#and then I guess it’ll never happen for me never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never never

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (06)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 5.3k

Aliyah's Notes: after the calamity of ch5 i present u ch6.... enjoy it. or not. AND IM SORRY FOR THE ENDING 🔥😩😅😨

It's been days. Or weeks? You didn’t even know anymore. The calendar on my phone kept reminding me, but you stopped counting. Maybe if you ignored the world long enough, it’ll forget you existed. Maybe if you stayed in this apartment, you could disappear into these four walls like you were never here in the first place.

Numbers. You used to count them, obsess over them, keep track of every passing hour. But now, time feels... irrelevant. What’s the point of knowing how long you’ve been sinking when no one’s coming to pull you out?

The silence feels... safe. No one to judge you. No one to see the mess you’ve become. It’s funny, though—people always see what they want to see. The headlines called you a goddess, an untouchable force of beauty and success. But what would they say if they knew the truth? That the girl in their glossy magazines could barely stand to look at herself anymore.

You hated this. The lying, the pretending. Nina thought you were just going through a rough patch, but she didn’t know how deep the cracks went. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be this anymore—broken, fragile, teetering on the edge again. You swore you’d never come back to this place. But it’s funny how easy it is to fall back into old habits, how fast the darkness creeps in when no one’s watching.

No one’s watching.

Maybe that’s for the best. Let them keep seeing the version of you they wanted to see—the confident supermodel, the girl who had it all. Let them believe the lie, because the truth? The truth was ugly. The truth was you’ve been staring at your phone for days, hoping—no, needing—for a message, for something from him.

But nothing.

He was in Missouri. Working, you guessed. You didn’t even know when he was coming back. He didn’t say. 

You hated him for that. But you hated yourself more for caring. For letting him in, even when you knew better. For thinking, for just one second, that maybe—just maybe—there was something real between you, beneath all the lies you told the world.

But none of it was real. Not the dating, not the smiles, not the person they thought you were. You were a fraud. A perfect, golden fraud wrapped up in designer clothes and empty promises. And the worst part was, you were too tired to fight it anymore. Maybe this was who you were now. A girl who hid in her apartment, waiting for the world to forget she existed.

Or maybe it already happened.

The sound of the door creaking open started you, pulling you out of the spiral you’ve been sinking into. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. No one else had the key to your apartment beside her.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” Nina’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife. “This is the third time this week. How long do you think you can keep doing this?”

You didn’t respond.

Nina stromed in, slamming the door behind her, and you heard her heels clacking on the floor as she made her way to the living room. “You’re not answering your phone. You’re not responding to emails. You missed three shoots! People are asking questions, Y/N. What do you think I’m supposed to tell them?”

You stayed silent, curling deeper into the couch. Maybe if you didn’t look at her, she’ll go away. Maybe she’ll finally get the hint that you didn’t want to be saved.

But Nina wasn’t the type to back off. “No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to ignore me, not today. You need to get up. You need to fix this, Y/N. You think you can just hide away forever? Is that the plan? Because let me tell you, honey, the world won’t wait for you to get your shit together.”

She stood in front of you now, hands on her hips, glaring down at you like a disappointed mother. Her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw that she’s been worrying. 

“Talk to me, honey,” she said, her voice lower now. “This isn’t you. You don’t just disappear like this. What happened? Is it Rafe? Is it work? Are you back to…” her voice trailed off, but the question hanged in the air, heavy and unspoken. 

You couldn’t look at her. The shame curled in your chest, making in hard to breathe. She didn’t know. She didn’t know how badly you’ve relapsed, how badly everything felt like it was slipping out of control again. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“When’s the last time you even showered? Eaten something decent? Your career’s on the line. Everything we’ve worked for is on the line. You can’t just… give up like this.”

Her words hit like slaps, each one stinging, but you still didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Nina huffed, pacing now, her frustration spilling over. “I don’t know what happened between you and Rafe, and honestly, I don’t care. But whatever it is, you don’t get to throw your life away because of it. You’re stronger than this, Y/N. I know you are. So why the hell are you letting this break you?”

You flinched at the word “break.” Because that’s what it feels like. Like you’re already broken, shattered into a million pieces, and you didn’t even know how to start putting yourself back together.

Nina crouched down in front of you, her voice softening, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me, honey. Please. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

For a moment, you almost did. You almost told her everything—the text, the relapse, the endless void you’ve been sinking into. But the words caught in your throat, choking you. What’s the point in talking when nothing will change?

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not fine. You’re far from it. You think I haven’t seen you like this before? You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N.”

She stood, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. “You need to snap out of it. Because in five days, you’re getting engaged to Rafe Cameron, whether you like it or not. And a week after that, you’re walking down the aisle. You can’t afford to fall apart now.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a lead blanket. The engagement. The wedding. The lies. It all felt so suffocating, so inevitable.

Nina crossed her arms, her voice firm. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up, you’re going to shower, and you’re going to pull yourself together. Because tomorrow, you’ve got a charity event with Rafe, and you’re going to smile for the cameras and make everyone believe that you’re still that perfect, golden girl they love.”

You wanted to scream at her, tell her you couldn't do it, that you didn't even know how to pretend anymore. But instead, you nodded numbly, sinking deeper into the fog that had settled over your mind.

Nina sighed, her voice softening again as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. And I swear, Y/N, if you're still in this state when I get here, I will personally drag you to that charity event."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone with the weight of everything she'd just said.

You hadn’t slept. Not really. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you were supposed to pretend like everything was fine when every part of you was falling apart. You could still hear Nina’s voice in your head, telling you to pull yourself together, to be the golden girl everyone expected you to be. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, your body heavy. Your legs felt weak, and your mind feltl worse. Everything was numb, but somehow you still felt the pain. You stumbled into the bathroom, turning the water on without thinking. The cold spray hit your skin like tiny needes, and you stood there for a while, trying to let the string wake you up. But it didn’t work—you were still in that fog.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, you didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. It didn’t matter. You grabbed the first thing you saw—a plain black sweater, loose and oversized, and a pair of jeans that didn’t quite fit right anymore. You didn’t even try with your hair, just pulled it back into a bun. No makeup. What was the point? It wasn’t like anyone cared what you looked like today.

When you got to the office, the tension hit you the moment you walked through the door. Your stomach twisted as you made your way down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your chest tightening with every breath. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t. But as you pushed open the door to the conference room and saw him sitting there—Rafe, looking like he hadn’t been bothered by a single thing—you felt the anger bubbling up, hot and sharp.

It started as a familiar ache that had been building ever since the night he walked out of your apartment without a word. Two weeks. Fourteen days of silence. Fourteen nights spent waiting for a text that never came, hoping for even the smallest explanation, something to make sense of the hollow space he’d left behind.

Day 1. Monday, 2:42 AM

You: “Hey. Are you home? LMK, just to be safe.”

Day 2. Tuesday, 8:18 AM

You: “I’m still so confused about what happened last night, but let’s talk when you have a minute.”

Day 3. Wednesday, 5.32 PM

You: “Look, if you’re mad at me, just say it! I thought we were good, what the hell?”

Day 4. Friday, 11:04 PM

You: “It’s been days and I still don’t understand why you left like this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 3:27 PM

You: “Fuck you. I don't know why I keep texting. I know you’re seeing my texts, even though I’m on delivered. Just tell me if you’re done with this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 10:41 PM

You: “Why am I acting like I’m the one who fucked up? I didn’t do anything wrong. You left me like I was nothing, and your only explanation was a shitty rom-com excuse. I thought we were friends, Rafe.”

Day 5: Sunday, 11:36 PM

You: “I hope you rot in your shit ass apartment, but trust that I will show up to one of your stupid games with a sign that says “Small Dick Ghoster” in big, glittery letters. And I hope Chiara will hug you so hard that she’ll end up strangling you to death. Fuck you, again!”

And there he was, sitting there like none of it had happened, like you were still just strangers playing a game. His posture relaxed, that effortless confidence radiating from him, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him, completely indifferent.

It infuriated you—the ease with which he moved on, the way he could look so composed, so completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t abandoned you in that moment when you were raw and vulnerable. Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing.

Every part of you screamed to confront him, to demand an explanation for the silence, the absence, the complete disregard. You could feel the hurt clawing up from your chest, tangling with the anger that burned hotter with each passing second. He was so close, but somehow, he felt miles away.

So instead, you steeled yourself, locking down the hurt, burying it beneath the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. You wouldn’t let him see the effect he had on you, wouldn’t give him the power to know just how much his absence had shattered you. No—he would get nothing from you. Not a word, not a glance, not a single sign of the turmoil raging inside you.

You walked past him without a word, each step heavy with the weight of the anger you swallowed down. Let him sit there, pretending like nothing was wrong. Let him think he could ignore you, dismiss you, erase you from his life without consequence. Because you would make sure he felt every bit of the coldness he had left you with, every ounce of the hurt he’d carved into you.

Ignoring him was the only power you had left, the only way to keep the anger from spilling over, from breaking you down entirely. And if he thought he could continue on as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened, then he was going to learn just how wrong he was.

Nicolas cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. “Hi, you two—we’ve got a lot to go over, and the timeline is tight. The engagement is in five days, and the wedding is scheduled for a week after that. So we need to finalize the details today—food, decorations, dresses, the guest list…”

You couldn’t focus. The words blurred together a dull hum in the background as you stared down at the table. Rafe said something, his voice casual, but you tuned it out. You didn’t want to hear him.

Sabrina spoke next, her tone brighter, more enthusiastic. “The audience is really enjoying you together, by the way. Ever since your date, and especially after the pictures from Kelce’s party where you two were cuddled up? People are in love with the idea of you and Rafe together. So, good job, guys.”

Your stomach churned at her words. Cuddled up. Like you were some happy couple.

“And tomorrow,” she continued. “You’ll need to make another public appearance together. It’s a charity event for cancer awareness. A perfect opportunity for more good press. The public is expecting you two to show up as the perfect couple—affectionate, in love, all of that.”

In love.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. This was the part where you were supposed to smile and nod, agree to hold his hand and play the role of the devoted future fiancée. But all you felt was the tension building, the weight of the lie pressing down on you until it was suffocating.

Rafe shifted in his seat, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you still didn’t look at him. Rafe felt an uneasy twist in his stomach. You looked… different. Disheveled, almost. Your sweater hung losely over your shoulders, practically swallowing your frame, and he could see dark shadows under your eyes that hadn’t been there before. You seemed smaller somehow, your usual energy muted, replaced by something tense and fragile.

Rafe’s gaze dropped to your hands, noticing how your fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting and tugging at your sleeves. Your leg was bouncing under the table, tapping out an anxious rhythm that only he seemed to notice. Every small movement, every nervous habit—you looked like you were holding yourself back, like there was something simmering beneath the surface, ready to break free.

You still hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t given him a single glance, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You’d been messaging him, and he’d been… well, avoiding it, convincing himself it was for the best. But seeing you now, seeing the wear and tear he’d left behind, he couldn’t shake the guilt.

Rafe’s chest tightened. He’d expected you to be angry, maybe annoyed. But this? You looked worn down, frayed at the edges, like you've been carrying a weight no one else could see.

You didn’t remember most of the details they were talking about. Your mind drifted in and out of focus as they went on about the guest list, the food, the decorations. All you heard were words—dresses, flowers, venues. None of it felt real. It was as if you were watching someone else’s life unfold in front of you, just sitting there, an outsider in your own story.

“The wedding will be televised, of course,” Sabrina says, flipping through her notes, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of it all. “And with a full press presence. We want every detail to reflect both of your public personas. Elegant, grand, but also with an intimate, personal feel—something that tells a story about who you both are.”

Who we were. I almost laughed at the irony. I didn't even know who I was right now, much less who we were.

“We were thinking of something grand but elegant. A modern luxury wedding. White roses, lots of gold accents. Maybe something at the estate in the Hamptons?”

You glanced at the board, at all the glossy, pristine images of weddings that could belong to anyone. None of them felt like you.

“Do you have any preferences?” Sabrina asked, smiling like this is the most exciting conversation in the world. “Colors, themes, anything that’s important to you?”

"Actually," you finally broke your silence, your voice coming out quietly, but the words landing heavily in the room. "I’d like the ceremony to reflect... my background." You could feel Rafe's eyes on you again, but for once, you didn’t care. This wasn’t about him.

Sabrina blinked, taken aback, but she quickly nodded, jotting down notes as if she were open to whatever you had in mind. "Of course, that could be beautiful. Were you thinking about specific details?"

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain if they’d take you seriously, but you pressed on. "Yes. The colors… the decorations. I want there to be vibrant colors—not just whites and pastels, but deep greens, maroons, and gold. The way we’d have them back home. And for the flowers… jasmine and roses. That’s what we use for weddings where I’m from. I want it to feel like... like part of my heritage."

Nicolas raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t expected you to care about any of this. But he just nodded, his pen moving across his notepad. "We can definitely arrange that. A traditional, multicultural theme would add a unique touch to the event, I think. It’ll definitely resonate with the press and the viewers."

You didn’t care if it resonated. It wasn’t for them—it was for you, a sliver of authenticity in this whole farce.

Then Sabrina’s voice broke into your thoughts. "And of course, the dress. Have you given any thought to what you want? Or would you like us to arrange for a stylist to go over options with you?"

Your heart twisted at the mention of the dress. The one thing you’d always imagined as a girl—the dress you’d wear at your own wedding. Only, you’d never thought it would be for this.

"I’d like to include some of my culture there too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... a fusion. Something elegant and modern but with hints of traditional South Asian bridal elements. Like embroidery or... beadwork. Maybe even henna if it wouldn’t look out of place."

Sabrina seemed to light up at the idea. "That would be stunning. We can definitely work with that! I know several designers who specialize in fusing traditional and contemporary styles."

She was still talking, but the air around you felt thicker, as though the room was closing in. You could sense Rafe’s gaze without even looking at him, the weight of his silence pressing into you.

You zoned out again, your mind wandering back to the last wedding you attended. The colors, the music, the way the bride’s lehenga shimmered under the sun as she walked down the aisle. You’d always thought your wedding would be like that—full of life and celebration, surrounded by people who loved you.

Instead, you were planning a wedding for the cameras, for people who didn’t know you.

The sudden, sharp knock on the door cut through the stillness like a jolt of cold water. Your head shot up from the pillow, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, the world felt like it was still. The quiet of your apartment, the thick fog still clouding your thoughts. You didn’t want to get up. You didn’t want to face the world outside of this bed, this cocoon of emptiness you’d wrapped yourself in for days.

Another knock, this one louder, more demanding.

“Y/N!” Nina’s voice came through the door, sharp and impatient. “You better not still be in bed, because I swear—”

The door swung open before you could even make a sound, Nina storming in, wearing the same determined, unbothered expression she always had when she was on a mission. You tried to bury your face back into the pillow, but she wasn’t having it. Her hand reached down, grabbing the covers and yanking them off with force. You shivered as the cold air hit your skin, the warmth of the blankets yanked away along with any shred of comfort you’d been clinging to.

“Get up.” Nina wasn’t asking. She was commanding. “You’ve got a charity event today, and Rafe is already at the venue. We don’t have time for your pity party.”

You squinted at her, still half-wrapped in your sheets like a burrito, and mumbled from underneath the pillow, “Can’t you just… I don’t know… handle it for me? Go in my place. You’d look great in a gown.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’d look amazing, but you and I both know I don’t have that kind of charisma.”

“True,” you admitted, peeking out from under the pillow. 

Nina raised her hands in mock surrender. “Exactly. Now, up. I’m not playing with you today.”

Before you could even protest, she yanked the covers off you with a dramatic flourish, leaving you to shiver in nothing but your oversized T-shirt. It was a miracle you didn’t roll off the bed in the process.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” Nina didn’t wait for you to even get a grip on reality before heading straight for your closet, rummaging through your clothes like she was on a mission. “You’re going to look so good today that Rafe might just start thinking you actually like him.”

You shot her a glare that could’ve frozen water, but she just smirked, tossing a black dress onto the bed like she was some fashion fairy sent to save you from yourself.

“I’m not going,” you said flatly.

“Oh, yes, you are.” Nina threw a matching pair of heels onto the bed with the same casual flick of the wrist she used to dismiss your protests. “Because you will look stunning, and you will show up.”

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face. “What is it with you people? Why does everyone keep trying to drag me out of bed? It’s like I’m the world’s most reluctant celebrity.”

“Because you are.” Nina grinned, holding up your dress like she was presenting the Holy Grail. “But, hey, guess what? You’re really good at it. So stop sulking and get your glam on. You’re the star of the show today.”

You let out a theatrical sigh. “Oh, joy.”

Nina didn’t even flinch. “I’m not asking for a performance. Just put on the damn dress and show up. You can pretend to be miserable, and I’ll pretend I’m not a miracle worker for getting you out of here.”

You hesitated for just a moment, then dragged yourself out of bed with a grunt. “Fine.”

“Oh, by the way, Aisha’s going to be there. She practically begged me to make sure you show.”

Your eyes snapped open. Aisha Patel. Your best friend and, quite honestly, the only person in your life who could drag you out of bed with a single text. She’s been your best friend since you’d arrived in the States. She’d been away for five months—longer than ever before—working on some high-profile project in Switzerland. You hadn’t seen her in ages.

“You’re kidding,” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Aisha’s coming?”

Nina smiled smugly. “Yep. She’s flown back for the event. Can you imagine the drama if you don’t show up? She’ll never let you live it down.”

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. “God, I missed her.”

“Me too,” Nina said, her voice softening for just a second. “But you still have to get up. Like now.”

You looked at the dress Nina had already picked out, a sleek white gown that somehow made you feel both glamorous and like you were about to attend a royal gala. “Fine. I’m up. I’m dressed.”

Nina, who was already rummaging through your closet like a pro, grinned. “You look absolutely beautiful, honey,” she noticed your weight loss but decided to not speak on it, in fear it’ll make you relapse… if only she knew. “Chiara’s also going to be there...”

You froze, the mention of Chiara Romano sending a cold shiver down your spine. You’d told Nina everything about the Chiara encounter—her subtle digs, the way she made you feel like you were just another passing phase in Rafe’s life. She’d made things uncomfortable enough at Kelce’s party, and now you had to face her again?

“What? Fucking why?”

“Her father’s the one running the whole damn event,” she explained. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her or her family because they’re pretty famous, especially in the entertainment and events world. So, get ready for a day full of small talk, fake smiles, and people who will pry into your private life.”

You sighed. “How perfect is that?”

You stood in front of the mirror, trying to shake off the heavy weight of everything swirling in your head. You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time.

You reached for your hair tie, pulling it through your tangled locks. Your hair had grown longer than you remembered, and you decided to tie it up in a messy, yet elegant bun—one that would allow a few soft, curly strands to escape and frame your face. It was casual but chic—classic you. You let a few strands fall loosely, giving the bun a less formal, more effortless vibe. After a moment of satisfaction, you moved on to the makeup.

A soft, dewy glow covered your skin, nothing too dramatic. You didn’t want to feel caked in layers today, just enough to enhance your features. You applied a touch of blush to your cheeks, just a hint, to keep the look fresh. A thin line of mascara lengthened your lashes, and your signature lip combo was the finishing touch. Simple. Comfortable.

As you turned to check yourself one last time, you heard Nina's voice from the other room.

“Y/N! We need to go now. Rafe's texting me and he’s getting antsy. He’s apparently already at the event!”

You sighed, feeling the familiar rush of anxiety settle into your stomach. The mirror reflected a version of you that was ready for the world, but the world, especially tonight, wasn’t ready for this version of you. But as the pressure of the event built up, you couldn’t deny the uncertainty gnawing at you.

When you made your way into the living room, Nina was pacing, her phone glued to her ear. She shot you a quick, approving glance. “Looking good. Let’s go.”

As you grabbed your clutch, ready to face whatever tonight had in store, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat. Was it Aisha? Maybe she’d arrived early, wanting to meet up before the event?

But when you opened the door, your breath caught.

Standing in the doorway wasn’t Aisha.

It was Rafe.

He was in a suit—sharp, looking like he belonged in a magazine ad for high-end fashion—but his eyes, dark and intense, held something more than just a desire to impress. He had the look of a man who knew he had messed up.

His words hit you before you could even process them. “You look stunning. I wanted to make sure you’re okay... before all this.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart thump a little faster, and you hated yourself for it.

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at him. You hadn’t expected him to show up—especially not with that kind of intensity in his eyes.

You exhaled slowly, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, your posture defensive. The audacity of this guy.

“Really?” You scoffed, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping up your spine with sharp sarcasm. “Now you care?”

Rafe seemed to falter at that, but he quickly recovered, taking a small step closer, but not enough to make you feel cornered. “I’ve always cared, Y/N. You know that.” His voice was quieter this time, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made your resolve crack.

“Do I?” you shot back, stepping out of the doorway and giving him a once-over, your gaze icy. “Because you sure had a funny way of showing it.”

Rafe winced, a flash of guilt flickering in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I messed up, okay? I should’ve reached out. I didn’t know what to say, but I should’ve just... shown up.”

You rolled your eyes, the anger simmering beneath your skin rising again. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, not from the sight of him, but from the frustration that had been building over the past two weeks. “You didn’t know what to say? You think showing up fixes two weeks of silence? Just like that?”

He took a step forward, his face tightening, as though he was bracing himself for a confrontation. "I wasn’t sure what to do," he said, his voice lowering. "I thought... maybe you needed space. I thought if I gave you time, it would be better." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the audacity of his words settling like a lump in your throat. “Space?” you asked, your voice low, incredulous. “You thought ghosting me for two weeks would give me space?” 

Rafe’s face twisted in guilt, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to let him off the hook.

“Did you at least see my texts?” you demanded, anger rising in your throat.

"Y/N, you’re needed at the car right now!" Nina called, stopping Rafe in his tracks of answering. Before you could walk away, Rafe reached out, his hand closing around your wrist, pulling you back gently.

"Wait," he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.

You stared up at Rafe, your breath caught in your throat, uncertainty swirling in your chest. The air between you two felt charged, a thousand unspoken questions hanging in the balance. Your pulse was racing, but before you could voice any of them, Nina practically shoved you both into the elevator. Her hand pressed the button for the ground floor as she threw your heels at you, the sharp click of the stilettos punctuating the tension.

You caught them on instinct. The elevator descended, and your mind was still spiraling, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. What the fuck—this distance between you and Rafe? 

But just as the elevator doors opened, the sound of a familiar car door slamming outside caught your attention. A quiet thud, followed by the sound of heels clicking against pavement. Your instincts were on alert, an uneasy feeling crawling under your skin.

And when you turned to look, you saw someone stepping out of the car.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to catch up.”

chapter seven

[in1-nutshell]

Silveraid in TFOne, go

I may or may not have shaken the 'Angst salt shaker' a bit too hard...

Hope you enjoy!

TF1 Silver Aid

SFW, Platonic, ANGST, Mention of injuries, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TF1

Elita and Silver Aid were a prime example of opposite split sparks.

Also known as being twins with opposite personalities.

No one could have guessed the two were related, much less twins.

Elita was the one who took charge and had more of the aggression.

Silver was less intense than her twin, opting for more peaceful and gentler approaches.

Or as gentle as you can get in the mines.

Elita had tried to toughen up her twin, but it never ended up well.

Elita punching a training pole. She turns to Silver. Elita: “Your turn.” Silver turns to the pole. Silver Aid: “Remind me why I let you talk me into this?” Elita: “Because I told you.” Silver Aid gives her a look. Silver Aid: “In what situation would I need to deck someone in the face? That’s why I have you.” Elita gives her a look. Silver Aid: “… Fine…”

Eventually Silver caught the optics of some of the miner medics and ended up moving into their sector thanks to some supervisors.

Silver still visited the mines after work.

Many of the miners welcomed the kindness the bot gave.

Elita often warned her about getting too soft.

Silver Aid would playfully roll her optics at her twin.

It was thanks to her twin that she would meet Orion and D-16.

It was… eventful when they first met.

Silver Aid walks into one of the med bay rooms. Silver Aid smiles at the two mechs in the room. Silver Aid: “Hello, I’m Silver Aid. I’ll be patching up you two up today.” Orion: “I haven’t seen you around? New around the mines?” Silver Aid starts checking his arm. Silver Aid: “Oh, I’ve been around, just moved into a new sector so you’ll only be seeing me around here.” She turns to D-16 and smiles. Silver Aid: “And what are your names?” D-16: “D-16 and that’s Orion Pax.” Silver Aid carefully buffs out a dent on the side of his chassis. D-16 feels a bit warmer. D-16: “Umm, my frame feels a bit warmer than usual.” Silver Aid: “Oh? Let me take a look.” She places a cooling patch just below the hole in his chassis. She can feel the spark pulsing fast under her digits. Silver Aid: “You need to calm down D-16. It’ll make the process go a lot faster.” D-16 nods and glances over at Orion. Orion just has a knowing look on his face plate. The same look that usually got them into trouble. Elita: “Silver Aid.” The three bots jump a bit at the sudden presence of Elita One. Silver smiles widely putting away the cooling patch and hugging Elita. The mech half expected the pink bot to flip the medic over, but to their surprise Elita just patted her back. Elita gets out of Silver’s grip. Elita: “Are these two knucklehead’s ready to go back to work?” Silver Aid: “Not yet, they still need a bit more time to heal.” Silver Aid turns to the two mechs and waves. Silver Aid: “You two are free to go. Goodbye!” Both mechs wave back as the bot left. Elita glared at them both. Elita: “Stay away from my twin.” Orion and D-16: “SHE’S YOUR TWIN!”

Both mechs have near whiplash hearing it.

How?!

After that day, Orion started dragging D to the medbay to try and meet up with Silver Aid.

Not that D-16 needed much convincing.

He really wanted to meet the medic again.

Eventually the three bots became close friends.

Especially between Silver Aid and Orion Pax, much to the dismay of D-16 and Elita-One.

D-16 and Elita-One are in one of the med bay. Orion and Silver Aid had been gone from the mines for two days and had recently gotten a message from them to meet in the med bay. Silver Aid and Orion walk into the room. D-16 sighs in relief and starts to go over to the pair but gets shoved aside by Elita. She runs to Silver’s side and looks over her. Elita: “Are you okay? What happened? What did Pax drag you into?” Orion: “Well—” D-16: “Wait you did drag her into something?” Silver Aid: “Not really. But there is something we want to tell you two.” Orion swings an arm around Silver’s shoulder with a goofy smile. Orion: “We are now officially Amica Endura!” SMACK! Orion gets punched in the face and falls backwards. Silver Aid: “Elita!” D-16 blinking in surprise. D-16: “You two… you performed the Amica rites?! How?! Why?!” Orion stands up with Silver’s help. Orion: “Relax D, Elita. It’s not like I asked her to be my Conjunx.” SMACK! Orion is once again on the ground holding his face. Silver Aid: “D!”

D didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous of his friend for having the bearing to do something so uncommon.

Amica’s were not too common in Iacon.

Orion keeps teasing him about going out with Silver, he just wanted both his friends to get Conjunxed already.

D-16 tries punching him whenever he says this.

Elita knows that her twin has a certain optic out for a certain silver mech.

She hates it.

Often telling her that she could have any other mech, just not him or Orion.

Now to the main story.

Silver Aid is on scene when the tunnel collapses immediately going to Jazz.

Is shocked to see Elita get demoted.

She was going to need to talk to her on her break.

Silver gives D and Orion a quick smile as she quickly carries Jazz to the medbay.

Is there with d when Orion talks about going into the Iacon 500.

Silver Aid tries to be supportive of her Amica but does tell him to be a bit realistic in the fact that they didn’t even have cogs.

Accompanies D back to the mines.

Silver Aid: “Well this is our stop. See you later D.” Silver starts to leave but D grabs her servo. She turns to look at him. Silver Aid: “D?” D-16 blinks before letting go of her servo. D-16: “I, umm… you want to sit with us tomorrow?” Silver blinks before smiling sadly. Silver Aid: “I’d love to… but I have a shift to work tomorrow… I’m sorry.” D-16 felt a pang seeing her sad. D-16: “Hey, we can tell you what happened in the race. Maybe even get some memorabilia or decal from the shop!” Silver smiles at him. Silver Aid: “Thanks D… see you tomorrow then.” She leaves after that. D-16 sighs and has a warm smile on his face. Orion: “So!” D-16 jumps at Orion’s sudden entrance. Orion: “When can I expect you to make a Conjunx of my Amica-AAA! STOP TRYING TO HIT ME!”

Silver Aid gets called down to deal with something in the level were Elita worked.

It turned out to be an easy fix, she spotted Elita loading a crate and decided to go over, at least have a small chat.

Elita was about to start talking when Silver noticed the top of the train was open.

Elita told her to get behind her, someone was on the train.

If they worked together to get the perp, she could get promoted and maybe Silver could get some newer equipment.

Silver is just confused why Orion, a yellow bot and D are inside.

Elita roughly grabs her servo and tells her to run.

Not one to question her twin, she runs by her side.

Silver Aid and Elita are running and leaping over crates in front of the three mechs. B-127: “Who are these bots?!” Orion: “Just my Amica and her twin.” Elita and Silver copy similar flips and jumps. D-16: “You know I can finally see the resemblance now.” Meanwhile with Elita and Silver Aid. Silver Aid: “Elita maybe we should listen to them—” Elita gives her a glare. Silver: “Okay, just going to keep on running…”

Then they all got to the surface.

Everyone is staring at the beautiful horizon.

D-16 inches closer to Silver, but Elita sees this and firmly pulls her into a side hug glaring at the silver mech.

The train gets launched in the air.

Orion and D-16 land on top of her back.

Orion went to go help Elita while D helped Silver and they both went to help B-127.

Reveal of the Quintessons.

Silver instinctively grabbed onto D and Elita’s servos trying to guide them to safety.

Clenches on D’s servo when Orion and B nearly get caught

Elita’s servo let go, but not D’s.

Not that either wanted to let go.

It wasn’t until B-127 made the comment that they both let go, both looking a bit flustered.

Orion is happy.

B has found a new ship.

Elita is seething.

Seeing what happened to the Prime’s.

It hurts seeing their frames like this, guessing how they were terminated by some of the old wounds and tears in the frames.

Steals up for a bit comforting D seeing his idol beheaded.

Meeting Alpha Trion.

Seeing what happened to the Prime’s and confirming her previous thoughts.

Seeing what Sentinel was doing.

Is by Alpha Trion’s side trying to get rid of his of the organic material in his joints when D and her Amica start the fight about what to do with Sentinel.

Freezing hearing that Sentinel had taken their cogs.

How could someone be so cruel?

Getting cog’s.

Silver Aid gets Onyx Prime’s cog.

A bit weirded out by the new parts in her armor.

Unlike the others on the run, she refuses to transform.

She didn’t need to transform to get to point A to point B before, plus there was no telling what she turned into after noticing the lack of wheels, treads, rotors or wings.

Thankfully Silver Aid did not transform since she had to help her friends and family down the hill safely before they could properly transform.

Silver Aid grabs Orion’s servo. Orion: “WHO’S TOUCHING ME!” Silver Aid: “I AM PAX! YOUR HELMS TUCK INTO YOUR BODY!” Orion: “I KNOW!” Silver Aid watches B-127 fly above them screaming. B-127: “WHEELS! I NEED WHEELS!” Silver Aid: “PAX IF WE SURVIVE THIS, I’M GOING TO SMACK YOU IN THE FACE!” Orion: “NOT YOU TOO!”

D hits the drone that would have shot Silver and Orion.

Feels a bit uneasy seeing him happy with the kill.

Tells Orion that she would talk to D after the awkward tension later.

Getting kidnapped by the High Guard.

Knows most of the High Guard thanks to Orion constantly talking about them.

Is horrified when D starts fighting Starscream.

Clutching Orion’s servo seeing the look in D-16’s optics.

Arachnid and her army arrived.

Silver Aid still refuses to transform and grabs a blaster trying to protect the injured guards.

Gets captured with B and D.

Is scared for D-16 standing up to Sentinel.

Silver Aid’s energon runs cold seeing Sentinel brandishing out a torch. She tries to stand up but Arachnid steps on her back struts. Silver Aid: “Get away from him!” D-16 glances over worried. Sentinel smirks and ignores her. Silver continues to struggle as D-16 starts screaming from the torch. Finally with a move that would make her sister proud, Silver Aid manages to kick Arachnid in the face and head buts Sentinel in his chin, making him stagger a couple feet away. She stands, still bounded, protectively in front of D-16. Fury dancing in her optics. Sentinel walks forward trying to intimidate her with his size. She does not back down. Sentinel: “You done medic? If you move, I might even spare you a painful termination.” Silver spits in his face. Silver Aid: “I will protect D-16 as long as I function.”

One swing and it would be done.

Silver braces herself for the slice when the train hits the building.

Gets thrown back trying to cover D-16’s frame with her’s.                                                                                              

Grogging wakes up to Orion and D helping her from her restrains.

Elita hugs her tightly before letting go to help Orion.

Silver Aid refuses to leave D-16 alone with Sentinel.

D-16 sees Silver Aid by his side. D-16: “Silver go! I’ll deal with Sentinel!” Silver gives him a look before charging up a blaster. Silver Aid: “You must have had a few blow to the helm to think I’m leaving you here.” D-16: “Just go with your Amica—” Silver Aid grabs the front of his chassis and glares at him. Silver Aid: “What part of I’m not leaving you, don’t you understand.” She lets him go and mimics one of Orion’s smirks. Silver Aid: “Ready to beat this false Prime?” D-16 smirks back. D-16: “You have no idea.”

Both manage to push him off the balcony.

Silver Aid skidded a bit farther on the stage.

Wakes up from the pounding to hear Orion and D fighting over whether to kill Sentinel or not.

Orion lands on her as D pushes him back.

The next few seconds are a blur.

Screaming in pain as Orion gets shot.

She could barely move from the sudden pain in her chassis, in her spark.

Just barely looking at D on the edge holding him.

Her energon running cold seeing Orion fall into the pit.

Screaming as she felt Orion’s spark go out.

More of the guards started surrounding her, bad news, considering her frame was still in shock and could barely move.

Out of pure fear and shock, Silver Aid transformed.

She doesn’t know what she transformed into, but it was big, had many arms and she could suddenly see much more.

It was much easier to deal with the guards around her, seeing D dealing with his own.

Then she hears the screams of terror.

More blaster fire comes her way.

It stings.

Silver Aid hears the frightened voices in the crowd.

Hideous.

Freak.

Monster.

Murderer.

She hears D-16 name himself Megatron after splitting Sentinel in half.

Too busy with the blasters and influx of bots trying to stab her to realize that Elita and B had gone to stop him.

A sudden blast knocks her into the crowd.

She gets to the ground and transforms back on impact.

Just in time to see Optimus Prime start fighting Megatron.

The pain in her chassis suddenly vanished.

Almost as if Orion… but he wasn’t Orion… right?

Frozen in place hearing him banish Megatron and the High Guard from Iacon.

Once most of them start leaving, the crowd around her starts turning.

Bot 1: “It’s the freak!” Silver Aid: “I’m not—” A bot pokes her while another yanks her armor. Bot 2: “A monster!” Bot 3: “Get back!” Bot 4: “Maybe the new Prime can finish it off.” Silver tries to make herself smaller to avoid the harsh touches. She makes brief contact with Optimus, Elita and B-127 on the platform. They all have a look of shock. The same shock as the bots around her. The ones trying to close in around her. Silver Aid: “I’m not here to hurt anyone!” Bot 5: “Liar!” Bot 6: “Tear her apart!”

This was enough for the sudden transformation to take place.

Silver ignores the screams and yelling; her main priority is to get out of there.

On the plus side of this new form, Silver was able to crawl into tight places and hide.

The bot managed to avoid all guards and bots until night fall.

Silver was shaken to the core from what had happened in the last 24 hours.

How could everything change so much so fast?

She wanted nothing more than to craw into Elita’s arms and have her tell her that things were going to be okay and that she would beat up who ever made her cry.

But she couldn’t go back.

She saw their faces, there was nothing to go back to now.

And it wasn’t like she would go to D—Megatron.

She’d probably get shot on sight as well.

With a heavy spark, Silver Aid silently boarded on the train that led up to the surface.

She jumped off the train and started to look for a new home, hoping not to run into any of the High Guard.

Primus decided to show some pity to her, as she found an old, abandoned ship safely hidden in the rock formations.

Silver Aid makes her way into one of the old rooms. The weight of the day finally crushed her as she crumbled to the ground and silently sobbed. She pulled her knees in tightly. Slowly she pulled out a picture she had taken earlier that day of the five of them on the way to Alpha Trion. Silver Aid gave a watery smile: “Night ‘Lita, Night B, Night Orion, Night D… I’ll see you… someday… night…” The empty ship echoed with the soft sobs of the bot inside.

[lavenderjewels]

I want episodic OVAs for Jujutsu Kaisen so bad

[buildoblivion]

fire and blood

[trash-bin-ary]

I can go on that ramble about the future and housing and aromanticism though now. It’s like man, the future is already something that is so inconceivable to me. To then have the sexuality that does not allow me to slot in the cookie cutter you find a romantic partner that you end up moving in with is terrible. And like In this economy I sure can’t live alone, and I know at least when I’m sick I desperately want someone to be there. And then there’s I’m likely to move around a bunch how do you deal with that housing, other than the work having paid housing. like constantly having to find somewhere that’s looking for roommates and it isn’t terrible? And then long term, when I find a job I stay at for a while (that’s remote so I’d love to live in a remote place) is it like I find a place to stay and then I’m stuck there forever and I just have to hope that I make good friends at this new place. (Friends that don’t want to live exclusively with a romantic partner no less.) I want to live with close friends so bad and I’m not sure if that’s a feasible thing for my future. I’m a person that has so much hope so I have to assume that yes it will work out, I do believe that. But man just hearing someone mention it, sparks that hope.

[whentherewerebicycles]

[astral-catastrophe]

Damn it

[wormtoxin]

we are quickly approaching “pepper get overwhelmed cause she makes too many plans at once” territory, only mostly exacerbated by the fact that nearly every one of them accompany a 2-3-4 hour drive now. maddening.

[fingertipsmp3]

I really think I only get by at work because I look a bit pathetic all the time and people take pity on me

[tenitchyfingers]

I’m listening to an interview to James Wan about M3gan and his career and he’s just said “creating creeps, like, a creepy atmosphere, is the hardest thing”

And I’m picturing Robert Eggers

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

can you guys all please actually actually be so kind to each other and I mean it tangibly like stop being a coward about what you’ll lose cause it doesn’t fucking matter more than being kind and you know it just fucking do what you can we’ve already lost so much what is the fucking cost of being kind to you anymore. people are so fucking desensitized to their own bullshit they’re dealing with like they’re so casual and blaise and ignorant about things that even harm them directly like why not at least be kind about it why not at least deal with the bullshit that comes from being kind instead i am so sad abt this why do people have to make it so hard. like I get capitalism and colonialism and whatever plays into people being raised to be unkind but are we that fucking fallible like that really fucking sucks bro

[quiirrel]

thanks god. and Jesus. I guess

[ultravioletlesbian]

.

[max-fewtrell]

.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[floral-hex]

It’s wild how, on my good hearing days, I feel like my charisma and likability goes through the roof. It feels like a super power. Tonight I spent 10 minutes talking about horror movies with a guy at the gas station. And talking to strangers sucks! Wow. I’m, like, seriously proud of myself. I’m probably the bravest boy on earth.