#Doctor Who shell shock

[redbirdandhersafespace]

Ok I've finally found and read "Doctor Who: Shell Shock" - a Doctor Who novella from Telos publishing. And it has no right to be so good!

Plot: the 6th Doctor and Peri visit an ocean planet and nearly drown. However, they both are saved: the Doctor - by the community of strange crab mechas, and Peri - by the omnipresent entity, who wants to make a god out of her.

"Shell shock" is written by Simon A. Froward and told in 3 pov's: the Doctor's, Peri's and one of the crabs'. This story is very introspective and it's main theme is overcoming the psychological trauma.

The story explores Peri's tramatic past (tw: this novella has mentions of sexual assult). I really felt for her: for nearly whole her life Peri was a victum, she lived through so much fucked up events, and the worst part is - she always needed someone to save her, or otherwise she would have died long ago. Even in this story she can't escape on her own, but the option of finally gaining power to solve her problem is much worse. So to keep in control of her future Peri must stick to her worst memories and find a way to help the Doctor. As only working in pair they can save everybody and return to the TARDIS.

I liked that "Shell shock" explores the injustice of being a Doctor's companion. It shows how friends of the Doctor often feel as if they're disposible and unimportant. These relationships can be very toxic and unhealthy, especially when the Doctor themselves treats them as lesser people (a consistent trait of the show, likely born out of showrunners' unwillengness to let the Doctor's character evolve over numerous regenerations and not make the same mistakes over and over again).

I was pleasently surprised that the 6th Doctor's pov was his actual pov. Many DW novels (written in the 3sd person) suffer from the same strange choice: they show the Doctor's bits of the story too "detachedly" - like a reader is not in their head, but follows them like a movie camera in a TV show. As a result, readers don't trully know what the Doctor thinks, why they're worried and what their plans are. Even some Doctor's solo stories are told from the pov of an original characters. But in "Shell shock" we can experience all emotions of the 6th Doctor, like his grief (when he thinks he lost Peri) and his determination to make everybody as happy and save as they can be. That's why revelations in this story hit so hard - the reader identifies themselves with the Doctor befriending all new characters and wanting to protect them. As a result, the 6th Doctor feels more fleshed out and sympathetic than in some longer dw novels.

To sum up, I highly recommend reading "Doctor Who: Shell shock". It reminded me of "The island of Dr Moreau" in the best way possible - sort of aquatic retelling of that story with lots of deep themes and gray characters to explore.

[doctormastertardis]

Peri Brown and sexual abuse?

Apart from one novel, it was never mentioned again that Peri was supposedly sexually abused by her step-father Howard (who was in Planet of Fire). I find that strange. Even the TV writers and producers of the episode said in a commentary that they never intend for Howard, her stepfather, to have a "sexually abusive" relationship toward his step-daughter Peri DESPITE the novel "Shell Shock" mentioning it... I don't know if we're supposed to just presume that the sexual abuse from her stepfather was just "another reality"??

In another novel, Peri supposedly married her childhood sweetheart, who was abusive to her... in which the story mentions her step-father being WORRIED about her (thereby indicating that there was "not" sexual abuse in her childhood from her step-father Howard).

ANYWAY! What is with male writers obsession with PUTTING HER CHARACTER IN SEXUALLY VUNERABLE SITUATIONS ?????? I mean we already know how much the TV series sexualized Peri Brown.

What do Whovians think about this? A part of me appreciate that the novelization of the series tried to explore "monsters" in realistic situations like child abuse... but another part of me is like, NOOOO DO NOT PUT PERI IN ANOTHER SEXUALLY VULNERABLE AND PREDATORY SITUATION!

I genuinely want to know what other Whovians think about this.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Either people in the Doctor Who fandom have been living under rocks for centuries at this point or they really just wanna show their transphobia when attacking Yasmin Finney, currently 20 but its being said she was 18 when filming was being done, for playing a 15 year old Rose Noble, while ignoring every other piece of media where adults have played teenage characters.

[neverwalka1one]

I think my favorite thing about British tv is the fact you can get the most unhinged episodes clear out of the blue. Like, American TV you know they're gonna get dramatic in dramatic shows (frequently, and with increasing disconnect to How Thing Work In Real Life), but in comedies it's extremely rare they go for the jugular - you might get a Sad Moment, but it's quickly buried under a laugh track. South Korean shows you know are going to rip your soul out in the final episodes, just go in prepared for that and you're fine.

MEANWHILE.

The cute family comedy about the laird's son who doesn't at all want anything to do with the dump of a castle his family is holding on to and just wants to be a chef at his fancy London restaurant is adorable right up until they blow up the dad VIA THE PUPPY. Or the hilarious dude-out-of-his-element police procedural that goes and kills the extremely likable main character IN THE SEASON OPENER.

You just never know when you're going to get emotionally shanked.

[harmonysanreads]

Do you think Ratio has the stereotypical 'doctor's handwriting'?

I know he isn't a practicing physician but, he does have a PhD in medicine so imagine, just IMAGINE : Ratio who writes his most ardent confession to you in a letter because words betray him when he's faced with you but the ten page letter is barely intelligible so you show it to Aventurine who knows exactly what's up and tells you, “That's a lot of medicine Doc prescribed to you. You should consider doing a serious health checkup.”

You bolt to Ratio in panic but are shell-shocked when he tells you that he isn't “mentally prepared to tell you everything” and keeps on delaying the confrontation. This leaves you tossing in bed, unable to focus on anything and constantly paranoid because you think you have a serious illness while Ratio's just biting his fingernails thinking he's going to get rejected and Aventurine who's wheezing by the sidelines.

Or, Aventurine did it deliberately to sabotage any potential of romance between you and Ratio idk.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Ｇｉｒｌ Ｕｎｄｅｒ Ｙｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairings: gynecologist!seonghwa! x chubby!afab!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Scheduling your yearly check up with your OBGYN can be nerve-wracking. Especially when your doctor's Park Seonghwa. Finally getting up the courage to visit, you do all you can to conceal the not so appropriate feelings you have towards him. Not only is it inappropriate but he surely doesn't feel the same. Right?

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has a vagina and identifies as a woman. we're at the OBGYN so this is ultra vagina city. pervy Dr. Park Seonghwa, you too are a perv tbh it's mutual, shy/touch starved reader, body worship, nipple/breast play, fingering (gentle & rough), unprotected sex, cum marking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc), a lil rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), nonsexual use of the word slut (not in a bad way), it gets bitey for a second, examination kink, soft dom Hwa vibes.

♡ A/N: Listen, I can explain. It's all on @anyamaris for encouraging me to begin with. Blame her!

Important note: If you have a vagina go get it checked out regularly. Your doctor will certainly not be Seonghwa dicking you down BUT it's an important and sometimes life saving appointment sooo make it or I'll fight you. K, love you, bye ♡

♡ ♡ ♡ “I wanna be that guy. I'll wreck you right up, guy. I'll lie down face up, guy. The girl under you, guy.” ~ Lady Gaga ~ ♡♡ ♡

“Date of your last period? Any abnormal cramping or bleeding? Any chance of pregnancy?” the nurse fires off questions, tapping your answers into the laptop balanced on her hip.

Sitting on the exam table, your feet dangling off the edge, you try not to get whiplash from how quickly she whirls around the room loading a tray with supplies for your exam. The office is unexpectedly short staffed today, forcing her to play the role of nurse and human octopus. You understand how overwhelmed she must be but pray that she stops soon. Your anxiety was already bad enough coming in here. This nervous energy is not helping. 

“Last question, honey” she says, turning to face you, “Oh, have you been sexually active recently?” She cracks a playful smile, clearly expecting your answer to be something that it isn’t.

“No” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. Look at how shiny those tile floors are. Has this exam table always been this cushy? Such a marvelous generic art print that is hanging by the door.

The nurse’s eyes widen, a hand clutched to her chest in shock, “You went to Coachella and didn’t get laid?” 

“Nurse Kim! Can we not today?” you pout, in no mood to have this conversation right now. 

Being a longtime patient here has a lot of perks. Getting closer to the nurses especially has been great for you. I mean, who doesn’t like getting the appointment slot they want every single time? But the drawback is that they like you enough to pick on you. Maybe it’s their way of breaking you out of your shell, getting you to be less shy, but you wish they wouldn’t. 

Nurse Kim shrugs, miming the zipping of her lips, “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my business.” Placing the supplies on the table, she grabs you a fresh hospital blue medical gown. “You know the deal, right? No shoes, no bra…” 

You nod along with her instructions, hopping down to kick your sneakers off. Finally she finishes and heads for the door to give you some privacy. “The doctor will be in shortly. Let me know if you need anything” she says, stopping halfway out the door. “You really didn’t bang anyone at Coachella. Wow. Girl, you’ve got to learn to live a little. You’re too hot not to slut it up!” 

“Thank you so much for everything. Goodbye. Bye!” you laugh, inching the door shut until she’s on the other side of it. 

Alone at last, you’re able to get out of your clothes and into your gown in peace and quiet. Well, “peace” might not be the word to describe what you’re feeling but at least you’re able to panic in silence. 

You really shouldn’t be as nervous as you are. You’ve been coming to this office for years. Everyone’s kind and welcoming. They always make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of. There’s definitely no part of you they haven’t seen so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Still there’s one thing—one major, heart pounding, pulse quickening thing—that makes you too nervous to function every time you’re here.

Your phone vibrates in your purse and you contemplate not answering but dig it out anyway figuring a little distraction can’t hurt. Unlocking your phone, you spot a text from your best friend. 

It reads: “Did you see Hot Doctor yet?” 

You giggle to yourself, typing back to her. “His name’s Seonghwa and not yet. Still waiting.”

“On a first name basis are we? Seonghwa. That’s even hot to say.”

“Dr. Park, I mean. His name is hot to say though. He’s hot. I fucking hate it.”

“Just give him your number already!”

“Sure. While he’s swabbing me I’ll be all ‘Hey, Dr. Park. Wanna go to lunch?’”

Your best friend responds with a meme of Megan thee Stallion sticking her tongue out. “Plot twist. The lunch is between my legs, daddy!”

You’re choking back laughter and tears, scrolling your phone for the perfect meme to send back when there’s a knock at the door. You nearly jump out of your skin, shoving your phone back into your purse. 

“Come in!” you shout, returning to the exam table just in time for the doctor to step in.

Everything moves in slow motion when Park Seonghwa enters the room. Ahem, Dr. Park. He is, as you and your best friend have come to call him, a hot doctor. The hottest doctor you’ve ever seen. His dark wavy hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, loose pieces hanging to frame a face too gorgeous to look directly at. His bone structure’s immaculate, his lips soft and pink, and his voice… 

“Long time no see. How’s my favorite patient been?” he says, flashing that killer smile of his. That voice. That smile. It makes you want to faint. 

You laugh it off, hoping not to come off as flustered as you are. “Dr. Park, I’m not your favorite patient.”

Seonghwa takes a seat on a nearby rolling stool and spins his way over to you, making a cute woo noise when he does. It gets a giggle out of you which is exactly what he wanted. 

“Who says you aren’t?” he asks, sliding in closer, his hands disappearing behind your legs.

It’s hard to breathe when he’s this close, staring up at you from between your legs. The smell of his cologne dances around you, a sweet woodsy scent that you imagine might smell even better on top of you. Just the thought awakens a familiar tingle between your thighs that threatens to make you wet the crinkly paper blanket beneath you if you carry on like this. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a doctor. He’s just doing his job. And here you are perving over him. 

“Dr. Park, anything else you need me to grab?” Nurse Kim asks, popping back into the room. Her appearance snaps you out of your trance and you force a smile to keep things normal. If you weren’t brain rotted and horny you'd swear Seonghwa had been reading your reaction that whole time. That he saw the effect he had on you and seemed somehow amused by it. But that’s factually insane. Get it together. 

The foot rests behind your legs, the reason Seonghwa reached back there to begin with, unfold with a creak. “No, I think we’re good” he answers before turning back to you, “Lay back for me and put your feet up. We’ll be done in no time, okay?” You follow his instructions, laying back on the table, readjusting yourself however he asks you to.

Closing your eyes, you rest your hands on your belly, impatiently waiting for this to be over. Though Seonghwa’s interest in what’s between your legs is purely medical, the fact remains that you hope he doesn’t find it ugly. You shaved for this, used this nice pH balancing rose water soap on it. You did everything but put makeup on it and throw it in a dress. You feel kinda silly now thinking back on it but your brain isn’t exactly logical when it comes to him. 

A few cranks of a speculum and cotton swabs later you’re done with the first part of your exam. “Good girl, you did well. The hardest part’s over” he praises, swapping his latex gloves out for a new pair. Your heart skips a beat at being called a “good girl”. He didn’t mean it that way but your body can’t differentiate between reality and how devastatingly sexy that was. Seonghwa turns to address the nurse and you quickly press your thighs together for some relief.

“I’ll send these off and go set up for the next patient” Nurse Kim says, grabbing your samples. She turns to smile at you one last time before disappearing from the room. “Remember what I said” she whispers, “Slut. It. Up.” Unfortunately, of all the things she’s skilled at whispering isn’t one of them and Seonghwa hears her.

Rising from his seat, he walks alongside you, stopping when he reaches your chest. “Just lower your gown for me for a second.”

You do as you’re told, carefully rolling your gown below your breasts. “So, slut it up, huh? What’s that about?” he teases, cold hands cupping one of your soft breasts. You inhale sharply at the contact, a thankfully normal reaction to cold hands touching you. Though for you it’s more that they’re his hands than anything.

“She thinks I need to get laid” you blurt out, caught off guard by your own bluntness.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, his fingertips pushing gently into your breast. “I’ll have to talk to her about that. She shouldn’t be judging people for their life choices.”

“I mean, it’s not really a life choice. I’m just not…I’m not a girl who…” you ramble, shutting yourself up immediately after realizing what you’re saying. Seonghwa pauses, glancing over at you, two fingers circling the perimeter of your nipple. It stiffens at the closeness, your touch starved body grateful for the attention. 

“Not a girl who what?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely interested.

It doesn’t seem that he’ll keep going if you don’t answer so you give in. “I don’t know, guys just don’t hit on me I guess. I’m not that girl.”

Seonghwa continues his examination, flattening his fingers at the base of your breast and dragging them up to your nipple. They bounce back each time, looking rounder and fuller as if he’s worked some magic on them.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily it” he sighs, moving on to the other breast, “A lot of men are intimidated by beautiful women.” 

Beautiful women? Did Park Seonghwa just call you a “beautiful woman”?

“B-beautiful?” you stutter, at a loss for what to do with yourself, “That’s really nice of you but I’m not…”

Seonghwa can’t help but smile at how adorable you are when he compliments you. You’re as good at concealing it as Nurse Kim is at whispering. Seonghwa knows that you’re attracted to him. To be fair, a lot of his patients are, but you are truthfully his favorite. Always so beautiful, always so easy to tease, and such a pretty pretty pussy that’s always wet for him. 

“But you are” he insists, both hands cradling your breast, thumbs running up the side, “You must have a mirror at home, no?” 

“Dr. Park, are you trying to make me blush?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

The pads of his thumbs graze your hardening nipple and your back arches, a whimper lighter than air escaping your lips. You catch Seonghwa quickly nibbling at his bottom lip, his eyes glimmering at the shock and pleasure painting your face. You caught him. You saw it this time. Really saw it. 

Seonghwa knows he should stop here, end the examination, and send you on your way before he does something stupid. It’s just…that little moan you let out? It’s a melody he’s been fantasizing about since the first time you laid across his table. He has to hear it again.

“I don’t know. Is it, aaah…” he breathes in, one of his thumbs circling the tip of your bud, “Is it working?” 

Slipping his left hand back across your chest, he palms your other breast, pinching your sensitive nipple each time he rolls his wrist.

“Yes, it…oh god…it’s working” you mewl, your mouth falling open, moans pouring out at the perfect volume for only the two of you to hear.

Your feet tremble in the foot rests, your legs still spread to leave your dripping, vulnerable pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. Hypnotized by the sight of Seonghwa playing with your tits, high off the electric current it sends through your body, it’s easy to forget that you actually came here for a reason. 

“I should probably finish your exam” Seonghwa whispers, doing his best to ignore the hard cock pressing against his slacks. Your body may be tempting but it is technically his job to make sure you’re healthy too. His hands gradually cease their movement, gliding down to do away with the gown that was hardly hiding to your naked body.

“Fuck, look at you” he gasps, massaging your squishy belly, tracing your love handles, and rounding the curve of your hip to reach your thigh. His fingers dig into your thigh, savoring their softness all the way up to your core.

His gaze travels back up your body to those starry doe eyes that hang on his every move, “Think I’ll need the lube or are you already wet enough for me, baby?”

Seonghwa rubs two fingers along your slit, collecting your arousal on the tip of his glove. He brings them to his mouth, extending his long tongue to lick your juices up.

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you” he hums, taking his time to enjoy the taste of you on his tongue. 

“Dr. Park, please…” you beg, thighs pressing together again, the need for his touch unbearable. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart” he apologizes, his fingers immediately returning to their place between your legs. “You want me to finger that perfect little cunt?” 

“Yes, please, I want…need it so bad.” 

Seonghwa brings his lips to yours, your eyes gleaming with lust as they meet, “You need it, baby? That bad, huh?” 

Two gloved fingers push into you, your pussy welcoming them with the tightest of hugs. “Fuck, yes, so good” you whine into his mouth as you begin to ride his fingers. Seonghwa dips his tongue between your lips, your mouths passionately crashing together. You grab the collar of his white coat, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss as his fingers work your core. Inside of you his fingers stimulate spots men who aren’t in his line of work wouldn’t even know existed. Some you didn’t even know could bring you such pleasure until now.

Your eyes squeeze shut, elbows giving out from under you, “Harder, Dr. Park, wanna feel you so deep.” 

Seonghwa catches your head before it can hit the cushion beneath you, lowering it down carefully as he draws another kiss from your lips. “Only if you promise to be a good girl and be quiet for me.” 

“I p-promise. Quiet. I’ll be…” you moan, throwing your hands over your mouth when he suddenly picks up the pace. Shifting between your legs, he tucks a hand behind your right knee and pushes it to your chest. Your palms are sweating, fingers locked together to keep you from screaming. Seonghwa’s fingers are much deeper than you thought they could go and his pace is too unforgiving for you to brace yourself for any of it.

“Ssh, ssh, you’re getting too loud, baby” he teases, coming in to kiss your inner thigh. Your juices stream down his fingers, soaking the thin paper beneath you. Hating to waste something so delicious, he begins licking around his own fingers. Between your lips. Around your clit. Anywhere his fingers send it splashing, he licks it clean. 

Your hands begin to slip from your mouth, your poor wrecked little body going too limp to keep it together. Thinking quickly, you bite down on your hand just enough to keep the noise in but you aren’t sure how long it’ll last. You’re dangerously close to coming. You can feel it and Seonghwa does too. Your hole’s so greedy, sucking him in and refusing to let go. It’s just begging to come but he won’t let it. Not like this at least.

Reaching down, he blindly fumbles around with his pants until he feels his cock spring free. He groans into your pussy as he closes his hand around his cock, rocking in and out of his own grip.

“Dr. Park, I’m gonna, mmph, aaah, fuck…gonna come” you squeal, hips stuttering against his face.

“Fuck, yes, come for me, sweetheart” he grins, rimming the head of his cock with his thumb, “You wanna come on my cock?” 

Seonghwa’s proposal has you biting down on your hand hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh god, yes, fuck me please. Fuck me, Seonghwa.”

Popping his fingers free, he grabs you by your legs and drags you down until your ass hangs off of the table. “Seonghwa!” you cry out, eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you. That stretch. That one exhilarating, earth shattering stretch, is all it takes to ruin you.

“Mmm, that’s it, come baby. Give it to me” he moans, hips snapping into your fluttering core. You expect, like any other orgasm, for your high to fade after the initial peak but it doesn’t. You’re still there. And your body’s giving out. You brain’s going hazy. You can’t take it but you want to even if it makes you go crazy. 

Seonghwa’s eyes never leave your pretty face, never stop eating up how hot you are when you’re at his mercy. The sensation of his own high crashing down on him has him pushing your thighs together, the thickness of them making your pussy feel twice as tight around him.

“So fucking tight, shit, you’re gonna make me come. Where do you want it?” 

“I, ooh, I want it…want.” The words are there but you struggle so very hard to find them. You dig deep, collecting the strength needed to run your hand down your belly and spread your folds for him. Your voice is so cute and broken when you say, “On me.”

Seonghwa folds immediately, pulling out to coat your clit in the thick warmth spilling from his cock. Stopping to catch his breath, he leaves it there resting against your clit. Both of you twitching together, his seed dripping down your pussy so that no part of you isn’t marked by him. 

“Don’t clean it off” he instructs, kissing down your leg as he places your feet back in the foot rests, “Leave it so you’ll think of me when you’re driving home.” 

Easing your fingers from between your folds, you pop them into your mouth, sucking them like a lollipop. “Anything else, Dr. Park?” 

Seonghwa zips his pants up, searching his brain for any other pressing information. “That depends, are you free tonight?” 

“Hmm, let me think” you muse, staring off into space for dramatic effect. “I can be. That depends on what you had in mind.”

“Well, I was thinking I could pick you up for dinner and then…” He blows you a kiss that communicates his plan wonderfully, “Dinner.” 

You giggle, your sweet little crush on him more severe than ever, “Sure, I’d like that but, hold on, you don’t know where I live.” 

Seonghwa takes his gloves off, tossing them in the trash can by the door. “You’re my patient, remember? I literally have all of your personal information.”

“Isn’t that, like, a violation of patient privacy or something?” 

Seonghwa laughs off your comment, walking over to sneak in a goodbye kiss. “I’ve already violated your privacy once today, sweetheart. Can't hurt to do it again”

[maxlarens]

pairing(s): engineer!george russell x driver!reader

brought on entirely by this ask thank you anon i owe you a great debt😭 also light angst beware.

You’re more angry than anything.

What a stupid mistake, taking the turn like that. Too hard too fast too reckless. Never careful enough, like George always presses you to be. You feel shame churning in the hollow of your chest in the back of the safety car.

You’re on the way to medical. You would be even if you didn’t have an ache in your neck. Something sharp in your chest. You’ve fractured a rib, you think. Broken it even. You know this feeling, the whiplash of a crash. Waiting to have your injuries confirmed.

You think of the car, the smell of smoke registering as you took a second to reorient yourself. To remember all of your limbs. Ringing in your ears, then George. George, prompting your reply over and over. Tone clipped, hurried, near-frantic, still-professional. The car is on fire. You need to get out of the car, now. And your limbs snapping back into awareness, into motion—

You’re fine now. Angry mostly.

You let the doctor check you over, refer you for an ultrasound for the rib. It hurts when they press on it. You’re left with a manila folder to give to your team and an order to take it easy for the rest of the day.

Outside the medical building you can hear the cars on track. It puts something sick in the pit of your stomach. At least it’s only FP2. You’ve not utterly ruined a race, and the team still have time to fix your mess. Still. Still.

You turn a corner to make your way back to Mercedes hospitality, you find George instead.

He looks like someone’s taken a livewire to him. His head of usually soft curls is messy, hair standing half on end. He’s got those serious, shell-shocked eyes that always appear when his smile vanishes. You frown as his head snaps to you, alerted by the sound of gravel underfoot.

“Shit,” you blink and he’s already halfway to you, “Are you alright? What did they say?”

His hands are on your shoulders, pulling you toward him and you’re not thinking anything in particular about that. Just grappling with his sudden closeness. His apparent worry. So apparent that someone’s sent him here to medical, to you instead of having his valuable input on the pit wall.

“I’m fine,” you push his hands off you, “I’ll just need an ultrasound. It’s nothing.”

“Did they check you for smoke inhalation?” he presses on, despite your attempt at deflecting, “Your car was on fire.”

You shrug, shake your head, “I dunno, George. They checked my breathing I guess.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath and feel him start to move toward the building. You grab his wrist, haul him back, knowing he’ll march you in there and demand they check if you don’t reassure him.

“I’m fine,” you insist, “No smoke inhalation. Not even a cough.”

He’s looking down at you, jaw set, the line of his mouth severe. So serious as he checks you over like he has x-ray vision— as if he can see things the doctors can’t because he’s more worried than they are. You’re keenly aware of your fingers looped around his wrist, the feeling of his pulse, his skin, the tender way his hand reaches to grab your wrist in kind.

Your relationship feels different here. In this moment.

The closeness of a driver and her engineer has never escaped you. From the moment you met him for the first time in Brackley— tall, cheerful, a bit awkward, a little overbearing— you’d known that you’d be close. That’s the nature of it. You didn’t have to be charmed by his sincerity to predict that.

But you’d grown closer than you would have ever thought. You know his quirks, his idiosyncrasies. How he has his tea, the clothing brand he buys all his clothes from, the way speaks to waiters like they’re old friends, the overly friendly nature that masks a man who’s just nervous people won’t like him. He knows yours.

Your proclivity for being reckless on track, because winning is everything and what are you if you’re not a winner? How you have three shots of espresso in your coffee every morning. The way you cry your eyes out at father-daughter moments in movies. Your ache to be loved and your accompanying fear of commitment.

George is like no-one else. No ex, no best friend, no situationship knows you like George does.

Inside and out.

Anyway. Your hand on his wrist, your aching rib, him standing outside medical when he should be on the pit wall. It makes your head spin.

He closes the distance between the two of you. Hauls you into his flat chest and weaves his fingers into your hair, cradling the back of your head like he might lose you. Something wells in the top of your throat. The back of your neck feels gooey, soft, as he holds you. As if all the tension is easing out of you.

You take a deep breath, wrap your hands around his waist. Fireproofs against the bare skin where his Mercedes polo has hiked up. He says something into your hair that you can’t hear. The tone of it gets you anyway, the fondness.

You hiccup, hating yourself for it.

Then you’re crying. Shock of the crash wearing off, unable to ignore the comfort of being held up physically and emotionally by George. Tears, wet, hot are streaming down your face. Soaking George’s shirt.

“You’re okay,” he says into your ear, rocking the two of you back and forth in the gravel, “You’re okay, I promise.”

You know you are. Logically. But hearing George say it makes it easier to believe. You think, even, that he might be saying it for himself too.

[amirasainz]

as someone who is currently badly injured, I would love to see Carlos and the drivers+WAG'd reactions to Baby! Sainz getting injured, like a broken bone

i love your writing so much!!! 💗💗

Hi love! I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope you'll be fine again soon. I hope you'll enjoy this little piece for you! 💕 My requests are always open and feedback is very much welcome. -XoXo

The broken arm

You know that moment when terror spreads through your whole body? The voices around you become muffled, and your heart hammers in your chest. You can’t get enough air into your lungs. For one millisecond, you think this is the end. Your hands start to shake, and your body heat seems to drain away. Carlos felt all of this right now. For that brief moment, the world stopped. Everything froze. His eyes remained glued to the floor, which stared right back at him. The color drained from his face. In that fleeting instant, Carlos wished the world would swallow him whole.

When he took his next breath, everything around him sprang back to life. He heard Kika and Alex crying, Oscar and Lewis arguing with the nurse, Lando fainting and falling, Charles taking deep, shuddering breaths, Carmen and George trying to console each other, Lily pacing the floor, Alex staring shell-shocked at the wall, Max rubbing his hands up and down Kelly’s leg, and Pierre cursing in French.

It was all too much. The only thing keeping Carlos from spiraling was Rebecca. She knelt down in front of him and took his face in her hands. “Hey, Carlos. Everything is okay. She’s alright. It’s just a broken arm.” Oh, how his heart broke.

No one would have thought that before 8 p.m., the hospital would be flooded with drivers and WAGs. Why? Because Amira Sainz accidentally slipped down the stairs. And boy, did that hurt. When she was on the floor again, she was surrounded by people. Before anyone could ask her anything, she started crying. That was all it took for the group, including Mamá and Papá Sainz, to rush to the hospital.

When the nurse emerged and informed them that his little sister had broken her arm, chaos erupted. The group’s loud reactions drew plenty of attention, but in their defense, the nurse had just shattered their hearts.

“It’s just a broken arm. She’ll be fine in 4 weeks.”

Four weeks! That couldn’t be right. While the atmosphere outside felt like the onset of an apocalypse, inside Amira’s room, it was surprisingly calm.

Mamá gently stroked Amira’s hair, while Papá held her hand (the uninjured one). “Estás bien, mi princesa. Eres tan valiente en este momento,” Mamá whispered sweetly in her ear. Reyes and Carlos Sr. knew how terrified their daughter was of hospitals, so they both did their best to reassure her.

The kind doctor addressed her."Señorita Amira, in four weeks, everything will be okay again. Just be careful not to get the cast wet.” Carlos Sr. thanked the doctor, and Reyes asked, “Are you ready to go, mi hija?” Amira nodded quickly, and with Papá’s assistance, she hopped down from the bed, still holding his hand. After all, she was his daughter.

As they returned to the entrance, they were met with a crowd of people. Over the next four weeks, Amira was treated like the little princess she truly was.

Carmen and George accompanied her on walks through the park. Charles and Alex visited with Baby Léo. Max shared some silly Red Bull rumors while Kelly gently painted her nails. Yuki prepared meals for her. Lewis pampered her with skincare routines. Alex and Lily joined her for movie nights, watching all her favorite films. Lando engaged in playful games with her. Kika and Pierre exchanged gossip. Oscar, Lily, and she went shopping together. They all did things for her, and she felt immense gratitude.

Yet, her most cherished moments were when Carlos and Rebecca were present. Her brother always cooked her favorite dishes, while Rebecca patiently braided her long hair. During those moments, everything felt calm. “Are you okay, darling?” Rebecca inquired. Amira glanced over her shoulder and quietly replied, “Yes.” Becca smiled, kissed her cheek, and resumed braiding, both of them engrossed in their show. As for Carlos, he relished seeing his two favorite girls bonding. But just as he settled into the scene, an odd smell reached his nose. When he turned around, he discovered the pizza had burned.

"Fuck…."

[mephistopholes-brain]

2,977 civilians died tragically in 9/11, 343 being firefighters.

Since then it has been “Never forget.” for over 20 years, the US attacked and destabilized an innocent country, and white ppl have further pushed the narrative that Muslims and Middle Easterners are all “evil terrorists”.

Now, in less than 6 months the OFFICIAL death toll in Gaza exceeds 30,000, half being CHILDREN. At least 200 doctors have died and many were TARGETED by IOF soldiers. I have seen children dismembered, maimed, sniped, run over, crushed, starved, scalped, exploded, burned, and strung up on the side of a building.

I have seen men, women, and children desperately digging through the rubble to find their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, friends, lovers etc.

I have seen brave doctors run outside to save injured civilians while at extremely high risk of being shot by snipers.

I have seen a father carrying BAGS full of his children’s remains.

I have seen a young girl, no more than 9, with a leg, an arm, and a hand blown off while her scalp hangs from her skull.

I have seen doctors speak out against the cruelty and ethnic cleansing while surrounded by the bodies of those they tried to save.

I have seen hundreds of pictures of NICU babies who were going to die soon because the hospital was about to run out of electricity.

I have read the first hand story of a father who traded one of his children for one of his brother’s children so that if one group dies at least one of their children would make it.

I have read posts from lgbt+ KIDS talking about how they regret not kissing their crush because they just watched them DIE.

I have seen the public posts of IDF and IOF soldiers where they show off the underwear and lingerie they looted from the drawers of the Gazans they are massacring.

I have listened to the screams of mothers after hearing their child is dead.

I have watched a teen boy’s gaze harden into something cold and empty after his entire family died in front of him, leaving him completely alone.

I have seen an IOF soldier throw a father and his baby into a giant wood burning oven just for fun.

I have seen many children with shell-shock, shaking because their minds and bodies can’t comprehend the horrors they have experienced.

I have seen tanks run over women actively giving birth on the roads of Gaza.

I have watched oldest siblings, no more than 11, take on the responsibility of keeping their younger siblings safe. I cannot comprehend how incredibly stressful that must be.

A little 6yo girl was trapped for 2 weeks in a car surrounded by the dead bodies of her family as they rotted.

This is all done with American tax dollars while companies like McDonalds give free food to Israeli soldiers. We are quite literally paying for this. 20% of your work and hard earned money is paying for the genocide of innocent people in Palestine.

This is NOT a political issue. This is a human rights issue.

Pro-Palestine is Pro-Humanity.

[ayyy-pee]

can you imagine nanami when you tell him the news that you’re pregnant? he’s happy! of course he’s happy, if not a little shell shocked. he’s quietly discussing the next steps with you as far as making a doctors appointment, getting an ultrasound done to see the little bean and hear it’s heartbeat. all of those things sound great. he plans on being at every single baby related event. mentally he’s marking off his calendar for the first appointment.

but in his mind, he’s absolutely freaking out. nanami doesn’t want to add any stress onto you with his concerns, but he has absolutely no clue how he’s supposed to be a father.

his mind reels at the thought of having this tiny person - a perfect mixture of himself and his love - bundled up in his arms. his heart races when he imagines sleepless nights ahead and midnight bottle making. his breaths quicken when he thinks of all the screaming and crying this little person will make while they turn your lives upside down.

but nanami’s mind also reels at the thought of this tiny person - a perfect mixture of himself and his love - bundled up in his arms, cooing and snuggling closer to his chest. his heart also races when he imagines you, beautiful, belly round with his child, your joint creation. his breaths also quicken when he thinks about quieting their screams and cries, setting the world right again for this little person.

he’s going to be a father.

that same night nanami returns home with two large bags. he sets them down in the foyer by the front door as you emerge from the kitchen.

“hey, baby,” you greet him as he wraps you up in his arms. his hold is tight, not enough to hurt you of course, but enough that you feel secure in his embrace.

“hi, love.” nanami nuzzles his nose into your hair, sighing as though it pained him to be away from you for a couple of hours. and since finding out about the baby, it sort of did hurt him to leave your side.

he kisses your temple as you glance curiously over his shoulder to the two bags. “what’s this?”

you peer up at your husband, the tips of his ears a pretty shade of crimson. you scoot past him, into the corridor and shuffle over to the bags, peeking inside. your brow arches when you see the items on top and nanami simply watches as you shift the contents of the bag around.

eyes wide, you stare at your husband who wears a cute pink blush across his cheeks as he now avoids looking at you. it makes you giggle as you ask, “kento…want to explain why you bought two enormous bags full of…parenting books?”

[mariacallous]

An air raid alert has just started when Victoria Itskovych joins a Zoom call from Kyiv. “It’s, like, a usual situation,” she says. “But really, it’s not usual.” February 24 will mark the second anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. For nearly two years now, Kyiv has been under bombardment. Some weeks, people have to trudge to their shelters night after night, checking text alerts and Telegram channels to figure out where the missiles are falling and when it’s safe to come out—although, it’s never really safe.

That relentless stress, and the trauma of losing family, friends, and colleagues on the front, has taken its toll. A poll by the city government last year found that 80 percent of residents reported symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine has exposed the whole of Ukrainian society to battle shock. “We’ve all suffered from this,” says Itskovych, who is director of the Kyiv City Council’s IT department. “Almost every person has somebody who was injured or died during the war, or lost their home or lost their health.”

In the face of such widespread injury, the Kyiv government has turned to Ukraine’s now-famous civic tech infrastructure for help. As the war enters its third year, the municipal government is starting to build a citywide system for providing mental health support to citizens. It’s a vast challenge, but also a unique opportunity—the first time that such a mass-trauma event has happened to a society that has already built the tools of digital government. Dealing with the mental health impacts of the invasion will be absolutely vital to keep society resilient, functioning, and committed enough to repel the invaders. It’s also the key to Ukraine’s postwar recovery, laying the groundwork now for a society that can rebuild itself physically and psychologically from the horrors of war. “This is the future of our society,” Itskovych says. “We are building the basis for the resilience of the community itself.”

At the heart of the plan is the Kyiv government’s digital platform, Kyiv Digital, which it launched in 2017. Before the invasion, it was largely used to manage parking and public transport, and to notify residents of disruptions to services such as road closures or power outages. When the war began, those notifications became more urgent: incoming attacks, the locations of bomb shelters, and the safest routes to reach them. Like other parts of Ukraine’s civilian technology, the city pivoted its tools to keep people safe and support the war effort, bootstrapping and rewiring the systems at pace.

“The first changes to the notifications we did in hours,” says Oleg Polovynko, adviser on digitalization to Kyiv’s mayor. Since then, the digital teams have been engaged in a constant cycle of innovation, trying to figure out what services they can bring online. The war has pushed them to act more quickly, to adapt tools they have and invent things that don’t exist.

They’ve expanded tools for civic participation, letting citizens vote on petitions, send feedback to the city government, and ask for help, such as financial support to repair bomb-damaged homes. And they’ve collected a lot of data, which is how the Kyiv government has been able to measure the scale of the city’s distress—and people’s reluctance to seek help. Of the 80 percent of residents who show signs of trauma, “40 to 45 percent are afraid to have contact with doctors who can help,” Polovynko says.

But this is only half of the problem that needs solving. For those who do want to seek treatment, there simply aren’t enough resources to help them. Clinical psychologists are supposed to limit the number of patient consultations they do in a day, so they don’t burn out. Before the full-scale invasion, Inna Davydenko saw a maximum of four patients daily. Today, Davydenko, a mental health specialist at the City Center of Neurorehabilitation in Kyiv, sees twice that number. When we speak, she’s just finished a video call with a soldier stationed near the front, whom she’s helping cope with stress and anxiety.

Even before the war massively increased the number of people dealing with trauma, depression, and anxiety, Ukraine’s medical system suffered from an underinvestment in mental health provision. “In most hospitals, you have maybe one psychologist. In good hospitals, it’s maybe two,” Davydenko says. “A lot of people need psychological help, but we can’t cover everything.” There is simply no way that the current system can grow to match the enormous jump in demand. But, Davydenko says, “almost every Ukrainian person has a smartphone.”

This is exactly what Polovynko and Itskovych want to exploit, using Kyiv Digital’s platforms and data to digitize mental health support for the city, and so close the gap between need and resources. Their project will focus first on those they’ve identified as being most vulnerable—war veterans and children—and those most able to help others: teachers and parents. The next six months of the project will be a “discovery stage,” Polovynko says. “We need to understand the real life of our veterans now, of the children, of the parents, what’s their context, how they survive, what services they use.”

The project will track people through the process of recovering from trauma, monitoring the treatments they ask for and the ones they receive, their concerns as they move through the mental health system, and their outcomes. Once the team has a detailed map of services and bottlenecks, and data on what’s working and what’s not, they can match individual needs with treatments. A full roll-out is scheduled for early 2025.

“It doesn't mean that the whole chain of the service will be absolutely digital,” Itskovych says. Some patients may be directed to group therapy or one-on-one meetings with psychologists, others will be given access to online tools. The aim, she says, is to create efficiency, to close the service gap, but also to provide comfort, meeting people where they are. “For a big part of our clients, there is more comfort with getting the service online, in different ways. Some people are not comfortable meeting a specialist one-on-one; they prefer a digital way to get the service.”

The project is being supported financially and operationally by Bloomberg Philanthropies, a charitable organization created by former New York mayor and Bloomberg founder Michael Bloomberg. James Anderson, head of government innovation at the organization, says that the project comes at a critical time for Kyiv, where people continue to suffer even though global attention has shifted away to other crises.

“There's always a tremendous amount of attention when the immediate crisis hits,” Anderson says. “But mayors continue to have to deal with the human costs of crises, long after the newspapers have turned to new subjects. That’s certainly what we sense and see in Kyiv.”

The size of the challenge in Kyiv is clearly daunting. But, Anderson says, there are reasons for optimism. Cities have got better over the past two decades at responding to common crises, such as Covid-19, which also required rapid, mass digitization of services. “Every crisis is distinct and different, and awful, in its own way,” Anderson says, “but there are lessons learned.” The Kyiv government, and Ukrainian society more widely, have demonstrated a capacity for rapid innovation to meet urgent needs, and Anderson hopes that success in this project could see it replicated internationally. “This is not the last war. This is not the last crisis,” he says. “I think Kyiv has lessons that they can share with cities around the globe.”

For Kyiv, and Ukraine, the crisis won’t end when the war does. “Psychological health is the number one problem for Ukraine,” Davydenko says, before correcting herself. “Number one is Russia, number two is our psychological health,” she says. “PTSD is our future.”

[mrchiipchrome]

Mothers

W.C.- 3k

Your mother didn’t plan on having you at the young age of 15, but after spending 9 months inside your mother you came out a perfectly healthy baby in the year 2000. She had the support of her parents, your grandparents, the second she told them she was expecting and they helped her raise you.

They took care of you while she was away in school and they helped drop you off at numerous football practices and games. You were there for your mothers graduation from secondary school when you were 3, and then later for when she got her undergraduate degree in nursing. When you were 16, she got her license and could officially begin her practice in the intensive care unit.

Nobody was prouder than you when she got it and you made sure that everybody knew that your mother, the one that had you at 15 had become a doctor.

Still, despite her intensive job she made sure to come and see you play at least once a month, to bring you to practice the days she wasn’t called in and to make sure that she told you that she loved no one like she loved you. When you started to play in the boys teams, ‘cause there weren’t enough girls who wanted to play in your town, she supported you. Everytime you came home with scraped up knees or a sprained wrist, she took care of you like a mother as she joked about you being her first ever patient with how clumsy you are.

When your grandmother died, you were nearly 17 and on the cusp of breaking into the senior national team after having outplayed some of the older players in the U23 camp and playing in the first team for your club. Now everything you did was to make her as proud as you could, her last wish was for you to make the senior teams both club and country. And so when you were 17 years old both her wishes came true when you got selected into the England Euros squad, where you actually got to play some minutes in the group stages and then in the closing minutes of the knockout matches. In the end you got a bronze medal and 2 goals in your resume as a substitute.

At 18 you signed with Arsenal and at 19 you were picked for the World cup squad with starting minutes. Unfortunately, an elbow to the face in the USA game had you sitting out the bronze medal match against Sweden, your eye socket and nose fractured. You had seen how worried your mother looked in the stands as you went down, not just from a mother’s point of view but also a doctors . It looked gruesome. But the worst part, you could do nothing as your team was losing.

But through the experience of the incredible loss you grew stronger, the will to win overwhelmed the little voice in your head telling you that it wasn’t possible or that you couldn’t do it. So you continued to train and get better, all while getting mentored by the Arsenal women and winning award after award along the way.

And now at 23, you’re one of the most accomplished youngsters in women’s football after having won the Euros and the subsequent golden boot. And now there was no one prouder than your mother and grandfather. You knew your grandma was watching over your every move and cheering you on from wherever you go when you die.

Winning the Fifa Women’s best player for the 21/22-season, beating out your teammate and the legendary Alexia Putellas had you shell shocked mouth hanging open like an idiot. But when you went up to accept the award, you credited your grandparents and your mother for your success before thanking your coaches. Now that trophy is located on a shelf at your mothers house like most of your other trophies, the only one that lays at home in your apartment is the medal you got for the Euros win.

People hadn’t really noticed your mother before the closing game against Bayern, where she had gotten a leave of absence from her workplace. She was the first one you went to, nearly collapsing into her arms at the sidelines before returning to your teammates to celebrate. Fortunately, the Arsenal media team managed to capture the sweet moment between the mother and daughter, later posting it to TikTok where they captioned it ‘Like mother like daughter’.

Unbeknownst to you, the video went completely viral with thousands of people simping over your mother. You were much too busy to spend unnecessary time on social media, so you had not seen the people obsessing over your mother or the ones asking if your father could fight. That was before you went on international break, excited to finally meet your girlfriend again after a few weeks of only being able to communicate over the phone.

—-

Stepping out of the taxi, you come face to face with St George’s Park once again. You stand still for a couple of seconds before walking in through the entrance, immediately seeing a member of the media team with their fist up. You spud them before continuing your walk to the front desk where the names of your roommates stood.

Your eyes flit over the paper before you find your name scribbled beside Alessia’s and you do a silly dance in your place, happy that you could cuddle with your girl after weeks apart.

An arm slinging around your shoulder has you coming to your senses, looking to your right you see your girlfriend standing there. You pull her in by the waist as you lean your cheek on top of her head just taking a moment to hug her and relish in her company before everything becomes hectic. What you don’t plan on is one of your bestfriends slamming into you and making all three of you fall to the ground. You hear Ella start to speak loudly in your ear but you can’t focus on anything she’s saying, not with Alessia laying on top of you, her body fitting like a puzzle piece to your own.

Slapping a hand over Ella’s gaping mouth you take a moment to relax in the silence, already knowing that this camp was going to be like hell if it continued like that. Alessia puts her hands on either side of your body before pushing herself up to her feet.

She reaches her hand out towards you but before you are able to grab it, Tooney has. Alessia starts the motion of pulling her up, but as she shoots you a wink you know exactly what would occur. Alessia loosens her grip on Ella's hand before she has time to react, dropping her on her arse. The lobby explodes with laughter before you pull yourself up, walking up to your room before going to sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, Alessia joining you after a short time.

The next few days pass unnecessarily fast and before you know it you’re lining up next to Brazil, ready for the first ever women’s Finalissima. You dominated the first half going into halftime 1-0 up, and with your versatility giving you the ability to drive up the field and create chances while being able to also drop back down and help defend.

In the next half it seems like Brazil has woken up from their stupe and they start pressing in a way that has your defense scrambling and you realize that if you want to prevent Brazil from scoring you will have to help out more at the farther end of the field.

When the ball leaves the Brazilian players' feet, you know it is going into the goal and you can only pray for their penalties to not follow the same path.

You find yourself in an incredibly stressful situation as possibly the last penalty taker, it all depended on whether the ball hits the back of the net or not. Feeling strong hands place themselves on your back and a soft whisper of “You’ve got this” from your girlfriend has all your nerves washing away and your senses clear, the only focus on putting the ball in the back of the net.

Looking towards the crowd, you try to spot your mother and grandfather. When you catch sight of them you gain even more confidence as most people in the stadium couldn’t look on, your family just looked on with smirks and knowing looks on their faces.

You place the ball in the penalty spot, completely relaxed and calm despite having run around the pitch for a full 90 minutes plus stoppage time. The goalkeeper tries to distract you, jumping around and pointing at different parts of the net but you see the obvious dread in her face. You’re known for absolutely slamming the ball into the goal with an uncanny precision, especially penalties.

Kissing your fingers before pressing them into the shield resting above your heart, you start your runup. As you strike the ball with a power entirely your own you can feel how it’s going to hit the back of the net, it’s a feeling you’ve experienced many times before so many times that it’s become a staple of your matches.

The roaring of the fans confirm your thoughts and start running around the pitch all while expressing your delight through a loud yell echoing loud over the fans. Soon enough your teammates catch up to you and trap you in a tight embrace that you have no intention of escaping. As they start to depart from the team hug, Alessia and you remain in a tight embrace, covering your mouths when you speak to each other.

Whispers of ‘I love you so much’ and ‘I am so proud of you’ are exchanged before you are interrupted by a staff member informing you that the medal ceremony would take place in a short bit. You go and stand with your team as the shimmering medals are placed around your necks, walking towards the podium set up for you with a smile that could light up the entirety of Wembley.

Watching as Leah and Mary lift the trophy high above their heads has you feeling an immense sense of pride and joy. Proud to be part of this record breaking team.

As soon as you’re done with taking all the pictures needed featuring your medal, you’re off heading in the direction of your mother. Noticing the smile on her face, the one you inherited, has your feet moving faster in her direction. You grip the medal between sweaty fingers and pull it off, putting it around your mother’s neck.

“You’re the real champion here Ma. Thank you so much for being here today and supporting me, I love you” She replies with her own ‘I love you’, putting her fists up and doing your own celebration you made with her as a child by putting your own up and kissing them before double fistbumping her.

Staying with your family for a little longer, you depart from them to go and celebrate with your team. You barely reach your girlfriend before you’re whisked away for an interview with the broadcasting.

Putting on the headset and taking the mic from the staff, you hear the recognisable voice of Alex Scott flooding through your headphones.

“-And now we’re joined by the Euros and Finalissima winner, Y/n Y/l/n. How are you feeling after winning yet another trophy? I imagine you must feel quite ecstatic.”

“Spot on Alex, but yeah I am in disbelief honestly. Brazil were in form today and were incredible opponents. Yeah so this is an accomplishment we’re fortunate enough to experience.”

You spend the next few minutes speaking to the former player, talking about a large range of things before the topic of your mother comes up.

“I saw you were giving your medal to your mother earlier, is that something you always do?” Alex questions you.

“I usually give her all my medals and awards because I don’t have the space for them at my apartment. I've given her all but the Euros trophies as those are on a shelf in my bedroom. A reminder that I can do anything I set my mind to.” Your mother had always been the safekeep of your trophies, even as you reached adulthood she took care of them for you.

“Speaking of your mother, have you seen the comments circulating?”

Clear confusion lays over your face like a blanket, no clue about these ‘comments’ apparently regarding your mother.

“Comments? What comments?”

“You haven’t heard?! Oh boy you’re in for a ride.”

You can feel how whatever’s going to come out of her mouth next won’t be something you will enjoy hearing.

“Before you start, I feel like I won’t enjoy what you’ll say so before you continue I’ll need my emotional support human. Just a second.”

Sticking your fingers in your mouth and blowing, you let out a deafening wolf whistle loud enough to catch Alessia’s attention.

As Alessia turns towards you with her big blue doe eyes, you can’t help but practically melt under her affectionate gaze. Realizing that you are still on national television, you quickly wave her over.

When she stands beside you, the arm hanging by your side instinctively wraps around her waist in a protective grip. The same staff member that gave you your headphones hands Alessia a pair to be able to understand.

“Okay, so now that my emotional support human is here you are allowed to continue.”

Alessia smiles at the cheeky comment, the smile soon turning into a confused frown, not knowing the subject of conversation.

“I can see how you’re a bit confused there Alessia, so I’ll catch you up to speed. I was just asking Y/n if she had seen the comments under the Arsenal post, to which she said she hadn’t so I’m telling you both now.”

Judging by the mortified expression that crosses Alessia’s face you deduce that she most definitely knows exactly what comments Alex is talking about. You send her a skeptical look before telling Alex to start telling you about the comments.

“Arsenal posted a TikTok after the game against Bayern of you hugging your mother over the barrier. That video has gone viral, with thousands of people ‘simping’ over her in the comments.”

Even without hearing these comments you’re horrified, people hitting on your mother or thinking she was attractive wasn’t something new. It came with having a young mother but you’d never really been too bothered by them before. But now, knowing that thousands of people have the hots for your mother makes you want to crawl into bed and stay there until your last breath.

“Really?! My mother? That’s so weird on so many different levels bro…that’s just so weird and frankly quite gross. Don’t get me wrong, my mother is an incredible person, but knowing that thousands of people think that your mother is attractive is really unsettling. Now I’m curious about what they’ve said.”

Alessia nods along to your statement, knowing how much you struggled with seeing people on the internet thirsting for her and to now have people thirsting over your mom would make it worse.

“Ready? Okay, ‘Who was supposed to tell me that Y/n Y/l/n’s mom was such a MILF?’” Alex’s reading leaves you dry heaving as you quickly realize your mistake of wanting to hear the comments. Alessia pats your back in a ploy to comfort you all while holding back a giggle at your vivid reaction.

Continuing her assault on your ears, Alex recounts many different comments surrounding your mother and you have an equally vivid reaction to each one. Alessia keeps on rubbing your back in circles, though she can’t hold her laugh back anymore, the brilliant sound your only savior from the extreme embarrassment of the situation. Social media is already flooding with new memes of your reactions and you know that you’re going to be memed for the rest of your lifetime.

“Stop, stop! I tap out! No more. I love you Alex, but enough. Thank you for the interview, I’ll see you soon.”

You remove the headphones from your head and hand them and the microphone back to the staff before making your way back to the locker room, where it seems like people have already gotten a hold of the memes. Even Arsenal’s official page has plastered your reaction all over their social media.

When Alessia and you go and visit your mother a few weeks later, they’re both amused to realize your inability to look her in the eyes. Their apparent shared love for tormenting you makes your life a living hell over the next few hours and as you settle in your car to drive home you tell her,

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“No I’m not” She replies through a smug smirk.

“Yeah you are”

“Unless you don’t want to sleep tonight I’m sleeping in our bed”

You hate how well she knows you and your sleeping habits while she’s near. Your only response is a huff and Alessia knows that she’s won this time. You let her think that for a little before sneaking your hand onto her thigh as you keep on driving, paying little attention to her. When you feel goosebumps rising under your hand and see her shiver out of the corner of your eye, you know that you’re the true winner.

I kind of hate this, but it’s pretty funny so it’s what you get, and I would usually put a read more thingy on longer docs like these but I can’t figure out how you do it on mobile

[my-darling-boy]

I've read your post about Sidney Beldam (what a man!) and it fascinated me enough to buy (quite impulsively) The Facemaker. Long story short, thanks to you and Lindsey Fitzharris I'm in my history-of-medicine-nerd-era and in gayly-interested-in-WWI-period; and The Facemaker might be one of my favourite books I've read this year. The stories of soldiers! The photographs! The work of Gillies! And reading that he performed the first known phalloplasty on a trans man was a very pleasant surprise, you know.

As an ask without an ask wouldn't be technically an ask, here I ask: Do you have any academic paper or book "with plot" recommendations? Either something similar to The Facemaker or just something about or set during the era?

Ahh I’m glad it’s been so inspiring! Ah hell yes Gillies was on that king shit doing the phalloplasty, really set the bar for transgender medical care of the 20th century!

I’ve got (a lot) more info than you’ve wanted if you don’t mind (I really can’t help myself), WWI and thereabouts is a great place to look if you’re getting into medicine history cos that’s when a lot of rapid change happened due to the war as well as the Edwardians’ newfound fight against germs and with the influenza pandemic towards the end of the Great War. My area at the moment for 1900-1920s medicine is plastic and reconstructive surgery, amputations, shellshock and PTSD, post-war rehabilitation, and the general RAMC. So I’ve got some recs for medicine and treatment for the body and mind around the war!

For academic books with a bit more narrative/soldier accounts as you asked:

Wounded by Emily Mayhew. I’ll admit I’ve not picked it up just yet but I do own it and it goes a lot off soldier’s stories

Forgotten Lunatics of the Great War by Peter Barham. Fantastic read about the stigma of “lunacy” and the psychological hardships men faced returning home including fighting for pensions due to lost limbs and shell shock.

Breakdown: the crisis of shellshock on the Somme, 1916 by Taylor Downing. While I don’t agree with this author’s personal views on the war, it does give soldier accounts looking at how the military alone viewed and responded to shell shock which can be helpful to understand in contrast to the civilian post-war response, especially since PTSD and shell shock are two different conditions and the former wasn’t widely understood almost until the 21st century.

Medicine in the First World War Europe: soldiers, medics, pacifists by Fiona Reid. Cannot remember the exact nature of this book cos I can’t remember if I own it but if I remember right it does have more of a personal accounts type telling.

Testament of Youth by Vera Brittain. Not 100% a medical read but a famous memoir written by feminist and pacifist Vera Brittain about her time before the war and during such as a VAD nurse

Two more clinical book reccs if you’re into the how and why of wounds and such:

Faces from the Front by Andrew Bamji. Very good look into the treatment of facial injuries with plastic surgery, it is at times a bit graphic as there are plenty of photos

War Surgery 1914-18 edited by Thomas Scotland and Steven Heys. Great look into injuries and their pathology, approachable read with clearly defined figures and not just massive walls of text along with an extensive bibliography. I recommend this as well for anyone writing WWI fiction because this tells you how wounds ACTUALLY happened and presented themselves

Purely fictional but with medical themes in nature (off the top of my head):

The Regeneration Trilogy by Pat Barker. Quite well known, but depicts the psychological effects of WWI on various characters. If you want queer themes, you’ll like this.

Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. American anti-war novel about a soldier who horrifically looses his arms, legs, face, hearing, and sight during the war and is confined to a secluded hospital bed at the mercy of doctors and nurses who don’t know what to do for him.

A Month in the Country by J. L. Carr. More queer themes! Tells the story about two WWI vets doing archeological work at a church in the English countryside and their lasting battle with shell shock.

I’ve also got a list of a handful of academic type sources slowly collected over the past months for various medical WWI things. These are only the ones I remembered to save, but I know there were certainly several more:

Website on the detailed RAMC evacuation

Pay to access source on prosthetic limbs in Britain via JSTOR

bibliography for First World War medicine as a kind of jumping off point for more academic papers and medical books

Academic paper reflecting on Britain’s response and treatment of shellshock

Good short article on the care of veterans for work and housing post-war

Continuously updating catalogue containing medical records that detail quite interesting stories like a bombardier receiving hypnotherapy to cure shell shock, hyperlink at the bottom to search database

REALLY good site on the RAMC duties at casualty clearing, advanced dressing, and regimental aid

WIP article on Gillies, Sidcup, and patients written by person whose friend was the granddaughter of Sidney Beldam

Academic article on facially disfigured men reclaiming agency and visibility

Short article on soldiers and disability struggles after the war

Masculinity, Stigma and Facial and Psychological Injuries of the First World War thesis paper

Erskine Hospital records that show the hospital, rehabilitation, and patients as well as limb making. Full collection is held at the University of Glasgow

Relationships between medical care and masculinity

Also off the top of my head, if you’re ever in Edinburgh for whatever reason, you might really enjoy the Surgeon’s Hall Museums as there are thousands of artefacts on display such as antique medical equipment, Victorian dentistry items, 17th century skeletons, and 20th century prosthetics. Literally it is floor to ceiling in the main gallery with jarred organs, body parts, bones, and even most remarkably the preserved upper half of the face, moustache and all, of a WWI soldier which is probably one of—if not the—most fascinating and haunting thing I’ve ever seen at a museum imo. It can be a bit of a shock to the system if you’ve never been to that sort of thing before so take care when going. I’ve been about three times and there’s still a couple items that make me go a bit light headed to look at!

Anyway I know it’s a lot but I hope something in there could be more of help to you! Cheers x

[kasagia]

The last time

Pairing: William "Billy" Russo x fem! reader Summary: You're done being the less important one. The one who always had to conform to the big asshole and playboy Mr. Billy Goddamn Russo. And this time you really promised yourself that it's over... but is it? Wairning(s): Billy is toxic, but he loves the reader; the reader loves Billy, but everyone is fucked up; fight; swearing; blood; the reader is a doctor; the reader and Billy argue, but both cannot live without each other; violence; weapon; Inspired by: Taylor Swift - The Last Time (Feat. Gary Lightbody) Nonsense from me: I'm so happy I was able to write this in this week. I hope you like it. 💙🖤 P.S. The next oneshot will be with Darkling (Would've, Could've, Should've), but I don't know when I'll be able to write it. 😅 Word count: 6,5k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

Find myself at your door Just like all those times before I'm not sure how I got there All roads, they lead me here

When you opened the door, you didn't expect that instead of finding the pizza delivery guy, you would find Billy Russo... or rather, what was left of him.

The hood over his head and his slightly lowered head were unable to hide the scars on his face. You notice that over time they have become... less visible... at least not as angry red as they were in the media after they published the fugitive's photo.

Yeah. You saw the news. (And talked to Maria.) You know what happened.

Maybe you didn't want to deal with a man who had broken your heart many times over the years, but you couldn't just pretend he didn't exist.

His face, his name, even that stupid nickname, Jigsaw, were everywhere. In the newspapers, on TV, on the internet, in your old photo albums and even in your fucking dreams. And now he was standing in front of you. The shell that remains of a one and only Billy Russo.

"May I... may I come in?" he whispered, staring at you uncertainly. You promised yourself that you would slam the door on that scarred face when he came to you... but in your toughts he was more... arrogant... just like he used to be.

"I... I'm not sure." the words come out of you as you look at him, trying to recover from the shock. You thought seeing him in person wouldn't do anything to you. How stupid you were...

"Please... I just want to talk to you. Give me five minutes and then you can sand me back to hell."

You bite your lip. You saw on the news that the Punisher and Jigsaw had teamed up... if Frank could forgive him enough to work with him and let him near Maria and the kids, you could give him that five damn minutes, before you try to kick his ass.

"Only five minutes, Russo." you say as you let him in.

Closing the door behind him, you wonder how far you've fallen by letting him back into your home… but from the way he looks around your place hesitantly, avoiding looking at you, you wonder who's really lost their dignity here.

I imagine you are home In your room, all alone And you open your eyes into mine And everything feels better

"You... you look beautiful." he says as he finally looks at you for the first time since your… rather tumultuous breakup.

"You wanted to talk." you say, crossing your arms as you lean against the dresser and stare intently at the man sitting on your couch.

"I… wanted to come to you after… all this shit. I… I could have lost my fucking memories somehow, but I think you've embedded yourself in my brain more than anything else. I went to your apartment, but you moved away." he admits, avoiding your heavy gaze to stare at the coffee table. You see a sad smile on his face as he stares at the pile of books and papers that were almost always present in any available space in your apartment. Some things don't change.

"I did." you say, closing some of your patient files from him so he can't analyse where exactly you work after you quit your job at Anvil as their private doctor. You collect papers and put them on your desk, turning your back to him. "Some people would get the hint. Did Frank throw out what was left of your brain by smashing your head against a mirror?"

You know it's a low move on your part, but you can't resist making him suffer. And by the way you suddenly feel his warm body behind you, you know that turning your back on your former marine and murderous ex wasn't such a smart idea. You swallow and turn around, crossing your arms to stare defiantly at him.

He is angry. You see it in his eyes. For some strange reason, instead of throwing you against the wall, he decides to close his eyes and take a few calming breaths.

And the part of you that still cares about him reminds you that he never laid a finger on you. Screaming, shouting, verbal threats were options. However, he never lost his temper enough to actually try to hurt you... but maybe you should stop testing your luck after all?

"Well... I... I think he finally put something into my empty head." you shift your puzzled gaze to him. You thought Frankie and Billy would go back to fighting like vicious dogs, trying to kill each other. Apparently, things have changed more than you originally expected.

"And here I thought that no one would be able to get through your thick skull."

"I'm going to therapy." he blurts out. You frown. Well, this wasn't at all what you expected when you saw Billy again. "To… sort it all out." he says, not breaking eye contact with you.

"Well… good for you. But I assume you didn't come here just to brag about it."

Billy shakes his head and takes a step towards you, watching your reaction. You tense up, but then relax as your body subconsciously takes in the scent of his perfume, which after all reminds you of (ironically) safety.

"No. I don't. I... I'm here to ask you if..."

"Stop it. Whatever you are about to ask me, my answer is no. I don't want to have anything to do with you." you interrupt him before he makes any suggestions for you to consider. "Not after what you did to me, to Frankie, to Castles. I'm glad you're on the mend, but I don't want to know you, Russo."

"Y/N, please..." he sighs pleadingly and reaches up to cup your cheek. You grab his hand before you can feel his fingers on you in a tender gesture that so often melted your heart for him.

"DON'T... just leave. Do one damn thing for someone else's sake and just leave. Let me be as I was." you say, glaring at him and internally cursing yourself for the tremble in your voice.

Somehow you win this battle of hurt glances because the next thing you hear in the room after his heavy breathing is the door slamming as he leaves. You are left alone. You're shaking with the emotions that are flowing through you now. You put your hand to your mouth and cried quietly.

Billy fucking Russo always had to come and mess up your life like a damn master.

And right before your eyes I'm breaking, no past No reasons why Just you and me

You come back from your shift at the hospital to find Frankie sitting outside your apartment door.

"One more such trip to the past, and I swear I will take a dog from the shelter and threaten you with it. What do you want, Frank?" you ask, crossing your arms and glaring at the Punisher.

"Nice to see you too, Doc. Have you finally learned how to sew people up, or are you still torturing them?" he asks with a mischievous smile, standing up and walking over to you.

"It was only once in Afghanistan, and in my defence, you were squirming like a dog in a nettle. Besides, it's not my fault you fell on knives because you stumbled like an idiot after the action was over."

The man laughs and pulls you into a hug. "It's been too long. Too bad you fucking ran away from Russo all the way here, I hate coming back to this town. By the way, Maria and kids missed you too."

"I spoke to them just yesterday on Skype. Besides, somehow this distance doesn't stop you from harassing me. And not only you. Billy was here two weeks ago." you say, leading him into your apartment. You give him a stern look as he walk inside. He rolls his eyes at me but bends down and takes off his shoes before walking further in.

"I thought so. He's been looking like shit for two weeks. I'm sure he now consists of 70 percent alcohol. Lisa wondered if his corpse on the couch was starting to decompose enough for Maria to let her perform an autopsy on him." you smile at the mention of your goddaughter. That's your little girl.

"If you tell me you're here to stand up for him, I'll kick you out of my apartment. The idea of letting him be part of your family again after all this shit he has done is sick. You're a fucked-up man, Frankie."

"Y/N, it's not what it looks like."

"Frank damn it, he almost helped kill your family! If I hadn't let Maria talk me into going with you that damn morning to the Central Park and forgave him after seeing those fucking eyes of a broken puppy, he probably wouldn't have lifted a finger to save Maria, kids and you!"

"I thought so too, so I shattered up his face, and we did a lot of shitty, sick things to each other, but believe me, it's not that simple. This fucking mess around us... is partly his fault, but not in the way we first assumed. He's still my brother… he's still our Bill."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You were fed up with it all. All this drama that's going on around Russo. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if they'd never called you in to stitch up that damn Marine and you'd never met him...

"I don't care, Frank. He hurt you. For money. He can go and keep selling himself like a whore." you say bitterly and walk past the man standing in the middle of your living room. You go to the bar and pour yourself a glass of something stronger.

"You can't be serious."

"I fucking am, Castle." you reply dispassionately, drinking the alcohol in a gulp. You pour yourself another glass and sit on the couch, watching the conflicted man in front of you.

"Come on. It's you and Billy. You always came back to each other. After every shit, big fight and breakup. Like a damn Ross and Rachel."

"For the last time I'm telling you, stop fucking watching Friends with Lisa and Maria, it's our show. Besides, this isn't damn Friends or any soap opera, Frankie. Billy fucked up. Ultimately. Nothing will change that, so just fuck off or accept it. God! You're taking our breakup worse than that cold bastard." you laugh bitterly and finish your glass. You set it down on the coffee table with a bang and run a hand through your hair. No. You won't get drunk again because of that damn asshole.

"Bullshit. He's a mess… I've never seen him like this."

"Do I look like I care?" you ask him, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"You fucking liar, you couldn't stop loving him overnights."

You don't answer right away. He was right. You couldn't stop loving someone who was so deeply embedded in your soul, who saw all of you and became a part of your heart so easily... but loving Billy hurt you more than staying away from him. And for once in your life, you just want to feel at peace and be somewhat happy. Even without Bill by your side.

"If you want something, you better fucking say it or get the hell out." you say, not looking at him as your attention is drawn to your hands instead of the man standing in front of you.

He sighs, tightening his grip on the chair. You see his white knuckles, and for a moment, you think he's going to break the back of the chair. He sighs suddenly and relaxes his muscles, staring at you with a less angry look.

"I need your help."

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye (Eye, eye)

You imagined your reunion with everyone a little worse. Maria and the kids were in a safe house outside the city, but it was nice to meet the rest of your old friends (in the case of the murder of the last of Rawllins' men, but hey, people talk about different things, right?) And it was really nice... until Billy returned to the apartment.

As soon as his dark-brown irises met yours, an unpleasant, awkward silence fell in the living room. You felt not only his gaze but also the curious gazes of the others as they glanced between the two of you.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he asks, shooting an angry, betrayed look at Frankie.

"Don't worry. I'll be gone as soon as I make sure the Castles are out of any danger. I don't really feel like seeing your face too." you say, giving him a defiant look. You turn your head away from him and towards Micro as quickly as you can.

Billy had dark circles under his eyes, a paler face than usual, and obvious signs of sleep deprivation. You'd care if he was more than just a piece of trash who betrayed people close to him. Yet you still cared.

However, the man does not give up easily. He walks over to you, stands in front of you, and takes your chin in his hand to make you look at him. If you didn't know better, you'd think you saw pain in that son of a bitch's eyes.

"You don't have to look at me from the hiding place where we put Maria and the kids, so get your pretty ass out of here and don't cause us any more troubles than we already have."

"How dare you talk about them after what you did?!" you growl at him in anger, pushing his hand away and standing up to face him. "All the trouble we're having is because you're a selling-out motherfucker who betrayed the only people in this world who fucking cared about you!"

Billy clenches his fists and takes a step towards you, leaning towards you. You both breathe quickly, shooting each other hostile glances, waiting to see who will break away and attack first. The tension in the room is so great that you can almost feel sparks flying between you. Frank quickly steps between the two of you, gives Billy a stern look and turns to face you.

"Save the lovers' quarrel and make-up sex for later, okay? Billy, Y/N is coming with us. Y/N, you're not trying to kill Billy until we do what we have to do, and it's best not to argue with him at all. Same with you, Bill. Can you do it, or are you resentful young brats who will be at each other's throats after a breakup?" he says, looking between you two. You huff, crossing your arms and staring at Castle.

"And since when did you become such a responsible asshole, Frankie?" you ask mockingly, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Since we've been planning a glorious murder at those, who tried to kill my family." you sigh and nod. He is right. Killing these bastards is your priority. You can't let your feelings for that asshole who still manages to get under your skin somehow complicate your already difficult mission.

"Fine. Just keep him away from me." you growl in anger and walk past Billy, elbowing him as you go to get ready for your 'mission' with the boys.

And if you looked over your shoulder, you would see a dark brown irises staring longingly at your retreat towards the armoury silhouette.

You find yourself at my door And just like all those times before You wear your best apology But I was there to watch you leave And all the times I let you in Just for you to go again Disappear when you come back Everything is better

A ring at your door at 2 a.m. should make you suspicious.

You should pretend to sleep and finish studying for the last exam that separates you from your desired diploma. You promised yourself that after completing your specialisation, you would leave the army and move to a state hospital. You were fed up with gunshots all around you. For now, you were well on your way to shedding your soldier's uniform and permanently donning a doctor's coat.

You were one exam away from your dreams... and one Billy goddamn Russo who was standing outside your door.

Before you could close it in his face, the man stuck his shoe between the door and the frame. You curse under your breath and open them again to meet this hot damn asshole on your doorstep.

"You shouldn't open the door at this hour without checking who's behind it." he starts, resting his hand on the door as if to make sure you won't shut it in his face again. Only now do you notice his bag slung over his shoulder. He must have come here straight from the airport as soon as he landed.

"A lesson for the future. What do you want?" you ask dryly, crossing your arms. He looks at you tiredly and sighs. The hand that isn't holding the door is combing through his hair. Dog tags hang from his neck as he bows his head slightly before looking back into your eyes.

"Please... I just want to talk." he pleads, wearing his best apologetic, kicked puppy look.

"We have nothing to talk about. Can you let go of my door now? I have an important exam tomorrow; I need to get some sleep." he smiles slightly. Reluctantly, you feel your chest warm up at that damn cute smile.

"Knowing you, honey, you probably weren't even going to go to sleep, just keep revising the material."

"What are you doing here? There were no more sheets of paper in Afghanistan? The poor postman used to come here with a bag full of letters from you. I felt bad sending them back just because of him."

"So… you haven't read any?" he asks, swallowing and staring at you with those damn eyes you would kill for someday.

"Why? I broke up with you before I left the unit. I was just your sexy doctor, right? Or maybe I'm distorting your words? I'm almost sure that's what you called me while bragging to your colleagues in the unit that you fucked the coldest and most unapproachable bitch from the base."

"These same colleagues saw me rage and fall apart as I was getting my letters back from you. I was the one of us, who was there to watch you leave." he responds to your accusations, and the pain in his eyes almost convinces you to throw yourself into his arms. But luckily, you remember the nights you spent crying because of the asshole in front of you.

"And I was the one who overheard that everything between us was some kind of fucking adventure for the time being until you get to another woman." you growl angrily, trying to slam the door on him, but his hand on it prevents you from doing so. He pushes himself inside your apartment and pins you to the wall, closing the door behind him with a loud bang. Loud enough to have your neighbours hear that.

"It's not true… what was between us… it was the only real thing I ever had in my damn life." he says with a shaky voice and you see tears forming in his eyes. "Neither of us expected what was between us to turn into something more than a few-month fling, but here I am, flitting around without you like a moth searching for the fucking light after spending years in the darkness, which was my life without you. I care about you. More than anything. More than I want to admit, more than I would like. That damn much that I would travel halfway around the world for you, I will grovel at your feet just to be fucking close to you."

You let your tears flow freely as you listened to his confession. You know what the man in front of you has been through—what demons of his past pursued him at every turn. And maybe it's his words; maybe it's those damn, tearful eyes that allowed you to see his vulnerability, hidden for so many years; or maybe you just can't live without him either...

Anyway, you grab his dog tags and pull him towards you for a passionate, tearful kiss as both of you realise one terryfing truth... You need each other.

"This is the last time, Russo." you whisper against his lips as he guides you towards your bedroom, stripping you of your clothes.

And right before your eyes I'm aching, run fast Nowhere to hide Just you and me

"What the fuck are you thinking you are doing?" you ask him angrily as he drags you by your elbow away from the shooting.

Things have gone a bit south. Frank didn't anticipate how much support the group we were supposed to kill would get, and now they cut off your group, and now you were forced to work with Billy to get out of here and kill the people you had to. A very mad Billy Russo in his stupid mask.

"I'm saving your ass. Stay here. I'll take care of the rest." he says, letting go of your elbow as he looks around the room.

"There's no fucking option. You won't play my hero, Russo." you say, and reload your gun.

"You won't distract me. You're staying here. End of discussion." he walks up to you and tries to grab the gun out of your hand. You struggle with him and use the grip he taught you to push him away. After a while, you aim your gun at him. You see a hint of fear in his eyes. You shoot, killing the guy standing in the doorway behind him.

"I'm not you. I don't kill my people." you growl at him in anger and move past him to drag the dead man inside and close the door. Billy is grateful for his mask... at least you can't see his shocked, pained expression.

He pulls up a chair and starts rummaging through the flap of the ventilation duct. During this time, you take the gun and bullets from the corpse.

"I would never kill the Castles." he says, not looking at you as he continues to open the vent. "They are my family... just like you."

"You haven't been my family for a long time." you snort at his seemingly tender words. You shiver when he suddenly jumps from the chair and pins you to the wall. Even from behind his mask, you can see how hurt and furious he is.

He holds your arms tightly, almost in a bruising embrace, as he whispers from under his mask so quietly that you can barely hear his words and his voice shaking with emotion.

"Everything... I've ever done... I've done for you. For us."

"There are no us, Russo." You growl in anger and push his arms off of you. You go to the air vent, but he grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards him. You fight him, even going so far as to rip off his mask, but he still holds you in a tight hug, staring into your eyes.

"I fucking love you; do you understand?! With my entire pathetic existence. I know that now you only see me as a monster and that my face is disgusting, but I can't... I can't lose you. Not you. I can endure everything—insults, your hatred... just... please... please don't leave me." he whispers desperately, cupping your cheek in one hand and resting his forehead against yours. You close your eyes, feeling tears welling up in them. You can't count how many times you cried because of that bastard in front of you.

"You think I care about your scars? I don't give a damn about them. What's keeping me away from you is your ugly inside, Russo. You don't care about anyone suffering as long as you profit from it. I'm disgusted by your personality and by the fact that you were willing to sell out your best friend's family and all the people who cared about you for goddamn money and fame. And I hate you, because somehow, even after all you've done, I still care about your damn ass."

His thumb strokes your cheek tenderly as you let him kiss the tears off your face as you almost fell apart in his hands, which you've missed for so long.

“Y/N, my heart, I swear I would never, ever hurt them. You have to believe me. I wouldn't risk what we have… I wouldn't risk losing you after having no one to care about for my whole messed-up life.”

And you're inclined to believe him. You are willing to forget everything and just accept him back. But then you hear a faint beeping sound. You both freeze, staring at each other.

Billy works fast. Too fast for you. He pushes you into the vent and closes the hatch behind you before you can do anything. After a moment, a quiet explosion echoes from the room below you, masking your frantic scream of his name.

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye (Eye, eye)

Billy was not a good man. He knew it. He had no reason. Life never spoiled him, and everything he worked for he had to tear out with his nails. He had no reason to be good. But what he was about to allow now would seal who he was forever. There would be no turning back. And he knew it the moment he joined Castles in the Central Park.

He actually had nothing to lose. Y/N left him, and it would only be a matter of time before Frank would turn on him. He would be alone again. At least he would have guaranteed his future... however empty it might be. But he always believed that it was better to be depressed in an expensive sports car than anywhere else.

At least that's what he thought until he saw Y/N again, for the first time since their next big (this time final, which he deeply believed) breakup. And God, she was beautiful. More beautiful than ever.

She was wearing that little black floral dress that he loved, and she was joking about something with little Lisa as she dragged her through Central Park and the stands. Little Castle led her towards him.

Quiet: "Don't fuck it up, Uncle Bill." came from Frank Jr.'s mouth, before the kid disappeared, likely going to his father, who was probably already watching him. A young boy had to stop using such words. Maria would have his and Frank's heads for it.

Billy's eyes met yours. He gulped, watching as you walked up to him, and Lisa disappeared, probably going to the hideout where her parents were, watching him and Y/N. He clears his throat as you stand in front of him and gives you one of his practiced smirks... though he doubts he's acting as confident as he should be.

"Hi." he says quietly, staring at your face. His stupid heart beats like crazy as he completely forgot everything that wasn't you.

"Hi." you reply, playing with one of the rings on your finger—a nervous habit that he has despised since he felt the need to put HIS ring on you that you can play with and twirl on your finger when you feel insecure. "It was a long time."

"Indeed." he agrees and puts his hands in his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant. "You look beautiful, how are you?" he asks, as if he didn't have people positioned around you, to keep you safe and out of his troubles... the daily update about your life was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind after... losing you.

"All right. I got this job at the hospital." he knows. He himself made a transfer to the account of the hospital's head so that he would employ you there. Still, a smile appears on his face at the excitement in your eyes.

"I told you it was only a matter of time. You are the best surgeon in the USA."

"Well, I doubt Frank would agree with that." you laugh, and he can't help but join you. Frank was your test subject. A very grumpy test subject. Billy could never complain about being a little too strict or stitching it up too quickly at your beginnings. You were just perfect in his eyes.

"Don't listen to him, he is just a brat." he says, nudging your shoulder gently with his. And suddenly, you both stare at each other. You both linger on the other's lips for a moment longer.

"I missed you, Bill." you admit and his heart starts beating wildly.

He swallowed. No. He can't drag you into his shit. You would be better off without him... but as you stood in front of him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours that he would do anything for, he knew he had lost. And much sooner than he realised it.

He pulls you into his embrace. And when you wrap your arms around him, when you snuggle into his chest, and he inhales your scent, burying his nose in your hair, he knows he's home. He knows that he wants to feel this way forever and that life without you simply makes no sense to him anymore. And if he were anyone else, if he hadn't gone through all this shit in his life, he would have cried right there.

Instead, he pulls you closer to his chest, almost digging his fingers into your back, and whispers softly, his eyes closed tightly:

"This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore." he kisses your head, sealing his promise. He will burn the world for you. And nothing will stop him.

And as you sit next to him on the bench, across from the Castles, who are teasing you about how you two can't live without each other, he just smiles and texts his people to call off the action. Unbeknownst to you all, he declares war on Rollins, writing to him: "No one hurts my family. That's the end of the deal."

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong This is the last time I say it's been you all along This is the last time I let you in my door This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore Oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho Oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho, oh-ho

You've been holding his hand since you returned to the Castles' house after his doctors examined him and patched him up. They didn't let you get to him. Something about an emotional attachment would cloud your judgement as a doctor. Stupid bullshit, but there was nothing you could do against Frank's strong grip as he held you in the hallway until you were allowed to carry him home. You're sure Castle had scratches from your nails when you tried to get away to go to Billy.

You shiver when Frank suddenly enters the room and hands you cup of tea. You take it from him without a word with one hand, and with the other, you still hold Billy, waiting for him to wake up. Frank snorts and sits down in the chair next to you, watching you closely.

"He'll get through this. Fortunately, he didn't set himself on fire, he just crashed into the opposite wall." you shiver, ignoring his words as you sip your tea. "Although I doubt he'll have any luck next time if you dump him again. Who knows what he'll do next time just for you to hold his hand."

"What the hell are you talking about?" you ask angrily, shifting your outraged gaze to him. He just shrugs.

"Do you think he let me give him those scars just like that? This is some form of his twisted compensation or punishment. The fact that he was hoping you would magically come get him and patch him up only encouraged him more to stay still as I smashed his face."

"You're fucked up. Both of you. No normal people would come back to being friends after something like that."

"We're all fucked up. Me, because I still see him as a brother. He, because he still wants to be part of my family. And you, who love him despite everything, but leave him at every possible opportunity." you turn your gaze away from him to Billy. He is right. And that hurts the most.

"Every time I promise myself it will be the last time. That I will never go back to him. That this is the last time he breaks my heart without even blinking. One last time I let him back into my life, but I… I just can't, Frankie… I can't leave him, no matter how much he destroys me."

"He thinks he's not worthy of you. That you deserve better." you huff bitterly, shaking your head, trying to fight away the tears.

"There is nothing for me apart from him." you whisper, staring blankly at your linked hands with Billy's. "Not after everything I've been through with him."

"Then stick with it. It's better to be fucked up together." you are laughing. It's not that simple, it never was… or maybe it was you who didn't want to make it such a simple thing.

"You should go to Maria and the kids." you say, wanting to get rid of him. You don't know what you feel. All you know is that you won't leave this room until those dark brown irises look back at you again.

"Will you stay with him?" he asks, and from the heavy atmosphere in the room, you feel like this question means more. He asks if you will stay forever. You lift your hand and gently run through Billy's short hair, observing what happened to him after the two of you were apart... and in fact, you weren't holding up any better than he was.

"Yes... yes I will." you whisper, never taking your eyes off his face. And you feel like something heavy has fallen off your chest. Months of crying, anxiety and apathy passed with the snap of a finger.

"I want to be godfather to your first. And for him to have Frankie as his second name if it's a boy."

"Fuck you, Castle." you say and throw a spare pillow at him. The man laughs as he leaves. He closes the door behind him and you look at the unconscious Billy.

"This is the last time, Russo. I mean that. Don't fuck it up." you whisper and kiss your joined hands.

This is the last time I'm asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I'm asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye This is the last time I'm asking you this (This is the last time I'm asking you this) Put my name at the top of your list (Put my name at the top of your list) This is the last time I'm asking you why (This is the last time I'm asking you why) You break my heart in the blink of an eye (You break my heart) This is the last time I'm asking you, last time I'm asking you Last time I'm asking you this This is the last time I'm asking you, last time I'm asking you Last time I'm asking you this

The gentle brushing of your hair is the first thing you feel when you wake up. Another is his tight grip on your hands, as if he's afraid you're just a product of his head high on painkillers. You raise your head slowly. His hand slips from your hair and rests hesitantly on your cheek.

"Hello." he whispers, staring at you. And for a moment, you just stay like that, each drinking in the sight of the other.

And your heart breaks when you see him waiting for the moment when you start screaming at him, when you take away the closeness he missed so much.

So against your better judgement and what you should do, you lean in and kiss him sweetly, cupping his cheek in your hand. You caress one of his worst scars with the pad of your thumb as he responds to your kiss. His hands stay stiffly in place as he's afraid to move, lest he disturb this moment between you, to feel your lips as long as possible.

You pull away from him and rest your forehead against his. You close your eyes, catching your breath. You feel his burning, confused gaze on you, but you don't move. You don't say anything. You just sit there, enjoying his touch and his closeness, not thinking about the conversation you need to have.

"I missed… I missed this." he whispers shakily. You feel him burning with the desire to taste your lips one more time, but he maintains some semblance of control and settles for just moving the hand that isn't cupping your cheek to your waist.

"Me too."

"I know I screwed up. But… I will never… never again…" you kiss him again, interrupting him. You brush away the tears that fall down his cheek with your thumbs and gently brush your nose against his as you end your kiss.

"Shhh... I know." you whisper, straddling him, needing to feel him as close to you as possible after everything that happened. You were both shattered, but maybe you could put each other back together?

"Are you sure?" he asks, swallowing. You nod and bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He strokes your back slowly, drawing patterns with his fingertips under your blouse. You shiver at the feeling of his touch on your skin.

"This is the last time, Russo. Either we succeed or... it's over. And I mean it. There will be no great quarrels and returns, no appearances on the doorstep of the other at midnight. We'll either be honest with each other... and make it work... or we won't be together at all. You understand? We're at the top of each other's lists, or not at all. I don't want anything less, any toxic love, any blaming each other, and all that bullshit. We take each other and try to do something with us, or we end it."

He nods and pulls you closer to him, digging his fingers into your back, anchoring you to his chest.

"Deal. I hope you know, you just stuck with me forever, because I'm not leaving you." you lift yourself gently from his chest to look at him. Your eyes water as your eyes meet and for the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to fully express your feelings to him.

"Just... don't make me ask you this again... don't hurt me. Please."

Billy pulls you into a tender kiss, showing you all the love and devotion he has for you. Trying with your actions to ensure that this time will be different, that you will never suffer because of him again, that you will never run away from each other again, that you will never watch the other one leave again.

"I'm nothing without you. Trust me. I tried to live without you and look how it ended." he jokes, and in any other situation you wouldn't find it funny, but now, fueled by the high of being with him again, you giggle stupidly into his neck. Billy smiles fondly and strokes your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Break my heart again, and it will end worse for you. I have connections in the mortuary, Russo." he huffs, undeterred, and pulls you closer.

"Please. As if you didn't fly across two states just to stitch my face together because you didn't believe in the competence of the doctors at the hospital." you blush as you realizes that he knew about your moment of weakness after you found out what happened to him after his fight with Frank.

"How did you know?"

"I'd know your stitches anywhere." he says with a shrug and pulls you in for a kiss.

Maybe this really was the last time after all… and this time you will stitch the scattered pieces of both of you together for good.

[call-sign-shark]

Old rumors told the tale of Arthur Shelby, who hadn't been the same when he returned from France, only coming out at night and prowling in the grim streets of Birmingham to do God knew what. Shell shock, the doctor said. Demonic curse, Polly cried.

Old rumors about the night you ventured into the city and melted into the shadows, missing for months before you reappeared out of the blue, with a wedding ring on your finger, gory bites on your neck, and teeth as sharp as razor blades.

There was something off-putting about the two of you people could not really pinpoint. Some said it was the animalistic rage in your husband's eyes, others believed it was how sadistic your smile had become.

"Please God help us" Polly whispered, fist clenched around her rosary even though she knew it was already too late for you.

Notes: Shark's home, guys. Things are cooking, but here's a Arthur x Reader!OC (hi Heaven) vampire moodboard inspired by this song because why not. Also, I kinda want to write a one-shot about it so pls kill me.

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

Tugging on Sparkstrings

TfP! Starscream x Male!human!reader Oneshot

Summary: The 3 times you said thank you to Starscream and the first time he did the same. WC: 3909

A/N: A gift for @sunlightera and beta'd by @staijey-the-creator Hope you all enjoy!!

Starscream missed the time before Megatron returned; three solar cycles surely wasn’t a long time for any Cybertronian, but the comeback of his “Master” made that time feel all that much shorter. A few months ago, he thought he had finally been rid of the merciless warlord after ripping that slagging shard of dark energon out of his chassis, but after the Autobot scum had tampered with his master’s frame, Megatron had come back to, and Starscream had payed for it dearly. And of course there’s the… newest addition of the Nemesis. A human who Knockout had picked up on one of his racing jaunts- only allowed to stay because Knockout was having a difficult time after the loss of his partner and he was apparently useful in the laboratory. 

Starscream would never admit to it outloud, but he rather enjoyed your company. 

You never failed to make the mech’s derma quirk upwards whenever he had to visit Knockout for a repair; something he’s fallen into the habit of doing far more often since he had gotten to know you.

“Well where is he?” Starscream scoffed, rolling his eyes when the resident doctor told him you were off ship for the day, his talons tapped at the medical slab beneath him while his legs were examined. He had reported to Knockout that he felt something jostling in his lower right leg, near his pede.

“I sent him to get more supplies, my inventory is running low.” Knockout raised an optical ridge and gave the lieutenant a once over. Slowly, a smirk formed on his face as he dropped Starscream’s leg, “Y’know… if I didn’t know any better, I’d start believing you missed the fleshy.”

“What preposterous- how could you- Why would you-” Starscream sputtered, not knowing how to cover his aft.

“You want to know how I know?” Knockout stood to his full height, servos on hips.

“...” Starscream didn’t acknowledge Knockout further, other than glancing at him.

“Because you only ever come in here for superficial things, like buffable dents or small pebbles somewhere in your frame. If you cared for your frame like I do,” Knockout gestured to his, probably freshly, buffed frame as he spoke, “then I might be willing to believe your supposed reasons for coming into my lab near daily, but considering you’re the same mech who left this same lab looking an absolute mess a few months ago, I’ve come to the conclusion that a sudden interest in cosmetics is not what ails you.”

Starscream sat absolutely shell shocked at the medic’s word, not sure how to proceed. The doctor had called his proverbial bluff, and he was undeniably embarrassed to have feelings for a squishy, but he wasn’t expecting what came from Knockout next,

“I’d tell him.”

“What?!”

“Oh please. You’re his favorite patient to help with. Why delay the inevitable? Now get out of my lab with your nonexistent rattling pebble, I’ve got actual things to do.” And just like that, Starscream was practically pushed out of the lab, the whooshing of the door behind him solidifying that their conversation was over.

After another moment of just standing in front of the door like a scraplet had just eaten half his processor. He started moving down the halls aimlessly, an occasional grumble escaped him about Knockout having his helm hit too many times on the battlefield. It was a quiet day on The Nemesis, Megatron was out checking on the energon mines- a job he no longer trusted to Starscream considering the last time he had hidden some away in an abandoned mine.

“Oh! Starscream!”

Scrap.

“Good afternoon! I hate to bother you, are you busy?” Screamer looked down to see you looking back up at him with a smile, a rare sight coming from anyone else on the ship. Normally, if anyone had asked him his business, Starscream would snap at them to mind their own, but he found himself weak to their gentle nature around the ship. It was nice… especially after a meeting with Megatron. “You don’t have to help, if you’re busy. This stuff is just a bit heavy.”

He snapped out of the thoughts going on in his processor and focused back on the human. The man held about five, large bags of different auto supplies, though it’s likely all high-grade polish for that pompous medic. Starscream leans down to take something from you. 

“I can spare some time, just this once… human.” 

You handed the giant mech three of the bags, bags that look so small and insignificant once they were put in his servos. You both noticed the difference, a small chuckle was drawn from you, the ridiculousness of the situation being anything but subtle. The absence of weight from the bags Starscream took allowed a spring to be put back into your step.

Once you both reach Knockout’s lab, Starscream put down the bags, not wanting Knockout to make another comment about Starscream craving your attention. He glanced back down at you, his arms crossing over his chassis, “Next time let me know if you need help once you get back on the ship. I shouldn’t have to find you struggling in the hallways.” 

You raised an eyebrow, a smile still on your face, “Good to know you’re so flexible with your schedule.”

Starscream found himself sputtering for the second time that day. It felt like everyone was determined to sass him one way or the other. He huffed and started his way down the hall, before hearing you call out to him again. His wings flicked, his anxiousness to get away before his vents turned on increasing by the nanoklik. 

“What is it?”

“Thank you for helping me.” Your smile is the last thing Starscream saw before you lugged all of the bags through the doorway, all while fussing at Knockout to carry his own polish from now on. 

Whirrrrrrr.

The sound of Starscream’s fans filled the hall, which pushed him to get to his habsuite to cool off his warmed frame as soon as possible. His derma formed a smile, his spark undeniably loved the way you said a simple ‘thank you’ by the way it tugged.

* * * * * *

“This is the second time in the past two decacycles that he has been missing from your lab, doctor. I suggest that you get your assistant in check before Lord Megatron deems him an unnecessary entity on this ship!” Starscream slammed a fist down on one of Knockout’s tables, an act that drew an unimpressed look to the medic’s face. Breakdown spared a glance from his place cleaning and organizing Knockout’s surgical and torture instruments, but he was decidedly too interested to participate in Starscream’s temper tantrum.

“Unstick your wings, Starscream, Y/n wasn’t feeling great today, so he is resting in his room, something that was already reported to our master, not that he paid the notice much care.” Knockout’s rolled optics return to their previous task at making sure the surgical-saw he was cleaning before he spoke again, “Feel free to visit him if you finally plan on doing something about your two’s mutual tension. At this point, I’ll be happy with whatever will light a fire under your aft and get you moving.”

“You’re out of line, Knockout! That human is nothing but a pest that doesn’t belong here in the first place. I would be more than happy to cease hearing him regard me so informally and treat me as if I am some friend.” The doctor moved his eyes from his superior and towards the ground behind him, not that Starscream noticed as he continued to rant, “I care about that irritating human as much as I do about whatever brand of polish you’ve deigned good enough from this disgusting planet- and to squish any unsightly, absurd theories you have come up with- is very little!” Starscream came within inches of Knockout’s frame and brought a talon to his chassis, the scowl on his face very much so prominent. “And I-”

“Well then…”

The energon coursing through Starscream went cold at the sound of your voice reaching his audials. Starscream whipped around, coming eye to optic with your scathing glare. You didn’t appear to be in the best of conditions- donning an oversized hoodie and sweats, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and a thin sheen of sweat marked your brow. Knockout “cleared” his throat to garner your attention, the sound forced you to finally break eye contact with the Second-in-command of the Decepticons, who also turned, hoping the doctor might help him out of the problem of his own creation. “I’m surprised to see you out of your room, Y/n. You looked downright debilitated a couple of cycles ago. Still do, really.”

“Yeah, well, I was finally able to choke down some saltines, and I was hoping I could borrow some of Breakdown’s time to get me some soup?” You looked up to the orange-faced mech who, upon seeing your weary form, gave you a grin and a nod.

“Sure thing, little man, we can go now, if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

Breakdown made his way to you, scooped you up into a servo, and lifted you to his shoulder, like he normally does when you both would go out for supplies or recon. The door to the lab opened and Breakdown nearly began to speed down the halls before you tapped his shoulder with your knuckles to get him to pause. You turned around to face Starscream with one last smile, “And thank you for finally voicing your feelings, Sta- sir. I’ll be sure to address you appropriately from now on. We’ll see you in a little bit, Knockout.”

And without further ado, Breakdown and you passed through the doorway, your large friend having already sent Soundwave a message about needing a groundbridge. Knockout’s expression had shifted throughout the interaction, moving from unimpressed to disdain.

“If you’re done insulting my assistant, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t further sully my lab with your presence… Fragging idiot.”

Shoved out of the medical bay for the second time in two decacycles, and it was the second time that it tugged against his protoform- only this time it was undeniably painful.

* * * * * *

A week or so later, you finally felt better, though you could admit to wanting to stay in your makeshift home on The Nemesis in order to avoid the lanky lieutenant who often stalked the halls, seemingly to avoid his own work. However, you couldn’t leave Knockout and Breakdown hanging, especially when they both have put their necks on the line for you to be allowed to live in this place- no matter how embarrassed you may be if forced to face the mech you’ve been fawning over for the past couple of months, only to be harshly pulled back to reality by said mech’s vehement speech on how your company is undesirable, to say the least.  

You felt a little ridiculous peeking around corners before fully committing to the turn, but once you made it to the lab without incident, other than greeting Steve with a good morning, the ridiculous feeling melted away into feeling vindicated instead. “Good morning to my favorite Decepticons.”

“Welcome back, for a moment I thought we were going to have to ask Megatron for a splinter of his “good stuff” if you weren’t back for another solar cycle or so.” Knockout smirked and Breakdown chuckled, working on something with his frame.

“Eugh, I’d rather you let me stay dead.” The idea of Big M’s equivalent to a purple crystal meth being anywhere near your skin, let alone inside of you sent shivers down your spine. Having given the room a look, you noticed nothing looked different, not surprising since it hadn’t been too long. You sat in a little chair Breakdown had created for you and gave yourself a little spin, “So what have you got for me to do today? I’m sure there are some things that smaller hands are needed for.”

Knockout and Breakdown looked at each other before they gave you their attention again and then went back to looking at each other with their expressions flickering here and there. The two of them were obviously using their telepathic thing, trying to figure out what exactly to say to you.

“Guys, just give it to me straight, what’s going on?”

“Well, S-”

“Starscream has been coming by everyday looking for you, and Megatron has taken notice. The Lieutenant has been instructed to meet Lord Megatron on the landing strip, and we have been warned there may be… upkeep following their meeting.” Breakdown started off fast, as if trying to rip the bandage off, only slowing when he basically admitted Megatron was blatantly admitting he was giving Starscream another round of punishments for insubordination.

You may not be happy with Starscream and his lack of tact, but your care for him didn’t evaporate over the course of a few days, so the news of him receiving a beating once again only filled you with dread.

“Well, we’ll care for him no differently than usual. His medical needs will be met by all of us… if he deems it alright.”

“He’s not the chief medical officer of this vessel last I checked, so whether he likes it or not, I will be using both of my assistants if it so pleases me.” He crossed his arms over his chassis and his smirk began to lean towards the mad scientist look, “And if he raises a fuss, I have more than enough anesthesia to keep him down during any procedures.”

“Cool it, doc. I doubt he’ll have too much to say after his ‘meeting’.” You used air quotes, not having wanted to fully believe that Starscream would once again be beaten within an inch of his life, but knew it was inevitable if he had been neglecting his job like Breakdown said. As if on cue, the lab doors opened and Starscream’s body was tossed in, like he was some after thought. His frame was dented, scratched, and marred dramatically- it resembled what Knockout told you of the punishment Starscream received when Megatron had finally been revived from his stasis.

“I trust you all will get our Second-in-Command back in working order quickly.” His hulking figure showed no signs of having just brutally harmed and dragged Starscream through the halls, “And doctor, I would recommend ensuring your pet’s knowledge on the need for productivity on my ship, and that it understands consequences.”

And with that, the leader of the Decepticons was gone.

“Alright, Screamer, let’s get you back up and running. Y/n, get your gloves- I can see small bits further in his frame than I can reach.” Knockout lifted Starscream’s limp frame, with Breakdown’s help, and put him on one of the medical berths. He turned around and can tell you haven’t moved an inch, your eyes glued to the unconscious mech. “Y/n, move. This isn’t the worst state you’ve seen a con in.”

“...Right.” You moved quickly to get your supplies, purely through muscle memory.. Ladders that were installed throughout the ship, but primarily the lab, helped you climb your way up to Starscream’s side. His visage was hard to take in, to say the least. Logically, you knew with Knockout’s expertise and perfectionism when it comes to his work, Starscream would be fine, but seeing the mech that you have fallen for, no matter how unrequited, unconscious and possibly struggling to keep his spark brought tears to your eyes. You kept your head down, no desire to look at your friends, and lower yourself into his chassis after Knockout removes the plating in your way, “Let’s get this over with.”

You hadn’t been in Starscream’s chassis like this before; his spark chamber glowed bright and strong, bringing an ease to your own heart. A shake of your head took your attention from the beautiful gleam of Starscream’s spark and back to the task at hand. Pieces of small metal littered the inside of his frame, so you got to work- each piece picked up carefully, not wanting to nick any circuits or vital points. You took one last look at the entrancing light before telling Knockout to help you up and out of the Starscream’s chassis.

“Knockout, let me know when you’re done with everything and are willing to go over his aftercare procedures when we’re on rotation.” Without waiting for a response, you left the lab, too caught up in your own thoughts to stay. The halls were quiet. 

_____________________________

Knockout had messaged you a few hours ago that Starscream was in a stable condition and he and Breakdown had to go for energon scouting. You responded back, acknowledging that you would look over the lieutenant in the meantime. And so, you had been looking over the mech who has yet to wake up for an hour or so.

You settled next to his frame, knowing if something went awry with his status, being anywhere else may make the difference between him staying as healthy as possible and a sudden decline. With a book opened on the datapad Soundwave had generously crafted especially for you, you try to focus on the words on the screen, but keeping your eyes from flicking to Starscream was near impossible. 

“You’re a fragging idiot, y’know…” You snapped at the non-responsive frame, the datapad abandoned on the medical berth before you stood and began pacing, “A primus-damned idiot! Inconsiderate! Self-involved! A downright misleading, conniving aft!”

In the midst of your yelling, tears started forming in the corners of your eyes and in a moment of rage, you harshly kicked the servo you stood by. You plopped back down with a groan and reclined your back so it met the berth, legs swung over the side, moving back and forth, “We sound like a bad joke- a robot-lover and a robot who hates him walk into a bar.”

Your laugh was dry.

“I lied.”

“Ah!” You sat up quickly and would have fallen right off the edge of the berth had Starscream not grabbed you by the collar of your shirt. Being lifted onto his chassis, his optics haven’t met yours, but he did grant you a couple of glances before he put his helm back and returned his optics to the ceiling. “What the hell, Starscream?! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Well, excuse me for attempting to clear the air- something I have in fact been trying to do for the past several solar cycles, for your information.” He didn’t move. In fact, he was oddly still in comparison to his normal gesticulations.

“The air wouldn’t have needed clearing if you had just told me you didn’t want me around to begin with.”

“I wasn’t aware that you went deaf in your time avoiding me- I lied, Y/n. Your company is- well, I mean you’re-... it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I lied about not enjoying your presence.” His optics flicked back and forth and to anywhere else that would keep you out of his vision.

“If this is your idea of an apology, you can-” You stopped and quickly crawled up the remainder of his chest plating and pulled on his chin, so he would finally face you, “You used my name.”

“What’s your point?” His eyes still occasionally flit away, easily giving away his embarrassment.

“You’ve never called me by my name. It’s always just been human or fleshy.” A smile, though small, graced your features, and Starscream felt that tug on his spark that he had been missing for weeks. After what he said in front of you, he supposed he had the subconscious fear he would never see that smile again. It was nice to see, comforting even. “Thank you.”

That stole Starscream’s attention, his optics looking into your big eyes, “Why in Primus’ name are you thanking me?”

“Well, I’ll admit your apology sucks, but the effort was there… besides, if I held on to every bad thing said to me on this ship, I’d lose my mind. Knockout isn’t exactly the easiest mech to get along with, and he and Breakdown are good friends now.” You gave him an awkward smile and shrug. 

“...What now?” Starscream quirked an optical ridge. While you were forgiving, he couldn’t believe you would just let everything go. 

“For now, recharge. We can talk more about this when you’ve just woken up from a royal beating from your megalomaniac boss.” You lied down, emotionally exhausted from the past few days. The relief Starscream’s words granted you also apparently left you ready to sleep. Your comment on the leader of the Decepticons drew a tired chuckle from the mech beneath you as you both finally fell asleep in each other’s comfort.

* * * * * *

“Wake up, Starscream.” You smile, pulling on one of his digits. He cracks an optic open, looking down to your form, hair still mussed from sleep. Seeing him awake, you climb up his frame and sit yourself on his Decepticon brand.

“That’s not my designation to you.” Starscream sneers, closing his optic and feigning going back into a recharge. “Try again, human.”

“Lieutenant?” You hum, bringing a finger up to tap your chin in mocking thought.

“Wrong.”

“Screamer?”

That got his attention, his optics opening and narrowing down at your smaller form, “You spend too much time with that imbecile doctor.”

“An imbecile doctor who had to kick us out of his lab at one point because someone couldn’t stop exaggerating his symptoms to get attention from his nurse, Starlight.” You lean down to press a kiss against his chin, finally using your name for him, smile widening to a grin when you see his own spreading across his derma.

“I have no idea what you could be talking about. The rocks on this planet easily stick in my frame, so I require additional attention.” Starscream brings a servo to your back, rubbing a digit up and down.

“Oh, is that so? Is that why you’ve stolen me away from the lab, so I can be your personal nurse?” Your laugh rings through the habsuite and Starscream’s chuckle reverberates beneath his chassis where you sit. 

“Perhaps.”

Reflecting on the relationship between you and your seeker, you can’t believe where you both were a couple of months ago in comparison to now- the spat between you both long settled after a lengthy conversation. After a day or so of caring for Starscream in the lab, Knockout had discharged him for monitoring in his habsuite, tired of having to hear the two of you going coyly back and forth. Megatron didn’t seem to care, just as long as Starscream doesn’t stand in the way of his plans. You’re snapped out of your reminiscing after a moment,

“Thank you.” His optics, no longer feigning sleep, look down to you with such warmth, a look you return but with furrowed brows and a slightly dampened smile. Your hands cup Starscream’s face to bring it into better view.

“Now, what are you thanking me for?”

“For forgiving me… for loving me.” 

“Thank you for letting me.” With a kiss on his derma, you get comfortable on his chest and close your eyes, “I changed my mind, maybe we should stay in, at least for a bit.”

“Sounds good to me, spark tugger.”