#taking that person and giving them back broken

[meazalykov]

pick a side

gio queiroz x uswnt!reader

summary: you feel forced to pick a side during the national break

warnings: swearing, google translated language

this match has been fast-paced.

the stands in this los angeles stadium are packed, the crowd yelling with excitement as the game nears its conclusion. you’ve kept your head down for most of the match, focusing on your role, finding your rhythm, and working to break through brazil’s backline. 

the banter on the pitch has been light, even playful at times. you’ve exchanged a few teasing smiles and glances with gio, your girlfriend of eight months, but nothing that would draw attention… at least, that was the plan.

it’s the 87th minute now, and the game feels like it’s teetering on the edge. tied 1-1, neither side is giving an inch. the sun has dipped low, painting the sky a hazy orange as the stadium lights flicker on. the ball pings around midfield, and then lindsey charges in, her presence commanding, as always for someone who needs to fulfill a captain role. 

gio had the ball, but lindsey steps in hard on gio, winning the ball but making contact that’s just a bit too aggressive. you see gio stumble back, not falling but she almost did. the brazilian’s face twisting in frustration as she plants her feet.

lindsey straightens, turning to walk away, but gio isn’t letting it slide. 

"que porra é essa?" gio snaps, her voice carrying just enough to draw a few heads. you recognize the tone immediately.. sharp, challenging. your eyes widen from forty yards away. 

lindsey pauses, pivoting back to face her, jaw tight, eyes narrowing. 

"you got something to say?" lindsey shoots back, her voice calm but laced with that signature edge. she’s keeping it together.. for now. you can see her fingers curl slightly, her composure fraying just enough to be noticeable.

gio waves her hand dismissively, a clear gesture for lindsey to back off. 

"fuck off," gio mutters, shaking her head. the motion isn’t aggressive, but the intent is clear, and you know lindsey well enough to know it’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

lindsey takes a step closer, her head tilting slightly, her voice dropping lower but losing none of its sharpness. 

"what’s your problem?"

you instinctively start to move toward them, but trinity’s hand stretches out across your chest before you can take a step. 

"don’t," she warns, her voice quiet but firm. 

"i think you should stay out of it luv."

you glance at trinity, your brows furrowing in silent protest, but you know she’s right. lindsey doesn’t need you stepping in, and gio doesn’t need you choosing sides.. not here, not now. 

that doesn’t stop the unease curling in your stomach as you watch the exchange unfold.

gio plants her hands on her sides, her expression unwavering, meeting lindsey’s glare with equal intensity. they’re inches apart now, voices rising just enough for the crowd closest to the pitch to pick up on the spat.

this is when sonnet, and angelina from the other team start to run up and break things apart before they go too far. your heart pounds as you stay rooted in place, the tension crackling like static in the air. 

your position at striker suddenly feels miles away. you can’t hear every word, but the tone is unmistakable.. neither of them is backing down. of course not, gio had never broken down from a challenge. even when you played against atletico madrid in barcelona, your club, she was the last person to accept defeat for the sake of her own ego.

you feel your hands ball into fists at your sides, every instinct screaming for you to step in, to diffuse this before it escalates further. 

trinity’s hand presses against your shoulder again, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"i know you want to help your girlfriend and linds but it’s not your fight." you nod reluctantly, your eyes flickering between lindsey and gio. 

you just hope neither of them crosses a line they can’t step back from.

your hopes go to waste. one second, lynn is stepping in, arms raised in a gesture to calm things down, her voice steady as she tries to play the mediator. the next, gio jerks back, her expression shifting sharply, mistaking lynn’s approach as something hostile or aggressive. 

“don’t touch me!” gio exclaims, her voice cutting through the noise, and it’s like a spark to dry grass. the reaction is instant. a few of the brazilian players rush in, their protective instincts kicking in as they misinterpret lynn’s movement. 

your eyes widen, heart pounding in your chest as the tension erupts into chaos. voices overlap, sharp and heated in english, portuguese, and even a bit of spanish. players from both teams converge, trying to either escalate or diffuse the situation. you see gabi arguing with lynn, their gestures animated. lindsey steps forward again, her captain’s armband visible as she squares up, shouting something you can’t quite make out.

the ref’s whistle blows, shrill and piercing, but it barely cuts through the commotion. she rushes into the fray, trying to separate players, her face stern and authoritative, but it’s clear she’s losing control of the situation.

you feel rooted in place, torn between stepping in and staying back. trinity’s hand is still lightly on your arm, a silent reminder to hold your position. beside you, sophia jogs up, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“are they still upset about the gold medal game?” she asks, glancing toward the brazilian players who seem particularly agitated.

trinity lets out a soft, almost incredulous giggle, but you shut it down quickly, your voice firm. 

“no, they’ve moved on.” you mean it, mostly. gio and the others had congratulated you last year, telling you the better team had won, and there was no lingering bitterness.. at least, none you’d picked up on.

watching the scene unfold, it’s hard not to wonder if the loss still stings, if the weight of that match lingers in moments like this, where tempers flare and emotions run high. your eyes dart to gio, who’s still gesturing animatedly at lynn, her voice raised, though the words are lost in the noise. 

a minute after lynn came through and.. attempted.. to break things up, the collective retreat is almost comical, like someone hit an invisible pause button. players from both teams step back, hands raised or resting on their hips, the tension diffusing in unison as if they all silently agreed this wasn’t worth escalating further. 

the ref stands at the center of it all, her whistle still gripped tightly, her face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. 

you watch as she raises two yellow cards, one in each hand..one for lindsey, one for gio. it’s not exactly shocking. both of them are fiery, unafraid to stand their ground, and, honestly, it could’ve been worse. 

still, you can’t help but roll your eyes, letting out a soft exhale as you shake your head. you mutter to yourself, “of course.”

as you jog back to your position, your gaze instinctively shifts to gio. she’s standing about twenty feet away, her expression unreadable at first. then, she meets your eyes, and you see it..a look that’s part curious, part questioning. it’s subtle, but you know her well enough to catch it: 

are you on my side?

you bite back a groan, unwilling to let her pull you into whatever narrative is brewing in her mind. instead, you mouth the words, exaggerating them just enough so she can catch them from the distance: 

we will talk about it later. 

you emphasize the later, hoping she understands there’s a time and place, and it’s definitely not here.

gio smirks faintly, her head tilting as if to say, fine. 

the game resumes, but not without a sigh from almost everyone on the pitch. the board goes up at the 90th minute, signaling 8 extra minutes. you don’t even have to ask; you know those minutes are for the chaos lindsey and gio stirred up. 

"unbelievable," you mutter under your breath, repositioning yourself and shaking off the lingering tension. this match just couldn’t end quietly, could it?

finally, the final whistle comes which brings a sense of relief for you, the tension melting away as both teams fall into the familiar post-match routine. 

players exchange handshakes, some linger to chat with club teammates, and there’s an easy camaraderie between many of the players despite the earlier chaos. you weave through the crowd, smiling and greeting a few friends, like angelina and gabi, catching up briefly before your focus shifts to the stands.

you’re about to walk over to greet the fans when a hand gently catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. the touch is familiar, as is the soft voice that follows. 

“can we talk? i don’t think i’ll be able to wait until we’re back in spain.”

you turn around, meeting gio’s eyes. there’s a softness there now, a sharp contrast to the fire she showed on the pitch earlier. you give her a small smile, trying to keep things light. 

“can we swap?” you ask, tugging lightly at her jersey… her lips curve into a smirk, but she doesn’t let you off that easily. 

“you’re avoiding the conversation,” she says, the teasing lilt in her voice clear.

“i am,” you admit, not bothering to deny it. 

“because that moment was ridiculous, gio.”

she chuckles softly but doesn’t argue as you both swap jerseys, the smooth motion practiced after years of playing. you pull on her green brazilian home kit while she slips into your blue popsicle-colored away jersey, your name standing out boldly on the back.

“i’m sorry,” gio starts, her tone quieter now as she rubs her hand gently on your shoulder.

 “i just thought you’d be on my side. you saw how your captain pushed me right before.”

you sigh, meeting her gaze evenly. 

“i know. it was a wrong move, but you know it didn’t have to escalate that far.”

gio nods, her head dipping slightly.

 “i know, and i’m sorry, baby.”

the corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk, though you try to keep it stern. 

“gio…” your tone is warning, but playful. “there’s a time and a place.”

she exhales dramatically, though her smile doesn’t falter. 

“again, i’m sorry. i know you’re on her side—”

“i’m not on lindsey’s side,” you cut in quickly. 

“in fact, i think she might talk to me about this since, you know, i’m your girlfriend and all.”

gio winces slightly but recovers with a sheepish grin. 

“again, i’m sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you tell her firmly, your tone light but sincere.

“there’s nothing to apologize to me about.”

“fine,” she relents, her smirk growing as she steps closer and pulls you into a hug. the warmth of her embrace melts away any lingering frustration, and just as you’re starting to relax, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“i know you’re on my side, as much as you don’t want to admit it.”

masterlist

[radioactiverats]

Mentor Starscream x seeker!reader (4/?)

Purposely getting yourself kidnapped by the Autobots so you can persuade Ratchet to teach you some first aid, as you're worried that Megatron's escalating violence against Starscream will one day leave him with injuries you don't know how to fix.

There's more Ratchet in the middle (because I love him as well. I want to hold both of them in my hands with gentol totche.)

Mashup of timelines as usual, but I def realized that when I imagine Starscream he's visually the G1 or IDW design, and when I imagine Ratchet it's TFP. I love MTMTE Ratchet but I'm not quite caught up yet haha.

Since you and Starscream were now sharing a berth, it was inevitable that he would find out about the nightmares. Every time you jerked awake, you would take great pains to quietly settle back into berth even if recharge eluded you. The reason was simple - you didn't want to bother Starscream with it. He gets very little recharge as is, and probably sees things every solar cycle that are ten times worse that what you're faced with.

Starscream doesn't comment, if he knows - another bot might have rushed to console you, but his brand of comfort was to apparently grant you the dignity of being vulnerable in private, especially since you were more or less chassis to chassis with each other in berth.

However, he finally can't hold back when you begin zoning out during training. "Earth to cadet, as the fleshlings say," Starscream snapped, waving a servo in front of your faceplate. You jerk awake, optics cycling before they zero in woozily on Starscream's faceplate. Pinched with irritation, but was that... concern?

You lightly smack your helm in hopes it'll get your processor back to optimum function. No such luck, but it was worth a try. "Sorry, sir."

He narrows his optics at you, taking in the exhausted slump of your frame. For a long moment, no one says anything.

Then, Starscream abruptly turns heel, his back to you. "Dismissed."

But - but you've been here for barely a joor, and - "Sir, please, it won't happen again-"

"And waste my time and yours?" Starscream says bluntly. You flinch, but he just presses on.

"You're in no condition to absorb the information I am giving you, which, if I may add, is exceedingly valuable to your success as a seeker. Recharge properly, and perhaps your processor will be able to comprehend simple instructions such as 'stay awake'." He sniffs, but glances over his shoulder at you - and his optics are gentler.

"We will try our luck again then."

Your first response is to sag with relief even as you watch him stride away, because he wasn't giving up on you. Your second response, however, is that of pure consternation.

The nightmares have gotten worse.

Ever since you had to personally patch Starscream up as he bled out on the floor of his habsuite, the nightmares have gotten so much worse. There are momentary flashes of hate in your processor for Megatron, but they are quickly tamped down by fear. Even your mind is not a safe place, after all, with Soundwave here.

The memory of Starscream, broken and battered at your feet, replays over and over. In some of your nightmares, he is exactly as you found him - gouges in his frame, ripped wires, leaking energon. But just as you thought you'd gotten used to the memory (he's not like that anymore. He's alive and well. He's not like that anymore.), your processor decided to play tricks of the worst kind on you. Offering all kinds of ways Starscream could be hurt, in full technicolour detail, optics shuttered and frame unnaturally still. Worst of all, you could only watch as your processor conjured injuries beyond your rudimentary expertise, that Starscream could very well succumb to because you didn't know how to save him.

That night, the image in your processor is so bad that you bolt upright with coolant already leaking from your optics. You swipe roughly at your faceplates as the memory continues to remain fresh in your mind, fighting to get your trembling frame under control.

You turn to look at the bot next to you, if only to reassure yourself that he's okay, assuming he would be in recharge - but to your surprise, a pair of glowing red optics meet your frantic gaze.

"Sir," You manage to garble out, through the layers of static distorting your vocalizer. "I'm sorry for waking you."

Starscream says nothing. His optics flick to the coolant that drips from your faceplate even as you try to assure him that you're fine, and suddenly, he opens his arms to you in wordless invitation.

"I- sir?"

It's not the first time you would have recharged in his arms. But... this? You hesitate, unsure whether this is too much to ask. Evidently, you've hesitated for too long, because Starscream wraps a servo around your wrist and pulls you gently but insistently to him.

"I'm here," He murmurs gruffly, in low, musical Vosian. And it makes coolant spring to your optics all over again, because ever since Megatron had taken charge, he'd quickly ensured that all his soldiers spoke only standard Cybertronian - a quick and brutal 'show' had made sure of that. You slip into recharge with the gentle lilt of Vosian in your audials, and for once, no more nightmares plague you. You're even more surprised to awaken not to an empty berth, but still pressed up against Starscream's warm chassis.

"Oh, good," Starscream had rasped, vocalizer not quite activated after recharge. "You're awake. There are some things I must see to, so I trust you will stay out of trouble in my absence."

You barely had time to even nod before he was gone. Checking your internal chronometer, you whistle quietly. Was it that late already? Had... had Starscream stayed on purpose, so you wouldn't panic upon seeing an empty berth?

You feel more recharged than you have in many solar cycles. However, your newfound energy and the warmth thrumming through your spark for your commander has only strengthened your determination to do something. Starscream might have kept the nightmares at bay last night, but you knew it wasn't sustainable. The only way you can bring some semblance of peace to yourself and him is if you can become confident in your abilities to repair him without external help.

Which is, admittedly, a lot easier said than done.

You knew you were about to do something really, really stupid.

The Decepticons had traded tales about an Autobot medic named Ratchet, before. The way they spoke of him with begrudging respect was enough for you to believe that Ratchet could work literal miracles, and that was precisely what you needed right now. But how could you possibly approach him?

You've heard enough about the Autobots, observed enough about them to know where they differed from the Decepticons. One major difference was that even when they took prisoners, they were not cruel. What if...?

You're too deep into this to give up. There's too much at stake here - despite the risk, if Ratchet was willing to hear you out, you might one day have a fighting chance to save Starscream's spark from flickering out. Which is how you found yourself trekking along the side of a dusty, abandoned road along some dry, sandy plain, not making any effort to hide yourself as you hoped for an Autobot to come across you.

But at the same time, what if they didn't let you go after taking you prisoner?

Before you can continue to second guess yourself, the roar of a well-oiled motor engine sounds behind you, and you almost laugh at how obvious you're being. A seeker, walking? The Autobot scout, Bumblebee, skids to a stop behind you, and you hear the smooth clicking and whirring of his transformation.

"Looking for trouble?"

Not particularly, You think, turning round to face him, but as Bumblebee falters, you realize you've spoken out loud.

This is the first time you've come face to face with the scout. You're about the same age, and for a moment, you both regard the other with open curiosity, like bots being introduced for the first time by a mutual acquaintance. In another timeline, you wonder if you could have been friends.

Bumblebee squints, looking unsure whether or not to drop his fighting stance. You make no move to engage, and simply stand there, servos dangling limply by your sides. This idea is really, really stupid.

"Defecting?"

You reset your vocalizer. "Not exactly."

"Still enemies, then," Bumblebee says, and he doesn't bother to hide the note of disappointment in his voice. Enemies. He doesn't even know you. You wonder if the divide between you runs too deep, even if only in name for you. Is there nothing more to you beyond faction name?

The bubbling hope of confessing to Bumblebee your real intentions abruptly withers. Why, indeed, would he help you if he knew you wanted to help the SIC of the Decepticons? Still, you hated to say it, but it seemed that Bumblebee had the privilege of naivety for a few more stellar cycles at least, under Optimus' kind guidance. Within the Decepticon ranks, you'd quickly learned that some bots simply didn't deal in kindness. You supposed it was back to the original plan, then.

"I've been out here for a while," You say, pretending to stagger a few steps. You are in the middle of a scorching hot desert plain, after all. Casting your hook, you hope to Primus that Bumblebee buys the act, because even to you, it looks phony as hell.

"I think I'm lost." Bumblebee, who was originally looking suspiciously at you, widens his optics as his little antennae twitch upwards in shock. Line.

You stagger even closer, pressing a servo to your helm. "Bumblebee-" You close your eyes and pray to Primus that the Autobots are actually nice. You really haven't thought any further beyond getting yourself captured. Maybe you wouldn't even get the chance to talk to Ratchet. But you're too far into your little one-man show to back out now. You crash to the ground, and with your optics offlined, hear Bumblebee's yelp of shock, the scuff of dry earth beneath his pedes as he races over to you. And sinker.

"Oh, Primus," Bumblebee mutters. "Why couldn't it just have been a fight? I can do that."

You're honestly hating this war more and more. Bumblebee felt so much like a little brother - you're torn between fighting to keep the laughter from bubbling up, and the need to scold him for letting his guard down so easily. What if it was a genuine trap you'd set for him? He'd rushed to your side with no regard for his own safety. Then again, this was exactly what you'd been banking on - you count your lucky stars that it was indeed Bumblebee you'd run into and not anyone else.

"Ratchet," You hear Bumblebee say into his comm. "There's a 'con here, but not in good shape." Just to really drive it home, you groan weakly from where you're collapsed in a heap on the ground. It must have worked, because Bumblebee's voice pitches upwards in slightly panicked urgency. "Yeah, yeah, I'll bring them through. Thanks, Ratchet."

Huh. You really hadn't expected it to be that easy. The tales you'd heard of the Autobot medic were from when you used to sleep in the barracks with the lower-ranking Decepticons. This varied from his rough bedside manner, his surprising ability to fight ("He had green, glowing optics," One Decepticon said with a shudder), his past as the 'Party Ambulance' (what.) to his relative fame amongst older bots as a highly respected neurosurgeon before the war broke out. Most strikingly, he'd apparently patched up Autobots and Decepticons alike on the battlefield.

"It's some medic code he has," Snorted the Decepticon next to you. "Stupid, if you ask me. Why fix up the bots who are out to get you?"

"Lay off the medic," Another bot admonished sharply. "You might not like it, but quite a few of us owe our sparks to him."

A couple of low, murmured agreements resounded around the room. There was undeniably a begrudging respect for him all around, and a fair number of the bots clearly didn't want to be the ones to take him out, if it ever came to that.

You were thinking about Ratchet even when the lights went out. Even though you'd never met him personally, admiration swirled in your spark for the bot with such a strong moral code that he would never falter in his actions. You'd always dreaded having to choose a side. Being with Starscream meant that you'd 'chosen' the Decepticons, sure - but it was Starscream you were loyal to, not Megatron. You'd resigned yourself to eventually signing your spark away to the cause, because you couldn't think of any other way to survive there. But perhaps, you think, you could be like Ratchet.

And now - as Bumblebee carried you through the swirling groundbridge, your spark thrummed at the possibility of imminently meeting him for real.

As soon as the roar of the portal closed behind you, your audials prick up as a low, gruff voice speaks.

"Are you hurt?"

"Not a dent," Bumblebee says. "Not sure about this one, though."

"Just the one?"

"Yup."

"Huh," The other voice says. "I'll tell Optimus to keep an eye on that area. Never know if the Decepticons are planning something."

You feel Bumblebee shrug, even with you gathered in his arms. One of these days, you really have to tell him off for being too trusting. Enemy or not, he seemed like a decent bot and you didn't want trust to be the thing that destroyed him.

A deep sigh. "Put them in the med bay and go refuel first."

"Sure thing," Bumblebee chirped, and you felt the cold metal of a medical berth against your wings. A few nanokliks passed, and you continue to remain still, pretending to be unconscious. Should you...? Ratchet, however, beat you to it. "Alright," He groused, as soon as you heard the door to his med bay slide shut. "Get up. I know you're not actually unconscious."

Your eyes shoot open. "How-?"

The bot in front of you looks unimpressed. "I'm a medic."

"Right," You mutter sheepishly. Sitting up on the medical berth, you take in the sight of Ratchet for the first time. Red and white, built and stocky. Rounded helm, pointed chevrons. You finally work your way to his faceplate. Glowing blue optics stare exasperatedly back at you.

"Sorry," You mumble, and Ratchet sighs again. He seems to do that a lot. Then again, he seems very tired. You don't blame him.

"If you're done," He grumbles, "I'd like to know why you got yourself kidnapped on purpose." There's an air of mistrust in his optics now, a tenseness to his frame that you don't like. In a way though, you're grateful that he's cutting right to the chase.

"I wanted an audience with you," You begin, haltingly. Ratchet's optics narrow slightly, but he doesn't say anything and just waits for you to continue. "I heard that you fixed up both Autobots and Decepticons before, because you have a code. And I know you're an Autobot - " You glance at the polished insignia on his chassis, "- but I'm kind of... like that, too."

Speech was never your strong suit, and you were glad Starscream often did the talking for you. His silver tongue had surely gotten the both of you out of a few tight spaces before, but you never dared to ask about the details. Fortunately, a sharp in-vent tells you that Ratchet has understood what you were clumsily trying to get across. He crosses his arms over his bulky chassis, optics roving carefully over your faceplate as he assesses the situation.

"So," He asks carefully, "What's your code based on?"

Ah. He'd seemed receptive so far, potentially persuaded to your own one-man cause, but here was the detail that might make him eject you bodily from his med bay.

"Starscream."

You watch as a range of emotions flit across Ratchet's faceplate. Eventually, it settles on confused and mildly horrified. "Starscream? Are you sure?"

"Yes," You say, feeling oddly defensive. Ratchet seems to pick up on this, and he unfolds his arms with an even deeper sigh. "A seeker," He mutters, optics flicking over your form as if really just seeing you for the first time. "How old are you?"

You tell him.

Ratchet pinches the bridge of his helm, between his optics, a bone-deep weariness emanating from his frame. "I'm assuming you're one of Starscream's students, then," He says.

"The last one," You add quietly. The Quintessons launched an attack on the Vosian Air Academy, and I was the only one who survived."

"...Ah."

Another hum, and this time, his optics are appraising, as if something had clicked into place. You, a youngling like Bumblebee, would not be sitting before him with your paint in near pristine condition, had someone not taken you under their wing. Literally and metaphorically.

"So what is it you want from me?"

"Can you teach me some first aid?" You blurt. Ratchet's brows furrow.

"I could," He says, confusion evident in his voice. "But what for? Don't the the Decepticons have a medic?"

"Well, yes," You hedge, "But, you know. Starscream."

That part he understands - it was no secret that the Decepticons had a brutal system of hierarchy that relied on shows of power. It made sense that Starscream wouldn't want to be seen in a vulnerable state. But there's still something he's missing.

"As far as I know," Ratchet presses carefully, "Starscream has not sustained any major injuries at the hands of the Autobots in recent stellar cycles."

You probably shouldn't be revealing so much information about the inner workings of the Decepticons, but as your hate for Megatron simmers into exhaustion, you slump on Ratchet's medical berth and decide to tell him anyway.

"Megatron... punishes him. A lot."

Ratchet seems slightly taken aback by that. Anyone with functioning optics could tell that the Decepticons were kept in line by fear, and it was no secret that violence ran rampant within the ranks - but to hear it so plainly that even their SIC was no exception? And to have you, trembling before him, desperate to help him, clearly knowing that rudimentary first aid was not enough for whatever injuries Megatron had inflicted - it must be worse than Ratchet had ever thought.

He checks his internal chronometer - you've been here for about a joor. Soon, someone is going to come looking for you, and neither faction is looking particularly appealing right now.

"We don't have much time. Hurry up and get over here."

Your helm shoots up as Ratchet pivots crisply away from you, suddenly all business. You leap off the medical berth, following him to a large table where he thunks down a heavy med kit. This Ratchet, intense, precise, laying a series of tools in front of you with deft servos, is undoubtedly the war medic that had earned every inch of respect he got. Now you understand why the Deceptions were so begrudgingly impressed by him.

Ratchet hesitates for a nanoklik before pulling out some even more complicated looking tools. Is this really happening? At your wide, awestruck optics, Ratchet huffs, a light flush of energon on his faceplate at your bursting admiration. "Alright already. Stop staring at me and pay attention."

Two joors pass before you hear the sounds of a commotion outside. Ratchet's audials flick agitatedly before he glances at you. "You'd better go," He murmurs, low and urgent.

Go? Just like that? Ratchet must have seen you freeze up in disbelief, because he snarls and springs into action for both of you, ushering you out of medbay and towards the groundbridge.

"I'm sure you know how to get back," He says, quick and curt, typing in a set of coordinates. The groundbridge shimmers to life. "Go," He orders, in a voice that brooks no argument. I'll handle this."

You give him one last, lingering glance before you step through the glowing green portal. Ratchet's staring at you too, something hovering unspoken in his optics. "Kid," He finally calls, as the sound of the commotion approaches. "No matter where this war takes you, be true to yourself."

You give him a jerky nod, overwhelmed but endlessly grateful.

With that, the groundbridge warps out of existence behind you, leaving behind a cacophony of Autobot shouts and abruptly plunging you back into the silent, sandy plain where you first met Bumblebee.

For a nanoklik, you feel so very alone.

But leaving Starscream was out of the question. Amidst all the uncertainty in the war, this is the one thing you're sure of. You leap into the air, transforming into your alt mode. If you were lucky, Starscream would still be on duty and you could sneak back before anyone had realized you were gone. You spiral through the air, picking up speed as night begins to fall. The flames of your thrusters illuminate the purple dusk as you add another burst of speed, your form now a screaming blur in the sky.

But before you can reach your destination, your destination reaches you first. Your only warning is a streak that blitzes into your field of vision before something huge and heavy tackles you out of the sky.

The impact completely knocks your systems offline for a nanoklik. Unable to even scream, you struggle to force your systems to reboot, gain back control of your frame as you hurtle towards the ground - but strangely enough, you quickly realize that you're not freefalling wildly through the air. Battling against the screaming winds at your back, you force your optics open to see none other than a furious Starscream, his servos gripping your arms with deathly force as he drives you downwards.

"Where the Pit were you?" He hisses, over the shrill whistling of air in your audials. "I've just spent the last few joors hunting every corner of this slagging dirtball for your sorry aft!"

As you plummet downwards, you struggle to make sense of his words. He was looking for you?

"What if Megatron got to you first?" He snarls, denta bared. "I told you to stay put! Do you treat my words like slag?"

You didn't think he'd catch you sneaking out, but you never imagined he'd be this angry. Both of you rocket through the clouds, the green environment of Earth swirling into your field of vision. Was this it? Had Starscream finally decided you were more trouble than you were worth? You wouldn't blame him. Shuttering your optics, you brace yourself for impact. His servos, where he's touching your frame, are warm. That's how you'd remember him, before you go out. Stolen moments of warmth with him. After all he'd done for you.

But over the screaming wind in your audials, your don't hear so much as feel his engines screech as he pulls up at the last minute. The warmth of his servos abruptly leave you, and your optics fly open as you are dropped a few meters above a patch of open grass and promptly eat ground. As you push yourself up with a groan, not so much sore but still ablaze with adrenaline, the realization suddenly hits. What Starscream did... Was not unlike how carriers and sires dealt with unruly seeker sparklings when they refused to leave the air. You shake your helm in disbelief, spitting out another mouthful of earth soil. Starscream... had quite literally grounded you. Huh.

You roll over to the sight of him seething above you, his ruby optics alight with rage, intake twisted in a snarl.

"Imagine," He hisses, looming over you, "When I learned you were being held captive by the Autobots - have you no sense of self-preservation in that scrap-filled processor of yours? Have I taught you absolutely nothing?"

His wings shudder with barely concealed anger as he begins to pace. "And of all the bots, it had to be that pit-slagged femme who blocked my way!"

Arcee? You're not too familiar with the Autobots, but you remember Starscream had literally shrieked himself into stasis after a particular battle with the Autobots over an energon mine, where a certain pink femme had foiled his plans at the very last nanoklik.

Wait. Arcee had blocked his way? You stare blankly at him as it sinks in that the commotion you heard earlier... was in fact Starscream singlehandedly blasting his way through the Autobot base to save you.

"Oh," You say.

"Oh?" Starscream screeches, wings twitching furiously. "Oh? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

You still can't bring yourself to speak as you gaze up at him. And slowly, a smile splits your faceplate. You can't help it. You smile big and bright up at your commander. "What?" He demands shrilly. "What is it?" He does falter, rage dropping momentarily from his faceplate and muting into confusion when you start to laugh. Relief, adrenaline, admiration, all at once.

"It was worth it." You gasp, through your fit on the ground. All this was worth it for Starscream, who'd against all better judgement risked his own helm to come looking for you, because he was worried. You'd carefully filed away every detail of Ratchet's instruction this afternoon. With the knowledge he'd bestowed upon you and extra bandages in your subspace, the gamble had paid off, because the chances of you preserving Starscream's spark had skyrocketed if the worst came to pass.

Starscream just stares at you, a hysterically giggling heap on the ground. "It was worth it!" You shriek, because Starscream is the one who found you and for now, you are safe.

You finally come back to yourself after a few cycles of wheezing almost soundlessly in your relief. You're sure there's coolant smeared over your faceplates and you look like a mess, but you don't give a frag - not when your stupid plan actually came to something. "Sir," You sigh to Starscream, who's still frozen above you, optics tracking your faceplate as you finally simmer down. "I'm going to have the best recharge of anybody today."

Unexpectedly, this douses Starscream's anger. He studies you carefully for a nanoklik. You take this rare moment to shamelessly drink in his handsome features - the sharp, defined ridges of his cheeks, the brightness of his optics, and the disapprovingly flattened line of his intake (okay, but still). Did he think that the nightmares, the war had finally broken your processor? It had happened to a few of the Decepticons. That would explain the flicker of worry in his optics - but he seems to find what he's looking for in your faceplate, so he simply sighs, all of a sudden looking more tired than you've seen him. He extends a servo to you.

"Get up."

You gingerly put your servo in his much larger one, feel his fingers close around yours as he pulls you up with much more gentleness than you're sure you deserve.

"I won't ask," Starscream begins. His optics flash. "But I will find out sooner or later."

You nod, trying for serious, but you must still have vestiges of a smile on your faceplate. Starscream stares at you and plants his hands on his hips.

"And don't think this will go unpunished. You think sneaking out is funny? Not when I'm through with you. You'll have done so many circuits of the 16-point roll that your wings will have dropped off by then. Sneaking off? Primus help you if it happens again. You think I'm coming to drag your sorry aft back home? Hah!"

I mean. He would come for you, but you wisely keep this to yourself as he gesticulates wildly to prove his point, even if both of you know it's more for show than anything.

Finally, he finishes his tirade with a huff. "It's dark," He says shortly, and glances at you. In the dark, his optics cast a soft glow on your faceplate.

"Eugh. Primus, wipe that stuff off your faceplate or it'll stain." Two large, servos come down either side of your helm, and you can't help but flinch as Starscream swipes his thumbs over your cheeks to clean the coolant off. Still admonishing you, but his voice is forgiving and wraps around you like a warm blanket. "Stop squirming."

Finally, your faceplate relatively un-smudged, Starscream breaks apart from you. You try to soak in this moment as long as possible, wishing it could always be like this. Just the two of you, under a sky full of stars. This planet's view of the solar system could really be beautiful. You glance back to find Starscream looking at you, also looking reluctant to leave. However, he has to play the bad guy. He always does.

"Come on," He says, but it's gentle. "Let's go."

Previous

[flwrkid14]

The Unreachable Heart of Tim Drake

Everyone wants to be Tim Drakes favorite, but not for the reasons you might think.

It’s not about Tim’s intelligence or his quick wit, though those things are undeniably impressive. It’s not about the way he somehow manages to hold the entire Bat-family together, even as they fray at the seams. It’s not even about the quiet warmth he offers, the small moments where he lets his guard down just enough to remind everyone that he’s human, too.

No.

They want to be his favorite because Tim gives and gives and gives—until there’s nothing left of him to take.

———

Bruce wants to be Tim’s favorite because it’s easier than admitting how badly he’s failed him.

Tim is a reminder of every mistake Bruce has made as a father, every time he turned his back or let Tim fall through the cracks. He wasn’t there when Tim needed him most, when Joker turned him into something unrecognizable, when Tim clawed his way back to himself alone. Bruce thinks if he could just be Tim’s favorite, maybe it would make up for all the times he wasn’t enough.

But it doesn’t.

It won’t.

And Bruce knows it.

———

Dick wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how to fix the distance between them.

It wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time, Dick was Tim’s hero, the person he looked up to more than anyone else. But things changed, and the closeness they shared shattered under the weight of misunderstandings and unspoken words. Dick misses the boy who idolized him, who trusted him without question.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how to be his brother anymore.

———

Jason wants to be Tim’s favorite because he sees too much of himself in him.

He knows what it’s like to be the one everyone forgets, the one who carries the family’s burdens without complaint, even as the cracks start to show. Jason doesn’t want Tim to end up like him—bitter, angry, consumed by the feeling of being unwanted.

But Jason doesn’t know how to show that. So instead, he fights for Tim’s attention, picking at him, challenging him, pushing him away even as he tries to pull him closer.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because it would mean Tim still has room in his heart for someone like him.

———-

Steph wants to be Tim’s favorite because he’s the one she always chooses.

She loves him. God, she loves him so much it hurts sometimes. But Steph also knows Tim has walls he doesn’t let anyone past—not even her. He hides himself behind his work, behind his role as Red Robin, behind the pieces of himself he’s convinced no one else will ever understand.

She wants to be Tim’s favorite because she doesn’t know if he’s capable of letting her be anything more.

———

Cass wants to be Tim’s favorite because she sees what the others don’t.

Tim is tired. So tired he’s cracking beneath the surface, even if he’s too stubborn to show it. Cass sees the way he pushes himself, the way he gives and gives and gives until there’s nothing left. She wants to shield him from it, from the weight he insists on carrying alone.

But Tim doesn’t let her.

He doesn’t let anyone.

Cass wants to be his favorite because maybe then he’d let her take some of the weight.

———

Duke wants to be Tim’s favorite because Tim makes him feel like he belongs.

Duke is still finding his place in the Bat-family, still figuring out where he fits in this patchwork of broken people trying to make something whole. But Tim? Tim treats him like he’s always been part of it, like he’s not someone on the outside trying to find his way in.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because Tim makes him feel seen in a way no one else does. And maybe, just maybe, being his favorite would mean Duke could give that feeling back to him.

———

Damian wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how else to be a brother.

It’s not like he’ll ever admit it. Not out loud. But there’s a part of Damian that craves Tim’s approval, that wants to hear Tim say he’s proud of him, that he trusts him.

But Tim is cautious around Damian, careful in a way that feels like distance. And Damian hates it��hates that no matter how much he’s changed, no matter how hard he tries, there’s still something fractured between them.

He wants to be Tim’s favorite because he doesn’t know how else to prove that he cares.

———

The truth is, everyone wants to be Tim Drake’s favorite because they know they aren’t.

Tim doesn’t play favorites.

He’s too careful for that, too afraid of what it might mean, what it might cost. He keeps himself at arm’s length, even from the people who love him most.

They want to be Tim’s favorite because maybe then he’d stop being so afraid to let them in.

But Tim doesn’t know how to do that.

And maybe he never will.

[smilesatdawnmain]

Taken Reverse Au (Wukong's Rage)

Since I’m taking my sweet time to get to this Moment in Taken- here, you can have an example for Taken Reverse~

——

There had been a split in the mountain. 

A split that had twisted the land and left it in shambles, spurred by the rage on a single individual. 

“Dad-” MK choked, struggling to keep his arm around his Father’s bicep, his feet digging into the floor below. He was dragged, leaning back a tad in hopes to give some leverage to stopping his father. “Dad, wait!” 

The King would hear no protest. Not when he knew. Not when he NOW knew. 

A confirmation with the Diyu, an admission from the man he considered his Brother, and he now knew. 

He did not have one son, but two. 

Twins. 

One of his cubs was at his side, feebly trying to stop him as he stormed into the sewers of Megopolis, his eyes a burning red. His cub. To know that there had been another this whole time, and held in the hands of- of Spiders. 

His eyes were aglow as he entered the sewers, the stench of decay and waste assaulting his nostrils. But the King paid it no mind. His focus was singular, his rage all-consuming.

"Dad, please!" MK pleaded again, his voice echoing off the damp walls. "You're not thinking straight!"

The King’s steps formed small cracks with each step. Not thinking straight? He’d never seen clearer in his life! MK’s brother—his twin—had been kept from them. From him! By those... those arachnids! By the damned Spider Queen!

Of course she knew! She must have! Nezha had-

God’s, his brother had confessed when Wukong pressed about it. In tears and on his knees he bowed before him, face against the ground. He admitted to his crimes.

“I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..!”

Wukong thought he was joking- a cruel and unfunny hole, until Nezha whimpered “There is a reason your son is always getting sick with no cause or explanation.”

It was twisted.

It was unlike Nezha.

Stealing his own child with the intent to kill, but being unable to go through with it, leaving him to the care of humans. That alone was enough to make Wukong’s legs tremble and his stomach lurch. It hurt.

Gods it hurt!

He did not kill Nezha where he stood. Somehow he stilled his hand. Somehow he stepped back, less he scream or cry, or do both.

But he couldn’t linger there another moment longer. Such feelings he would have to deal with later. He had to focus on what was infront of him.

His second child.

Nezha had lost track of the child, he explained. The glamor he had put on the cub to keep him safe in disguise had broken- and the child was lost to his senses until years later, when he emerged as the right hand of the Spider Queen.

Seeing how she was using his energies to power her army- he knew he had to take action. Knew it wouldn’t be long before Heaven realized too and would get to the cub long before Wukong could.

Spider Queen.

She had been using him. Manipulating him to steal for her. Do wrong for her. He had rushed home to let his Mate know, but Mihou was out at the time. He sent a clone to fetch his mate, but had found MK instead.

His Son was clutching the very enblem of the woman who had stolen from them.

When he demanded why MK had such a thing, he explained about his friend.

Xiaozhizhu.

That was the child’s name. Little Spider.

MK had seemed unaware, only stilling when his Father’s expression grew darker. The grounds around them shook from his unkempt rage- cracking until it spit right below their feet. Wukong had never had to reel in such rage in his life, and had ultimately failed to keep it in check before he was charging to the City, MK hot on his tail in a panicked confusion.

Terrified that somehow Xiaozhizhu had angered his Father to the point he was heading right there. “Dad-! He isn’t a bad person, I promise!” No, not at all! He was going down the wrong path, yes, but he could turn around! He was sweet and smart! Fun!

Lonely…

MK had been so close lately to convincing XiaoXiao to even join him on some heroing. To give it a try and see that there was so much good he could do with his powers! He had even been getting along better with Red Son and Mei- Who had agreed to try due to their friendship with MK.

MK also had been working on getting Xiaoxiao to visit the mountain soon- to see some Monkey heritage. Since the guy had never really even talked to other demon monkey’s before, MK had hoped this could help him reconnect with his roots- whatever those were.

The King's pace quickened, his footsteps echoing louder through the dank tunnels. MK stumbled, nearly losing his grip on his father's arm.

"Dad, please listen! Xiaoxiao isn't—" he paled as the tunnels began to change, shifting from sewers systems to a metal lined opened cave system. The Spider Queen’s domain. Spiders, small and creepy were scurrying off the walls at the sight of the two Monkeys.

MK shrieked, clinging to his Father now to keep pace with him. He hated Spiders!

The King's nostrils flared as the scent grew stronger. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of movement, any hint of his lost son. It stunk of the Spider Queen in here.

"Show yourselves!" he growled, his voice reverberating off the metal walls. The King pressed on, his feet leaving scorched imprints on the floor. From the shadows, alarmed at the intruder, large Spider demons were dropping to the floor, their eyes gleaming green.

Despite their barred fangs and sharpened claws, their hands trembled. Never had they expected for the Monkey King himself to wander in unannounced. His eyes flared at the sight of them, a few recoiling. One, who MK recognized aa the Huntsman, growled back.

"You dare trespass in our domain, Monkey King?" the Huntsman snarled, his eight eyes narrowing. "Leave now, or face the consequences!"

The King's response was a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the lair. Several of the spider demons scurried back, the Huntsman even stumbling. His eyes were wide, petrified.

MK's eyes darted between his father and the spiders, his heart racing. "Dad, please-“ he tried to smile, struggling, “We can talk about this.”

But the King was beyond reason. With a flick of his wrist, a gust of wind was surging through the area, his eyes golden and gleaming. The spider demons recoiled further, their bravado crumbling in the face of the Monkey King's unbridled fury.

"Where is he…?" The King's words were slow, deliberate, each syllable dripping with barely contained rage.

The Huntsman, despite his fear, stood his ground. "We don't know what you're talking about, Monkey King. Whoever you seek is not here—"

"LIAR!" The Monkey King's roar shook the cavern, causing loose rocks to rain down from above. MK ducked his head, leaning against his Father to avoid such things. The King’s tail easily lifted above his child’s skull, blocking any debris from grazing him. MK had never-

He was wheezing, staring at the chaos in quiet shock. He had read the books, heard the stories, but his Dad was- he was the Monkey King yes, but perhaps it was only know that he truly realize- He was the Monkey King.

The Huntsman was scurrying back, “I-I swear, I don’t-” he felt his life flashing before his eyes when the King stepped closer. A shadow over his expression, looking more beast then man or monkey. MK had let go of his arm then, standing limply behind him.

There was no strength in his fingers against such- such power.

As the Monkey King advanced, the air crackled with energy. The metal walls began to warp and bend under the pressure of his power. The spider demons cowered, their legs trembling beneath them.

"Dad..." MK's voice was barely a whisper, lost in the cacophony of his father's rage.

Suddenly, a new voice cut through the chaos. "What's going on here?"

All eyes turned to the source, many relieved to see their glorious Queen. Her hair was down, dressed in the comfortability of a silken robe.

“Our Queen!” the spiders chorused, rushing to hide behind her. She gave them a small frown, wishing her minions were just a tad more useful.

The Spider Queen's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene before her. The Monkey King, radiating power and fury, his son cowering behind him, and her minions trembling in fear. She straightened her posture, chin held high as she addressed the intruder.

"Well well well. Sun Wukong in the flesh," she said, her voice cool and collected. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this... unexpected visit?"

The Monkey King's eyes flashed dangerously. "You know why I'm here," he said coldly, taking a step towards her. The metal floor beneath his feet groaned.

The Spider Queen's lips curled into a smirk, her eyes gleaming with amusement. She batted her eyes lashes with the ease of someone who had nothing to fear. "I'm afraid I don't, dear Monkey King. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

"My son," Wukong snarled, his voice reverberating through the cavern. "The child you stole from me. Where is he?"

For a moment, surprise flickered across the Spider Queen's face, quickly replaced by a mask of indifference. "Your son? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. The only monkey child I know of that is yours is the one cowering behind you right now.” she gestured a finger to him. MK flinched at her gesture, his stomach dropping. His mind was reeling.

Son?

What was his Father talking about? The Spider Queen's words hung in the air, heavy with implications. MK's mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of information. His father's rage, the mention of a stolen child, and now this denial from the Spider Queen—it was all too much to process.

"Don't play games with me, Princess," Wukong growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I am all for a good game, as you know, but this is not one of those times.” she walked around him, her steps measured, “The only child here that I could think of- is my own. MY little prince,” she touched her chest, a tad possessive in her tone.

The Monkey King's eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "Your prince?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You dare claim him as your own?"

The Spider Queen's smirk only widened. "Of course I do. He IS mine. I raised him, nurtured him, named him. He is mine in every way that matters."

MK's eyes widened. Xiaoxiao-?

No… No wait wait, that didn’t make sense. What were these two talking about. Xiaozhizhu was a monkey yes but he- he wasn’t…

He was the spitting image of his Baba.

His eyes, his smile-

MK felt sick suddenly, teetering to keep upright.

Xiaoxiao was his other half. Why was that? Why did he have this connection to a Monkey he had no blood relation to? Unless… there was a relation?

The Monkey King's fury reached a fever pitch. The metal walls of the cavern began to groan and buckle under the pressure of his power. "You lie!" he roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the lair. "He is my son, my blood! You had no right to take him!"

The Spider Queen's composure faltered for a moment, her eyes darting to the trembling walls. She took a step back, her voice losing some of its earlier confidence. "I... I didn't take anyone, Monkey King. The child came to me, lost and alone.” a fire sparked in her eyes. Of course, when the glamor had been removed from his neck to reveal his true self- it took only a single examination of his soul by a trusted Doctor to trace the power back to one “Liu’er Mihou”.

The mate of Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. It took very little to piece it together. Though, even after all these years, the Spider Queen had yet to understand why things were this way.

Why the child was abandoned.

Why the King would toss away his heir.

When she realized he had another, one far more powerful and physically capable then Xiaozhizhu, she could only assume they kept the strong and tossed away the weak. A weak link she would gladly take as her own for future profit.

Only now did she consider something else far beyond her control had occurred during this all. A third party at work. Not that it mattered.

The Monkey King's eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and rage. "Lost and alone?" he snarled, his voice cracking slightly. "Because he was taken from us!"

MK's head was spinning. The implications of what he was hearing were staggering. Xiaoxiao... his friend, the boy he'd been trying so hard to steer towards a better path... was his brother? His twin?

The Spider Queen's eyes narrowed, "Taken? I was under the impression he was... discarded." She sneered.

Wukong lunged for her. She quickly ducked to the right, grimacing as he tore the wall behind her asunder.

The Spider Queen's words held in the air, heavy and poisonous. MK felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes darting between his father and the arachnid monarch.

"Discarded?" Wukong's voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried more venom than any shout. "You dare suggest I would abandon my own child?!"

The Spider Queen's eyes narrowed, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "Then explain, Monkey King, why your son was alone, lost, and without any trace of your protection when I found him." she stood, tossing her hair over her shoulder. ‘I am the one who nursed him to health when he fell ill. I am the one who he clung to when he took his first steps. That child knows nothing but these walls.” she gave a little tilt of her head. "I am his everything.” she held her arms out. “And you? You are nothing to that boy. And sugar~” she smirked, “He’s been quite useful.”

The Monkey King's fury reached a new height, his golden eyes blazing with an otherworldly light. The very air around him crackled with energy, causing the spider demons to cower further back.

"You..." Wukong's voice crackling with venom. "You took advantage of my son's vulnerability. You twisted him, used him for your own gain. You KNEW he was mine and you used that!"

The Spider Queen's smirk sharpened. "I gave him purpose, direction. Something you clearly failed to do."

“Watch your words!” he stepped closer.

“Or what?” she challenged. “You don’t seem to get it, do you? Do you?” she sneered. That child was her little Prince, her greatest thief, and her greatest assets for more than one reason.

To him, the “Monkey King’ was a stranger. Anything he even dared to do- it would not be met with understanding like one of his own kin.

And she was going to use this kid for every drop he was worth. His essence already powered so much of her machines. Even if he lacked in the power his Father had, it was more than enough.

He was so similar to his Baba after all.

Blindly loyal. And horribly naive.

A silly boy… but still her’s. And she wasn’t just hanging him over.

The Monkey King's eyes flashed dangerously, his fists clenched at his sides. "You underestimate the bond between father and son," he growled. "No matter what lies you've fed him, blood calls to blood. He will know me."

The Spider Queen laughed, a cold, mocking sound that echoed through the cavern. "Oh, you poor, deluded monkey. Do you really think he'll welcome you with open arms? No~ He’s Mine now.” she spat at his feet, “And you are never getting him back.”

The Monkey King's rage exploded. With a primal roar, he lunged at the Spider Queen, his fist connecting with the metal wall where her head had been a split second before. The impact sent shockwaves through the entire lair, causing chunks of debris to rain down from above.

She grunted, spinning to the side and zipping into the air using a web. As the area delved in chaos, MK screamed.

"Dad, stop! Please!" He cried out, his voice barely audible over the chaos. This wasn’t the way to do this!! But his father was beyond reason, consumed by a fury unlike anything MK had ever witnessed.

Wukong was right on her heels. The Spider Queen's eyes widened in alarm as she realized the true extent of the Monkey King's power. She swung frantically from web to web, barely staying ahead of his furious attacks. The lair shook violently with each missed blow, metal twisting and crumpling like paper.

"Where is he?!" Wukong roared, his voice echoing through the caverns. "Tell me where my son is!"

MK watched in horror as his father tore through the lair, leaving destruction in his wake. The spider demons scattered in panic, fleeing deeper into the tunnels.

There were sparks of gold- the King moving faster then most eyes could follow. In an eruption of sparks he and the Queen were slamming against the ground, his hand wrapped around her throat.

The Spider Queen gasped for air, her eyes wide with genuine fear as the Monkey King's grip tightened around her throat. The metal floor beneath them buckled and warped, creating a crater around their impact point.

"I'll ask you one last time," Wukong growled, his voice low and dangerous, his other hand reeled back to deliver a final blow, "Where. Is. My. Son?"

The Queen clawed at his hand, her voice barely a whisper. "I... don't... know..." That wasn’t a lie. He was out at the moment. The child had been disappearing on a whim more and more- of course at the most inopportune times.

“Not good enough!” The King- The Monster, tightened his grip, feeling bones threatening to give way below him.

He would have crushed her throat had it not been for a piercing shriek behind him. His boy, MK, was pleading, "Dad, stop!" MK screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "You're going to kill her!"

The Monkey King froze, his fist mere inches from the Spider Queen's face. For a moment, the only sound in the cavern was the Queen's ragged breathing and the distant echo of falling debris.

Slowly, Wukong turned his head to look at his son. MK stood there, tears streaming down his face, his body trembling. "Please, Dad," he whispered, "This isn't you. This isn't right." he couldn’t recognize this man in front of him. Where was his Father at? Where had his hero gone? Who was this that he was looking in the eye right now?

The Monkey King's eyes flickered, a hint of recognition breaking through the haze of rage. His grip on the Spider Queen's throat loosened slightly, but he didn't release her entirely.

"Xiaotian..." he breathed, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar.

MK took a tentative step forward, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture. "Dad, I know you're hurting. I know you're angry. But this... this isn't the way." He swallowed hard, fighting back more tears. "What would Baba say if he saw you like this?"

What would Mihou say?

Would he be right here with him, ready to end this woman’s life, or would he be uncaring for such poultry demons? Would his entire focus be on just finding their lost child- while avoiding traumatizing their little star?

The Monkey King's grip loosened further, his eyes losing some of their dangerous glow. The mention of his mate seemed to pierce through the fog of rage, bringing him back to himself. He looked down at the Spider Queen, still gasping for air beneath him, then back at MK's tear-streaked face.

"Xiaotian," Wukong said again, his voice softer now, tinted with regret. Opening his mouth to say more, a strange sensation came to his hand- a sharp sucking sensation, loosening his grip to the Spider Queen.

He whipped back to her, finding her form dropping into the very ground below. His eyes were wide, knowing such a trick anywhere. How could he not?

The shadows….

Was his Moon here? Had his clone found Mihou and drawn his mate here?

It was enough questions for him to hesitate long enough for the portal to close and the Queen to be gone from his judgement.

The shadows yes… but something was different about. Frowning and confused, he heard MK

“Xiaoxiao-” he was choking.

Wukong turned sharply back to his son, but the boy was not looking at him anymore. His tear stained face was angled at the side tunnel, wide.

Wukong followed MK's gaze to the side tunnel, his heart skipping a beat. There, partially hidden in the shadows, stood a young monkey demon. His fur was a rich light golden color, his eyes a familiar shade of amber. He was thin and wiry, dressed in dark clothes that blended with the shadows. A small spider emblem glinted on his chest.

By the gods, he was beautiful. His face was Mihou’s in every way- his eyes, his eyes brows, that little dimple on his cheek- the mark on his face.

This was him.

This was his boy.

The Child’s eyes were wide, his extended hand lowering a tad to show it had been him who has summoned the shadow just now, whisking away the Queen- his Mother, to safety.As he took in the scene before him - the destroyed lair, destroyed home, the cowering spider demons, and the imposing figure of the Monkey King- he inhaled sharply.

"Xiaoxiao," MK whispered, taking a hesitant step towards his friend - his brother.

The Monkey King's breath caught in his throat. Time seemed to stand still as he gazed upon the son. Emotions warred within him - joy, sorrow, regret, and a fierce, protective love that threatened to overwhelm him.

Then the cub spoke it was a sharp hissing sound that made him jolt, “What have you done?”

The Monkey King's heart clenched at the accusation in his son's voice. He took a tentative step forward, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture. "It’s you-," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

The child’s eyes widened, a mix of fear and confusion flashing across his face. He took a step back, his tail wrapping protectively around his leg. "Stay back!" Xiaozhizhu hissed, his voice trembling. He raised his hands defensively, dark energy swirling around his fingertips. His home- everything was destroyed…

His eyes kept flickering to MK. Why was he here?? Why was he just standing there and letting this happen?

The Monkey King's face fell, pain etching deep lines around his eyes. His ears flattened, the mighty King from a moment ago falling into a small and delicate whimper. “I-It’s- it’s hard to explain but-” he looked this boy up and down. His lower lip was trembling. This was his baby.

His knees were buckling.

Gods- what was he- he doing? How did he look to his child right now?

MK was blubbering, his eyes wide with panic as he felt the sharp sensations from his other half. The pain, the fear- the accusational anger that was growing, “X-Xiaoxiao wait, please. Let me explain,” he stammered, rushing to take his hand.

Xiaozhizhu flinched away from MK's outstretched hand, his eyes narrowing. MK made a sharp whimpering sound, his quivering at how sharp that denial felt to his chest. "Explain? Explain what? Why you're here with... with him?" He gestured sharply at the Monkey King, his voice rising. "Why my home is in ruins?"

The Monkey King took another hesitant step forward, his voice soft and pleading. "Please, son. I know this must be confusing, but if you'll just listen—"

"What did you just call me?!" Xiaozhizhu snapped, dark energy crackling around his hands. “I ain’t no “SON” of yours??”

Wukong opened and closed his mouth, speechless. “I…” he choked. He didn’t know how to explain. He didn’t know where to start. He felt such fear but such- he was dazed. This boy was as beautiful as MK was. With them standing side by side he could see it- same nose. Same way they carried themselves.

"Xiaoxiao, please," MK pleaded, his voice cracking. "I know this looks bad, but you have to listen. He's... he's our father."

Xiaozhizhu's eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously. "What are you talking about? I don't have a father. I have a mother, and you—" he glared at the Monkey King, "—just tried to kill her!" if he hadn’t come when he had she might have been- He couldn’t bare to think it. She wasn’t exactly Mom of the year, but she was still his Mom. He would have nothing without her.

The Monkey King flinched as if struck. "No, that's not... I didn't mean to..." he trailed off.

Xiaozhizhu's eyes flashed with anger. "You didn't mean to?! Look around you!" He gestured wildly at the destruction surrounding them. "You tore apart my home! You attacked my family!"

The Monkey King took a shaky step forward, his hands outstretched pleadingly. "Please, you have to understand. We're your-“ his voice was small, “- family. You were taken from us when you were just a baby. I am your Father,” the words came out groggy and pained. He put his hand to his chest, eyes so wide and pooling with guilt and joy.

Xiaozhizhu shook his head vehemently, backing away. What the FUCK where these people on right now? When MK tried to grab his hand again he slashed at him. “Don’t touch me!!”

MK recoiled, Xiaozhizhu flinching to realize he had almost struck him. His other half…

N-No he didn’t want that but-

This was too much. They weren’t making sense. His emotions- and then MK’s- it was jumbled. It was overflowing and making it hard to breathe. He wanted it to stop.

It was suffocating!

“Stop talking-” he wanted to cover his ears.

"Xiaoxiao, please!" MK cried out, his voice desperate. "I know this is a lot, but it's true. We're brothers - twins!"

Xiaozhizhu's eyes darted between MK and the Monkey King, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. This couldn't be happening. It had to be some kind of trick, some elaborate scheme. "No," he whispered, shaking his head. "No, you're lying.” his hands shot up to his ears, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. This couldn't be real. It had to be some kind of nightmare.

The Monkey King took another step forward, his eyes brimming with tears. "Son, please. I know this is hard to believe, but—"

"I said STOP!" Xiaozhizhu screamed, dark energy exploding outward from his body. The force of it sent MK and the Monkey King stumbling backward, debris swirling around them.

Xiaozhizhu's eyes glowed with an eerie purple light, his fur standing on end. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I want no part of it!" His voice echoed. He hand lashed out, and the two were sent skidding a few more feet. MK clawed at the floor to keep himself rooted there.

The Monkey King's eyes widened in a mixture of awe and concern. His son's power was raw, untamed, and tinged with something dark. It reminded him painfully of his own rages from centuries past. He had Mihou’s energy, his shadows…

“I-I’m sorry-” he stammered. Gods. Centuries past? No… no he was still making those mistakes here and now.

Chunks of metal and rock lifted from the ground, orbiting him like a chaotic asteroid field. His eyes, now glowing an intense purple, fixed on the Monkey King. "You destroyed everything," he snarled, his voice distorted and echoing. “You’ll pay for this, Monkey King.” his firey gaze locked on MK. Hurt and rage swirling together. “Monkey Kid,”

He was stepping back, to the shadows behind him. MK yelped and pleaded, rushing to stop him from leaving. “No no, Xiaozhizhu-!”

The shadows swirled around Xiaozhizhu, enveloping him in darkness. MK lunged forward, his hand outstretched, but he was too late. His fingers grasped at empty air as his brother vanished into the void.

"No!" MK cried, falling to his knees. He pounded his fists against the ground, tears streaming down his face. "Xiaoxiao, come back!"

The Monkey King stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the spot where his long-lost son had disappeared. The weight of what had just transpired crashed down upon him.

MK was sobbing, grasping at the empty wall. His sobs echoed through the destroyed lair, his shoulders shaking as he pressed his forehead against the cold metal. The Monkey King stood motionless behind him, his face a mask of shock and grief. He fell to his knees, cursing himself

What had he done..?

Suddenly, the shadows on the wall began to ripple and shift. MK's head snapped up, his tear-filled eyes widening with hope. "Xiaoxiao?" he whispered.

A figure emerged from the darkness then, but it wasn't Xiaozhizhu. Instead, a tall, slender monkey demon stepped out, smelling of sweet plums and home. The Six Eared Macaque.

MK openly wailed at the sight of him, rushing to toss himself into his Baba’s arms. “Baba…!” At once Macaque was drawn to the sounds of his baby’s tears, his arms wrapping around MK. He soothed the child against him.

“I’m here, Moon Drop.” He did not know what had transpired as his Son melted against his arms and openly cried, but he was here now. It had been… quite the trip here after Wukong’s clone arrived. Speaking things that couldn’t possibly be true.

Yet here he stood, in the Spider Queen’s domain, with nothing but a sobbing child, the ruins of a lair, and his husband flat on his knees, looking like he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. No spiders in sight. No Queen snickering.

And no lost child…

“…I got here too late, it seems,” he whispered quietly. So he held MK instead, focusing on him to fix one little piece at a time.

————

BOOM

Take this! This is just- it was in my brain and I needed an outlet! I got no clue where this au is going but for those who are curious, 🧐 I gift it to you.

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[thewizardingpost]

soulmates...?

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ findng out that you “belong with” the infamous marauders, you run and hide. But in good ole fashioned fate, they find you like they’re supposed to.  warnings ⌇2.9k, soulmate au, strangers to friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, hinted ravenclaw!reader (but not directly said), divorce hinted at (R’s dad cheated), minor injuries (r receiving, mention of some blood), this is my fic (I just got a new account)

At the age of ten you learned about soulmates when three symbols appeared on the inside of your writer. It happened on your birthday, the sight of it scared you and you tried to rub it off until your mom intervened. She had explained to you then–that the three symbols on your arm would fill in with color whenever you were near them. Then you had gagged and waved your mother off, but after a few years you had begun to yearn for it. 

After getting admitted to Hogwarts, your friend from back home found hers after just sitting at the dining table after being sorted. She was ecstatic explaining it to you, and that event is what started your desire to know the three people you were ‘destined’ to be with. 

Classes had started, and still no luck. A year had gone by, and still nothing. Over the summer your mother had consoled you, telling you it'll take time and that it's usually rare to find out so long. With your hands in hers, sitting on the couch, you asked her a question that would change your perspective on the entire thing. You asked if dad was her soulmate, and she responded with a heartbreaking no. Her ‘soulmate’ had cheated on her. 

It changed you. To know that someone was supposed to be your forever could do such a thing, leave your mom broken and alone like that was terrifying, angering. You stopped checking your wrist often. You stopped checking other’s wrists to see if it matched yours. You stopped caring. 

Years passed and you were now a Fifth Year at Hogwarts. And about to be late for your first potions class of the semester. There was barely any time left so when you arrived you threw yourself at the first open seat you could find. The air was run out of you, making you breathe heavily. You already caused a scene running in, you had nothing else to lose by breathing loudly. 

“Sleep in?”

       Your eyes flitted to the person beside you, “Possibly.”

“Oh I think the answer is ‘definitely’,” he grins, “I should know, I do it often.”

Seeing how you were still looking down at the table, moving items around–you noticed in your peripheral how he angled his body so he could see your face. 

“Gonna tell me your name or shall I give you one?”

      “Why?”

“You’ve been to Hogwarts, haven’t you? Seeing as we’re sitting together, we’re going to be lab partners.”

And that’s how you first met Sirius–sitting in the back of your potions class. At first it had felt suffocating, but now you couldn’t deny the way he made you laugh. Over time you found yourself enjoying his presence, even accepting his invites to study outside of class. 

He told you to meet him at the library, but he never said where. You scanned the tables first before you wandered down the book isles, scanning each row until you found him on some random aisle in the charms section. 

“Sirius,” you whispered, tone harsh as to grab his attention, “I’ve been looking for you, I–” 

      “Shh, dollface. Can’t you see I'm reading?”

You brush off the nickname, “you never read, Sirius.” 

       “Excuse you, I absolutely do. Only if it involves something I’m interested in.” 

You move to see the title of the book, “jinxes?”

       “Only trying to spice life up a bit.”

You sighed, “we really must finish this assignment, I’d hate to get a bad grade already so early on in the school year.” 

When he didn’t budge, you sighed dramatically to pull him out of whatever trance the book seemed to have him in. He trailed behind you, mumbling something about having to tell someone about what he just read later. A few minutes later you found some seating in one of the aisles, the row having only three seats. With the one on the end taken, it forced the two of you to be pushed closer together on the inside. 

“I didn’t bring my notebook because my friend’s using it and I assume you don’t have yours,” you mumbled while you flipped through the pages of some old book, “so we’ll have to use this to understand the potion for the assignment. It’s pretty detailed so maybe we can both read it and discuss what we took away after. We have to have this information ready–Sirius, I feel like you’re not listening.”

        “Good observation, gorgeous–I’m not. This is a complete snore-fest.”

“This ‘snore-fest’ is 25% of your grade,” you whispered with a smile, moving the book closer to him, “so read. Please. If not for yourself, please do it for me.”

He reluctantly did so, moving his eyes off of you and onto the length paragraphs inside the book. Every now and then he would make a reluctant sound. Sometimes his leg would jitter too much, and hit the leg to your chair. You paid it no mind, and for some reason you enjoyed it–a smile on your face as you read another copy of the book. 

“Sirius, why’re you in the library? And reading as well, are you alright?”

You watched Sirius angle himself out of the corner of your eye towards what seemed to be another Fifth Year–just with shorter, brown hair. 

“Oh fuck off, it’s for an assignment.”

       “I’ve never seen you read for an assignment.” 

“I’ve already been attacked by this lass, I don’t need anymore from you.”

       “And who is this lass?”

And that’s when you meet James. It was a quick hello, but for some reason after that moment he would pop up everywhere. In the hallway, out in Hogsmeade, across the way while sitting at the dining tables in the great hall. It’s only been short smiles and waves until you bumped into him 

outside the Quidditch arena. He called out your name, wondering to you in his get-up. 

“James,” you breathed, “you play quidditch?” 

        “Yeah, just finished a game now. We won,” he smiled wide, leaning on his broom, “I take it you don’t care much for sports?”

“Sorry, no–but that’s wonderful. And what position do you play?”

        “Seeker.” 

You hummed, “well maybe I’ll come watch you sometime.” 

If it was possible, it looked like his smile grew. He reached back to pull someone from the crowd, “this is Remus. He comes to my games often. If you’d like someone to sit with so you’re not alone, he’s here.”

You smile at him, “alright, thank you.” 

And that’s how you meet Remus, unknowingly meeting all three of your soulmates within the span of a week. For whatever reason you never checked your wrist. You left your sleeve to cover the area, keeping the markings hidden from your sight. Unbeknownst to you, throughout the next few weeks you would be unaware of how each marking would fill in with color. With Sirius, there was a small dog head that filled with black whenever you were near him. James had a stag that filled with brown, and Remus had a wolf that filled with gray. All three imprints were small, huddled in close together on the underside of your wrist–just barely reaching over an inch in size. Through all the time you spent–going to the Three Broomsticks, attending their Quidditch games, and even sometimes encouraging a jinx on some rotten teacher. You would consider yourself friends–but the tinted markings on your wrist suggested otherwise. 

“Darling,” James called to you, “are you sure this is where you went?”

           “Yes,” you answered, stepping over an enlarged root, “I’m sure.”

“Just say you don’t trust her,” Sirius quips. 

         “I do, I just feel like we’ve passed by that stump over there before.”

You were leading the three of them into the forbidden forest after stating that just earlier on your walk to Hogsmeade you saw the mushrooms they were looking for in their potions recipe. They practically begged you, mainly Sirius, to be able to find such an ingredient after being banned from the ingredient cabinet in the classroom downstairs. You were sure the mushrooms were just on this corner, sitting just outside of the forest–but somehow you found yourself wandering through the shrubbery with the boys in tow. Everyone was confused. 

“Dove,” Remus started, moving closer to talk privately to you, “if you’re feeling a little fuzzy on where it's located, it’s okay to turn back around and re-evaluate. We are getting quite deep into the forest now.” 

       You stop, looking directly at him, “I swear it was here. The area is all the same basically. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d be leading everyone into nowhere.”

“No one’s upset. I had only brought it up because it’s getting dark outside. Might be best to head back and look tomorrow, we’re in no rush.”

           “Thank you,” you smiled, “I’ll make sure you all are able to complete that prank, promise. It just won’t be tonight.”

“I agree with heading back, I’ve heard that students get lost in the woods past dark,” Sirius said, arms resting on his hips. 

          James looks at him with a weird expression, “where’d you hear that?”

“Why I overheard some professors discussing it. Some couple came out here to make out and didn’t return.” 

           “I say we hurry back then so we don’t face their wrath,” James whispered, already taking the first step forward.

The forest had an earthy smell that got stronger when the moon started to arise as the forest began to cool. It was quite cold, the wind rushing through the swaying trees causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. James and Sirius were ahead this time, deep in discussion while you and Remus talked in the back. 

Two minutes into the walk–that was just starting to feel peaceful–a galloping sound was heard somewhere in the woods. You had enough time to look back when you felt the ground under you rumble, but none when a centaur came barreling through. One then another, then another appeared. They pushed through the area, not caring or not seeing the four of you standing there. 

Sirius moves from where he was leaning on a tree for protection, almost cheering, “that was fantastic.”

You wince from your place on the ground, trying to pick yourself up from where you had been knocked over. Behind you heard someone curse and another coming to help lift you up, “are you alright?”

        “I’m fine, just a few scratches is all,” you said, brushing the leaves and dirt off of your clothes, “is anyone hurt?”

You look around while James shushes you, “we’re fine, sweetheart. Just worried about you is all, looked like you fell pretty hard.”

       “Like I said I’m fine, especially after the fact I just saw a centaur.”

Your statement brought up a conversation, one that lasted until you all were back inside Hogwarts. Throughout the walk you were gripping your wrist, more specifically your shirt. During your fall, your wrist had snagged on something–tearing your shirt and the skin underneath. When you went to stand, you caught a glimpse of the cut–and the pigmented marks on your wrist. 

BORDER

You started to avoid them after that night. First it was pretty subtle, you had done a good job of convincing them and yourself that you weren’t removing yourself. You smiled their way, talked to them, but you declined offers to hangout. 

Just now they had invited you to join them on a walk over to Hogsmede because Remus wanted to get a new book–and you turned them down, saying you had elsewhere to be. 

“I don’t remember her being this busy,” Remus stated.

         “There’s no way she’s ignoring us,” Sirius conveyed, looking at the two of them nervously. 

That remark spiraled them. When you started to pull away more, they were sure their suspicions were true. You rushed past them, even said you were busy when on the map it showed that you were in your dorm room. 

You were ignoring the life-changing news that you found out last week, which translated into ignoring them and trying to keep busy to avoid accepting the truth–to avoid the confrontation of spilling the truth. That you were their soulmate. 

It broke you to find out because you didn’t want your time with them to end. Didn’t want the news of a soulmate to tear you four apart like it did with your mom and dad. To willingly remove yourself from three people who changed your life from the better was heart-wrenching. In some sick way, your mind tried to convince you it was better this way. They’d leave you like how your dad left your mom. Four people together? It’ll never work. Plus they seemed happier just the three of them. 

Today was Friday, a day you usually spent with them in Hogsmeade–but today you walked those streets by yourself. You had started to read a book at the library before deciding halfway through that you needed to buy it, the reason why you were in Hogsmeade. And just outside when you stepped back into the cold air, you ran chest-to-chest with Remus. 

“Gonna run away like you always do,” Sirius remarked, face cold, indifferent. He didn’t seem to care much when it made your face drop further than it already had, “it’s alright, you can leave–we understand. We know how highly you think of yourself now.” 

        “I don’t think that at all–” you start before stopping, looking at the others walking by on the street, “can we talk. Please.”

“So now you want to talk? That’s fucking rich. After all the times you’ve run away when we tried to talk to you, we have every right to leave you right here.”

         “You’re right, I don't,” you said, pushing down on the sadness that was already beginning to crawl up your throat. You tuned, but didn’t get far when a hand grabbed your wrist. 

“We’d love to talk to you,” Remus professes, “just after we move somewhere quieter.”

He guided you, moving towards a more secluded area by the river that ran through the small city. You were far enough from the crowds, but you all could hear the faint sounds of the street performer in the back. 

“So,” Sirius probes, “why have you been acting like we don’t exist?”

          “It’s not you, it’s me. Only recently my mom disclosed some information about my dad and why he left. It ruined my perspective on soulmates, made me believe they were all a hoax because why would you be destined with someone who’d do that to you? So I got scared when I found out I was yours. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I thought surely it wouldn't work between us. Four people? How uncommon is that? Instead of giving it a chance or even communicating this to you–I ran away, and I shouldn't have. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“To be honest I thought we all knew we were soulmates. I check mine often. When the third little design on my wrist glowed whenever you were around, I knew it was you and I told the others,” Remus added, “But we all should’ve communicated that. That’s on all of us.” 

Seeing the tears turn your eyes shiny Sirius sighs, moving forward to pull you into a hug, “why’re you crying, dollface? Sad that you got three attractive men as your forever partners.”

     Feeling his arms around you, the scent of him invading your senses makes the tears start to flow, “I just don’t want you to leave me.”

“We’re not leaving, not ever,” James proposed as he and Remus moved close to wrap their arms around the two of you. 

BORDER

You laughed at the feeling of James’ lips tickling your neck.

“Missed you a lot, sweetheart,” he mumbled into the skin, pulling himself closer, “one summer’s too long without you.”

The train’s cushions were comfortable, but they were barely enough to hold you and James–so when Sirius moved onto the seat, you were pushed up against the wall. He had expressed his excitement walking into the cabin, tossing his suitcase onto the other seat before wrapping himself around James’ back. 

“Fucking hell I’ve missed you.” 

He placed a kiss onto yours and Jame’s cheek before moving onto the other cushion, giving space for when Remus arrived. There was joy and excitement held in each other’s hearts, knowing you all got to see each other again after months of waiting. It was torture, and the letters did nothing. Remus was last, moving into the cart with a relaxed smile. Sirius had held out his hand, pulling him onto the seat so they could greet one another. 

“Mm, missed you loads,” Remus whispered, smiling against Sirius and looking over when he heard you laugh. 

You were continuing to try and move James away, trying to stop his attack on your neck. You were trying to spew words between your gasps and laughter, trying to move him off but the sounds of you laughing were too contagious.

“James, give the girl a rest. She looks like she’s going to implode.”

            “Fine fine,” he said, moving away, “oh hey Remus.” He says noticing the way he had opened the sliding door, eyeing everyone with a warmth in his expression. 

“Hi Prongs.”

You greeted him after, feeling yourself grow warm when you feel him press a kiss to your cheek. The both of you leaned back into the seat after, James wrapping an arm around you, “ready for another year at Hogwarts?”

       “Absolutely.” 

[selene131]

🪞Clarity🪞

Sevika x reader

Summary: Sevika is at her lowest, but you are there to provide her with comfort.

Wc: 770

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, vulnerable Sevika, self-criticism (Sevika), smoking

The darkness of the room is disturbed by the flame coming from the beautifully carved metal lighter. The metallic click of the lighter creates an enigmatic symphony that echoes throughout the space. With each flicker of the flame, you catch glimpses of her face.  The light kisses her face in an ethereal way, at the same time, emphasizing her strong, sharp features. Such a sublime antithesis: she is fragile, vulnerable; yet so untouchable and bold. She places the golden cigarette holder between her teeth as she lights the other end of the cigarette. She inhales the smoke deeply; letting it invade every part of her lungs, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it slowly.

She plays with the lighter one more time, allowing  the flame to burn freely. Now, you get a better view of her face. She studies her face in the mirror, her eyes gliding over every little detail of her face - her eyes, eyebrows, nose, lips, deepened bags, and scars engraved into her skin. At that moment, she remains unaware that you have gotten up from your seat. You carefully approach her, standing right behind her. She is still focused on her reflection - she sees a broken person, shattered to pieces. Her mind is unclear as she looks at herself, consumed by her own thoughts and self-criticism. 

You watch her reflection in the mirror, and surprisingly, your eyes meet. Her gaze softens, and you catch her in a vulnerable moment. Your eyes don't leave hers. Slowly, you move closer, your chest pressed against her back. You rest your head on her shoulder, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, but your eyes never stray from hers.

“You are doing that again”, you say in a gentle tone. 

“I can't help it”, she responds.

There is a palpable tension; the intensity of your gaze weakens her, and she breaks eye contact. Gently, you raise your hand to her face, caressing it and guiding her gaze back to the mirror. The flame of the lighter illuminates her features, while the darkness of the room casts shadows over her visage - creating a captivating work of art, a baroque painting where the technique of chiaroscuro works its magic.

"You should try to see yourself the way I do", you break the silence.

She lets out a chuckle and shakes her head. 

“Don't give me this answer”, you disagree with her reaction.

You begin to trace every single feature of her face, telling her all the little things you love about them. You notice that her face feels warmer, likely due to her internal blushing, but you choose not to tease her about it. You pause your exploration at her eyes, where you give her a complete analysis.

“Those beautiful gray eyes - look at them. Those eyes that have seen horrors no simple man can imagine. Those eyes that shed tears countless times behind closed doors. Yet, those eyes can still sparkle with the joy of a little child. Those eyes offer kindness to those in need. Those eyes soften when they look at me.”

Her facade is breaking; her eyes are full of tears, but she still refuses to let them run over her face.  

You try your best to reassure her. 

"I don't deserve your softness and kindness," she utters with a trembling voice. 

It breaks your heart to see her this way. She is in the process of learning how to accept and love herself. It will take time to silence the voices in her head - her own and those who made her feel less.

“You deserve more”, you say as you delicately guide her head to face you.

“You need time and I am here to support you, no matter what”, you add with a genuine smile on your face. 

In return, her hand finds your face, stroking your cheek lovingly. She guides your face toward hers, holding the gaze. As your faces almost touch, she pauses - her eyes searching yours, attempting to communicate her love for you. With her lips near yours, you can feel her warm breath fanning over them. Her hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as her lips meet yours in a kiss filled with longing.

The flame of the lighter flickers and is burning low as the gas is slowly dying. Yet the fire of love in your heart and soul for one another continues to blaze brightly.

In the end, she pulls away from the kiss and says: “Darling, you bring me clarity. ”

[lilcathsmith]

Bones Season 10? Finished!!

I enjoyed this season a lot more than recent seasons. Bones and Booth were (for the most part) a lot more at ease with each other and the more personal side of the majority of episodes were a lot lighter and easy to watch.

That being said.... SWEETS 😭😭😭 Spoiler Alert: knowing about your favourite character dying 5 seasons in advance does NOT make it easier to watch and in all honesty I think it fucked me up more than I thought it would, I didn't watch any episodes for a while (about a week).

I don't think it helped that Aubrey was brought in so close after (*before) he died, I didn't even get an episode to get used to Sweets not being there and also why does Aubrey look so similar to Sweets 😭 That being said, I do love Aubrey, he's kind of cocky and maybe a bit arrogant but he's funny and he cares about Booth SO MUCH (also that scene with him and Christine was so cute).

The Cam and Arastoo plot with Arastoo going back to Iran was hard and I hated seeing Cam so worried about him (and are they actually broken up or just on a break? I'm confused?).

And finally Angela and Hodgins and Paris 🥺 I love that both of them were so willing to give up their dream for the other (although I am so glad that they decided to stay bc I don't know how I would have handled the last two seasons without them, I do hope they go at the very end though).

Episode Highlights:

- The Conspiracy in the Case: Booth in prison felt unnecessary? He was literally in prison for like 10 minutes I just feel like it didn't add much (except more trauma for Booth 😎👉). And those last 5 minutes were painful!!! I was fully convinced that Sweets was safe for at least another episode bc surely they wouldn't kill a character off with only 5 minutes to go? Oh how wrong was I! I actually threw my phone to the other side of my bed in pure distress and just lay there for 10 minutes crying.

- The Lance to the Heart: ow ow ow ow ow 🥲 I was crying every 5 minutes at this episode. Christine saying "uncle Sweets is taking me to the park" RUINED ME and everyone singing Sweets favourite song at the end I was absolutely done 😭

- The Corpse at the Convention: Now I don't know whether it's because I've watched too much CSI BUT why is everyone still allowed to work on cases when THEY ARE LITERALLY SUSPECTS? Hodgins was literally there analysing evidence in a case he was an actual suspect in and it stressed me out! But this was a pretty good episode.

- The Lost Love in a Foreign Land: This episode was sad 😔 The scene where Booth is talking to all the women was heartbreaking and when the translator just looked at him and said "Do you really need me to translate this?" just devastated me.

- The Puzzler in the Pit: Seeley Lance Sweets Wick 🥲 I'm fine, totally completely, fine.

- The 200th in the 10th: I LOVED THIS EPISODE! It was so fun and different, I loved everybody's alternative roles and the bit where Angela and Hodgins were flirting was so cute.

- The Eye in the Sky: oh this episode pissed me tf off! I was certain it was going to be the start of a Booth Addiction Relapse plot and then when he arrested the guy instead of placing the bet I was RELIEVED AND SO HAPPY and then 5 minutes later he ruined it and I was so disappointed :((

Onwards to Season 11! (*31 episodes left bc I've already watched 3 episodes of season 11🙃)

New crime show obsession?

I've finally decided to dive into the world of Bones and I'm going to take you on the journey with me! So here goes!

☆☆☆

I've watched the pilot and am immediately into it. I'm intrigued by the focus of the show as when I'm watching CSI I find the scenes where they recontruct a victims face from the skull really cool and the people who do irl and soooo talented!

Also, the opening scene? The skull in the bag? Obsessed!

Already in love with Brennan and Booth's dynamic, feels very Finn/Russell - there's been some angst in the past that we haven't let go of - I'm excited for their back-and-forth-banter.

Straight away, I like Brennan and Riva, they're funny and cool and I hope they have as good of a relationship as this first episode has shown.

I probably won't write my thoughts on EVERY episode, maybe do mid-season and season finale summaries idk we'll see!

[highbabyofthenightcourt]

To say that Azriel only feels lust for Elain, because of the bonus chapter, is irrational. From the moment Azriel met Elain, their relationship has been building a solid foundation. Their conversations had substance. She asked about his wings even though it was not relevant at all. He showed her such a gentle side of himself in an attempt to make her feel calm around him, even speaking poetically “we are born hearing the song of the wind.”

When Elain was taken to the cauldron as a human, Azriel was unconscious because of hybern’s arrow. He did not see what was happening and part of me believes that it is because it would be too much of a spoiler for their story, similar to the way Cassian’s reaction for Nesta was a give away of them ending up together.

After the sisters were made, once Feyre decides to take them to the town house, we have the scene between Elain and Azriel where he asks her if she wants to see the garden. Noting that he knew and remembered that she liked flowers. And Elain, does not balk from him, takes his arm and marvels at his scarred hands. She is not afraid of him. Not at all. She accepts his touch and finds beauty in him, even in her broken state.

Once she starts behaving abnormally with her new abilities, everyone assumes she is unwell. Even her mate. The only person who realizes she is a seer is Azriel. Which is interesting timing considering Madja’s words of mates knowing what is amiss with one another.

In the meantime there’s a lot of moments where we can see that Elain and Azriel enjoy spending time together. He lays in the garden reading work reports while she gardens. Feyre mentions that Elain clings to him for comfort in social settings. Even Nesta does not protest to their proximity. It’s logical to assume there are reasons for this.

When the cauldron lures Elain away, the only person who realizes that she is missing is Azriel. He is adamant that he will get her back. This is reminiscent of Rhysand’s attempt to kill Amarantha, and Cassian’s crawling to Nesta when she was to be thrown in the cauldron. He does not care if he will die. This could be taken as him just doing his job, but once they are back to safety and he is horribly injured, he still does not put Elain down from his arms. She has to be taken from him.

Fast forwarding, we see that Azriel has become very jealous of her mate being near Elain. We see that Azriel has spent his time trying to find her a necklace perfect for her. For a year, he has fallen asleep looking at the gift she had gotten him. Once Rhysand interrupted them and she returned his present, he had to be rid of it because he couldn’t bare to have it as a reminder of the pain of that night. He questioned the deity that decided he couldn’t be with her.

To say that all of this is dismissed by the fact that he is also physically attracted to her is ridiculous. To argue that this is true because he hadn’t “planned what to do afterwards” is nonsense. Attraction is actually enlarged by feelings of love. And he didn’t “plan” what he was going to do about it because 1. He had given her the space to be with another 2. He felt that he wasn’t good enough for her 3. Because he didn’t know if she felt the same 4. Because there is a God-like power who is against it. But all of this became irrelevant once he had her before him, once she knew she wanted him, too, once he knew she was aroused by a simple act of his.

And also, i would like to point out that Azriel never tried to initiate contact with Elain. Ever. And he probably never would. He said there was never unrestricted contact between them. She was the one to want his hands on her. She was the one to whisper “yes” to him. Because she wants him, too. She wants him innocently and sexually and romantically, and as does he. Nothing anyone says will discredit all the beautiful build up behind Elriel 💞💞🌸🌸🦇🦇🫶🏼🫶🏼

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

can i request killer sans x a reader that has body dysmorphia and bc of that they keep stressing themselves out w diets and working out and killer helps them out? tyyyy if u do <33 want to let yknow i also love ur writing!!

I hope this meets your expectations! I myself didn't ever have body dysmorphia, yet I tried my best to write this as accurately as I can.

Also, obviously not canon Killer bc canon Killer wouldn't give a fuck about anyone.

Featuring: Killer.

Masterlist

He never understood why you always stressed yourself because of diets and daily hours spent at the gym. And he never will, because for him, your body is already perfect no matter the chub on your body.

Yet you didn't think the same, and that bugged him, a lot.

Seeing you practically starve yourself willingly to fit in the society's views made him mad. He saw you always check the calories of the things you bought- leaving things you loved just because it'd make you "fat" in your eyes. It angered him.. watching you worry about your body mass like it's a broken bone and not something that exists for a reason.

.

You looked at the mirror again, barely seeing anything on the darkness of the room, your hands touching the soft skin of your almost flat belly. Your ribs and bone structure could be clearly seen being clenched by your skin, yet it was not enough..

"..I'm still fat.."

You frowned as you turned around and climbed back to bed, you've gotten sick and Killer didn't let you out of the house, that meant no gym, no working out, and he was the one preparing your meals and making sure you didn't forcefully throw up in the toilet. You had no idea how he convinced Nightmare to let him have quicker missions so he could come home, yet he didn't bother explaining to you.

The sound of a door opening and closing could be faintly heard, followed along with footsteps of the person you already expected. Turning your head your eyes met with Killer's empty sockets, a plastic bag in his hand which he put on the nightstand before sitting down on the bed and kissing your forehead.

"How are ya feeling babe? Better?"

"mm... A bit.."

Your lips mumbled softly seeing him smile, grab the bag and put it in front of you.

"Damn it's dark in here huh? No idea how ya can see anything!"

The skeleton jokes standing up and approaching the window blinds, your hands fell inside the bag taking various chocolates, sweets and snacks from it. As the sun light suddenly shined through the window, you turned a package of cookies around to check the calories on the back, only to notice everything except the expiration date was scribbled in back, no numbers or ingredients that always worried your head were visible.

"Don't worry, made sure none of these have something yer allergic to."

He assured stretching his back and getting his jacket off, tossing it somewhere inside his side of the wardrobe and jumping face into the soft mattress of the bed, letting out a tired sign before turning his face to you.

"Killer.. I..."

You paused.

"..Thanks.."

He smirked sitting and covering half his body with the warm sheets, sticking his hand inside the plastic and grabbing a packet of crispy fries, opening it and quickly stuffing a whole bunch inside his mouth.

"mm, no problem babe, love ya."

His socket winked at you as his fangs crunched the fries. Your hand slowly opened the package of cookies and took a relaxed bite out of it. Maybe covering the calories of what you eat isn't a bad idea..

[upthewitchypunx]

I don't think I have told this whole story before.

stuff about my house, an old abusive relationship, early witchling behavior, and growth...

So, my ex-husband and I bought this house in January of 2001. As soon as I walked into the house I knew it was *my* house, this was way before I started studying witchcraft.

The relationship was emotionally abusive from the beginning but I had no skills or understanding of how to deal with conflict and thought if I just did what he asked it would be alright, but it was never enough. I was always fucking up by doing something I wanted to do that my ex did not want me to do. He's say things like "you are so smart that you can talk yourself into anything and that's why you keep getting confused. So if you just do what I want you won't have problems." or something like that. Like, that just gives you a base level of how twisted my brain was. (there's a digital version of the zine I wrote about it here)

The house had strange spots in it that felt weird and our incongruity seemed to feed it. One of our housemates reported chairs sliding across the floor and things going missing. At one point I moved out then moved back in while we were trying to go to counseling and work things through. We thought a change would be good and we moved into that room the housemate had issues with, stayed 3 nights and revealed to each other that we felt weird and could not sleep, so we moved to a different room.

Counseling didn't work and I eventually found to courage to leave the winter of 05-06, but we still owned a business together and a lot of my things were still in the house. The person he dated after me (we became friends after she experiences some of the same abuse) saw visions of me in the house and I was very angry.

In 2005, before I left and i was sleeping on a mat on the floor of the basement, I started studying witchcraft. Got myself some Cunningham books and felt really silly trying to do rituals and hiding it. In the divorce I lost the business but got the house with idea that I would sell it. I cleaned the whole thing, painted everything, put in new fixtures. Took a punk house and made it into something more friendly. By the time I was done it was the spring of 2007. The house went on the market just as the markets were crashing. Someone was on the hook to buy it and kept it off the market for the full 30 days and by that time the house had lost a lot of value.

Anyway! We decided to move into it it with some friends in October 0f 2007. One of the friends was Wiccan and I was sort of interested in it and went to a few open rituals with her. She was taking a year and a day class and asked her teachers to help cleanse the house before we moved in. I had already stashed a bunch of witchy stuff i bought in the closet that would be my room. We opened all the windows, doors, drawers, and what not. We started at our fireplace and lit incense, flicked consecrated salt water with springs of rosemary and sage from the garden, and chanted. One of the teachers gestured towards the closet I had my newly acquired witchy shit in and asked what was in there. I said nothing and that room wasn't the problem, the room next to it where the chairs had moved was, so the focused on that. I'm still not sure why I didn't explain.

Anyway, at that point our house became the Spiral House and we have not had any of the old garbage that I'm sure was being fed by a shitting relationship. After that I built my own magical system and my own wards that work with the land and the house. I've made a secure home and I do love my house and my neighborhood.

Both houses next to us have been broken in to, but ours has not. I still think it is funny when some people stop at the threshold and I have to invite them in like vampires. lol.

[popart-vvv]

Arcana Analysis--The Amazing Digital Circus: Gangle (The Moon)

Only the fourth so far, but this one was the most difficult for me in terms of choosing which arcana fits best. Here we go!

Next up is Gangle, a super-emotional woman with the motif of masks. Also the star of the most recent episode, which most of this essay will cover. I chose her card as The Moon, number eighteen in the arcana deck. A card representing illusions, anxiety, and the subconscious, it fits very well with Gangle's limelight episode, Fast Food Masquerade.

Gangle's most prominent character trait is her comedy and tragedy masks, both of which represent her moods. She's cheerful in the comedy mask, and downbeat in the tragedy mask. Unfortunately, the former gets broken easily, and it happens a lot, thus most of the time Gangle is in tragedy mode. Here's the thing, though--Gangle's real face is her tragedy mask. So what does that make her comedy mask?Fast Food Masquerade gives us an answer. Not only does the title itself hint at Gangle's true nature, it also evokes The Moon.

After yet another comedy mask is broken thanks to Jax, Gangle is offered an unbreakable plastic mask by Zooble, a player with an abstract body. She's delighted by the new mask, and it gives her a mood boost. Then we get to the adventure of the day, Spudsy's. Gangle is made the shift manager by Caine the ringmaster. Sounds like a moment of stupidity, considering Gangle's meek personality up to this point, but as it turns out, she has experience in the role stemming from her pre-Circus life. She takes the job very seriously, and the mood boost allows her to dominate Jax for once.

Now comes the dominant theme of the episode--"masking". We pretend to be different from our true selves in a certain situation. And it can't get any more literal than Gangle and her masks. Despite the mood boost, she doesn't seem to truly be happy. As a matter of fact, there are visual and aural clues that she's slowly losing her sanity over the course of the workday, meaning that she was dangerously close to Abstracting. The two key moments are when Jax and Ragatha comment on Gangle's new chipper nature; the former says "I like you better when you're sad", and the latter, hopped up on Stupid Sauce, says "you're kind of annoying when you have your happy mask". Both of them are followed up by a *tink* and a close-up on Gangle. Indeed, Gangle just seems to be faking her happiness with the comedy masks. After sunset, she takes a moment by herself to take off her mask and scream in frustration, unaware that Pomni was close behind. Despite the latter's attempts to reach out to her, Gangle puts the comedy mask back on and tries to mirthlessly laugh it off. She remains miserable for the rest of her shift until Pomni offers to close up shop for her. Once Gangle leaves, she throws away her mask, and despite being in "tragedy mode", she's able to genuinely feel joy and bliss, even if only for a moment.

We also get to dip into Gangle's mind and get some insight as to why she was especially stressed during the adventure. When she punishes Jax for his comment, she uses an instructional video where she makes fun of the viewer for having the dream of being a comic artist. It's a pretty specific rant, which comes back in the end when it's shown that Gangle is an artist herself. So perhaps before the Circus, she wanted to be a comic artist, but was instead working as a shift manager at a restaurant. Perhaps the adventure dug up some bad memories for her, which she kept to herself even when Caine brought up the idea of working at Spudsy's. That's an example of The Moon Reversed, where you push your feelings further within your subconscious.

To cap it off, Gangle's story is evocative of The Moon with the prominent themes of masking. Perhaps in the future, she may start becoming more comfortable with showing her real self and eventually stand her ground against Jax. (please Goose, she's suffered enough! :(( )

[whumpchester]

Sam whump fic recs p.3

or, sam fics that made me go Ourghhhhhh 😭🙏

→ wincest, sam rarepairs, sam/others. check archive warnings and tags

→ part 1 / 2

Broken Prayers by withthekeyisking ❤️ [sam/chuck, E]

Sam is someone who prayed all his life. He always believed in God, always had faith, even if Dad and Dean sneered at the concept. He just never in a million years ever thought he would actually meet God, not even after meeting all His angels.

And he never imagined meeting God would go like this. [11x21, sam + faith]

172a - countdown by ani_coolgirl ❤️ [wincest, T]

Sam Winchester purifies his blood. It may be a pointless exercise; the problem has never been what he's done, but what he is. [8x23]

Bunk(er) Buddy by withthekeyisking [sam &/ lucifer, M] ❤️

It took Sam a long time to feel like the bunker was home, and now it's ruined. Because Lucifer, the person responsible for the nightmares that still wake Sam up screaming, is not only living in it, but living in his room. [11x22]

growing pains by apex__predator [wincest, E]

The way it happened— the way Sam remembers it happening— is laughably mundane. All you understand when you’re that young is what you’re told by the people who are supposed to love you. [extremely underage, dean!whump as well]

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking [sam/tim/reggie (hunters from 5.03), E]

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

143 - stupid b ani_coolgirl [wincest, sam/other, M]

Exhaustion makes Sam stupid and desperate. No (good) solutions are found. [7x17, wincest + sam/the dealer]

I used to scream ferociously by angelszn [sam/lucifer, sam/cas, sam & jack, E]

Lucifer brings Sam back for Jack. Lucifer brought Sam back for Jack. [13x21–22, first part of 3 work series]

Don't cry baby, day will be dawning by merle_p [sam/bobby, E]

Sam breaks down, and Bobby is there to pick up the pieces. [post 3x16]

Like A Girl by angelszn (artbabe) [wincest + sam/bobby, E]

Bobby wants Sam, but he knows Dean would never let him just take him. So he uses a little potion to get his way and give Dean a bit of a treat too.

[drowsystarlight]

Something’s changed

I know why, I don’t know when, I know it was me

I don’t know you anymore but I know you enough to know that

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

RiAAU Sasha's complicated relationship with her adoptive parents, Percy and Braddock, stems from an awkward mixture of unconditional love, resentment over their inability to protect her from Grime in her childhood, and their fear of what she's become.

[buttercupshands]

Honestly I think the saddest thing in bnha is that we don't really know when does canon diverge from our time. Like...

What if it was when people were waiting for a game to come out and then it didn't since quirks were more important and then in was more important to promote heroes

There's definitely some games that survive that we know it from LoL reference from Tomura, but what about other games?

Maybe indie games are the ones trying to be "like in the old times" before quirks exist, but then authors get canceled for making a person use abilities that look like usual quirks while the protagonist doesn't have any and that's bad since players can't associate themselves with the main character

Because yeah they clearly don't have quirkless people anymore

I'm really curious what is considered old in this manga in terms of games. Like afo and Yoichi clearly had some 60-70s style comics, soo?

[pandorashearts]

as a person w so goddamn much medical trauma the thought of having to go through the process to find a new doctor that is not just simply compatible w me, but who is also, like. u know. an actually nice, understanding person who will put genuine effort into taking proper care of me is so taxing. like i wish it was a simpler process, but it's not. bc i gotta deal w the very real possibility that by having to go through this process, my medical trauma will be worsened even further. & it is already bad enough that i have panic attacks every time i have to go to any sort of medical facility.

im literally so fucking furious over how much this happens. & that there's no fucking consequence for doing it to a Human Being. for tossing a Human Being that needs medical care aside like a piece of fucking trash. the american healthcare system is such a stupid fucking joke.