beginning. When she approached him, he pressed something into her hand—a small, leather-bound journal, its edges worn from years of use.

"Keep this safe," he said, his voice low. "It contains everything—our plans, our hopes, our dreams for the future. Make sure it reaches the right people. They’ll need it when the time comes."

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat as she held the journal. It wasn’t just a record of their efforts; it was his legacy, a testament to everything he had fought for. Her fingers closed around it, but the weight of it felt like a burden, heavier than she ever imagined.

“Y/n,” she whispered, almost desperate. “Please, there has to be another way. This doesn’t have to happen.”

He met her gaze with an almost imperceptible smile, but it was tinged with sadness. The flicker of pain in his eyes only made her heart ache more.

"You know there isn't," he said softly, the finality in his voice cutting through her protests. "But you've given me something I never expected to find in all of this chaos. A reason to believe that the future will be better than the present."

The sounds of fighting grew closer, the outside world closing in on them. The air was thick with urgency.

"You need to go," Y/n said firmly, pushing her gently toward the back exit. “The others will make sure you get to safety.”

Hanni froze. Every part of her screamed to stay. To fight alongside him. To change the course of history. She had always thought she could do that, thought she could somehow fix it all. But now, in this moment, she knew the truth. This was how history had to unfold.

“I won’t forget,” she said, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let anyone forget what you fought for.”

Y/n stepped closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. His arms were warm, protective, but in that moment, it felt like he was offering her his last piece of peace. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

But then, almost instinctively, Hanni tilted her head upward, and Y/n's lips met hers in a kiss that was both gentle and desperate. It was a kiss filled with the weight of everything they had been through, everything they would never have, and everything they could never say aloud.

For that brief moment, the chaos of the world around them faded. The sound of explosions, the gunfire, the inevitable future—all of it disappeared as they held on to one another. The kiss was their way of defying fate, of letting the world know that, despite everything, they had each other for just a few seconds longer.

When they finally pulled apart, the sadness in their eyes spoke volumes. There were no words left between them. Just the quiet understanding that this was it.

“Live, Hanni,” Y/n whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “Live and make sure our fight wasn’t in vain.”

The door burst open then, rebels rushing in with news of the advancing enemy forces. Y/n’s expression hardened, and he turned to face his destiny, his posture resolute.

Hanni’s heart shattered as she was pulled away by another rebel, her eyes never leaving Y/n until the very last moment. She wanted to scream, to rush back to him, but she knew it was too late.

She fled through the dark alleys, clutching the journal to her chest, her mind a blur of grief and guilt. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, growing louder. She could already see the outcome, hear the cries of victory and defeat. She had read about this moment in history—she knew what would happen.

And, sure enough, it was only hours later that the news reached her. Y/n had made his last stand against the colonial authorities. He had fought with everything he had, holding the line long enough for others to escape. But he was gone now. A martyr. A hero. And yet, to Hanni, it felt like the world had just lost someone who still had so much more to give.

————————————————————

Hours passed. The safe house she had been led to was empty, save for a few other survivors. But Hanni couldn’t rest. Her fingers trembled as she opened Y/n’s journal, her heart racing as she began to read.

The pages were filled with his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams for the future. The pages chronicled not just the rebellion but the man he had been. He spoke of the reasons he fought—of his memories of his family, his longing for justice. He had written about her, too, about the unexpected presence she had brought into his life. Hanni’s heart stuttered as she read his words, feeling the weight of what he had shared with her.

“I never thought I would find someone like you in the midst of all this,” one line read. “But now, in these final moments, I know I’m not fighting just for the cause. I’m fighting for something more. For the people I care about. For the future we dream of.”

The realization hit Hanni with the force of a tidal wave. Despite everything, despite her best efforts, she had failed to save him. And yet—she was determined now. Y/n’s memory, his fight, would not be lost.

Hanni wiped her tears away and stood, holding the journal close. The mission wasn’t over. The cause wasn’t over. She would make sure of that.

————————————————————

Hanni’s resolve only grew stronger as she helped the remaining rebels organize. She used the knowledge from the future to guide them, helping them evade capture and stay one step ahead of the colonial forces. The sense of urgency never left her. Each day, the walls seemed to close in tighter. But the more she worked with the rebels, the more she saw the spark of something she hadn’t expected to find—hope. She saw the people who had once been fractured, now united, pushing forward toward freedom.

Despite the growing danger, Hanni remained close to Y/n’s former comrades, trying to ensure that his memory lived on in every small victory they achieved.

But eventually, it was clear that history would not be denied. Y/n’s death had set a course that Hanni couldn’t alter. No matter how many lives she saved, no matter how much she fought to change the outcome, there was no escaping the truth.

Y/n’s last stand had come. It had been brutal and tragic, but it had been the catalyst for the revolution to ignite across the country. Though Hanni’s heart shattered, she came to understand that some events, no matter how much we want to change them, were simply meant to unfold as they did. She had tried to rewrite history, but there were forces beyond her control—forces of sacrifice, of fate—that could not be avoided.

————————————————————

In the end, the country achieved its independence, though it came at an unimaginable cost. Hanni returned to her own time, forever altered by the journey she had taken. She had seen the complexities of history, felt the weight of decisions that shaped the future, and understood the sacrifices made by those who fought for freedom.

As she reflected on everything that had happened, Hanni realized that she had learned one of the most difficult lessons of all. The past, for all its tragedy, could never be fully rewritten. And yet, it had taught her something about the power of memory and legacy. Y/n’s fight had not been in vain. His ideals, his vision for a better world, would live on, even if he was gone.

The revolution had succeeded. And in the end, that was all he had ever wanted.

The country, though scarred, had risen from the ashes of conflict to begin anew. It was a fragile peace, but a peace nonetheless. Hanni, now back in her own time, stood at the edge of a quiet city park, gazing at the horizon as the sun dipped below the skyline.

In her hands, she still held Y/n's journal, worn and weathered by the years, but treasured more than any other possession she had. The ink had faded in places, but the words—the hope, the passion, the love for a future he would never see—remained vibrant, echoing in her heart like the pulse of a song she couldn’t forget.

Her eyes wandered to a statue in the distance, a figure standing tall, gazing forward as if daring the world to challenge it. It was a monument dedicated to the revolutionary leader who had sparked a movement that changed everything. His name was etched into the base, and while she knew it was not her place to add her own, she thought of Y/n every time she passed it.

She remembered the kiss they had shared in those final moments, the quiet promise she made to him—to live, to fight for the future he had dreamed of. She hadn’t been able to change history, but she had witnessed the change he had ignited, and that, in its own way, had been enough.

As Hanni turned to leave, the faintest sound of a melody reached her ears. It was soft, carried by the breeze—an old song, one she had heard countless times in the rebellion’s safe houses. She smiled softly to herself, knowing the song was still alive, still being sung by those who had inherited the dream Y/n and so many others had fought for.

She walked towards the source of the music, finding a small group of people gathered near the park’s center. There, under the shade of an ancient oak tree, a young couple danced. Their movements were slow and tender, as if the world had slowed just for them. A feeling of nostalgia tugged at Hanni's heart.

One of the dancers caught her eye, and the smile that spread across his face brought a lump to her throat. He was holding a violin, playing the melody that had so often comforted them in their darkest days. And there, standing beside him, was a woman who resembled someone she had once known. The woman’s eyes, shining with tears and joy, were filled with the same hopeful spirit that had driven Y/n all those years ago.

The music swelled, and the couple danced with abandon, as if the past had finally given them room to breathe. Hanni closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the violin and the warmth of the evening wrap around her like a blanket.

In that moment, everything felt right. Her journey had not been in vain. She had seen the ripples of history that were shaped by the sacrifices of those who had gone before. And while she could never undo the pain of Y/n’s loss, she knew that his fight had planted the seeds for something greater than himself.

The world had continued. His world had continued. And with that thought, Hanni finally felt a peace she hadn’t known she was capable of.

As the dance finished, the couple shared a soft, lingering kiss, and Hanni found herself smiling through her tears, knowing that Y/n’s legacy was alive in every new life, every small victory, and every dream that carried the flame of freedom forward.

She stood for a moment longer, watching the stars begin to twinkle overhead. She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t bring Y/n back. But in this moment, she was sure of one thing:

The fight he had started was far from over.

And it would live on, in every heart that remembered the cost of freedom.

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop imagines #kpop girls #newjeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans fanfic #newjeans #newjeans hanni #hanni pham #hanni x reader #hanni #pham hanni #hanni newjeans

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purinfelix · 1 day ago

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HII!! can i request a mistletoe?

So i was thinking of the scene in notting hill where william(random guy) and anna(famous movie star) meet for the first time at the bookshop and later william spills orange juice on her, he take anna to his flat to change and before leaving anna kisses him (idk if i should be more elaborate with the plot help)

maybe you can write something smiliar or with this plotline for franco?

<3 love you

out of reach ᯓ★ - franco colapinto

w/c: 1.2k a/n: OHHH NOTTING HILL IS LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAV FILMS EVER I LOVE U FOR THIS - this req literally gave me an excuse to go rewatch this scene so tysm (also this started out as a blurb but .... here we are)

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

It was your day off - or at least, it was supposed to be.

You had it all planned out, since being one of the hottest up-and-coming actresses meant time to yourself was extremely scarce. Starting the morning a little later by letting yourself sleep in, then going for a walk downtown through the morning markets and vintage stores, even dropping into a small travel-book store that caught your eye. Not so much because of your passion for travel books but rather for the boyishly charming store clerk who you locked eyes with through the front window.

But that was where you encountered your first issue, when the only other customer in the store recognised you and proceeded to ask you for a signature, while you were trying to pay for a book. Of course, you obliged, but to your surprise, the clerk continued to ring up your ridiculously overpriced book without even seeming to recognise you, or at least, he pretended not to - instead going on a tangent about how, really, your mistake was buying such a poorly written book, though you chose not to heed his advice just yet.

With just the little bump in the road cleared, you were free to return to your perfect day, a fact which lasted all of ten minutes before being interrupted. Only this time it was by a total idiot running into you with a coffee cup full of orange juice - and who even orders orange juice from a cafe? - spilling it all over your white shirt.

You were prepared to lose it until you peeked over your dark sunglasses, a weak attempt at a disguise, and caught the eye of none other than the boy from the bookstore. Immediately he began rattling off apologies, and whilst a small part of you found it a little cute, they did little to fix your sour mood. That's when he mentioned that he, conveniently, lived just a couple steps away from the street corner the two of you were standing on and that you could come over and clean yourself up.

So that's how you ended up here, in the entryway of some stranger's house - a charming stranger, but a stranger nonetheless - soaked in orange juice while he scrambled ahead of you to clean up the mess he lived in.

"Right," he huffed, noisily shoving empty pizza boxes into the nearest bin, "come on in, the bathrooms on the top floor."

You do as he says, offering an awkward smile to show appreciation for him allowing you to come over but also how weirded out you are by this whole interaction. Once upstairs, you hastily change into the only spare clothes you have - being a sparkly top and skirt combo you had been planning on wearing to tomorrow's press tour, but would have to do for now.

As you tentatively climb down the creaking stairs, you're met with the sight of the stranger clearing his dining table - which is covered in half-empty cups and unwashed plates. When he hears you though, he spins around with a bewildered expression, lips slightly parted as his eyes follow you.

For a minute you just stand there, watching his expression as the side of his mouth quirks up into a smile and as strange as it seems, you feel almost shy under his gaze.

"Oh, sorry," he finally says, breaking the silence, "do you want something to drink? Coffee?"

"No, thanks."

"Tea?"

"I'm good."

"Mate?"

"Ma- what?"

"It's from Argentina, where I'm from, it's really good, I drink about two litres of it every morning," he begins excitedly rambling once more, picking up a cup and flask from his counter and bringing it to you. "I know it doesn't look like much but it really flushes you out, like if you eat something bad in the morning just a couple sips of this and you're-" he gestures with his hands to demonstrate the laxative effect of the drink and you can't help but let out an amused laugh as you shake your head.

"Right, well, how about something to eat?" He moves swiftly, setting down the cup to open his fridge and from where you're standing you can just see inside it - though there isn't much apart from a couple old apples and a half-eaten mandarin.

"An apple?" he offers.

"No," you smile.

"Do you always say no to everything?"

You think for a little before replying slowly, "No." He nods, understandingly.

"Well, I better get going," you say. "Thanks for your," you pause, searching for the right word to describe this experience, "help."

leans his head against the corner of his fridge, green eyes on yours. "And before you go, can I just say," he begins and you brace yourself, finally, for him to make a comment about how he recognises you.

"Once you read that book, I don't think you'll be coming back to my store anytime soon, it's awful, really."

"I'll keep that in mind," you say, smiling in relief as you begin to move towards the door, and once he realises this, he moves quickly to open it for you.

"It was nice meeting you," he breathes out as the two of you stand in the doorway, "strange but nice." You nod in agreeance, and in amusement at how awkward he seems - but also how charmed you are by it. Standing there, with seemingly the only man in the world who doesn't see you immediately for the films you've been in or the characters you've played, you feel an intense force drawing you towards it.

And before you realise what you're doing or have the sanity to stop yourself, you're up on your tiptoes, with one arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He doesn't seem any less shocked by your sudden actions than you do, but soon, you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist.

Pulling away, you let out a quick breath, mostly in disbelief at what you've just done, and when you look at the dazed expression on his face you can assume he feels the same.

"I'm really sorry about that strange but nice comment from earlier."

"That's okay, I thought the," you pause to mimic his actions from before when describing the mate, "bit was a real low point."

He laughs before saying abruptly, "Franco."

"Sorry?"

"My name, it's Franco."

"Well, Franco, it was nice meeting you," you turn to grab the doorknob with one hand but pause to turn to him again, "Oh, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this."

"Right, of course, no one," he nods eagerly, "I mean, I'll tell myself but even then I might not believe it." You can't help but let out an amused laugh as you slip out his door, and back into the sun of the late morning - and as you do, you're unable to stop yourself from smiling.

#jet's 1k event ᝰ.ᐟ #jet writes ★#purinfelix #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one

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clumsybriar · 3 days ago

Text

Simon “Ghost” Riley X GN! Reader — I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN! Reader — I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Notes: if you see any error please feel free to let me know! I made another Gender Neutral for Christmas! (If you see any mistakes with gender for the reader please let me know, I want to make sure I fix it so everyone can enjoy!)

Word count: 1340

Warnings: None!

————————————————————————————

Christmas season was upon you. The wait was no longer needed and the holiday season was in full throttle for many people. But for you it felt like the holidays just weren’t here yet, not without Simon.

It had been months since you last saw Simon. The countdown had been brutal — each day dragging on like a century, filled with empty space and a gnawing ache in your chest. The last words he’d said to you were promises, hollow at the time. But now, somehow, a beacon of hope. Especially for you.

“I’ll be back for Christmas, I swear on it.”

You hadn’t expected it to be easy. Life with Simon Riley had always been an unpredictable blend of intensity and distance, but there was something about it this time that just felt…different.

It could have stemmed from many different things, truly. Like there was something about the way he’d held you the night before he left, the unspoken words in his eyes as he kissed you goodbye at the airport.

Maybe it was just the fact that the holidays made everything feel more…amplified.

Like the empty chair at your dinner table, or the lonely flicker of Christmas lights on the tree.

But today just felt different. Like something magical was truly going to happen like some sort of Christmas miracle. Which is kinda cheesy to think about. But you couldn’t help it, you just felt a flicker of hope. Who would blame you for holding onto that flicker of hope.

People always said miracles happen on Christmas and you hoped just this once, it would happen. Even if it was on Christmas Eve.

You found yourself standing in front of your front door, staring at the snow falling softly outside. The world felt quiet, calm, and still. In your opinion it was too still. You glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last hour and you could just tell the hands in the clock seemed to mock you, ticking by at a pace that made the seconds feel like years.

Your attention was quickly drawn away though, when suddenly a car door slammed. It was then followed by the unmistakable sound of boots crunching through the snow. Something you had heard often when Simon was coming home in the winter. Though he wasn’t grumbling or complaining like he usually did.

You knew he hated winter, the cold wasn’t his favorite. He hated how it set deep into his bones, sometimes making him feel like he couldn’t warm up. He dealt with it though because deep down you knew he liked to have a white Christmas.

The crunching of snow got closer. Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t help it but to step closer toward the door, breath catching in your throat. Your hand reached forward for the doorknob and when you opened it, there he was…

Simon.

His face was partially obscured by the shadow of his balaclava, but you’d recognize that broad frame and those piercing brown eyes anywhere. His tactical gear was gone, replaced by a simple black hoodie and faded jeans. His duffel bag hung over one shoulder, snowflakes settling on his mask and on his shoulders decorating him for the vast winter wonderland.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He just stood there, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to believe you were real. If you were being honest you felt the same and maybe wondered if you had too much eggnog in your system.

You were the first to move, closing the distance between you in an instant. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His scent, that familiar mix of sweat, leather, and something uniquely him, filled your senses.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Simon’s arms tightened around you, his usual stoicism giving way to something raw. “Had to make sure I did,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Couldn’t miss this… couldn’t miss you. Plus I’m pretty sure I promised you I’d be home.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand coming to rest against his jaw. His eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your gaze, something soft and vulnerable lingering there — a look you’d rarely seen from him.

“Been waiting for you,” you said, your thumb brushing over the area where his scar was located on his cheek, the mark you’d kissed so many times in the past. Now it was still covered in that balaclava he loved so much. “I thought I’d go crazy without you.”

He let out a breath, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, smiling despite the ache in your chest. “Don’t apologize, Simon. Just… just be here. Be with me.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world outside might have been freezing, but here, in this moment, it felt like time had stopped entirely — just the two of you, finally reunited after what felt like an eternity apart.

“You got the tree up,” Simon said, glancing over your shoulder at the twinkling lights and the ornaments hanging from the branches.

You smiled sheepishly. “I tried. Thought I’d have someone to help me decorate it, but…” you trailed off, your voice thick with unspoken words.

Simon’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Yeah, I get it.” He gently lifted his balaclava above his nose as you could see his red lips which were surely chapped due to the weather and his mask.

He leaned forward, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that made everything else in the world fade away, leaving nothing but the feeling of him — your Simon — finally home. His lips were warm against yours, his touch grounding you in ways words could never explain.

When he pulled back, he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

You laughed softly, pulling him inside. “Merry Christmas, big guy. You almost missed it,” you teased, “but I guess you made it just in the nick of time.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He raised an eyebrow, a rare glimmer of mischief flashing in his eyes. “That’s all that matters.”

You smiled and closed the door behind him, then turned back to him, finally feeling like the holiday season had begun. Christmas had never meant much to you before — not without him. But now, with Simon standing here, his presence filling the room with something warmer than the heat from the fireplace, everything felt right.

You let go of his hand only for a moment to grab something from the kitchen. “I made dinner,” you said, glancing back over your shoulder. “You hungry? If I know you the answer is yes.”

Simon chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Maybe…yes.” He gave you a teasing look, one that made your heart flutter. “I am starving.”

“Figured as much, they don’t feed you enough do they?” you shot back with a grin. “They’re starving you, all my hard work of feeding you well has gone down the drain.”

Simon’s expression softened, and for a long moment, you both stood there, the weight of everything that had happened — the long deployments, the fears, the missed moments — evaporating in the warmth of the room. He was home with you.

“Yeah, look at me,” he teased, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite place, but it was good. “Skin and bone, not fluffy and cuddly.”

And as the night carried on, you and Simon settled together on the couch, the tree lights casting a soft glow over the room. The world outside seemed so far away, and for the first time in a long time, there was peace.

This Christmas, you had everything you needed. Simon, home where he belonged.

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sitp-recs · 1 day ago

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Hi Liv, I loved the hidden gem list that you did in the past. I discovered so many new authors thanks to you. I love going back to my all time favourite authors but I also love discovering new ones. Would you or any of your followers have any hidden gems recs ? Could be long or short fics. Thank youuuu

I’m so happy to hear that! The hidden gems series is very dear to my heart and probably my favorite project. I started a s2 back in 2022 and have a few lists saved in my drafts, maybe I will revisit them in the new year… we’ll see! I found some additional rec posts that might interest you here, here and here. I haven’t read much this year, but if you’re looking for new-ish works I’d highly recommend the fics below, and also my reclist for the h/c fest. I’m sure my followers have more recs. Enjoy! 💜

Train Song by @fw00shy (T, 1.2k)

"Imagine: An extended summer vacation," Ginny said when she first pitched the trip to the group. "Fine," Hermione said after only a moment's hesitation, to which everyone cheered, because everyone knew she was the only one who could figure out how to make the Hogwarts Express fly.

All I Think About by @skeptiquewrites (T, 4.5k)

Sometimes all it takes is one perfect late summer night in June.

mind the gap by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 5k) - MCD

The first time Draco died was by far the worst. Once Potter started living with him, it got better.

everything you should say by icarusinflight (E, 7.5k)

They're not friends. But when Draco offers help, Harry takes it.

Tarry, Tarry, Wait For Me by @toomuchplor (E, 8.5k)

"I can't ask it of you," Draco says, quick and awkward, "I just thought you should know, I thought you needed to know, but none of this is your fault."

Seasons by @greattemptation (E, 9k)

Seconds pass, and it’s like he can see Draco worrying the sliver of glass in his heart, looking for a way to press it out, to expose the wound to the sun. It’s life; Harry can be patient.

Necro-romance by @thehoneybeet (E, 9k)

The first time Draco kills Potter, it's by accident.

like a scratch on the roof of your mouth by @eleadore (E, 9k)

Two weeks into the new year, Draco Malfoy saves Ron's life in a spectacular fashion.

coyote ugly by @garagepaperback (E, 10k)

One night, every month, Harry is a coyote. Malfoy has a silver tooth. Sometimes, he cuts Harry’s hair.

draco malfoy's substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (E, 10k)

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

When the Flood Comes by @academicdisasterfic (E, 10k)

Nine years on from the war, Auror Potter is upholding the Ministry of Magic's rule of law. Senior legal counsel Draco Malfoy is challenging it.

Wobble Week 2023 by @moonflower-rose (E, 12k)

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

With Hands Full of Dusk by @corvuscrowned (E, 15k)

Harry thought he'd found what he was searching for after the war. But as the quiet life he's earned begins to unravel at the seams, he finds himself searching instead for an elusive, mythical creature found only in lore and legend - with none other than Draco Malfoy as his companion.

Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog (E, 18k)

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Sun Thief by BlackRose532, @floydig (E, 28k)

Or: Harry beats up a pimp and isn’t sorry about it, Draco deals black market potions, and they’re shagging. Again.

Truth to Materials by lately, @toomuchplor (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

#asks #anon #hidden gems #old and new fics

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bird-in-the-space · 2 days ago

Text

Echoes of the Unknown

You reunite with the Autobots and decide to become an official member of their team.

Warnings: none, except Ratchet being the angry worried grandpa.

Chapter 20 (Final)

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

After calling in the Autobots and asking for a ground bridge, you drove through the vortex and arrived at the welcoming sight of the bots and the kids. You stopped to let Emily out before transforming and removing the face plate. The kids ran down the steps to greet her. “Emily!” Miko and Raf hugged her, making her smile and hug them back.

“Hey! Kids! I wasn’t gone for that long, was I?” Emily asked.

“It’s really good to see you okay. We were dead worried about you,” Jack said. “The cons didn’t hurt you did they?” he asked.

“Nah. I was hiding most of the time. I only got a couple of bruises from falling from high places but nothing serious,” Emily assured.

Ratchet then stepped toward you and grabbed your shoulders. “What were you thinking?! Following the cons to their ship on your own! You are lucky to have come back at all!” he shook you, startling you.

“Do you have any idea what they would have done to you if you got caught?!” he yelled at your face.

You recovered from the sudden shaking and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Ratchet. I wasn’t really thinking when I followed the cons, but I don’t regret doing it. I couldn't just stand there and let the cons take her, especially when it was Airachnid who took her. It’s a good thing I did because she intended to do something horrible to Emily,” you explained calmly.

“Yeah, she wanted to dissect me and put me in a tube,” Emily backed you.

“So… considering that. It was a good thing that I followed them. She wouldn’t most likely be here if I didn’t,” you added.

Optimus placed his hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “Seeing them both return safely. I believe this is the best outcome we could have hoped for. (Name) had a reasonable cause to follow the Decepticons and now she had managed to return Emily and herself with no severe harm done to them,” he said.

Ratchet relaxed under his words. “Very well. It’s good to see you both back,” Ratchet patted your shoulder. “But do not think you will be leaving the base anytime soon,” he said with a serious tone before releasing your shoulders from his death-like grip.

You smiled. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you said as he returned to the main computer.

“If I can ask, how did you escape the Nemesis?” Arcee asked.

“It…. “ You tried to think how to explain it. “It was in the heat of a moment. When Em was captured again, I caused a diversion with the drills, shocked their medic unconscious with the shock rod thing, and then hid Emily in my chest, and then I used their ground bridge console to bridge us to a random location,” you explained.

“Oh, don’t forget how you used the Holly to make them follow the hologram you into a different location before trapping them there and then using the ground bridge yourself,” Emily added.

“Yeah… the Vehicons were a bit close so I used the first ground bridge to make them follow my hologram before closing the bridge and then using a different bridge to bridge myself out of there,” you explained. “I managed to blend in with the walls, so they didn’t notice the real me,” you added.

“You got the Holly to work more accurately?” Raf asked.

“Yeah. The ship was full of vehicons with a similar face. It was an opportunity I took,” you replied.

“Show me,” he said.

You activated the Holly. The device then created a perfect replicate of you standing next to you. You waved your hand and it followed your motion.

“Woah!” the kids said in marvel before you turned off the Holly, making the hologram disappear.

“That’s so cool. You were like twins,” Miko remarked.

“Yeah. However, I do not think the cons will fall for that the second time if we ever meet again,” you crossed your arms. “They might also be aware of my existence now,” you added.

“Taken the circumstances it might have been inevitable. However, you should be safe as long as you decide to stay in the base,” Optimus said.

“I think I will be staying at the base for now. That was way too much excitement for my taste,” you stated.

“Well, it was not a useless trip. While I was hiding in the vents, I decided to take the chance to do some recon and managed to capture a lot of pictures of Nemesis” Emily said as she took out the memory card from her camera. She then handed the card to Raf who then inserted it into the slot in his computer. His computer then connected to the main monitor, showing pictures of different parts of the Decepticon warship. “From those pictures, we could construct a map of the Nemesis, so we know where to go in case we have to make another visit for some other purpose,” she explained.

Then came the picture with you and the datapad you asked her to take.

“Oh, there was this picture (Name) asked to take. The content of that datapad seemed important so I took a few,” Emily explained.

“Those are locations of energon mines,” Ratchet explained as he zoomed in. “A few of those are active while some of them are unconfirmed energon veins,” he added.

“Seems like you were on the right track (Name),” Emily smiled toward you.

“Well, It seemed important because I read ‘mine’ and ‘energon.’” you explained.

“This could actually work out in our favor taking our depleting energon supply,” Ratchet said with genuine surprise.

Bulkhead laughed. “Seems like (Name) hit a jackpot for us!” he said, giving you a rough pat on the back. You smiled, slightly flustered.

You then remembered what Steve said about dark energon and the prophecy that was supposedly occurring soon.

“That’s not all. “ You started. “When I blend in among the vehicons. I came across something that mentioned dark energon, and when I asked about it, they told me about this prophecy that said something about Unicron and his awakening. Do you know something about that Optimus?” you asked.

Optimus was quiet at first, thinking what you said.

“Like who is Unicron? I recall hearing that name before,” you asked.

“Unicron is the opposite deity compared to Primus. He is the harbinger of chaos and destruction while Primus is the giver of life. He was defeated by the thirteen original primes and cast out from Cybertron,” Optimus explained.

“So, he’s like… your version of a satan?” you asked.

“Correct. And the prophecy you mention tells about the planetary alignment though how it involves Unicron and his awakening I do not know,” Optimus said.

“Should we be concerned about that?” you asked.

“Perhaps in time, the prophecy will become clearer. For now, let us rejoice in your and Emily’s safe return,” he said.

You nodded.

Bumblebee beeped, saying something you didn’t understand.

“Bee’s right. You have a lot of guts and brought back more to us than yourself and Emily,” Bulkhead said.

“You know you have what it takes to be an Autobot,” Arcee added.

“About that… “ you said and they looked at you. “I thought about it and… I would like to join you guys officially,” you said.

“Really?” Bulkhead asked.

“Yeah. I mean the Decepticons are an active threat and Earth is my home. I can’t stand idly by if they threaten the people I care about. So, I would like to contribute even just a little. I’m also not good at doing nothing when there’s something I can do,” You explained. “So… would it be alright for you guys if I became a member of your team?” you asked.

“Absolutely!” Bulkhead slapped your shoulder enthusiastically.

Bee whirled something but it sounded approving.

“Fine by me. We could use an extra hand,” Arcee said with a rare smile.

You then looked toward Optimus. “Is this truly what you wish?” he asked.

“Yes, Optimus,” you nodded.

“Then we would be honored to have you (Name),” he smiled.

“Awesome!” Miko yelled. “But now, we need to do you a complete makeover. Time to give up the vehicon look,” she said.

You glanced at Emily and you two shrugged with a smile.

With a few tips from the bots, you left the base with Emily and Miko to scan yourself a new vehicle mode. It took a while but you found a car model you preferred and scanned yourself a new paint job in colors you liked. There were still some similarities you shared with the vehicons, but now you were designed in your own image. With the Autobot symbol on your chest, you glanced at Emily and Miko who gave you thumbs up for your new look. You then transformed, allowing them to step in, and drove back to base, officially starting your new life as an Autobot.

#transformers x reader #transformers prime x reader #tfp x reader #transformers prime #tfp #x cybertronian reader #echoes of the unknown #various x reader #oc x reader

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greengoblinswifey · 20 hours ago

Text

𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒆’𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒆 ・₊✧🩶 Part III

Pairing— Nicholas Chavez x Model!Reader

Warnings— Mentions of arousal, fluff.

Series Masterlist

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns on the bed. You woke up to the quiet sounds of the ocean outside, your body still tangled in the warmth of the sheets. Nicholas was already awake, propped up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone beside you. He looked effortlessly fine—his hair messily perfect, his jawline catching the light, those pretty eyes.

“Morning,” he said, glancing at you with a small smile. His voice was rough, low, and intimate in the quiet room.

“Morning,” you replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

There was a beat of silence, the air thick with the unspoken acknowledgment of what had transpired the night before. You sat up, the covers slipping off your shoulders as you reached for your phone, you were one of those people. But the memory of his touch, how close he was to you last night, was still vivid in your mind.

“So, last night..,” you said eventually, your voice softer than usual. “I haven’t had something like that in a long time.”

Nicholas looked at you for a moment before answering. “Wow, but it was nice.”

You caught yourself studying him—his relaxed posture, the way his fingers scrolled through his phone, and the faint hint of a smile on his lips. There was a question you wanted to ask, something burning at the back of your mind. Was he hard this morning? The thought made your cheeks heat up. You didn’t bother asking. You already knew the answer. But the real question was—why? Was it because of you, or was it just typical morning wood?

Instead of voicing your thoughts, you both dove into headlines, trying to avoid the lingering air between you. As you scrolled through the news, a headline caught your eye, and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you.

“‘Mystery man spotted! Could this be the one to tame the wild child?’” you read aloud, barely containing your laughter.

Nicholas leaned over to glance at your phone, his eyebrow quirking. “Tame? Are they serious?”

“I know, right?” you said, still laughing. “I’m in my early 20s, at the top of my career. I don’t need some man tying me down.” You paused, glancing at him. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied with a smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

The laughter eased the tension, and the two of you fell into the kind of comfortable rhythm that had been building since your first meeting. You spent the rest of the morning lounging around, the conversation flowing easily. At one point, Nicholas opened up about his past, a year long relationship that had ended just before his career had taken off.

“Were you in love?” you asked, curiosity lacing your tone.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. It just didn’t work. We were in different spaces in life, completely different people.”

You nodded, processing his words before admitting, “I’ve never been in love, I think.”

The confession hung in the air, intimate and raw. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. Was he imagining what it would be like if your first taste of love was with him?

You shifted the conversation, steering it toward lighter topics. hobbies, interests, little quirks that made you both laugh. The more you learned about him, the more you realized how different you were, yet there was an odd sense of compatibility that kept pulling you back in.

Later in the afternoon, you both sat down to discuss your next PR move.

“I’ve got a GQ red carpet event in a few days,” Nicholas mentioned. “It’s the perfect opportunity to make this whole thing slightly more public.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What’s the plan? Play it cool?”

“Exactly,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ll be my date, but we won’t even follow each other on social media. Let the speculation do the work.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Look at us, plotting and scheming.”

Nicholas chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “I can’t believe this is the same person the media paints as a messy party girl.”

“And I can’t believe you’re supposed to be the detached, aloof guy,” you countered, grinning.

He smiled, his gaze softening. “You’re not so bad. Not bad at all.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The afternoon had barely begun when Angela, you and Nicholas’ manager, threw a last-minute photoshoot into your schedule. This wasn’t new, she was known for her knack for delivering surprises, but you didn’t mind. Despite the controversies that had plagued your career recently, brands were still eager to work with you. It was a testament to your influence, even when the media tried to frame you as a wild child.

As you prepared to leave the beach house, your driver pulled up. Nicholas was still lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. When you casually mentioned the shoot, he perked up.

“Mind if I come?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. “To a photoshoot? Why?”

“I want to see you in your element,” he said, his tone surprisingly eager.

It was an odd request, but something about it felt endearing. You shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Arriving on set, the atmosphere was as chaotic as ever—stylists rushing around, makeup artists perfecting details, and the director shouting last-minute adjustments. As you were whisked away to wardrobe, Nicholas trailed behind, taking everything in with wide-eyed fascination.

When you emerged from the dressing room, clad in a couture gown that hugged your figure perfectly, Nicholas looked stunned. He didn’t say much, but his expression spoke volumes.

“You clean up nice,” he teased, smirking as you walked past him toward the set.

“Don’t I always?” you shot back playfully, throwing a wink over your shoulder.

As you posed, the producers buzzed around, setting up lights and angles. One of them, a sharp-eyed man with a clipboard, noticed Nicholas standing off to the side.

“Who’s he?” he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

You seized the opportunity, a sly smile spreading across your face. “Well, that’s Nicholas Chavez. He’s my industry muse. Gaining traction fast. He starred in Ryan Murphy’s Netflix show about the Menendez brothers, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Great actor, and honestly, he has the kind of face that would be perfect for campaigns. You should keep him in mind for any projects or shoots.”

Nicholas blinked, caught off guard by your sudden endorsement, but he quickly recovered, nodding along and smiling gratefully. “Thanks,” he murmured under his breath as he stood beside you.

You glanced at him, brushing it off casually. “It’s my job now isn’t it? That’s why we’re doing this PR thing in the first place.”

The shoot went on, and you moved through each pose effortlessly, embodying the grace and confidence that had made you a household name. Draped in high fashion and surrounded by a perfectly styled set of flowers and soft lighting, you were in your element. Nicholas watched from the sidelines, snapping candid videos and pictures on his phone.

“I can’t believe you just do this,” he said during a break, shaking his head. “It’s like watching a masterclass.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

By the end of the day, you both had enough content to stir the media into another frenzy. Nicholas snapped a picture of the set, with you posing in the background, while you did the same. The plan was to release the images strategically once the photos were ready, perfect publicity for both of you.

Later that evening, Nicholas invited you into his mansion. The two of you lounged in his master bedroom, scrolling through social media and discussing the buzz that was already building.

“Think it’s time to post these?” Nicholas asked, holding up his phone with a mischievous grin. He was referring to the photos of the romantic set up from your beach house.

“Go for it,” you said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

He uploaded the photos first, his caption vague enough to keep people guessing. You followed a few minutes later, knowing the coordinated posts would send your followers into a frenzy.

“This is a fun game,” you admitted, laughing softly as you watched the likes and comments pour in.

Nicholas leaned back against the pillows, his gaze on you. “Look at us, playing the media like it’s chess.”

You grinned but said nothing, focusing instead on the undeniable ease that had settled between you two. As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, jokes, stories, playful banter.

But eventually, you excused yourself. As much as you enjoyed his company, a part of you held back. You couldn’t afford to enjoy it too much, not when the lines between professional and personal were already so blurred.

As you walked next door to your house, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something unpredictable. Would your alliance lead to something more, or was it foreshadowing the chaos to come? Only time would tell.

It should’ve been easy to slip back into your usual mindset, focus on your modeling career, keep your emotions in check, and stay professional. But as much as you tried, your thoughts kept wandering back to Nicholas, how he looked at you today, the way he made you laugh, and how he didn’t seem fazed by your world of chaos. He wasn’t intimidated by it the way other men that had been in your life were.

By the time you stepped into your home, the familiar silence greeted you, grounding you in reality. The space felt bigger than usual, emptier somehow, and you rolled your eyes at yourself. Get a grip, you thought. You weren’t the type to get hung up on anyone, let alone someone you barely knew.

You changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your curls back as you sank into the couch with your phone in hand. Notifications were exploding from the posts you and Nicholas had made earlier. Fans and media outlets alike were speculating, spinning wild theories about the "mystery man." Headlines like “Wild Child Model Tamed?” and “The Love Story We Didn’t See Coming” made you laugh out loud.

“Settle down?” you muttered to yourself. “They’re insane.”

But beneath the humor, a strange pang hit you. It was more like curiosity. What if they aren’t completely wrong? You shook the thought off. You were in your early twenties, at the peak of your career. You didn’t need a man to define or anchor you, even one as intriguing as Nicholas.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. A text from him.

Hope you got inside safe though I watched you from my window. Thanks for bringing me to the shoot today, it was kind of amazing seeing you do your thing.

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, his words making you smile despite yourself. He didn’t have to text you. This wasn’t part of the PR script. You typed back quickly.

Don’t get used to it. My world’s a little too chaotic for you.

The response was immediate.

I don’t know. I think I can handle it ;)

You found yourself laughing, the warmth from earlier creeping back. But you couldn’t let this go beyond what it was, a strategic partnership, a temporary arrangement. Right?

You tossed your phone onto the couch and let your head fall back, staring at the ceiling. It should’ve been simple to keep things professional. Nicholas was just another coworker in a way, a means to an end for both of you. But there was something about him, his quiet confidence, the way he challenged you without overstepping, and how he didn’t take himself too seriously, that was starting to get under your skin.

It’s just because he’s new, you told yourself. Once the buzz dies down, so will this—whatever it is.

Still, a small part of you wondered if he felt the same pull. He wasn’t like most people you worked with, who saw you as a means to elevate their own image. Nicholas had seemed genuinely curious about you today, more interested in watching you work than using your name for clout.

Later that night, you scrolled through Instagram, where fans were dissecting every detail of your joint posts. Nicholas had posted first—just a picture of the set with a cryptic caption: “Quiet on set. She’s working.” You’d followed up an hour later with a similar post, careful not to include him in the shot.

The game was still on.

As you lay in bed, your thoughts drifted again. You didn’t want to admit it, but you enjoyed his company far more than you expected. Maybe too much. And that was dangerous. The last thing you needed was to blur the lines between professional and personal.

But then you remembered the way he looked at you today, like you were more than just a headline or a pretty face. Could you really keep this strictly professional? Or was it already too late?

With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over and closed your eyes, determined not to let this turn into something bigger. Tomorrow, it would be back to business. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Taglist: @blackynsupremacy @rafeysslut @lanadelreysvs

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afreakingdork · 1 day ago

Note

I saw you were doing small requests if we proved we voted for Hassan/Mikey, so here's my proof! I was wondering if you could do something with Leo, since we don't see nearly enough Leo x readers out there. I was thinking maybe a best-friends to lovers thing where they keep trying to one up each other with playful flirtation, but it becomes real in the end, followed by a confession and a kiss? Xxx

Writing Request: Reader x Leo First Kiss 😘

Thank you kindly for doing your part! I hope you're enjoying all the content and please tell your friends! Let's push back in this comp!

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

We got some cutie all ages fluff down here, folks!

"And that's when you go in for the kiss!"

Leo had a fist to his lip's and nodded as if this conversation was of the utmost importance.

The random man in question who had approached you while you were hanging out with your best friend was none the wiser. You weren't sure where he had come from, but had interjected himself into your conversation without warning. He had some ripe opinions on romance that apparently couldn't wait for people he knew. Instead of running, Leo had been prompting him for the sake of it and sending you more and more exaggerated looks each time the man looked away.

"What about consent?" Leo asked.

The man reared for a moment before he thought which part. "At which part? We haven't gotten past first base."

"You gotta ask if you're going to kiss someone." Leo spoke with a firmness that you read as genuine.

"The mood!"

"Don't start." Leo shook his head.

"It ruins the mood." The man insisted.

"It does not." Leo waved him off for the first time.

"It does! You think your lady friend is going to still wanna smooch after you interrupt leaning in to ask permission!? That's not manly!"

"Manly, huh?" Leo's mask quirked with his brow. "Also, just lady friends?"

He glanced at you.

You chewed your lip and glanced away to not laugh.

"Ah, man friend, lady friend. Whatever friend! It doesn't matter!" The man huffed. "It's all the same in the eyes of love."

"Consent is hot, that's all I'm saying." Leo shrugged.

"Ah!" The man grunted and turned. "You don't get it! Oh! I bet they do!"

You both watched as the man jogged off at the next unsuspecting group of people.

"Well then!" Leo put his hands on his hips. "I never!"

He held the haughty pose until a giggle finally broke free from you and he slumped to your side.

"That was something." You told him.

"You know I really like conversations like that." Leo stuck a leg out to walk.

You followed his lead with solider-like attention. "Yeah? Seemed a bit like you were teasing him."

"Me!?" He gaped sarcastically at you before his features went lackadaisical. "Making something a gag is second nature. I really do I swear."

You thought for moment. "Okay... Why?"

"Why?" He digested the question and looked up at the buildings. "Let's see. People are interesting. They've got all these opinions and they're wild! Everyone is so different and they'll try to ask these questions about you, but they don't really want to know, but I do. Like I already know me; I want to know about them!"

It gave you pause and you thought back. In all the time you had known Leo, he had been like that. If you ever asked him something as simple as his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation around on you until you were matching shades in some sun room that you were going to retire in.

He made you feel like the center of the world and you loved him for it. He was bright and whip smart, but he also had an undeniable loneliness. He never let it get to him, but it made you want to get closer. You pushed to get his number after meeting him. You made sure to text him if a little too much time had gone by. You made future plans with him always included.

You became the best of friends before you even knew it.

Leo said yes to pretty much everything, even when his schedule was packed. it was his eagerness of companionship and just that he was generally a good friend, even if you found yourself mortified around him often. His wit and penchant for a bit meant that if you said the slightest thing wrong that he would hone in on it. It was further sharpened to a knife having had three brothers and because of it you had built a repertoire of inside jokes.

He was special and even just taking a walk with him on a day like today would be a highlight of your week.

"I see it." You eventually said.

"What'dyou think?"

"About what?" You glanced at him and the way the sunlight played on his barely shielded green skin.

"His pitch! That love guru's plan of attack. How to woo your lady, not lady friend."

A smile played on your lips. "Set the mood. Sure, that's good, but when's a mood, right? That's always a question."

"Exacty!" Leo threw a demonstrating hand to you. "Like is it being alone. We're alone right now?"

"Not really a mood?" You looked around.

"Should it be dark? They say those steak houses have romantic lightening when you can't even tell which fork your grabbing."

You laughed knowing what he'd say next.

"I'm telling you!" He pressed with the same knowledge. "They do it so they can give you lower cuts! That's why I always bust out the ole phone flashlight!"

"They do not!"

"I swear I ordered a rib eye but they served me flank. Flank!"

"The horror!"

"But yeah, okay so not the lights."

"Because I totally confirmed that."

"Okay, come here then."

You did so without hesitation.

"Okay, let me just..." He reached behind him to tug his hoodie off.

You watched on.

His chin caught. "Hold on." He squirmed to pull one arm through. "Hold!" It got trapped against the points of his plastron. "Wait, Wait!" His head disappeared down into the hole and you watched the blue fabric writhe.

There was no way he could see you, but when your hand came up to help he immediately scolded.

"Don't you dare! I've got this!"

You weren't sure if it was a bit or not, but that was Leo and he was nothing if not amusing.

"I got it!" In one hands to the ceiling move, his hoodie came off. "Check it!"

He flexed in his average looking t-shirt. "Very attractive."

"Thank you!" He told you with a point of his beak. "Alright, now cloud cover..."

He waved you over to a wall and you followed.

He looked you over a few times before he caged you in so he could hold the hoodie above both of you to block the light.

You stared at his red stripes in their proximity.

"Dark, how are we feeling?"

"Not really a mood."

"It's not a mood!" He cracked a grin. "We're already at the next factor."

"Oh?"

"Closeness. He said that thing about how both people realize they're a little too close and kissing is inevitable."

"Cause if that was true we would have kissed a bunch of times."

"Right?!" Leo clucked. "The Twister incident? That time I hit you with that little trashcan. Oh, oh! When you were demonstrating the banana thing and actually fell."

"That middle one..." You narrowed your eyes.

"An accident, I swear." He looked dire.

"I still think the banana was cause of the floor."

"Sure." Leo drew out the word.

You pinched the tail end of one of his stripes which also happened to be his cheeks.

He smiled all the more. "Alright then. Is that it? We've eliminated everything. Total bunk. That guy doesn't knowing a thing about romance."

"Yeah! Moods? Like what even is that?"

"Like cuddling on the couch?" Leo gagged.

"Running through the rain?" You added.

"Yeah, because I totally want to make out when I'm soggy!" His eyes rolled.

"Your clothes stick together!"

"You have to peel apart!" He shuddered and the hoodie shook as your umbrella.

You reached up on instinct to steady it right as one of the sleeves fell.

"Nice catch."

"Call me champ."

"No, I'm champ."

"You're champion."

"Your champion?" His mask waggled with his brow ridge.

"You can't count that! It was a bet."

"Oh yeah, what was last week when I got you that ice cream?"

"I was trying to be nice to you."

"Only trying?"

"You make it so easy."

"I do. I'm a great guy. Amazing friend. Easy on the eyes."

"The face of disaster. Person I would vote least likely to make a typo in front of because he will never let you live it down."

"I give you my life and my time!" He bemoaned.

"And I appreciate it."

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes. "Do you? You're just saying that. You totally said you were just saying that."

"No, you're the light of my life."

"In that voice? Maybe I'm the light from one of those nightlights that are automatic, like the kind that turn off as soon as you turn the real lights on."

You squared yourself and looked straight into his eyes.

He startled and gave you owlish attention.

"Leonardo Hamato. You are the most important thing to me. You appeared in my life and I made sure you were part of it and at some point you became someone I can't live without."

"Oh." The vowel popped out dull.

You were flooded with a wave of worry.

Had that been too much?

It was true.

You cared about Leo.

He made you laugh.

He made you smile.

He made you a priority.

You did the same with him.

It must have been all the romance talk.

He might have misconstrued the whole thing.

Certainly none of that meant anything more.

With the steam still trapped in your cheeks you met his eye.

He was staring the same intensity.

You shared it a little coy before you decided to face it head on.

You set your jaw and returned the full brunt of your certainty in the matter.

He blinked a single time. "Wanna make out?"

Your eyes went as wide as they could.

"Wait, that came out wrong!"

"Are you kidding me!?" You squawked.

"I said it was wrong! Let me-!"

"That's your idea of consent?!" You tugged the hoodie down.

Since he had his own hold on the fabric it pulled his arm.

Which pulled his shoulder.

Which pulled him closer.

You were inches away. "That guy was right! It does ruin a mood! 'Wanna make out?' Leo, what-?!"

He dropped a little lower and your heart spasmed.

He dipped down so he could look up at you through his lashes.

His gaze liquefied your insides on contact.

He held your gaze for a few calculated moments before he leaned up enough that the heat of his breath warmed your lips.

"I'm sorry. I meant, may I have the pleasure in kissing you?"

You closed the gap.

The hoodie dropped down around you for privacy.

You lost your vision and for a moment it was just you and him.

A tiny version of the world that you didn't mind.

Then, you parted.

Within the confines you heard the smack and felt the way your mouths were both open and ready for another.

"Like..." Leo licked his lips audibly. "Like that. You do it like that."

"If you tell me that was a bit I'm never talking to you again." You whined without an ounce of heat.

"I swear... Kiss on it?"

You tugged him right back to you and he smirked against you.

#me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #rise leo #Leonardo Hamato #rottmnt leo x reader #leo x reader #rise leo x reader #rottmnt Leonardo #rottmnt leo #rally until the tally #request #writing request #requests open

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