#hit hard by sinking values—and now

[piggytfs]

The Wrong Wish (revamped)

inspired, once again, by the iconic @bigfuckingdudes. more stories to come! appreciate all the asks and excitement. hope y'all weren't trying to lose weight while i was gone.

Kyle slouched on the couch, his lean, 19-year-old frame tense with disgust. Craig, his mother’s new husband, waddled in from the kitchen, his beer gut swaying, sweat stains blooming under his armpits. The man let out a ripe fart, chuckling as he scratched his hairy belly, crumbs from a bag of BBQ chips tumbling to the floor. “Hey, lighten up, squirt,” Craig leered, winking with a crude grin. “Life’s too short to be so uptight.” Kyle’s stomach churned. Craig was everything he despised: loud, vulgar, and shamelessly gross. Worse, his mom seemed blind to it, laughing at Craig’s lewd jokes, blushing when he groped her. Kyle was the opposite—quiet, introspective, a college kid who valued discipline and order. This slob was ruining his life.

That night, Kyle lay in bed, his mind racing. “I’d do anything to get Craig away from Mom,” he whispered, his voice cracking with desperation. The words hung in the air, heavy with intent, as if the universe itself was listening. Exhausted, he drifted into a deep, uneasy sleep.

And then the sun rose on a new reality.

Kyle woke to a suffocating weight, his body sinking into the mattress like it was quicksand. His limbs felt sluggish, pinned by an unfamiliar and quivering bulk. His chest heaved, each breath a labored wheeze, as if his lungs were squeezed by layers of dough. He tried to move, but his neck—now a thick roll of fat—resisted, creaking as he turned his head. In the dim light, Craig loomed beside him, propped on one elbow, his doughy face split into a smug, intimate grin. “Mornin’, my sexy hog,” the man purred, his voice dripping with lust. His meaty hand reached out, stroking Kyle’s cheek, fingers lingering on the stubble of a double chin.

Kyle’s heart pounded. “What the—” His voice was alien, a deep, raspy growl, thickened by years of grease and smoke. He tried to sit up, but his body rebelled. His belly, a massive, quivering dome, spilled across the bed, its pale, stretch-marked surface trembling with every breath. Rolls of fat cascaded down his sides, pooling against the sheets, each one soft and heavy, like warm dough. His thighs, thick as tree trunks, rubbed together, slick with sweat, their friction sending a jolt through him. His arms were flabby slabs, jiggling as he flailed, and his man-tits sagged, dusted with coarse, dark hair that trailed down to his navel. A sour, musky stench clung to him—sweat, body odor, and something earthier, like unwashed skin. It was his smell, and it made his stomach lurch.

He raised a hand, fingers now fat and clumsy, nails yellowed, and saw a gold wedding band glinting on his ring finger. His chest tightened. He was married. To Craig. “No, no, no,” he rasped, his voice trembling. He tried to roll off the bed, but his bulk made it impossible. His belly sloshed, dragging him back, and his joints ached under the strain. Beneath the layers of fat, his cock stirred, buried under a thick pad of lard that jiggled with every movement. It throbbed, hard and aching, the pressure intense but humiliatingly inaccessible, smothered by his new girth.

“Look at you, my big, blubbery boy,” Craig teased, his hand sliding down to knead Kyle’s belly, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. “Fuck, you’re so heavy, ain’t ya? Bet you can’t even get outta bed without me.” He chuckled, his own gut pressing against Kyle’s side, their sweaty skin sticking together. Kyle’s cock pulsed harder, betraying him, and a wave of arousal hit so strong he gasped, his cheeks flushing under his chubby cheeks.

“Get… away,” Kyle managed, but his mind was foggy. He was not himself—or was he too much himself? Memories flickered, not his own. He saw himself as Kyle, the lean, disciplined kid who planned his workouts, who cringed at fast food, who valued control. But new memories—vivid, invasive—pushed in. He was 48 now, not 19, a man who’d spent decades indulging, gorging on pizzas and beers with Craig at their favorite diner. He was no longer quiet; he was loud, laughing at crude jokes, belching in public, reveling in his bulk. He was Craig’s husband, a role model for excess, a gainer who lived for the scale’s climb. Their wedding day: Kyle, 400 pounds, waddling down the aisle, his suit splitting at the seams, Craig whispering, “You’re my perfect pig.” Nights in this bed, Craig feeding him, their bodies entwined, sweat and musk mingling as they fucked.

“No, I’m not that guy!” Kyle growled, shaking his head, his jowls quivering. He clung to his old self, the college kid who hated Craig’s filth—his farts, his sweat, his lewdness. But it was fading, like a signal drowned out by static. Craig grinned, undeterred, and grabbed a tray from the nightstand, laden with donuts, their glaze glistening, alongside a pitcher of cream and a stack of bacon. “Time to eat, big man,” he said, holding a donut to Kyle’s lips. “Gotta keep my hog nice and stuffed.”

Kyle’s stomach roared, a deep, hungry rumble that shook his frame. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to open his mouth. “I’m not… your fucking pig,” he spat, but the scent of sugar and grease was intoxicating. His cock throbbed beneath his fat pad, the pressure building, and he hated how good it felt. Craig’s teasing didn’t stop. “Oh, come on, babe, you love this. Look at that gut, all swollen with lard. Bet you can’t even reach your dick anymore, huh? Need your husband to take care of that for ya.” He jiggled Kyle’s belly, sending ripples through the fat, and Kyle moaned, the sound raw and involuntary.

His mind begged him to fight. You’re Kyle. You’re not this slob. You hate him. But his body had other ideas. His mouth opened, and the donut slid in, the sweet, doughy taste exploding on his tongue. He chewed, glaze smearing his lips, and another moan escaped. Craig fed him another, then a strip of bacon, the grease dripping down Kyle’s chin, pooling in the folds of his neck. Each bite was a surrender, his old personality crumbling. The disciplined kid was gone, replaced by a man who craved excess—food, sex, filth. He was becoming Craig’s mirror, a loud, crude gainer who laughed at restraint, who loved burping contests and farting in bed, who got off on being too big for chairs.

“Fuck, you’re such a greedy pig,” Craig growled, his hand sliding under Kyle’s belly, fingers brushing the fat pad where his cock strained. “Look at this. All that lard’s got you so hard, but you’re too fat to do shit about it.” He squeezed, and Kyle bucked, his bulk quivering, pleasure overwhelming his resistance. Craig leaned in, kissing him, his stubble scraping his sensitive skin, his breath hot and sour. Their bellies pressed together, sweat and musk mingling, and Kyle’s mind frayed. Craig’s filth—his filth—wasn’t gross; it was hot. His farts were funny, his sweat was sexy, his crude love was perfect.

“I… I’m not…” Kyle whimpered, but the words were a lie. The wedding band felt like it had always been there, a symbol of their kinky bond. New memories solidified: him and Craig at a buffet, Kyle’s shirt riding up, Craig feeding him ribs until he couldn’t breathe. Their honeymoon, Kyle stuck in a hot tub, Craig fucking him as the water sloshed. He was a gainer, a hog, proud of his 500-pound frame, his immobility a trophy of their love. His personality had shifted—he was no longer introspective but boisterous, cracking lewd jokes, goading Craig into stuffing him fuller.

“More,” Kyle gasped, his voice thick with need. “Feed me, Craig.” His mind screamed one last desperate plea, but it was drowned out by his hunger. Craig’s laugh was deep and triumphant. “That’s my big, filthy hog,” he said, stuffing a pancake into his mouth, syrup dripping onto his man-tits. His hand worked under the fat pad, teasing his cock, and Kyle moaned, his body quaking. “Gonna make you so much fatter, babe. My perfect husband.”

Kyle surrendered completely. He was Craig’s, body and soul. His old life—discipline, restraint—was a distant dream. He loved his filthy, kinky husband, loved the sweat, the stench, the excess. As Craig fed him, fucked him, worshipped him, Kyle knew this was where he belonged: a massive, smelly hog, bound to his fat man forever.

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 04

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: mature language | masterlist | 03 | 05 |

❀ ❀ ❀ - indication that the chapter takes place in the past!!

❀ ❀ ❀

yourusername 3w

liked by kiecarrera, popeheyward, and 167 others

yourusername better than the movies @/rafecameron

view all comments

rafecameron my sunshine

rafecameron so incredibly in love with you

yourusername i love you

sarahcameron the cutest couple

johnbroutledge no we are

rafecameron no you’re not

sarahcameron love looks so pretty on you

cleo disgustingly cute

cleo omg what about our farm wedding??

yourusername i’ll leave him, yk i love you bae

cleo ily more babe

rafecameron so it’s just fuck me huh?

yourusername yes 💔💔

wheeziecameron my future sister in law 😛😛

yourusername 🩷🩷

kiecarrera you’re so cute

yourusername 😛😛

popeheyward commenting for inclusion again

jjmaybank replying for inclusion

topperthornton bro’s a simp, never seen him act this way

rafecameron you’d understand if you could get bitches 🙂‍↔️

Your relationship had been something out of the movies. From the theme park dates, where he’d win you the biggest stuffed animal just to see your smile, to the simple picnics on his boat, where the sun would set and sink into the ocean, and for a moment it felt like the world was only yours.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

He was attentive to your needs, he was constantly reassuring you, he made you feel safe and valued—everything about him felt like magic.

Tonight, the bonfire is set ablaze, its glow reflecting on your faces, its sparks floating through the air. The air smells of salt, smoke, and the heavy scent of alcohol. You watch as JJ, Pope, and cleo hit a volleyball over a stray net, their voices flowing along with the rhythm of the music.

You’re surrounded by warmth, laughter forming in your chest, your hand laced with Rafe’s. His fingers tighten briefly, and he leans close, his lips brushing your ear. “Stay here, Sunshine. I’ll grab us some drinks.”

You nod, smiling up at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He flashes a smile, but it doesn’t linger. His eyes search yours for a second longer than they need to before he turns and walks toward the cooler.

The fire crackles, and before you know it, you’re swept into the chaos of JJ and Pope’s game. Someone pulls you in—maybe Cleo, maybe JJ—and you’re laughing, kicking up sand as you attempt to hit the volleyball thrown your way. Your feet are bare, the cold grains of sand slipping between your toes, and for a moment, you forget everything but the feeling of freedom.

You spin, arms outstretched, hair flying wild, the night wrapping you in its soft haze. When you look up, JJ grins at you, his eyes alight with mischief. “You’re on my team now!”

You laugh, breathless, cheeks flushed from the sea breeze and running. It feels easy. Too easy.

Then the warmth fades. A chill seeps in at your back.

You turn, and there he is. Rafe. Standing just outside the fire’s glow, two drinks in his hands. His gaze is fixed on you, the firelight flickering in his eyes.

His expression is hard to read—somewhere between a smile and something else. Something that tightens the air between you.

You jog over to him, the sand cold beneath your feet. “Hey! Thanks for the drink.” You reach for the cup, your fingers brushing his. His grip lingers a second too long before he lets go.

“Looks like you were having fun,” he says, his voice low and even.

“I was.” You smile, but it falters under the weight of his stare. “We were just messing around.”

He nods, his jaw shifting slightly. “Yeah.” A pause. The fire pops and crackles. “You said you’d be by the fire.”

You blink, the words slow to register. “I was just…” You gesture toward the group, the laughter now distant, tinny in your ears. “I didn’t go far.”

He doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flick to JJ, still standing by the shore, and then back to you. The silence stretches just long enough to feel uncomfortable.

Finally, he hands you the drink. “It’s fine,” he says, his tone light, almost too light. “I just didn’t see you.”

You smile, trying to brush away the heaviness pressing at your ribs. “I’m right here.”

He nods, his gaze softening, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. You are.”

You take a sip, the cold drink burning down your throat. The music swells, the fire dances, and the laughter resumes—but everything feels just a little off-kilter, like a picture hanging slightly askew.

Rafe’s arm snakes around your waist again, pulling you close. The weight of it should feel comforting. You tell yourself it does.

“Don’t disappear on me, Sunshine,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, like gravel under silk.

Your smile falters for just a moment. “I’m right here.”

And you are. But he wonders how long you’ll stay when the shadows he keeps hidden finally catch up.

rafecameron 3h

liked by topperthornton, yourusername and 567 others

rafecameron all mine

comments are off.

a/n: please stay with me i promise this gets better. also ch. 5 is out now!!!!

tags: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[plasticferal]

keeping score | matt & chris sturniolo.

prologue: 'they say love is the sixth sense that destroys all other five senses’

authors notes: 1.9k, explicit language, reader discretion is advised. welcome to my first series, please enjoy the ride.

they both want you. the only way matt and chris can agree to settle who wins is through competition, one where you’re the prize. your own heart is torn between the two brothers. the thing is though, love doesn’t keep score.

they have two very different experiences to offer. two sides of the same coin. a coin you refuse you flip and settle on.

matt is the first to catch your eye in any room. he makes you nervous. butterflies, awkward laughs, stuttering over your words. all of it. you like him. you’re unsure if he feels the same toward you.

however, you also like chris. the compliments he showers you in, the subtle flirting, the way he softens his tone around you, how giving he is, the way he’s so shamelessly himself. the list goes on. he’s different. 

it’s a weird triangle of intrigue and unrequited feelings that lingers and is never acknowledged.

you’re already convinced it’ll never happen. with either of them. you’d be putting too much at risk considering how deeply you value your friendship before anything else. the fear of falling in love, and losing them both. 

which might just be your karma for being into both brothers. 

they occupy the living room. you’re upstairs, using nick’s bed to take a nap while he showers, and he takes long showers. he’s always given you a safe space in the house, to make it feel like home. 

you love to annoy chris and matt by stealing their clothes, blankets, soft drinks out of the fridge, tagging along to every late night drive and fast food pick up. 

they share everything with you, but you designate yourself in nicks’s room as to not stir up any terrible, rash decisions on your accord.

being fast asleep and tangled up in crisp, cold, silk sheets, it’s a deep sleep. completely escaping into your dreams.

you’re left unaware of the chaos that’s about to ensue in the living room between the two brothers who occupy your mind. chaos is the score in which reality is written upon.

“you like y/n, right?” matt asks chris. 

you’ve had a strange feeling for a while now that matt is trying to set you up with his brother. which, as flattering as it is, it’s bittersweet. 

matt is sinking lazily into the lounge while scrolling through his phone, on the furthest left. chris is on the furthest right with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. 

they’re in direct view of each other on the L shaped couch. not in a literal sense, just in proximity. neither brother is actually looking up from a screen of some kind.

“what?” chris snaps his head toward matt, diverting from the television for a moment. 

“just answer the question.” matt huffs.

“of course i like y/n. she’s the closest person in our life besides like, nick” chris shrugs, going to look back at the screen again. 

matt groans in disappointment at his response. 

“you know i don’t mean it like that.” matt sits up slightly, readjusting his position and posture.

“god here we go again.” chris runs a hand down his face, fearing his brother's next words. 

“how do you really feel about her?” matt pries. 

unusual for him. out of character even, chris is usually the one who needs to know everything all the time, and is never afraid to ask the hard hitting questions, as annoying as it may be. but not with this topic of conversation.

the difference is, chris does it because he’s genuinely curious. matt asks questions for his own selfish reason, to chris’s oblivion. 

chris needs reassurance that he’s making the right decision in not pursuing you. matt needs to know if or when he’s going to have to compete. little does he know that time is nearing. 

“man, i don’t know. i just- i like her. can’t we leave it at that?” chris’s tone is anguished. 

“you’re avoiding the question-”

“i answered your question!” chris cuts matt off before he can fully form his sentence, and matt’s jaw tightens. 

“fine, whatever.” matt waves his hands in the air with defeat before diverting back to his phone, leaving chris to linger on his words.

“i’m never gonna make a move. i know how you feel about her, too.” chris huffs, as though he’s annoyed at the response he’s had to give.

“what’d you mean?” matt gives chris a glare, like he’s daring his next words.

“you know exactly what i fuckin’ mean” chris scoffs, shifting in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling the sleeves of his gray hoodie past his knuckles.

matt takes a loud inhale through his nose and exhales through his mouth 

“we can’t just keep pretending that we both don’t want her.” matt drops his phone onto his stomach face down, being slightly slumped. 

“i’ve been fine pretending” chris throws the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to hide his eyes more from matt, a natural reaction to not enjoying the grilling. 

“well if you don’t make a move, i will.” matt’s tone is serious.

“you wouldn’t.” chris deadpans, a sincere tone of disbelief seeping from his lip that he’s now biting the corner of.

“you’ve been saying you’re gonna make a move forever and haven’t done shit."

he knows it’s not nice, but there’s something about the lack of passion from chris despite the obvious crush just makes matt's skin crawl. if someone is going like you and not do anything about it, matt is more than willing to shoot his shot, give you what you deserve. 

“that’s not fair” chris twists his face, glaring at his brother. 

"i think it’s more than fair play at this point, kid.” matt scoffs.

if looks could kill, matt would be dead.

all those times you’ve perceived matt bringing up chris to entice you have just been a ploy to gauge how both of you feel. he knows it’s manipulative, but no harm, no foul.

the worst part is, chris isn’t actually even sure he wants a relationship. he’s infatuated by you, undoubtedly. matt on the other hand would marry you with a paper ring. 

they’re both scared of their own feelings, and the intentions that might come along with them. they don’t ever want to hurt you, but their carnal desire is misleading their moral compass.

“alright then,” chris starts, matt’s words hitting a nerve for him. he slaps his hands onto his thighs and sits up in his spot. 

“how do we settle this? who gets her?” chris continues, staring at his brother intently now.

“i don’t think we get to make that decision.” matt shakes his head, bringing his hand to his mouth as he begins to bite his nails, which muffles his words.

“you’re right, we don’t. but we’re gonna have to compete for it to even be an option.”

“compete” matt repeats chris’s words with a sour huff, a slight arrogance in the sense that he doesn’t view his brother as a threat. 

not when it comes to you, and there might be a small part of that statement that’s correct. you have a sweet spot for matt, which fires up chris even more. he is conscious that he’s the underdog, as much as you try to show an even amount of attention to the both of them.

“what’s wrong? you scared you’ll lose?” chris taunts. 

“that’s the least of my worries.” matt scoffs, his mind traveling down every possible path this terrible idea could go down. 

“fine, then you won’t be afraid of a little competition.” chris says nonchalantly, pushing back with the same energy matt’s been giving, turning the tables.

“what’s your plan here? we just tally up the moments we get with her until someone wins? to boost our own egos?” matt speaks with his hands.

“i do love to have my ego stroked” chris grins to himself, the thought of you crossing his mind as the words leave his mouth. his train of thought tends to wonder easily.

“seriously, chris, how do we plan on settling this?” matt rubs his hands together, like the action you do when you’re trying to stay warm. 

“i think there’s only one answer to that.” chris responds, in a “duh” tone, without explicitly sharing what’s on his mind.

their sixth sense of being able to unpack each other's minds sparks like an electrical fault in the moment. of course, neither of them hate the thought of getting you in bed. they just hate the thought of you being unaware. 

somehow it’s more challenging than falling in love, or securing a relationship. betting to sleep with you is actually the hardest challenge of them all, let alone covering all the bases in order to attain it. 

the intimacy, the intensity of it all. it just seems so unattainable. it requires them, and you, to be completely and utterly vulnerable. 

“that seems kind of, objectifying.” matt shifts his demeanour, ironic considering he sparked the conversation. 

“it wouldn’t be a competition without a challenge.” chris acknowledges, and unfortunately for the both of them, he’s right. 

“this sounds so fucked up” matt says, running his hand through his scruffy hair.

“first brother to five points takes all. all of her.” chris speaks, confidently setting up the challenge. 

essentially their plan is to see who can get the closest to you, and let the other brother suffer in watching it happen. which occurs points. loser has to back off of you completely. unless someone gets to you first, in which case all their hard work flies out the window. they won’t be making it easy for each other.

“points won’t matter when i get her into bed first.” matt’s smug, knowing it’ll make chris go insane. 

“so i take it that you’re up for the challenge?” chris ignores matt’s words with a prompt, because if he doesn’t disregard it, he’ll lash out. 

matt considers it. at least he acts like he does. he knows his answer. if he wants you, if either of them do, they have no choice but to compete. neither of them are sure if it’s love or lust, but they’re about to find out. 

they are certain of one thing though. they like everything about you. the way you look. the way you smell. the way you sound. they know exactly why they want you. it’s the first time ever someone has been able to grab the attention of both brothers. hence the severity of the agreement.

“when do we start keeping score?” matt responds, and that’s all the reassurance chris needs in his brothers answer. 

as if on command, you trudge down the stairs in a sleepy state. their eyes snap toward you simultaneously, and you blink repeatedly to make sure you’re seeing them right. 

you are their favorite part of every day, so it’s not out of the ordinary for them to acknowledge your entrance, but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you with a different energy. 

with foggy vision still clearing as you rub your heavy, tired eyes, you let a small yawn escape. they both melt at the sight, despite you feeling like you’re in your least desirable state. 

you’re not even paying attention to their back and forth bickering. the sound of their voices muffling through your ears. whatever it is they’re saying, they’re not saying it loud enough for you to hear before you even make it down the stairs.

“now.” chris states, eyes snapping back at his brother as they both raise off the lounge.

all is fair in love and war.

tag list: @luverboychris @floofparker @fake-sturniolos @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @mattsneezing @mattslolita @breeloveschris @rootbeerworshiper @mattstattoo @mxqdii @tay-laaaaa @pettydollie @lacysturniolo @annamcdonalds67 @landrysflannel @goandcomebsck @sleepysturnss @call-me-ninaaa @lustfulslxt @txssvx

[nrdmssgs]

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

Masterlist

Part 1 (Soap, Alex, Konig)

Captain John Price

Platonic

Won't mind, if his old friend takes a quick nap on his shoulder, as long as this old friend tolerates a cigar smoke.

If he was discussing something with the others, and you happened to fall asleep - he'll try to speak quieter to the point, where his low velvety voice turns into a full-fledged asmr session.

But if the talk grows heated and his low menacing rumble wakes you up accidentally - he'll just pull you back on his shoulder. "Sorry, darling, go back to sleep... Now back to you, you d**p sh*t!"

Will unconsciously fidget with your fingers, John can't help it: your skin is so soft - it calms him down to lightly massage and caress your hand while you are napping.

Price finds it endearing, how flustered you got, after you finally woke up and understood, how exactly have you been sleeping all this time. Once again, he has nothing against it, but he will gladly joke about it, just to see you blushing. "Of course, you can spend a considerable amount of money on this orthopedic pillow in the hope that it will help you start sleeping better. Or you can always call one of your old friends - it costs nothing..."

Romantic

John will have to fight the urge to scoop and cradle you, so that you lean against him with your full weigh, enjoying his warmth enveloping you.

Even if he has something to do - his attention will be concentrated on you. Your calm deep breaths, your fingers clasping on his shirt lightly - that is what Price consumes with his every his single fiber. Because after all, it's memories of those things that keep him alive and sane on the battlefield.

Will definitely kiss the top of your head, even if you two are not alone. Multiple times.

It's moments like these, when he remembers to take a pause, look outside the window, remember, that his war is not everything he has - there is life beyond it.

Expect to wake up with his hand on your head, fingers sinking into your hair, a warm smile blooming on his face as he notices you slowly opening your eyes. "Had a nice nap, my love? Now how about I take you somewhere, you could actually sleep properly?"

Simon Ghost Riley

(this one turned out more like a scenario, sorry)

Platonic

Ghost doesn't notice the weight of your head on his lap right away. He's seen you curl up on a bench next to where he was sitting, but you are so small and light in comparison to him, it's hard to register your head leaning against him.

He sits at the table and talks to someone, when it hits him: a strange warmth, spreading in all directions of his body from the place your cheek meet his lap.

Simon makes a little, almost unnoticeable, pause, breathes in and goes on talking.

There's a voice in the back of his head, telling him to find anything, that might resemble a pillow, for you to sleep on. It would be so much better, than his dusty jeans. And you definitely deserve something softer than his lap to rest on.

But there's nothing, that he could offer you right now to replace him. So he settles to sitting as still as he possibly could and covering the edge of the table with his hand in case you wake up and get up abruptly. Little gesture, showing how much he really cares for every squadmate, how much he values their trust.

Back on the base, you notice, some late training hours disappeared from your timetable. Your Lt may never comment on you briefly passing out on his lap, but he never forgot, you needed a bit more time to rest after the last mission.

Romantic

He might be reserved and distant with you in public. Nothing personal, just a professional attitude, a facade, if you want. But here, behind the closed doors of his room, he freezes the very next minute he hears your muffled mumbling as you drifted to sleep on his shoulder.

"Don't go. Not yet."

Simons' heart sinks. He wishes, he didn't know, what were you talking about in your sleep, but he knows. Even in your dreams, on the territory, where you can have anything, you've ever wished for - you ask only for him to stay.

In public, you are always ok with him going on missions without you. You are always collected, supportive and optimistic. But when no one is around, you let yourself cling to Ghost for a brief moment, clasp your fingers around his arm and wordlessly plead 'don't go, don't go, don't go, don't...'

As he brushes hair from your face, you slightly flinch, not waking up.

"Take me, not him."

Simon looks at your face, feeling guilt building up in his chest. He puts his work papers aside, scoops you up and carries you to his bed. There he cradles you, caressing your face till you stop mumbling, descending to deeper sleep.

You wake up the next morning alone, surrounded by his scent, as he left you his shirt. He always does that, when he leaves on a mission without you. Your gaze wanders around, till it stops on your arm. His handwriting, black pen ink, covering your skin. Never before has he done anything like this. You grab your phone and frantically make a few dozens of photos of the inscription, that he left on you. You already know, that you'll make it permanent.

The inscription says "On my way to you"

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Platonic

Kyle is actually the one to ask others to speak quieter, when he realizes, you've fallen asleep on his lap.

Will shoo away Soap, who is ready to attack you and Kyle with a myriad of 'so when's the wedding' jokes.

Gaz is also the one to actually make sure, that there is nothing hard in his pockets and that the no sharp edges of his tactical clothes touch your delicate skin. He is a very good, genuinely caring friend.

In fact, he will protect you from any person, threatening your sleep. He will even convince Ghost to come back to you with new intel or orders just a bit later, or give them to Gaz, so that he can tell you everything later.

If you work together - he will try to help you with paperwork, so that you have more time to sleep between trainings and missions.

Romantic

Kyle has that face of the happiest, most proud man out there. It's you, the one, he has been dreaming about for so long, feeling so relaxed next to him. Not only he has you - he can make you so content, you smile, while napping on his shoulder.

His eyes are glued to your face. Nothing else matters in this very moment. It's impossible to distract him with anything.

Covers you with his jacket, always makes sure that you are warm and comfortable in his hands.

Loves to surprise you with something small, every time it happens and you wake up on his shoulder. If you two were in the park - Gaz will carefully pick a flower and tuck it in your hair. If it happened in a coffee shop - he will quietly order your favorite cupcake and move the plate towards you.

Lives for that smiles appearing on your lips in first moments after you wake up. Peppers your face with kisses. "Morning, sunshine!" (says it even if it's almost midnight, and he is about to drag you to the bedroom in a few minutes)

[wcnderlnds]

stress reliever | colin zabel

✧ after a hard day at work your roommate colin comes home stressed and you have the perfect idea to help him out. ✧

・❥・warnings: 18+ nsfw. oral (m receiving), explicit language, alcohol mentions.・❥・ authors note: it’s only the second time i’ve wrote smut and im tired so if it’s bad just lie to me to spare my feelings im sensitive thank u

Being Colin’s roommate meant that you’d seen him come home from work in all different kinds of states. Some days were fine – he was the usual, cheery Colin that you knew but then he had the rougher days. The tough days where his job took its toll on him emotionally and mentally. Whether it was working on a hard case or interviewing witnesses, there were days where he was completely checked out. Today was one of those days. When Colin walked through the door to your shared apartment, you could instantly sense the tension in him. You knew better than to ask him what was wrong. He would always tell you when he was ready. Colin was good at communicating but it had to be when he felt comfortable to.

He threw himself down on the couch, running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh. You walked over to him, placing a glass of wine on the coffee table in front of him. You sat down beside him with your own glass of wine firmly in your hand. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he mumbled, loosening his tie. Admittedly, he looked hot as hell with his hair all ruffled and his tie undone but now was definitely not the time to be lusting over your best friend/roommate.

“Rough day? You seem tense,” You took a sip of your wine. It wasn’t your favourite but it was all the two of you had left.

“Yeah,” he placed the glass back on the table, leaning his head back on the couch. His eyes were focused on the ceiling, the exhaustion in his voice evident. “Very rough day.”

As you watched him, an idea formed in your head. It was risky and he could definitely reject you almost immediately but if the past was anything to go off, you were almost ninety percent certain he wouldn’t. Long ago, back when the two of you had first moved in together, you’d had a housewarming party, drinks had been flowing and one thing had led to another and the two of you found yourselves hooking up in his bedroom. The talk the next day was awkward but you’d decided it was a one off. Never to happen again. That wasn’t to say that you hadn’t thought about it because you had. Many, many times. Colin was probably the most attractive man you’d ever met so keeping your hands to yourself was a struggle everyday but you valued your friendship. That's why you told yourself your next move was to help him because you were friends after all. Friends helped each other so, really, you’d be doing him a favour.

Your hand rested on his thigh, slowly sliding upwards. Colin’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, eyes darting from your hand to your face. Before he had a chance to speak, your hand brushed against the bulge in his pants, lightly squeezing. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he bit back a groan. It was only when your hand moved to unbutton his pants when he grabbed your wrist gently to stop you.

“What’re you doing?” He asked quietly, trying to keep his breathing normal and failing.

“Helping you relieve some of that tension. I think you deserve it after a hard day, don’t you?” You popped the button open, hand dipping inside to rub him through the thin material of his boxers. He was already half hard. How long has it been since someone touched this poor man?

He pondered it for a moment. “You don’t have to.”

“Colin, I want to so shutup, sit back and just enjoy it.”

He didnt have it in him to fight against it so he leaned back once again and bucked his hips up into your hand seeking more. ‘Might as well fully give in now,’ he thought. You took that as your cue to go all in, sinking to your knees in front of him. He could almost moan at the sight. You tugged his pants down along with his boxers. Colin hissed as the cold air hit his length. Your hand wrapped around his cock, Colin exhaling sharply when you slowly began to stroke. Your thumb grazed over his tip, gathering the pre-cum that had started to gather there. Hearing the groan from Colin only spurred you on, your hand speeding up, applying a little more pressure as you felt him harden beneath your touch.

“You’re so hard for me, baby. You really need this, don’t you?” You murmured, voice low as your head lowers down to his aching length. “Let me take care of you.”

Colin groaned the second your tongue darts out licking the tip of his cock. His head is thrown back as your tongue swirls around him, teasing him. You take him in your mouth, taking all of him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Hmpffff, shit,” Colin’s hands flew to your head, threading through your hair as he guides your movements.

You take him deeper, bobbing along his length. Occasionally, he hits the back of your throat causing you to choke, which in turn made the most beautiful moans come from Colin’s mouth. Your eyes meet his and you purposely moan around him, the vibrations going straight through his body. His fingers in your hair tighten as his breath gets heavier, his hips involuntarily bucking up into your mouth. With one final deep thrust into your mouth, he cums, spilling down your throat with a guttural moan of your name. You swallow his load, the bitter taste sliding down your throat. Finally, you release yourself from him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Colin sat there, cheeks red, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath back. “Wow.”

“So,” you said, climbing back up on the couch. “Feeling more relaxed?”

He turns his head to you with a chuckle. The blissed out look on his face is one you’ll be committing to memory. “Very. You’re��� gonna have to let me repay the favour sometime.”

[rocknrolldecadence]

Hiii, okay so, i've read some of your fics and i really like how you write things, so i wanted to request something fluffy with Axl. Like the reader is really stressed and worn out, so Axl is there for her and in general very sweet with her? I just want you to include lots of hand holding, hugs and kisses (maybe a massage too if you can throw it in somewhere). You don't have to do it if you don't want to, thank you in advance!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

i’ve got you

you’re stressed, and axl knows what to do to cheer you up

warnings: alcohol and drunkenness

a/n: tysm!!! sorry this took so long, i hope you like it 😛

life had been hitting you hard recently. real hard. it seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t ease the stress you felt. everyday was a struggle, and oftentimes you wondered if you’d even get through a day. with everything going on in your life, it felt like you’d never get relief.

there was one thing you found solace in, though. well… one person. your boyfriend, axl. you’d think since he’s the lead singer of the band many proclaimed to be ‘the next big thing’ in the world of rock n roll, he wouldn’t be very loving or attentive. but he was the complete opposite. axl was the most kind, considerate man you knew. sure, that certainly wasn’t the image he kept up in his music or for the media, but he truly was the best person you knew. so when you went round to his place one day, he could tell something was up.

“what’s wrong, love?” he asked you as you sat down together on his sofa. it was old, and a spring loudly creaked as you sat, but you didn’t mind. there was already a glass of wine waiting for you, the decanter placed like a centrepiece between your glass and axl’s. you sighed and sipped on your drink, hesitant to answer. you felt the liquid run down your throat, warming you up from the inside out. silently, you wondered how he was able to afford it. it seemed very fancy. you met your boyfriend’s eyes and began to speak, but cut yourself off.

“you can tell me.” he encouraged, his soft tone of voice putting you at ease.

“just… life, i guess? its so tough. i feel like there’s so many things just weighing me down every day. no matter what i do, i feel so stressed. it’s like there’s no remedy for it. i don’t know what to do.” you confessed. you knew you were safe to tell axl anything. that was what you liked about him - he always made you feel valued and not like you were crazy.

axl listened intently as you vented to him. when you were done, he grabbed you softly and pulled you into a hug, pressing a light kiss on your cheek. the combined smell of tobacco and wine putting you at ease. you let yourself sink into him, and slowly but surely, you began to cry. tears dripped down your face and were absorbed into axl’s shirt. he held you tighter, letting you get your emotions out.

“i’ve got you. don’t worry.” he reassured you as you cried. you stayed like that for a while with him, just holding onto eachother wordlessly. it felt like the world had stopped. you didn’t know how long you ended up sitting on that dingy sofa together, but it was insanely comforting. soon you started to feel better. but then axl had an idea.

“how about we go get some drinks?”

“oh, axl, i don’t kno-”

“think about it. we’ll walk down, sit and have a few, and then we can come back here and sleep. does that not sound good to you?” he said to you. you tossed the idea around in your head before eventually agreeing. why not? it’d be fun.

you got yourself ready with the few supplies you always left at axl’s place. once you were ready, you left with him and started to walk to the nearest bar to his place. subtly, he linked your hand with his, intertwining your fingers together. it made you blush. you and axl had been together for a long time now, but whenever he did small things like that, it still had you reacting like you did at the start of your relationship.

it was a short enough walk to the bar. you sat down on a stool beside axl. it wasn’t very busy, so you got served right away. the bartender took your orders and you both got them quickly. as you sipped away at your drink, you and your boyfriend quietly chatted. after a while he asked, “how you feeling now?”

“i’m okay,” you answered, “feeling better than before, anyway.”

“i’m glad. i hate seeing you so upset, darling.”

you smiled and the two of you fell back into what you were talking about before. as the hours passed, the bar filled up more and more, until you could barely hear what axl was saying to you. so, when you finished your drinks, you paid and left. your tipsiness had you stumbling slightly as you walked back. axl reached out his arm and you leant on him. you giggled at the close contact. he was warm. comforting. and you wanted to tell him so.

“hey, axl.” you said suddenly, stopping under a street lamp.

he turned to look at you and stopped too. “yeah?”

“thanks for tonight. you always know what to do to make me feel better. love you.”

he smiled. “i love you too, baby.”

and with that, he grabbed you and kissed you, disregarding the cars that sped past on the road beside you. you kissed him back, leaning into his embrace.

[nightwonder7]

Hey! I discovered your Tumblr like, now haha, I loved your art and your Norton AU! I wonder, other than Norton, How did the other survivors and shape-shifting Hunters deal with it? Does Alice also change to Little Girl?

AAaaaahhh I'm so late to this ask! ;<; But thank you so much!! Q////////Q I'm really glad to hear you like it!! ;U;

---------

So I'll just get Orpheus out of the way first; as Novelist and Nightmare had release dates very close to each other, I like to think that he has always had both forms in the eternal manor, and thus didn't really have any learning curves where he had to adapt to another faction. He was the first identity switch character and kinda adjusted to both at the same time with his new living situation.

---------

Luchino and Joker I feel like had a similar experience becoming survivors after being hunters for so long, but handled it differently. So characters with identity switches are often described with the id/ego model, where one side acts on impulse and pleasure, and the other on morals and rationality. Hunters seem to represent the id, and survivors the ego for these guys.

So imagine someone who has been a hunter for a long time suddenly snapping out of this impulsive, freeing mindset when being reminded of their morals and values. I imagine it as a "waking up from a long nightmare" kinda ordeal. They weren't hunters before entering the eternal manor, but were twisted and forced into such roles upon entering for whatever reason. I can see turning into their survivor mindset after so long in chaos as sorta cathartic. But also an emotional roller-coaster. The denial of their new vulnerable position as survivors. Getting used to their old bodies again. The sinking realisation and regrets of everything they have done while being "free" that has gone against their morals and values. Navigating the jungle of gaining trust from the other survivors as well as learning or relearning how to work in teams.

I can see Luchino would approach it as a bit of an experiment. An opportunity to explore his new position with curiosity and fascination and learn from it. He'd probably handle it the best out of everyone tbh. Joker would need a lot more time to adjust to the changes. Perhaps he'd have a long period of being reticent and depressed. In denial while he comes to term with his predicament.

I have gotten a few asks about Luchino's and Joker's identity switches that have given me a few ideas that I intend to draw some day.

---------

This ask came before the announcement of Hullabaloo, but I'll say a few words about him regardless. It's probably similar to Norton as it is a situation of a long term survivor turning into a hunter. But I feel like Mike would have a harder time with it. In Fool's Gold's case, it was gaining the freedom to express all his pent up emotions. He is happy and relieved, albeit on a surface level. Hullabaloo seems like an empty husk, tormented by the pain from a life that imploded. All those negative emotions coming back to him in the eternal manor and twisting him into this wraith-like shape. Perhaps as a hunter he doesn't really realise what he is doing when in a game? In his hunter mindset, he is only focused on bringing justice to his tragedy and doesn't care who it affects. Snapping out of it after a game would be... interesting nonetheless.

Furthermore, Mike was probably more liked by the other survivors than Norton. And he was super popular and loved at the circus. So seeing everyone being suddenly on edge and distrusting of him (maybe even hated) would hit him hard. Whereas Norton was kinda used to people not liking or caring about him.

On a more comedic note, I can definitely see Mike forgetting his dual roles at the manor from time to time. At least the other survivors have learned to play along after all the shenanigans with Fool's Gold.

---------

Now to Alice... so technically in-game, Alice is Memory and vice versa. She is considered an identity switch character. However, I see them as two different entities. My reason for this is that the other identity switch characters have one thing in common; no matter what faction or form they take, they are the same person with the same names. Fool's Gold is Prospector, and he is Norton Campbell. Evil Reptilian is Professor, and he is Luchino Diruse and so on. One represents the ego, while the other represents the id. How others perceive them under the influence of the drugs happens to be the form the id takes. Memory is straight up a hallucination conjured up by Orpheus. She shows up when Orpheus as a detective is alone, so she is not there in place of Alice. Furthermore, Little Girl's name is Memory, not Alice; maybe because she is a memory from Orpheus' psyche. Then there is the whole can of worms of whether Memory is human or not cause she can teleport and sync with other survivors in-game, but I don't know if I can use that as an argument when there are flying lizard-men and humanoid rock piles gfshgfjskd

Though I'll say some of this could change with AoM3. Perhaps the little girl will be how Orpheus sees Alice during this event. But it would be a little odd if that is how he perceives Alice under the influence of the fear drugs, cause Memory is not some scary monster; she is the representation of the past Orpheus is longing for. And perhaps there is another reason for why she goes by a different name than Alice. Furthermore, I feel like we don't know enough about Alice or Memory to pinpoint if Memory really is a part of Alice in the id/ego model, or if she is just an ideal version of Alice in Orpheus' mind. But as things stand now, I'm seeing them as two different entities. In the Eternal Manor AU, Orpheus' imagination is apparently so strong that it has conjured up a whole person.

So yeah... that's the best I can explain my thoughts on this.

[karinadele]

Budget Walmart Medic

Ratchet x reader

ch7.

Prev (AO3)

Tumblr

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of incorrect medical procedures, Character on the verge of death, Bad writing, Drugs, Mentions of suicidal ideation, PTSD, its 4am and im not proofreading or reformatting, saving that for when i post on ao3

“Fuck this shit.” You utter to yourself as you slam the door of your apartment closed. Sliding your back down the door to fall to the ground as you clutch your hair. Is it really too much to ask people to respect your decisions? Besides, it was just a metaphor for what you were feeling. Everyone says ‘Oh I’m gonna fucking kill myself!’ but most don’t mean it. Are all Cybertronians this stubborn? Sighing as you push yourself off the door and tossing your keys to the kitchen counter. Fine, sure, you’re a little suicidal, but just passively. It’s been years since you’ve visited grippy sock jail anyways.

But you’re just so mad. Respect is always something to be valued. You didn’t choose to be in this world, and you’d be damned if others don’t respect the choices you do. Even if it means death. Slamming your head against the fridge as you reach to the cupboard and grab a pill bottle. You haven’t been this pissed since your ex. The little white bar with the letters XANAX engraved twirls in your finger before you decide to pop it down. Not even bothering with a glass of water as you just dip your head into the sink and drink it straight from the tap.

Why are you so pissed? It’s just a passing comment that you’ve heard a million times before, yet something boils in you. Is it because your past few days have been nothing but chaos? Have you even had a chance to take a breather and process it? –And no, a cigarette break does not count.

No. There’s something more to it. Is it because Ratchet said it?

Giving up, you decide to end this shit before it gets even more complicated. Classic too scared and scarred to be involved in anything, so you cut off everyone before anything happens. But in this situation, it’s completely acceptable. Alien robots telling you want to do?! If you weren’t being locked up for trying to hurt yourself, you’d be locked up for psychosis at this rate.

One more all-nighter. You tell yourself. Contact Raf and ship the damn guy off and be done with your problems. Poor Raf. Being such a young age and already wrapped in otherworldly business. Either he has a will of steel or just doesn’t know any better. Or maybe it’s not actually that bad. Refusing to entertain that thought, you slide your computer chair back and flop into it.

A child wouldn’t be awake at this time anyways. Typing away as you let your thoughts wander. He’s on the run too right? You feel a pang in your chest as you realize a child can’t even enjoy a good night’s sleep. Probably with that sleek muscle car napping in the back. How you wish you could offer him a hug and a good night’s rest.

Wait.

So why don’t you?

You’re not affiliated with any governments, the Decepticons don’t know you, and you have a spare bed. Besides, you were already on your way to contact him.

Hastily typing out a message as you feel the effects of the Xanax kicking in. Another day saved by drugs. Lord have mercy you probably need rehab after all this. Locating Raf’s number wasn’t that hard, everyone has a social media account these days. Even kids. The real kicker is getting it through without detection. Opening up Scapy as you slog away encrypting each packet.

By the time you’ve hit send, It was already dawn. Another successful all nighter. You take a moment to lean back and relax, knowing it’s now done. Sluggishly dragging yourself over to the fridge as you nibble on a block of cheese –hey protein right? And flop back into your chair, pulling up your music to relax.

You were so engrossed in your music and just catching up with your breath that you didn’t even notice there was a little figure outside your window. Being on the ground floor meant not only bugs, but apparently also creeps.

What the fuck.

Carefully, you pulled back the curtains. If it was any other day, you would have ran into the bathroom and locked yourself up. But viva la drugs! What you find… Is Raf. Along with the black muscle car fully transformed standing on the lawn. Your landlord is gonna be pissed. She spends hours planting those flowers and now..? Yikes.

Hurriedly, you grab your keys and head on out to meet Raf. They sure got here quick? How even? Has it been that long since you sent the message, or can that car just drive insane speeds? Under the dark, you don’t notice much, but the moment you let Raf in, –and told the autobot to lay low and get off the lawn, you realized a surprising problem. Raf is hurt. Barely holding it together.

Scrambling as you pick him up and lay him on your bed, you check for his vitals, the ABCs. Airway seems to be intact, breathing is there, if a little bit shallow. And circulation.. well you don't know. but he’s bleeding with wounds everywhere and you feel your blood boiling. He’s only 10! (he’s 12) how can anyone do this to a child?! You wanted to offer him solace and a good night of rest, not like this!

Flying out your door once you made sure Raf is breathing, as you head to his car companion to find some answers. Only to be replies with bleeps and bloops. Great. An autistic boy with an autistic car. And Raf is in no shape to translate, so the next best is… ah shit. Ratchet. The same one that’s got you all stressed out. Shoving your emotions aside for the nth time of the day, as a life is more important, adrenaline pumping through you, you bolt downstairs into the garage.

“RATCHET! WE HAVE A PROBLEM!” You yell out at him, huffing and panting from running.

Ratchet, still in his little world, under stasis, does not budge. You don’t have time for this! For fuck’s sake! Not another near death’s door! Completely pumped on adrenaline, you smack him, kicking his wheels, banging on his windows and eventually climbing into his hood to smack the windshield. Gosh you wish you brought a crowbar.

Just as you were about to pick his lock and just drive him out, when the medic stirs.

“WHAT IN PRIMUS’ NAME ARE YOU DOING?!” He shouts back. Clearly not liking being forcibly woken from stasis, or appreciating some human crawling all over him causing damage to him.

“We have a situation, Ratchet.” You try to explain to him as calmly as you can. But underneath that, there’s a tinge of stress and panic. “Raf’s not doing good. He’s here.”

For the second time of the night, Ratchet nearly forgot he’s underground and smacks the ceiling trying to transform. Pieces of concrete fall down between the two of you.

“IS HE INJURED??” Optics widened, half transformed, half kneeling down. Raf. He’s been through so much. Dark Energon, and now this! FRAG! And he can’t even contact June or anyone without endangering everyone. He feels so helpless again. Panic also waves through him. realizing just how useless he is again. Again.

Your voice snapped him out of it. “He’s in my apartment right now. His breathing is shallow, airways are clear, he’s losing blood as we speak… ah! But that Camero is here too. I can’t make out left or right about what he’s saying though! Ratchet! Lets go!”

Still grounded in fear, his processors disconnecting as he’s reliving his trauma of how he couldn't do anything for Raf the first time, and how Bumblebee is here too –Another reminder of how he’s failed everyone. Optics widened as he shakes in place.

“RATCHET! FUCK! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

You call out again, as you kick his leg.

“OW! YOU FRAGGING-”

He caught himself before he did anything, realizing you just snapped him out of it. Transforming fully back into his vehicle mode, as you scramble in and direct him over to the main streets, where the other Autobot is.

You let the boys figure out what happened, as much as you’d like to stay back and have a full recount on what happened, Raf is your priority. Running fast as you can back into your building, with how stressed and uncoordinated you are, slamming into the door before you even turned the doorknob like an idiot. When you finally make it in, you’re greeted with a child that’s half your side barely hanging on a thread.

You want to just break down and cry. You don’t know him, but this is not it. Everyone deserves to enjoy life. With the last of the Xanax countering you adrenaline, you get to work. “Sorry Raf. Sis is gonna have to take a look at you. Or try anyways.”

Ratchet and Bee are busy arguing about what happened. That a decepticon managed to trace his alt mode– even with the new paint job. Particular because they noticed Raf. Gunning for the child, relentlessly firing one after another to him. Bumblebee did everything he could to protect Raf, but it was not enough. Both of them sustained severe damage. Ratchet nearly wanted to scream and shout at Bee for being so reckless to have gotten Raf into this situation, but Bee interjected that after they managed to get into hiding, Raf’s phone got a notification. With whatever strength the kid had, he relayed that contact with you was established. And instantly they peeled off, going way above traffic limits, speeding off on the highway in the night to meet you. After all, Ratchet is with you.

Ratchet’s energon lines were nearly boiling. He snapped at Bee. He can’t do anything for humans! And he can’t even contact June! He couldn’t even fix Bumblebee’s voice box! He feels like a failure! And Raf! The one child he’s gotten close to, is now utterly helpless!

As the two boys argue outside, you’ve already started to work on Raf. Context to what happened would be nice, but a critical situation does not afford time for it. Raf is drifting in and out of consciousness, but with whatever words he can explain, he’s pointed out he’s gotten shot, as well as several metal shrapnel had embedded into him.

You’re full of rage. But thankfully for you, stress fuels you. Instantly snapping into work mode, you bring out your medkit. A kit that’s more of a duffel bag littered with supplies that’s probably half expired. Regardless, it’s the best we can work with. You don’t even noticed the two autobots staring outside your window as you work away on Raf.

Do they send him to a human hospital? They certainly can, but will human doctors know what to do when these are energon infused weapons? Would Raf’s family be contacted? Will that endanger the whole hiding in secrecy more? Ratchet is losing it, kicking away plants and punching trees, while Bee is desperately trying to calm him down, despite being hurt himself.

You hear the commotions outside, but are completely tunnel focused, locked into working on Raf. Raf explains he’s struggling to breath, and you noticed one of his lungs is working over time, and the other is very shallow, rather than breathing together, they’re alternating. Considering he was hit with a chest, its not uncommon for it to have developed into tension pneumothorax. You really hope it isn’t, as that’s not a procedure that should be performed in some drug addict’s apartment, but shortly after, his breathing stops. This is not good. There wouldn't be enough time to call for emergency services. Technically you have an emergency vehicle already, but said vehicle is not versed in human medicine. The good Samaritan law right? Either you do something now and hope it brings him back, or he’ll die. or die trying. There’s only one logical option.

Hurriedly cutting his clothes off, as you feel around on his collapsed lung. A child should be two ribs down. Digging on your bottom shelf for vinyl gloves, shoving it on and praying Raf isn’t allergic to anything, you grab your box cutter and quickly swap out the current blade with a new blade. Snatching the vodka on the coffee table and pour it all over your hands, the blade, and a plastic tube you’ve managed to fish out.

Following along the collapsed lung, tracing along his ribs till you’ve counted two, as you press the tip of the blade into the skin, slowly with accuracy, cutting in inches deep before making the cut horizontal across his ribs. If you had more supplies and time, you would have done this with a needle for safety, but fuck! You're convinced you've used up the last of the needles shooting up morphine! Coming back to reality as you work swiftly inserting the tube into his lung, and instant 'pppssshh' hisses out from it.

Ratchet and Bee at this point, have basically glued their faceplate and optics by your window, zooming in into what’s going on. Ratchet recalled that you said you were not a medic, but yet you’re performing with accurate precision. This may be illegal in both Earth and Cybertronian terms, but he can't help but be in awe with how steady your hands and focus on Raf is. Bumblebee however, noticed that you’re completely stressed. Vibrating like a leaf as he points it out to Ratchet. He takes notice as he pulls his optics away from your work, to realize just how scared you are. Clenching your teeth until it’s sore, then swapping to biting your lips until the blood is cut off, moving back to gritting your teeth. He can sense your breathing is all over the place, mostly forgetting to breath as you hold your breath until tears are welling up.

With a gasp, Rafael manages to suck in a breath.

“Easy there Raf. don’t breath too hard. You have a collapsed lung. It probably hurts right now." You tell him.

Subconsciously, Ratch runs a scan on both you and Rafael. You were correct. He did in fact, had tension pneumothorax. And he now is breathing. Still gravely wounded with blood leaking, but able to breath. You on the other hand, physically are safe, but the amount of adrenaline is sky high, and he can see your blood pressure and heart rate reaching the unhealthy range. Powerless to help you two, he wanted to beat himself up. Thankfully, Bumblebee bleeps a few beeps reassuring that you know what you’re doing, and Raf is in safe hands. (Little did Bee know, you in fact, do not know what you’re doing.)

The poor barely conscious boy gives you a nod and you can feel your adrenaline wearing off. Not yet. We still have things to do. He still has bleeding wounds to stop before he’s stabilized. Poor kid is bleeding all over your bed. Fishing in the first aid kit as you grab an EpiPen (totally expired) and stab it into yourself, followed by popping a few pills of Ativan to help sedate the effects.

Ratchet does not understand what is going on, but detected the adrenaline wearing off, cortisol levels rising, only to instantly be replaced with another wave of adrenaline. Is that what you injected?! Why would you purposefully do that?! He was caught in these thoughts when suddenly, a flashback came to him. When he was so desperate to figure out the Synthetic Energon that he tried it on himself… You weren’t testing drugs on yourself… you were desperately doing it to make sure you can continue to save Raf’s life…

Last push you tell yourself. Stop the bleeding and you can have a break. Fueled with too much adrenaline, you instantly start working. Raf will be in such pain you thought. Digging your hands back down the bag for the last vial of morphine you have, -graciously stole from the hospital during your last visit. You mentally calculate how much you need, for a boy this age. You have his age and estimate of height… but his weight? You’re terrible at guessing weights. With no time to think, you suddenly realized something. If Ratchet was able to scan out that you had energon in you, can he scan Raf’s weight? Last thing you want to do is accidentally overdose the poor boy into death. Spinning your head back as you nearly get jumpscared by two bots glued to the window, you slide open the glass.

“Quick Ratchet. What’s Raf’s weight?”

Caught off guard as he was completely focused on your wellbeing, he quickly resets his vocalizer and take a look at Raf’s weight, Giving you an estimate.

Wanting to be on the safe side, you decide 1mg should be enough, not enough to knock him out, but at least subdude the pain. Not like you have local anesthesia or have time for lidocaine creams to work. Realizing you in fact, did have one last sterile needle that you saved from safe needles exchange clinics. Never did you think this was what it was going to be used for. Drawing out what you feel is about 1mg as you tie a tourniquet around Raf’s arms, slapping it a couple times until you can see the vein. Children have small veins, and you’ve opted for a butterfly needle. Thankfully he seems to have better veins than you, and you push the morphine into him. Telling him he’s okay, he’ll feel better soon.

In a moment’s time, Raf is peaceful sleeping, no doubt from the stress and his body finally giving up. But also a symptom that the drug has kicked in. It’s showtime. Making an effort to clean his open wounds with rubbing alcohol as that vodka is totally gone. You work as swiftly as you can, with nothing but a fucking sewing needle and nylon fishing wire, you zone in and start his sutures. It’s been a while since you’ve ever sewn up anything, but once you got into the groove, it was surprisingly relaxing.

Half an hour later, you find yourself done with the major bleeds, finishing off the smaller cuts with a mix of butterfly bandaids and normal one, you proceed to apply medicated gauze over the larger more likely to be infected wounds. Mentally drifting off to how expensive these were, but instantly pulling back to the problem at hand. Finishing up as you bandage him up with rolls of gauze and securing it with medical tape.

Ratchet at this point, could not believe what he was seeing. You, who claimed to not have been a medic, just went through with a complicated surgery, as well as sutures. He wondered if the day he met you was also a life saved by you.

By now, the adrenaline has started to subsided. The parasympathetic nervous system is now starting to take over. Making your way over to the bots as you tell them, Raf is out of critical condition, but he still needs to be in a hospital.

Ratchet is in a turmoil, he know Raf needs to be seen by a proper medic, yet he also know they not only need to lay low, but humans would not know how to even begin diagnosing Raf with energon blasts. “If only we could contact June…” He mumbled.

“June? Who’s that?”

“Jack’s mother, a nurse. Someone who’s aware of our presence.” He curtly replied.

Who is even Jack??

“So– We just need to contact her right?” You already know where this is going, seems like the day is far from over.

“Without detection of course.” Ratchet tagged on. “I have her number if you need it.”

That’s all you needed to hear. Giving him a nod as you flop back into your computer chair and once again, send an sos signal –fully encrypted to this said “June”. You’re fighting your body to stay awake now. The cortisol and benzodiazepines are practically taking over. With the message sent, you slice a little of your windscreen open, and shove the spare keys into Ratchet’s servos.

“I sent her a message. You let her in when she gets here, okay?” As you look out the window. Ah shit. They’ve ruined the whole front yard now. Is that a broken tree?

Ratchet, still having a hard time processing what in Primus’s aft just happened, and Bee just as lost. Without a second thought, you pass out right at your computer desk. You could just hope the bots don’t get in any trouble until June arrives…

[poppadom0912]

Anyway we can get a part 2 to Grandchildren? Just a whole thing about how the Firehouse is with the reader throughout her pregnancy and the aftermath of her giving birth?

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and labour. 

A/N: This was sent last year I'm pretty sure but I only just got it done today! Very sorry about that. This will probably be my last fic of the holiday before going back to full-time education and I'm highly sure I'll be so stressed that writing won't even be on my mind. But please bear with me and depending on time, I might be able to get some stuff out to suffice you all.

You weren’t too sure what to expect following your pregnancy announcement. There were two ways things could go but knowing your firehouse family, there was only one direction they would follow. 

In the early months of your pregnancy, you were in the process of moving out your joint apartment with your fiancé and trying to find a place of your own. After an insistent Sylvie and your dad’s invitation to move back home, you moved into Sylvie’s apartment and became roommates with your paramedic partner. 

Living with one of your best friends definitely helped everything. She was everything that you needed and more both on and off shift. It was hilarious how she was more useful then your ex who was the actual father of the babies you were carrying. 

The twins were thriving. Every doctor's appointment, someone from the firehouse was attending with you and every time you were given only good news. But pregnancy was definitely hitting you hard with the morning sickness, incessant cravings, your unrelenting bladder and forever changing mood swings. 

Work in itself was relatively fine disregarding the overprotective adults you worked with. If being Boden’s daughter wasn’t enough, then being pregnant with twins increased their naturally protective natures tenfold and you weren’t too sure how to feel about it. On one hand, you adored how much they loved and valued you and your unborn babies' lives, you would never take advantage of their love but on the other hand, it was so constant and sometimes quite extreme that a break away from them sounded like paradise. 

But then you reached the six/seven-month mark and everything suddenly changed. Twenty-four-hour shifts became hell on earth. Now, you welcomed all their coddling, you could no longer do bare human necessities alone such as putting your shoes on – Sylvie helped you tie your boots up every morning – you couldn’t stand for too long, so you had someone help cook and take over for you, and the list goes on. 

Giving birth, gosh that was a story in itself.

You were at home when your water broke. You decided against going to Molly’s and Sylvie stayed with you, both of you putting your feet up and relaxing with a cheesy romcom and the perfect snacks to go with it. Sylvie was in the bathroom while you were in the kitchen when it all happened. 

It was nearly painless, your Braxton hicks hurt more surprisingly. It trickled down your leg, your shock rooting you in your place besides the sink. You’d been so silent that Sylvie came looking for you when you didn’t reply to her calling your name. 

Her surprise was evident for mere seconds before the paramedic in her kicked in. You were surprised nothing in you moved into motion, you were a paramedic for goodness sakes, you dealt with these things all the time. 

On the way to the hospital, you called your dad and step-mum Donna who immediately claimed they were on their way. This was happening way too fast for your liking; you knew premature twins were the norm, but you still couldn’t hide your concern. 

You’d decided several months ago that since you had no partner to be in the room with you, Donna and Sylvie would be there with you instead and to say they were emotional when you broke the news to them was saying the least. 

Seeing your stepmother already waiting for you at the hospital nearly made you break out into tears. You wanted to feel bad for making them leave Terrance home with a sitter but the next contraction made you shut up. 

While Sylvie spoke to the nurse at the desk, your dad and Donna helped you up, holding your sides to help you walk into the labour and delivery ward where you would spend the next several hours of the night. 

The pain only got worse the more time passed. You asked for an epidural, but an hour passed and then two and then Donna was demanding her daughter’s request be fulfilled. Donna’s anger could not be masked by anything but the tears filling your eyes from the tripling pain. 

According to them, your labour was progressing too quick for an epidural. Your dad and Sylvie were struggling to hold back an absolutely livid Donna. Had your mind not been so hazy from the pain, you would’ve been supporting her anger. 

Eventually, your midwife arrived causing you to nearly cry out in joy. She had been the most perfect angel who eventually forced your dad out the room. Chocking back a cry, you let him kiss your sweaty forehead, wishing you the bestest of luck and whispering his love for you in your ear before leaving. Your dad leaving you made you feel like a little kid again, his absence making you want to cry more. 

Everything blurred together once you were dilated enough. You were squeezing the daylights out of Sylvie and Donna’s hands, guttural screams and sobs ripping out your throat when all of a sudden you felt a wave of relief wash over you. 

Before you knew what was happening, a tiny little body was gently being placed on your chest and you were still crying. 

“It’s a boy!” You faintly heard the doctor as you heart thundered in your ear, all your attention solely on the life you gave laying on your chest. The nurse was cleaning it with a towel and without a second to waste, you held his head with the lightest touch against you. 

But then things started moving again, your first baby was taken for his first ever check-up and you were being told to start pushing again. You were barely able to concentrate, your mind still on your firstborn. 

“Sylvie… please.”

Two words were all the blonde needed to leave your side and follow the baby that was practically her nephew. 

Fourteen minutes later exactly, your daughter was born and you weren’t embarrassed to say you full on sobbed when they placed her on your chest. 

“You did it Y/N. You did it honey, you were perfect.” Donna comforted you, pushing your sweaty hair back, watching you stare adoringly at your second born. “You did it mama.”

*****

When you got cleaned up and was informed of the clean bill of health your babies had, you were knocked out, Donna and Sylvie promising you they’d be awake for anything needed and they could tell the good news to the rest of the world. 

Sylvie was talking to one of the nurses when Donna slipped out the room, walking into the waiting room that was empty when they arrived but was now filled with nervous family. They looked almost restless, it was apparent on their faces that as soon as morning came, they all came running. 

Under their curious eyes, Donna didn’t stand a chance. “It’s a healthy boy and girl.”

And with that, the waiting room erupted into cheers. 

With the nurse's permission, the firehouse broke into several groups to visit you and every group was as emotional as the next. 

Your dad shed several tears seeing you and his grandchildren. He cried the most you’d ever seen him cry when you announced your baby boys full name. To top his reaction, you laughed and cried at the same time when you told Matt, Kelly and Sylvie the news you’d been wanting to tell them ever since you got pregnant. 

The titles godparent made your three best friends more emotional than they would’ve wanted. Sylvie nearly crushed you in her hug when you told her your baby girls middle name. 

Who would’ve thought having namesakes was this emotional? 

They kept you another day for observations but after that, there was no reason for you to remain at the hospital any longer. So you were finally at home, with two new additions.

Two newborn babies were hard work. It took what felt like hundreds of sleepless nights, several cries of your own, feeding non-stop and the list went on.

And it was hard on your own. Most days, Sylvie had to go to work, leaving you on your own for an entire 24 hours but it would always be the biggest relief when she was off for the next 48.

And everyone was always offering their hands. You lost count the amount of times Donna came over to help with food and cleaning, Cindy always calling, providing you with all the advice and things you needed.

It was very emotional and you found yourself coping perfectly fine without your ex.

Yes, you did feel slightly guilty raising your children without knowing their father but it was the better alternative than if he was still around.

And your children were constantly surrounded by people, family who would always love them and would always be around. Your firefighters were fiercely protective and you wouldn't change that for the world.

[jordanstrophe]

Hallow Island, The Inspector

[Masterlist]

CW: Defiant, Imprisoned, manhandled, controlling whumpers, auction mentioned

Whumpee restlessly hammered their fists on the cell door. They knew it was useless, but if it annoyed anyone beyond the doors, then so be it.

Stress kept their heart on a constant adrenaline high; it was the only thing keeping them from collapsing. They touched their cheekbone and felt swelling; the backhand from earlier must have left a bruise.

The door rattled as whumpee jumped to their feet. The two guards from earlier came in, accompanied by one more.

" .... This is it? This is all they got?" The Inspector scoffed, stepping in with the guards. "They're going to do an entire auction with one person? Gracious what a waste of all our time. Hold them, please." They snapped a glove over their hand.

"Wait! I don't have anything of value, if you're looking for money you've got the wrong person," Whumpee argued, sinking to their knees to avoid the guards, who each grabbed a wrist and pulled them to stand straight.

"Oh we know that, dear. Luck for us we're not after anything you have." The guards dragged whumpee within a foot of the Inspector; whumpee shrunk their neck and clenched their teeth in response.

"You see the thing of value is you." They grinned, reaching for whumpee's face as they flinched and buried their face in the guards shoulder on their right. The guard seemed to be taken aback a bit. They tried to gently nudge their face but whumpee wouldn't budge.

"Come now, just let me have them." The Inspector hissed, shoving the guard back until they could grab whumpee's jawline. "Stand straight, look at me, sweet thing." They cooed. Whumpee's gaze was pure death as they glared at the Inspector. Tears in their eyes were wiped by a thumb across their cheekbone. The bruise was apparent as they winced.

"Is that.... A bruise?" The Inspector squinted. There was silence for a moment as they pressed their thumb hard into whumpee's cheekbone-

-"OW! Stop it!" Whumpee barked, freeing their face and burying it back onto the guards shoulder, who looked completely flustered and didn't know what to do.

"What idiot did that? Who hit them?! Was it you?!" They accused the guard on the left.

"It was whumper. They tried to run right off the plane." They shrugged.

"The imbecile! We have one living thing up for auction tonight and it's flawed!" The inspector cried, rummaging through their bag. "It's fine, I can fix this. It's my job." They muttered.

"Just let me go and no one will know! You already said I wasn't worth your time." Whumpee tried to plead.

"What? When did I say that?" The inspector raised their head. "Your range of buyers will go mad no matter what we throw on stage. And since you're... Well, it, we could look at a bidding war. I heard the last batch off the plane didn't last long." They shrugged.

Dread poured into whumpees body at their last words. Their spine felt cold, their heart couldn't beat much faster as it fluttered uncomfortably. Whumpee gritted their teeth and struggled for air; tears freely flowed down their cheeks.

"But I'm not... I-I'm not worth anything." They quietly muttered. The inspector raised their head and whumpee felt the guard on their right clutch their arm a little softer.

"Oh, darling." They tsked, cupping whumpee's cheek.

"After tonight, you will see exactly how much you're worth." They smiled. 

Taglisting @enigmawritesstuff​  @frog-hat-fa-ggot​ @gala1981 @wishiwaskidnapped​   @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat  @octopus-reactivated

[yanaleese]

Extract #1 - Training Practice

"Karma, your next opponent is here!"

"Really?" Karma replied, monotonous, detached - cold. Unlike me, who wore cold, pale flesh, Karma was warm-bloodied, healthy, and robust. Although I had never seen Karma with such a lustful look (since I lusted after Kallisto instead), he was indeed a charmer; but not a playboy for girls, neither a boytoy.

Rather, he was the perfect heir to the Sangres. In this century, they were an active family that supported their country, the goods, and encourage values of kindness and community.

But not all is beautiful under the sun.

Many of the pure bloods remarked on how his family paved the path for our extermination.

Starting with our children.

It was an impressive plan, my father said. They took our merits, our achievements and swallowed it into their rabbit hole. Our pride, our royal lineage, and most importantly - our hope, the people's hope.

And now, I am invited by these same traitors of the vampiric race, to see the next heir in line take the throne.

What a cruel joke.

"Ari. Do me a favor and hold my stuff, yea?"

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. Kallisto normally isn't this excited.

I suppose it's because he's facing his brother, Karma. But luckily, it's a simple training practice.

I'm sure it won't be anything too hard.

"Karma, I've been practicin' like crazy. Yuh wanna try me?" His face flushed with joy, his cheeks reddening at the sight of his brother. No matter what occasion, Kallisto's toothy grin stood out like a sore thumb. Nevermind his abnormally deep scars, or the brand that decorated the back of his neck. To this family, it was a testament of bravery, and resilience - or whatever bullshit excuse they have for abuse.

"You know what happened last time."

"Still! The more I get beat up, the more I learn. Ain't it?"

"...I disagree." Karma's voice was deeply pensive, calculated. "You learn with your fists, not your head."

"Yah callin' me dumb or wha?" Kallisto squealed; my heart softened.

"No. I'm saying you have the wrong values."

"Awww...."

"Now hurry up and get into position, Kalli."

"Kallisto." The younger brother pronounced firmly, his grin dampening into a frown.

He ignored him, turning his head to me. "Aristotle, give us the count."

"Understood." Polite language was best for Karma, since his title was superior to mine. "Ready?"

"Yuh-ha! Start already, whore!" Kallisto chimed.

I chuckled, counting down. "3...2...1..."

"Go!"

Immediately, Karma punched Kallisto straight in the nose - without even a hint of hesitation. Even without seeing his eyes, I knew he had the intent to kill, to bring despair to others. It was almost as if he was a pure-blood himself.

In response, Kallisto held Karma's foot, sinking his fingernails into his legs. Once again, he was playing dirty. Karma groaned, now aiming for his forehead. The younger brother retracted just in time, backing away, before aiming for a punch to his crotch.

"Oh Dracula~" I smirked, his aim perfect. "Hit 'em where it hurts, Kallisto!"

Yet, Karma didn't even react. What the fuck is he even made oof?!?

"Shut up! I'm tryin' to concatrate!"

"You mean concentrate?"

"Same thin'!" He growled, tearing and slashing through Karma's skin, going for the throat. "Die, die, die!!!"

Karma gurgled up blood, showing off his pearly teeth. "Kal...Kalli..."

"Shit Karma! What the hell is with that-"

Before he could even could finish his sentence, Karma smothered Kallisto's eyes with his own blood, pulling him straight into a headlock.

"Kallisto!" I screamed, jumping out of my seat. "Get the hell out of there before you can!"

"S...Sh....it...!" He screamed, he shouted - clawing and scraping anything to get himself out of Karma's suffocating hold. "you fUcking..."

And within seconds, Kallisto passed out, his rage transforming into a sense of calmness and defeat.

Declaring Karma as the winner. Again.

"Undefeated champion, huh?"

The eldest took his time responding, possibly gulping down a healing potion. "I'm sorry, Aristotle. But I have a reputation to uphold in front of my family."

"That's clearly not what I'm seeing."

"Well, Aristotle, I'm sorry my perspective does not match yours." Karma mentioned, looking left and right for something, or somewhat.

"And I'm sorry that you can't see the truth."

Karma froze, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "...I do."

"Really? How much do you know?"

"I know enough that you want payback. In blood."

Hesitantly, he picked up Kallisto, attending to his wounds. Continuing to look left and right, he once again took his sweet time to respond.

Meanwhile, I could feel my blood - or whatever blood I last drank - boiling.

"...No I don't."

Karma scratched the back of his neck, starting to sweat. "I wish I could say the same thing, but your bloodlust is all over the entire room."

Dammit, did I not mask it properly?

"Well." I bow; I fucking hated bowing to these fucks. "My apologies Young Master-"

"Excuse me, Aristotle..."

"Yes, Young Master?" I plastered a fake smile.

"Promise me...that you'll keep this a secret." His voice grew to a honeyed whisper.

I titled my head, confused.

"Young Master, whatever do you mean-"

"Cleaning up his wounds. I was lucky today, but don't say anything." He muttered under his breath. "Please. I can't afford not a soul in this mansion to hear this."

"But Young Master, is such kindness really worth a secret?"

"In this mansion, unfortunately so." Karma was dead serious. "So please tell the staff that you attended to his wounds."

I bit my lip, drawing blood. "......Yes, Young Master."

Satisfied with my response, he stood tall, clutching my shoulders. Though I was cold to the touch, and was a walking undead - his hands grasped unto me with the tiniest bit of comfort, warmth...

That was raw. Fresh. Unfiltered.

....Something...human.

"Thank you, Aristotle." He pulled away, his bittersweet smile etched into his features. Waving a small good-bye, Karma returned to his stoic composure, leaving me alone with Kallisto.

As I turned to the man in front of me, a twinge of pain and agony rushed through me.

The truth was clear as day.

This place was a hellish, inescapable nightmare that no child can live in. That no vampire or human can live in.

This was the definition of hell itself.

~ Aristotle Carpathia, Heir of the Carpathia Family

If you'd like to put this as your profile picture, please contact me through my inbox! Thank you.

[uwurakax]

-> 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄, 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄, 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃'𝐕𝐄 ᥫ᭡

-> 𝒾𝒻 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎'𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝑒? <-

"𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴"

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨)

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝟒.𝟏𝐤

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐬 || 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 || 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞-𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 ||

⋆˙⟡♡ 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧.

ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ x ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ ᴀʟʙᴜᴍ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋʟɪꜱᴛ

"ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅ'ꜱ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“But, I don't understand?”

Kageyama Tobio had never been good with words. He supposed he never really needed to be. Where he felt most comfortable, on a volleyball court, he didn't need to speak. He read body language over books, and spoke with his eyes instead of his mouth in the heat of a match.

But as he stood in front of you now, the adrenaline mixed with anxiety brought upon an anticipation that was unknown, and a part of him wished he was more adept at the social aspect of your average high schooler. However Kageyama Tobio was not an average high schooler, he was, in the volleyball world, an absolute genius.

The King of the Court.

The stark contrast to the confidence he exuded as an athlete, and the socially awkward guy in front of you had made you laugh. An impressive feat the other team had to overcome, like a whirlwind storm with his ocean blue eyes. Off the court, he was almost normal. An ordinary student who valued practice over studying, with subpar marks to show for it. He was admirable though. He knew what he wanted, for himself, his career. His future.

Up until just a second ago, you thought you were a part of that.

His confession blindsided you. Sent you over a cliff that you had no idea was below you until it was too late and you were free falling. Only brought back by the impact of hitting the despair filled waters below, unable to move, or claw your way through it. You couldn't breathe, or process anything.

You were just… sinking.

“I’m sorry… Y/N”

Kageyama wasn't able to look you in the eye. It had been over 2 years since you had made it official, labelling the two of you as boyfriend and girlfriend. He wasn't sure how he even got with you, or why you of all people wanted to be with him. But you did, and he found himself blessed, wondering how his life got to be this good.

He was skilled athletic, a renowned talent in volleyball with presumed “good looks”, which wasn't an uncommon comment when he passed by the hallways of Karasuno High, and, most importantly, he had you.

The days of you waiting on him and watching his practices. How you never thought of, or complained once, despite his insistence on staying back for ‘just a little bit longer’, which led to you getting home an hour or so after your expected time.

He’s sure your parents berated you for it, and yet, without fail, you never stopped. It was probably why his first impression was never going to end well.

This was the boy who kept their darling, sweet daughter out late. He’s sure after this, you’ll tell them, and they’ll know everything they ever thought about him was true.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me after two years?!”

You gave a lot to the relationship, despite how much you loved Kageyama, being with him was hard. He was always practicing, spending so much time on the court, you wondered how a person could have that much stamina running through them. His mind was always on volleyball, and how to improve, glued to his own ball almost 24/7, watching matches of his peers and champions, he lived and breathed volleyball.

You often wondered if he loved volleyball more than you.

Standing in a secluded corner of your school's courtyard, by the gymnasium building, you didn't have to wonder.

Kageyama Tobio loved volleyball, more than anything.

Your hands were shaking, tightly gripping your high school certificate to try and steady yourself. Of course Kageyama would do this, of all things, at graduation.

He didn't respond, standing awkwardly in front of you while his eyes tried to look anywhere but your own. It even looked like he couldn't bear to look at your face.

A small gust of wind blew, the slight breeze flowing through your hair. At least it was a distraction, to pull you away from your stupor.

“Can you at least say something? Please?” You were desperate, searching in his eyes for anything. Grasping at straws, you just wanted to find something to hold on to, to cling to, to get him to change his mind.

“I’m sorry”

Your last day of high school was arguably, one of the worst days you had ever experienced. Tears shed for a completely different reason.

Kageyama broke your heart that day, and you left him standing by the fence next to the gym. He had chosen.

You didn't bother to look back, turning the corner and never uttering a word.

Kageyama slouched over, his heart heavy as he looked at your retreating figure, disappearing behind the building of the school that now obscured you.

He looked down, his second blazer button unpinned and missing, sitting deep in his trouser pocket. A physical reminder of the second choice he now had to let go of. His future with you in it, now faded into nothingness.

Kageyama turned his heel and began heading into the gym for the last time, with a determination to prove to himself this was the right choice.

He knew throughout high school it was tough, and his goal of being a professional athlete was only going to strain you further. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. You already sacrificed enough for him. He wouldn't let you waste away your best years trying to keep up and chase him.

He’d let you go, because you deserved to be with someone who could give you something better than he could. Someone who could love you the way a man should.

Yes, Kageyama Tobio loved you, but he loved volleyball more.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You had no idea how he did it, but Hinata had convinced you to attend a “gathering” as he called it, at a local restaurant to celebrate his, and the Japanese Olympic Volleyball Team’s, gold medal win. He had practically begged and pleaded, citing that all his past friends and teammates from Karasuno were coming, and you just had to be there to complete it.

It wasn't that you didn't want to, you loved Hinata and he was one of your closest high school friends all those years ago. In fact, you were quite flattered that he was so adamant to have you there, even if you weren't an official member of the Karasuno Volleyball Team. You also hadn't spoken to him in sometime, your friendship being reduced to liking instagram pictures, tweets and the occasional snapchat photo.

The only problem was..

“You're staring” Kiyoko murmured as she drank from her wine glass. Her sleek, black hair cascading straight down her back like a flowing waterfall. It seemed the universe had its favourites. How unfair that she got more beautiful.

You snatched her drink, gulping down whatever liquid was left in the glass. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and held the now empty wine glass back to Kiyoko. Not the classiest you've ever been, but you were beyond the point of caring.

“I’ll be back,” you murmured, turning away from her and heading towards the bathroom. Kiyoko could only sigh as she looked sadly at Kageyama across the room, standing almost ominously in a dark corner of the room against the wall, as he sipped from his glass occasionally.

“Hi Kiyoko,” the raven haired woman turned to find her high school manager successor, Yachi standing beside her.

“Are you okay?” Yachi followed Kiyoko’s gaze to spot the now world renowned volleyball player.

“I’m fine, it's just Y/N,” Kiyoko responded, twirling the bordeaux glass with her slender fingers.

“I see,” Yachi looked down sadly, remembering how close Kageyama and Y/N were all those years ago.

It was hard to believe the two were so in love at one point in their lives with the sorry state they were in. The epitome of lovers to strangers.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Yachi’s timid voice whispered, afraid that someone may overhear.

“Hard to tell,” Kiyoko replied back, placing the glass down on the table next to her.

“I’m sure it hurts her. I know she keeps up with the news regarding him,” with a sigh, Kiyoko turned to Yachi who looked up at the ebony haired woman.

“I know you've seen the articles.” Yachi’s brow's furrowed as her face twisted in melancholy. She was, afterall, a sensitive girl as a teenager, and that trait had never left. Kioyko found it endearing really, how sweet and empathetic her junior was, without even realising.

She was so close with the both of them, and while neither had pressured her, Yachi felt a sense of guilt and betrayal to both Y/N and Kageyama.

However Yachi couldn't help her confusion towards the blue-eyed setter. Being a handsome athlete in his twenties had put him high on the eligible bachelor list, yet he had never really dated exclusively since high school. She couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the stars would align for her two friends to become lovers again. She knew how much they both had cared and loved each other, despite Kageyama’s reservations back then during their relationship. To know the feelings they both had for one another, feelings that were possibly unknown to either. A burden she had to bear as the cost for being close to them.

However if Kageyama had cared as much as Yachi knew, why did the articles paint his supposed ex from years ago, the only ex Kageyama had ever had, as a hurtful heartbreaker, when you had said he was the one who ruined you?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Gripping the edge of the basin of the crystal white sink, you tried to steady your breathing. You desperately wanted to hide away, shielded in the safety of the bathroom.

You thought you would be okay. Thought that you could deal with seeing him for just one night. You didn't want to be selfish, this wasn't about you, but God, was it awful.

You weren't as good as this, weren’t strong enough.

Looking up into the mirror you breathed out, a last ditch effort to form some semblance of clarity and calm. You didn't have to be here for much longer, you could wait. You owed your friends that much, right?

However, seeing Kageyama again, an ex who, all that time ago, was your forever, surfaced feelings that you tried to keep hidden. It was just a teenage love story, one that shouldn't have affected you so.

It wasn't like it wasn't uncommon for high school relationships to end. To feel like child's play in an adult playground.

But it was real, you thought to yourself. Denying it would do a disservice to you, and the girl you used to be. The girl who became the woman you were now. Deep down, this hurdle in life, made you stronger, and you could have almost been thankful for the heartbreak.

Would've, Could've, Should've.

You weren't in your right mind, his piercing gaze falling on you for a moment that you buckled. How unfair that he had this hold on you.

You would have been thankful, for if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be the person you were now, but…

You looked at your reflection, the somber expression under the dark light transported you back the first night you cried over him. It was so easy to fool your parents into thinking your sobs were from the sadness of graduating. Of saying goodbye, which wasn't entirely wrong.

You had aged, not a lot, but no longer did you have that childlike innocence within your eyes. Maturity and a bit of confidence that came with life, with age, had enveloped you. Your clothes were surely different, and you no longer wore your hair the same way, but with the almost pathetic display being cast back at you, you were almost convinced that the one staring back at you was that sad teenage girl who had suffered and grieved over her first love.

That wasn't you anymore.

You twisted the faucet on the sink, the cold water streaming vertically down and into the dark drain. Into nothingness. You were sure there was some kind of metaphor in that, one you were too mentally exhausted to even think about.

You cupped your hands together, letting the cool flow pool in your palms. You watched until it overflowed, the water running down either side of your fingers.

Leaning over the basin, you gently splashed soothingly chilled water on your face, focused on your eyes to be rid of the heat that slowly started to form.

You wouldn't cry tonight, and that was a promise.

You quickly turned off the tap and dabbed away the water with a paper towel, being conscious of the makeup you had spent much too long on.

After deeming yourself ready, you exited the bathroom. Hightailing out to get away, you completely missed the rigid figure you ran into, almost slipping on the smooth flooring. Rough, but warm hands reached out and held you firm on your upper arms.

Stupid heels.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeaked, embarrassed you had been caught leaving the bathroom.

“It's fine, don't worry about it,” you looked up and saw none other than Miya Atsumu holding you in his hands, adorning a smirk on gorgeous face.

You were stunned, one of the best setters you had ever seen play was now here, in front of you, and oh my God he was holding you!

He raised his brow, offering you a signal to continue, or say anything. It would hit you later just how stupid you probably looked to him. Shaking your head out of your stupor, you offered a second apology, pulling away slightly, to which he thankfully let you go, and bowing.

Atsumu could only chuckle and think about how cute it was. He reassured you that ‘it really was fine, and no trouble at all’. He was a lot kinder than he was portrayed, and a lot more handsome.

You expressed your gratitude sincerely, and soon enough you made your back to the crowd, mood a little better than it had been minutes before. It didn't last long, as you felt a hard stare and looking toward its source had soured the little sweetness you managed to find in the short interaction with a certain pretty blond setter.

If looks could kill, you'd surely be 6 feet under.

You could only snarl back, annoyed he had the audacity to look pissed off with you!

As if you were the one who defamed him on news outlets, parading around as if he was the one who was scorned with a love that ‘got away’.

Maybe it wasn't right, but when your ex boyfriend becomes a world renowned volleyball player, you tend to get somewhat invested in their life. It wasn't like you were the only one who caught up on what a previous lover was doing, and it wasn't your fault he was famous, it was too easy. They practically threw him back in your face, the trending pages and news articles. It was hard to miss.

And although you were never named specifically, it wasn't hard to know the relationship experiences that were written in these articles were about you.

All over social media you were slandered, criticised so harshly for the treatment you had supposedly shown him. The reason for why his heart was so guarded. A fortress of steel that many had wanted to conquer in the quest to woo him. To treat him better, and show him what love was all about, his fangirls would spew.

What a load of rubbish.

As if you hadn't given him your best years, been there for him and every game. As if the hours spent wasted on him, had meant nothing.

A second heartbreak.

Kageyama would've never done that to you. At least you never thought he would've. Perhaps you never really knew him at all.

Pulling your phone from your purse, you checked the time.

11:03pm.

You spent enough time here, you thought. It was time to leave. You quickly opened a rideshare app, inputting your details and confirming the booking. You were grateful your driver was only 4 minutes away.

You took a swift glance at the crowd around you, spotting Hinata laughing boisterously with a group full of people you recognised from the Japan Volleyball Team. You smiled fondly, making your way to the door and inconspicuously leaving. You’d apologise to Hinata later for not saying goodbye in person, but you weren't going to disrupt him. He was having a good time, and you knew he’d sense your discomfort. That wasn't fair on him. He shouldn't have to try to appease you both. None of your friends should have to. The issues between you were Kageyama’s and yours alone.

The night air sent a chill through you as you stepped out onto the footpath outside the venue doors, but it also gave you a crisp comfort. It took away the heat of anger that slowly began to build and doused you completely.

You glanced down at your phone again, ignoring the sound of the door opening behind you to check on your driver. They hadn't moved at all.

“Hey..” the low voice from behind you felt magnified in the dead silent street.

No freaking way.

You knew his voice from anywhere. It haunted you in your dreams. Had a power over you that you couldn't explain. Everytime you’d push, he just pulled you back in.

The biggest regret was letting Kageyama Tobio into your heart and having this magnetic force over you.

“What is it?” you didn't dare look back, focusing solely at the device in your hand. You wished you could voice out your disdain, bite back with any snarky comment like you’d imagined if you ever spoke with him again, but you couldn't. It was like your heart and your mind were in two separate planes of existence, and much to your dismay, your heart was slowly closing in at the forefront.

“I’m not sure..” Kageyama could be clueless at times, but he never sounded this uncertain before. You occasionally came across some of his interviews, and for some unknown reason, you never were able to click off. No matter what was said, or questions asked, Kageyama had always spoken with a confidence and self assurance that you truly could believe in what he said. Through the years, this only became more apparent.

The hesitation in his voice was uncharacteristic and off. You slowly turned to face him, really looking at him now and taking him in.

When you pushed, he pulled.

He looked you in the eyes for a moment before looking at the pavement. The faint yellow glow of the streetlamp illuminating the side of his face. It didn't do him justice, but even in the dim light he was stunning.

The years had been good to him, and like a fine wine, he only looked better than he did before. You were sure that would continue, and you felt a slight pang in your heart.

“Is there something you need, Kageyama?” he looked up then, and you thought you saw a moment of hurt flashing within his eyes.

It almost felt good, to inflict even a fraction of pain, and would’ve been proud, if not for the way his surname sounded on your lips.

An awkward silence passed between you, and Kageyama couldn't find the words. He knew this was unfair, and he really wasn't sure why he was now here, with you in front of him. All he knew was that you couldn't leave. Not just yet.

When Hinata told him of the celebration, he had prayed that you would come, and you had. God, he felt like a creep staring at you most of the night, but he couldn't help it. You were more beautiful than he remembered, and if this was the last time he got to see you this close again, then so be it. His last memory of you haunted him; your tear stained cheeks and crying eyes. He had done that to you, and it was selfish of him, but he could see now he made the right choice. You seemed to flourish and do better without him.

He just needed this.

“I’m sorry,” he started, finally gaining the courage to continue.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

You closed your eyes and breathed in. That was the last thing he had ever said to you; I’m sorry.

“I forgave you a long time ago you know” it was almost melancholic. Quiet street, street lights and an ex you couldn't forget.

“Even so, you deserve it. Sincerely,”

“You mean you weren't sincere before?”

“No, I was. It’s just..”

“Just?”

‘I just needed an excuse to see you again’ Kageyama thought.

“Nothing, I’m sorry for ambushing you like this,” You snorted, unable to contain it.

“You're full of apologies tonight?” you questioned.

“I guess I am.”

A new quiet befell, but there was no longer any animosity. It was almost comfortable.

Your phone buzzed, and upon checking, you saw your rideshare driver was coming down the street, a minute away.

“Well, my ride is nearly here, so..” you trailed off, the awkwardness surrounding you once more.

“Did you want a lift? I could drive you home…” You paused, surprised at his offer.

“That's okay, they're nearly here now,”

“Oh, right.” Kageyama looked away, slightly embarrassed.

“Um..” Kageyama stuttered. He needed to do this, before you left.

“Yeah?” you looked up quizzically, wondering what else he may want.

He took a few strides towards you, and you had to fight the urge to step back. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, black object that appeared round.

“Here,” he held it out towards you, unable to look at you. He was thankful for the cover of night to hide the growing red of his cheeks. This was entirely the most selfish thing he had ever done in his life, but he needed to.

“What's this?” you questioned, accepting the item and inspecting it. It looked like a button.

“Just something that was always for you,” he looked at your face to see you staring back.

“I never got the chance to give it to you properly back then. If you want to throw it down the street right now, I won't blame you, but it was always yours.” Kageyama looked longingly at his old button from his high school blazer. He had brought it with him tonight with the intention of giving it to you, but there was never a moment for him to. He may never get this chance again, he wouldn't back away. So when he saw you briskly leave, he knew it was the only time he'd catch you.

You stared at the button, shocked that he had kept it after all this time.

“A-are you sure about this?” you cradled it in your hand, feeling the weight of it on your heart.

“Yeah, I am,” Kageyama smiled.

You looked at the small button that contained so many feelings.

“Thank you,” you heard a car pull over on the curb behind you, and you turned around, recognised the number plate that matched your driver.

“That’s me,” you said, walking to the back side door to get in. Opening in, you glanced back, unsure of how to end the night.

Kageyama’s hands were in his pockets now as he took a couple steps closer.

“Have a good night Y/N,”

You were no longer resentful. The anger had dissipated so quickly, you wondered if you were truly angry with him at all. Filled with the sorrow of what could have been, you ingrained this memory in the back of your mind.

The button smooth in your palm unlocking the remains of love that had been locked away for so long, opening that door slightly for it to seep out.

“Goodnight.. Tobio,”

[pickledpascal]

Hold Me Like Water

Chapter Twelve: Tangled In Love

Warnings: SMUT!!! i cannot stress enough that hugh likes taking it up the ass, cowgirl position, praise kink, reminder maya has a girl dick

A/N: all i have to say is that this chapter is now very meta and ironic after jan 6th on hughtwt

Word Count: 3.4k

Hold Me Like Water Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Early September 2024, 

Maya and Hugh had been going on a lot of dates since getting together. Some public, some not. The public dates were usually at bistros and the like, a nice gathering between friends if fans didn’t want to read too hard into it. They still hadn’t revealed their romantic relationship to the public yet.

Hell, people were already coming up with rumors. Rumors that Maya was leeching off Hugh’s money or that she was secretly weaning him off Deborah, sinking her claws into him. Maya had plenty of money from her own projects and actively gave a lot of it away. The manipulation rumors confused her. She had been friends with Hugh for years, if she truly was manipulative, she would have wanted his marriage to end sooner so they could be together sooner. But she wasn’t so she didn’t. 

Plus, they acted like Hugh wasn’t a grown man who could make his own decisions. He had children. He wasn’t some innocent young man who didn’t know how to handle pressure. 

Hugh told his children before anyone else—not that Ryan needed to be told, he could tell by the slight shift in their demeanor at the premiere. Ava and Oscar were happy for him, especially happy at the opportunity of being able to know more about his thoughts and feelings. He was more closed off about his worries and such when they were younger but he was getting better. 

He still remembered the conversation they had. It made him laugh. 

Maya wasn’t with him, wanting to give him some privacy as he told his kids. Hugh made sure Ava was with Oscar while he video called her. 

“Hey, dad!” Ava’s bright smile appeared on his screen. She adjusted her phone to get her brother in the frame as well. “What’s going on?” 

His kids were in Australia and he felt a light pang of sadness that he couldn’t see them in person to tell them the news. But Ava was still in college and Oscar was starting a new job. He couldn’t bring them everywhere with him anymore. 

Hugh rubbed his hand against his mouth. “Everything’s alright, junebug. Just have some news to share with you.” His voice was low and warm but hesitant. He wanted to choose his next words carefully. 

Oscar and Ava glanced at each other. “Okay…” Oscar said, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Maya and I… have begun dating.” Hugh confessed, pursing his lips before more words jumbled out of his mouth. “I will tell your mum too but I wanted you guys to know first because you’re my kids and I genuinely value your opinion on whoever I would have chosen at this stage in my life.” 

His children were silent after his ramblings, causing his heart to beat louder in his chest. 

“Really?” Oscar broke the silence, a look of disbelief on his face.

Hugh’s throat was suddenly dry. “Yes.”

“You’re not ready for all of that.” A laugh escaped Ava. She covered her mouth with her palm.

Hugh blinked, expression morphing into a confused look. “What–What does that mean?”

“Maya is a hot woman.” Oscar offered with a shrug. 

Hugh agreed, obviously. However, he was hit with a memory of Oscar’s eighteenth birthday. Maya was invited as she had been every year for both kids’ parties but he was begging her the entire night for a kiss. Just one. And he did get his wish. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

How ironic it was that the father got the woman the son was pinning after. 

As Hugh and Maya got closer, he was starting to realize just how true Ava’s words were. Maya was soft yet firm with him, easily moving him with a gentle hand on his hip if she needed to squeeze past him, tugging him into an embrace, tighter than the ones they shared previously so he could feel her soft chest and the solid planes of her torso against his, and how she pinched his chin between her thumb and index finger, angling his head just right so their noses were pressed together as they kissed. 

They sat outside, soaking up the last warm rays of the summer, sharing another lunch together. Hugh got a simple salad tossed in whatever house dressing the restaurant served while Maya got a toasted sandwich on a baguette complete with fries that he stole every so often. 

“So…” Maya popped a small fry into her mouth and chewed. “What did your kids say?” 

Hugh picked at his lettuce with a fork. “They’re happy for me, I think.” He shifted his gaze to her face, watching as she bit into her sandwich.

“You think?” Maya wiped a napkin against her lips, raising an eyebrow.

“They didn’t outright say it but they seemed happy.” He added with a shrug. “Kids can be like that.” He grabbed another fry from her plate, eating it in two bites. 

As they talked and ate, they could both feel a camera on them. This time it was a welcome intrusion. They didn’t feel like hiding their relationship for much longer. It was exhausting sneaking around. 

When they finished up their meal and paid, they stood up and kissed. It was a deep, adoring kiss that couldn’t be reasoned as friendly no matter how desperately some would want to. When they pulled away, Maya lifted a hand to her chest, faking a scandalized expression which made Hugh laugh. She went in for another kiss, placing a hand on his arm. 

Minutes later, those pictures were posted online and plastered all over Hugh fan-spaces.

Hugh and Maya went back to his apartment, toeing off their shoes once they crossed the threshold to his home. It was sprinkled with a bit of color now. A hand-made fur blanket was draped across the back of his couch, a faded navy hoodie was bunched in one of the stools that rested by the counter, and a tapestry sewn with purple, pink, orange, and red chords hung on a wall in the living room. 

Maya was slowly making it her home too. It was starting to become a wonderful mix of things they both appreciated. Hugh even had his own ulu after Maya “forgot” it. She was able to convince him to keep it after assuring him that she had plenty at her apartment. 

They migrated to the couch, lost in each other as they kissed. Maya took the lead as always, cradling the back of Hugh’s head but something switched in her brain this time. “I want to do more,” She whispered, an inch or so away from his lips. “Wanna fuck you.”

“God, yes,” Hugh groaned softly.

They had talked about what they wanted out of intimacy multiple times because Maya thought it would help both of them understand each other better. Hugh was more than willing to bottom which surprised her. He was an older man so she assumed he would want to be more careful about straining his body. Apparently not.

Hugh slid a hand between her legs, squeezing at her length underneath the confines of her jeans. She was a lot bigger than he expected. 

Maya let out a breath, warm air fluttered against his face. “Hugh,” She pushed her hips against his palm. “Shit…”

“You like that?” Hugh pressed against her dick a little more, feeling it grow harder under his touch. “I can feel that you do.” He leaned upwards to capture her lips again as his hands moved to unbutton and unzip her pants. 

Maya tried to pull away but he kept chasing after her lips. “We—” Another kiss. “We gotta get to the bedroom, honey.” 

Hugh sighed in frustration as his stopped his minstrations. “Alright…” 

She moved off the couch to stand. He looked at her, eyes dark as he stared at her unbuttoned jeans which showed off the red underwear she wore as her hard-on strained against it and made her look deliciously tempting. 

Instead of allowing Hugh to stand, she slid her arm underneath his legs and picked him up. He gasped at the show of strength, wrapping an arm around her shoulder while he was carried to the bedroom. She dropped him off in the middle of the bed, causing him to bounce slightly on the mattress. She discarded her sweater and climbed on top of him to slip his shirt off too. 

“Goddamn, love,” Hugh breathed, sliding a hand up her skin to feel the planes of her body. “You’re so beautiful.” He pecked her lips. 

Maya hummed into the kiss, pushing her clothed cock against his. She was trying to pace herself, enjoy the moment. She hadn’t done anything close to this in years and he knew that. 

She put a hand next to his head to keep herself steady. “What do you want to do, honey?” Maya asked against his lips.

Hugh let their breaths mingle for a few seconds as his brain registered what she meant. Obviously he wanted her to fuck him until he sobbed and trembled from the pleasure. “I think… I want to ride you as you lay back. Would you like that?” His eyes roamed down to the triangular tattoos on her cheeks. 

“Yeah, I really would.” Maya captured his lips, cupping the side of his head as she moved her free hand to unbutton his jeans. “You got the lube I asked you to get, right?” She pulled away from him to pull off both his jeans and boxers until he was completely bare for her. 

“Y-Yes, love,” Hugh shivered, goosebumps traveled up his skin as it was exposed to the cool air and Maya’s lustful gaze. His cock was completely hard, leaking a bit at the tip. “It’s in the nightstand.” 

Maya pushed off her jeans before she reached over to the nightstand to grab the lube. Hugh could see a wet spot forming around the bulge in her underwear. He wanted to taste her but pushed that thought away. Not yet. He would some day.

She pushed his legs so his knees bent while she settled properly between his legs. He breathed deeply as she exposed more of his body to her eyes. She poured some lube onto her fingers, rubbing the liquid onto her palm to get it warm enough so it didn’t shock him. 

“Take some deep breaths, honey. Try to relax.” Maya instructed. Her voice was low and soothing, reminiscent of some of her voice acting. 

Hugh did as she said and inhaled through his nose, exhaling through his mouth a few times. He gasped softly as Maya’s finger circled his rim and then pushed in. It burned for a few seconds before the pain gave way to pleasure. “Oh god…” His accent thickened under her intimate touch. 

She used her free hand to rub against his thigh, trying to soothe the tense muscle while she thrust the finger slowly. “You’re doing great, honey.” She murmured and she meant it. 

Hugh’s entire body was lightly flushed but it was deeper in his cheeks, his chest, and his shoulders. He looked delectable with his eyes threatening to flutter closed, dick leaking a steady stream of pre onto his navel while his hands bunched the sheets between his fingers. 

Maya slid another finger inside him, drawing a moan from him as she stretched him open. “Fuck,” He whined, “That… ah, that feels so good, love.” His body was slowly relaxing underneath her touch. He grasped at her hand on his thigh, squeezing it. “Please, Maya, need you.” He panted.

His brain was short-circuiting a bit. Hugh had been on the receiving end maybe once or twice in his life and it didn’t feel nearly as intense as this. It could be his old age or it could be Maya who, even though it was their first time together, knew how to play his body like an intricate symphony. 

“You gotta take one more finger before you take my cock, honey. Think you can do that?” Maya offered softly, rubbing her thumb against his knuckles. 

Hugh felt his dick throb at the mention of another finger. And her words. He’d never heard her say anything remotely like that before. “Yeah… Yeah, I can do that.” He couldn’t control the whiney tone of his voice. 

As she pushed a third finger inside him, Hugh’s back arched off the bed while he let out a weak cry. Maybe he couldn’t handle it. He could imagine getting off on her fingers alone. 

Maya shushed him softly, “It’s alright, honey. You’re doing great. Just need to make sure you’re ready for me.” 

When she felt like Hugh was loose enough, Maya removed her fingers. It gave him a chance to catch his breath. 

She settled in bed next to him, moving to take off her bra but her hands were quickly replaced by his. He had been wanting to touch her everywhere for a while. He slipped the straps off her shoulders and inhaled deeply as her breasts were exposed. He ducked his head to press kisses to the swell of her flesh. 

Then Hugh helped her out of her underwear, getting a good look at her dick. It was a similar size to his, eight inches or so and at full mast. “Fucking hell…” He breathed, glancing up to her mismatched eyes. 

Maya helped him straddle her waist, legs pressed up against her sides as he settled into the position. “Go slow. Take your time.” She said firmly. Overwhelming Hugh was the last thing she wanted to do.

He hovered over her leaking cock for a few moments and wrapped his hand around it, causing Maya to take in a sharp breath. Her stomach flexed for a second and Hugh found his mouth feeling dry at the sight. 

He positioned himself properly as he sunk down on top of her, one hand on her stomach to keep himself upright. His mouth fell open in a silent moan as he felt every new inch of her. Maya slid her hands up to his hips, helping to guide him down until she was fully seated inside him. 

“Let yourself adjust, honey.” Maya said softly. Her brown eye looked nearly black while her amber eye only had a rim of color left. Her fingers played across the flesh of his ass while her thumbs hooked themselves on the ridge of his hipbone. 

Hugh writhed on top of her, “I’m–I’m trying.” Much like her fingers, the feeling of her dick pushing inside him and stretching burned but in the sweetest way possible. He couldn’t keep still, he needed to feel her. 

Driven by need, he began to move up and down. Maya’s grip on him tightened. “Hugh—” Her voice cut out as she whined sharply when he pushed his hips down suddenly. 

Oh, that was a delicious sound. Better than he could have ever imagined. Being with Maya like this was better than anything Hugh could have ever imagined. 

It felt so easy, so blissful already, like they had done this a million times and they were reliving their first time all over again. He felt his chest swell with more than just desire. He was in love. So damn in love. There was nothing sweeter to him than being like this with the one he cherished more than anything. 

“Mm, love this position, baby,” He whimpered, breath hot. He could feel Maya’s muscles rippling underneath his hands. “You’re… you’re so deep.” 

Slowly but surely, he hastened the pace of his hips causing an obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. The headboard even began to rub and scrape against the wall. Hugh was so dazed on pleasure and love that he couldn’t help chasing after the feeling. His nails dig into her skin, creating small, red crescent–shaped indents. 

“Fuck—” Maya hissed, eyes screwing shut for a moment before they fluttered open again. She wanted to see Hugh, to watch his pleasured face morph and contort above her. “That’s it, take what you need, honey. Just like that.” She bucked her hips up against his.

Hugh let out a choked moan. Somehow, she was able to hit his prostate dead on. “Ah, fuck, Maya! Do that again, please, love.” He begged, rolling his hips as he tried to coax her. 

“This?” She thrusted up into him right as their hips met and hit his prostate again. She was being cheeky now.

“Yes!” He choked again, his chest constricting. He couldn’t breathe for a moment and almost lost his balance but Maya kept him steady. One of her hands slid up his back, a tingle running up his spine. Hugh whimpered loudly, “Don’t–Don’t stop, gonna cum. Need to cum.” He was trying to hold himself back. “Can I? Please?” 

Maya herself was on the edge. “Yeah, honey. It’s okay. You’re such a good boy for asking.” She praised, breathless. 

After another harsh thrust to that spot that made him see stars, Hugh felt himself letting go. He came all over her stomach, still moving along her cock as he writhed and whimpered. “Oh my god, Maya! Fuck!” His fingers curled against her torso, scratching at her skin. 

Hugh could not accurately describe the utter bliss he felt as his orgasm washed over him. He hadn’t felt so sated in such a long time. It could be that this was such a new experience for him but it could also be Maya. 

Maya and her well-placed, well-time touch. Maya and her captivating, dilated eyes that stared at him as if he was a work of art. Maya and her wonderful shows of strength, keeping him steady, flexing under his fingers, and soothing over his aching limbs. Maya and her beautiful, low voice who whispered words of praise that fell from her lips like second nature. 

“Holy fuck,” She gasped, watching him come undone on top of her. She wanted to frame the face he made. “Such a good boy, aren’t you? I love that about you,” Maya moaned softly as her orgasm hit her, spilling inside him. “Hugh, ah—”

Even though they both came, Hugh didn’t slow down yet. He was drunk on her. 

“Baby,” Maya panted, using her hands to try and still his hips. “Baby, slow down.” She feared Hugh would get overstimulated. 

He whimpered as she kept him still. “You have…” He panted, breath warm and wet, “No idea how much I love you.” He ducked down, covering her body with his to kiss her. A hand slid into the dark tresses of her hair. 

Maya hummed against his lips, running a hand along the curve of his spine. “I love you too.” Her other hand cupped his jaw, pulling him away so she could see his face. 

Hugh’s face was completely relaxed, zero lines between his eyebrows as his deep, hazel eyes gazed down at her. His lips were lightly reddened from the previous kisses they shared and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead while he heaved for air.

He looked beautiful to her. 

Maya wrapped her arms around his waist and rolled them both over so she could slip out of him. Hugh caught her arm, a whimper escaping him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get something to clean you up.” She pressed a lingering kiss to the side of his head. 

She pulled away from him, gathering her bra and underwear to put them back on as she grabbed a rag from the bathroom and ran it under warm water. She wiped away some of his cum from her stomach and chest first.

Maya settled in the bed again, cleaning off Hugh’s thighs while he nuzzled into her shoulder. He pressed kisses against the skin, sliding a hand against her arm. “I love you.” He said between pecks. 

She threw the rag in the laundry. “I love you too.” Maya’s lips spread into a warm smile as she helped him back into his boxers. 

Hugh pushed his face against her chest, eyes closed as he felt the plush, soft skin support him. He circled his arms around her waist. Maya laughed, causing her chest to rumble underneath him. She pushed a hand through his hair and perched her other one on his hip, adding to his comfort. 

“Anything else you want to do?” Maya whispered, lips brushing against his forehead.

“Wanna stay like this for a while.” Hugh murmured, voice muffled.

Maya held him a little tighter, pressing her chin on top of his head. “Alright.” 

Maya had cherished him throughout their years of friendship, but never like this. Her love for him was overflowing his cup. He wished he could stay in her arms forever. But forever was not nearly enough time. 

[differentcoloredcontacts]

Class 1-b reacting to you, their best friend (and/or lover), being the UA traitor.

Awase -

Completely shattered, that nomu that almost killed him and Yaoyorozu in the forest was caused by you feeding the Lov information. He starts questioning every moment you two have ever had together. He honestly gets pissed at himself and you and everyone around him because he doesn't know how to handle it.

Sen -

He loved taking pictures of the two of you. You two had an entire photo album dedicated to all the little moments, every time you beat him in your favorite card game or that little drawing eri did of you two being held up by you. All of those memories captured with the same camera you got him for his birthday are now being turned to ash in a fireplace. He cant help but be still while something once so important suddenly means nothing to him.

Kamakiri -

He was the loudest when he realized. He couldn't stop him self from screaming at you for what youve done. He hates you. Youve almost killed him and his classmates ten times over but that wont stop him from wanting you to stay. Deep down he wanted it all to be a cruel prank you were pulling. But it never was.

Kuroiro -

He tried to keep it together. He really did. But at the end of the day he was barely able to make it to his dorm room in time before he broke down completely. His nonchalant front, completely shattered. He sobbed to the point he was choking on his tears. You were one of the only people who he really cared for, so why did you betray him like this?

Kendo -

She tries to save you. She tries to understand why you did this. Were they forcing you? Are they keeping someone close to you hostage? Are you being manipulated or controlled? The more she tries to understand, the more questions she askes the harder it becomes to understand her as she starts to breakdown at your feet.

Kodai -

She didnt say anything but she truly wanted too. She wanted to yell, scream and cry. She wanted to hit you for what you put the class through but she wanted to hug you as you were dragged away in cuffs. She was so conflicted about what she wanted to do. Her brain and heart were arguing over you but in the end she just ended up doing nothing, which ended up hurting a lot more than it should have.

Komori -

She seems more confused and in denial than anything else at first. She starts to distance herself from people and holes herself up in her room while she tries to understand what happened. Was everything you two did together meaningless? She could never forgive you for what you did, she hated you but at the same time she wanted you to walk through her dorm room door ranting about your new favorite thing like you always did.

Shiozaki -

Shes not mad or even that sad about your betrayal. Just disappointed. She would try to understand and she truly wants to forgive you, but she cant bring herself to do that. She would distance herself from everyone and it would take a while before shes ready to move forward again.

Shishida -

He tried to keep it together but it was really hard for him to do that since he was feeling hundreds of emotions in seconds. His breathing became uneven as he tried to assess the situation from a logical perspective and his voice breaks as he simply asks you "why?"

Shoda -

He really values trust so when you betrayed all of UA he was never the same. He tried to recover but he keeps everyone at arms length. When you first left, he was on the more 'ok' side of things. But after a few weeks and what happened had time to sink in is when it hits the hardest.

Pony -

She cant stop herself from screaming at you while tears run down her face. She switched to english because its easier for her so no one knew exactly what she was saying to you. Even if you could speak english you wouldent understand what she was saying between the sniffles and gasps of air.

Tsubaraba -

Hes in denial for so long when it originally happened. When you were officially revealed as the traitor he thought it was a joke. He started to calmly talk to you with simple phrases like "jokes like that arnt that funny yk." But over the next minute it would turn in to him begging for it to be a joke while completely breaking down in front of you.

Tetsutetsu -

He does everything he can to get answers out of you. Some other classmates of his have to hold him back from running over to you and punching you square in the stomach. He ends up staying in the UA gym for a few hours after curfew, beating a punching bag in anger and confusion until eventually he wears himself out and collapsed from exhaustion.

Tokage -

She wants to know why you did it. If there was a reason she could find it in herself to forgive you but if not, it would become better for her to act like you never exist. For a long time after that she would leave when your name was mentioned or anything that reminded her of you would suddenly be destroyed or hated by her as much as she hates you. Deep down however, she still wants to be you friend

Manga -

He blames himself more than he blames you. Hes supposed to be a hero so why couldn't he save the one person he cared about the most. Youre gone forever now and he blames ever but of it on himself. He cries a lot for the next couple weeks and sometimes he can feel himself wanting to send you a funny meme he found only to remember and go through all the heartbreak all over again.

Honenuki -

Another that blames it all on himself but at the same time he is really depressed about it. He heals for the most part but part of him still gets a little wave of sadness whenever he walks past your favorite cafe or when someone does that very specific hand movement that you used to do all the time. Every part of the situation breaks his being completely, and he even becomes slightly more hostile towards the people he spars with.

Bondo -

He stays silent for the most part. His silence being a mixture of disbelief and hurt. He even tries to help the rest of the class through it. He becomes the class therapist while he ends up insisting hes fine and dealing with it alone in his dorm room. He cant bring himself to destroy the memories of you so he simply puts them in a box and hides them under his bed.

Monoma -

Incredibly angry about it at first but the more time that passes the more it hurts him. The more he starts to blame himself. If he had an inferiority complex before it definitely worsened now that you betrayed him. You helped him through so much yet he cant help but feel it was all nothing to you.

Reiko -

she handles it better when in front of the class, or at least she tries too. She broke down once you were revealed, she broke down when you left and she breaks down every time shes behind closed doors. She cant handle seeing anyone right now.

Rin -

He keeps calm at first and tries to rationalize. "Were you forced to against your will? Were you being controlled? Brainwashed?" With every 'no' to his questions he became more and more desperate to prove you werent evil. He started to lose his cool and break down in front of you while still begging for any sign that your not evil. At the end of the day he finds himself grabbing onto a random stuffed animal you left in his dorm and using it to muffle his tear filled screams.

Bro imma be honest half of these characters I had no idea what to write. So half of them are probably bad but im not gonna proof read or change this because we die like men.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair in "The Solitary Clone"

I've been rewatching The Bad Batch with my cousin and we just finished The Solitary Clone last night. There is one scene that hasn't left my mind and yes, I will psychoanalyze Cross's face because he is so expressive in the subtlest ways. Also, this is my takeaway from this scene.

Cross says "We're soldiers. We do what needs to be done" in response to Cody's question regarding the morality of their actions.

Cody replies "Well, you know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions. Our own choices." Then, he walks away, leaving Crosshair with his thoughts.

It is this interaction that really caught my eyes. This is Cross's reaction to Cody asking him if he knows how're they're different from droids:

Crosshair stiffens and takes a breath in, taking in Cody's words and anticipating what he's about to say next. There is so much pain and conflict written on his face. Cody is challenging his beliefs and hitting a very sensitive topic for Cross. What are the clones' purpose in life? To be solider and fight, just like the battle droids. The clones are also frequently mistreated because of this. To Crosshair, a clone who would've been "decommissioned" if his mutation wasn't helpful, if he can't be a soldier, then what is his purpose? When Cody states that it's because the clones can make their own decisions and choices, Cross's expression changes slightly again and all the guilt, self-loathing, and pain is on max level for us the audience to see. Due to the chip, Crosshair had his choices taken away. But even after the incident on Bracca where he got turned into Kentucky Fried Anakin, Crosshair is still under the Empire's control. He lets them dictate his actions and follows their orders. Cody's words are hard for him to swallow, and I think deep down, he knows Cody's right. But because of everything that's happened and Crosshair's internal conflict with who he is, it's difficult to hear.

As Cody begins walking away, we get this expression:

He almost looks angry. But angry at Cody? I don't think so. I think its anger at himself and the remaining resentment he has towards his brothers. The pain in his eyes is still there on full display to see. One of Crosshair's main ways of communicating is purely through his body language. He doesn't need to say much in order to articulate his emotions or get a point across. Cody's words are sinking in to him and he doesn't like it because it reminds him of his internal conflict.

Something I've noticed about Crosshair on my Bad Batch rewatch is just how insecure he truly is, especially regarding who he is. Many people when talking about Cross bring this point up and now that I rewatch the show, I see it. Insecurity and identity are at the focal point of Crosshair's character. It's always "I'm a soldier" or "we're made to be more than that." Cross can't see himself outside of that role which brings him into direct conflict with Hunter. Hunter kind of imprinted on Omega. He sees this child as a new path forward in life. She's his moral compass, the reason he keeps fighting, and one of the most important things in his life. Hunter can't live without her in his life. Crosshair doesn't have an Omega who brings him a new perspective. That is, until Cody and Mayday show up.

Another thing I've noticed about Crosshair is that he's very clingy. Because of his life on Kamino and his insecurities, he tends to cling to those who make him feel wanted or useful. Cross values loyalty and has a deep desire to feel wanted by others. The Batch was his family, the only other people who understood him and wanted him. When they left him, he became very jaded and angry. After everything they've been through, Cross was still thrown aside. And that breaks him internally. Then, it's the Empire. Crosshair was raised to be a soldier first and foremost. Who seeks soldiers to fill their ranks? The Empire. Who demands loyalty and promises to reward those who follow orders? The Empire. Who makes Crosshair feel useful in a time of great confusion? The Empire. So, he clings to them in hopes that he will find a place to belong. Cody is next. Cody is the only familiar face to Crosshair and the only one who treats him with kindness. Rampart sure as heck doesn't care and the other clones don't want to be near Crosshair. He's different and he doesn't really fit in anywhere. Heck, look at the contrast between the uniform. Anyways, Cody is able to connect with Cross. In turn, Crosshair sticks by his side the whole time and even asks for him after the mission on Desix is over. Speaking of Desix, the whole mission plays out like an episode of Clone Wars with battle droids and all. Of course it's gonna remind Cross of the olden days. Finally, there's Mayday. Mayday owed Crosshair nothing but gave him everything anyway. And Cross really latched on to him because Mayday is the last lifeline he's got. Mayday's actions and kindness affected Crosshair in a way he didn't expect. When Crosshair helps him back and forms a bond with him, it's a touching moment. It also symbolizes Crosshair accepting his clone identity. He's embracing a part of himself he initially wanted nothing to do with. At the end of the day, Crosshair wants nothing more to belong somewhere and with someone. He wants to be wanted, not alone on some desolate rock. The Outpost broke the camel's back in terms of how much longer Cross could keep going the way he was.

Alright, that was pretty long. But, I wanted to share my thoughts because that scene and Crosshair's specific reactions hit so different a second time. He is fighting against himself and he knows it. But his internal conflict is so strong that it makes him very stubborn. In the end, he winds up in a weird sunk-cost fallacy situation. He does pay the price in the end. He loses Mayday and everything that keeps him tethered to the Empire and life. Crosshair's desire for belonging and purpose are so strong that he doesn't get out until he can't take it anymore. He is pushed to his brink and by then, it's too late. He can either rot until he's completely dead on the inside or make a choice that'll get him killed. Either way, Crosshair's only way out was death. But, the Empire had other plans for him. Hopefully, season 3 will give him a happier ending.

Crosshair's story is one of embracing your identity and overcoming your insecurities. It's one of finding where you belong and that what might initially seem as the right place is actually far more damaging then it let one. He is such an incredibly complex character and in my opinion, one of Star Wars' best. He's never gonna be Vader level, but for those who know him and his story, Cross will leave an impact on us.

Thank you for reading, I hope you made it this far, and I'll be back shortly with more Crosshair content. Take care.

[missingmayuri]

Out Of The Shadows

Mayuri X Reader

Despite all the changes Captain Kurotsuchi had made to the lab as of recently you could still hear the war raging beyond the now illuminated walls.

You didn't cast a shadow nor did the equipment or even the door, it all being as the Captain intended. Work in the lab seemed to rage on as usual despite the Quincy invasion, being able to take a break every now and again as long as you tapped in another reaper in your place, Captain Kurotsuchi's orders. As long as someone was at your work station he was content for now as he looked over his papers and findings from the current predicament, all the while trying to ignore the fabled Kisuke Urahara who had ever so suddenly barged into the department.

You swore you could hear faint murmurs of displeasure seeping past the golden teeth of your superior, leading you to look over once or twice. His suit glowed in every color of the spectrum, almost like a peacock as he strutted about his lab with the upmost confidence.

A confidence you only wished you could garner even after your many years of lab work and dedication.

The war had set thoughts running through your mind and as you sat in the small designated break corner you began to ponder.

You may not get another chance after all.

Crossing your arms you stare intensely at the Captain, drifting deeper into the sea of thought. Soon you were enveloped by the crashing waves of memories passing by, hitting you hard like a rock and as quickly as a rolling storm.

Ten years. You had been working in this lab for ten whole years. How time flies. You remember when Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi was once the most feared and hated person around, always telling you your faults and imperfections. You recalled how he kept you back one night to complete work he didn't want to do himself. There for six hours and came back in the morning on very little sleep to which he also ridiculed your sloppy work.

Recently though was when you noticed a change. After arriving back from his fight against the Espada the Captain seemed different, especially to you. He seemed to value your work and time more, even praise you from time to time. He still kept you at nights but not for the same reasons as before.

How he had changed

You felt your heart sink in your chest wondering if this was just a phase, a calm before he became the old him. You sigh and hold tight to the chain around your neck. It was a gift he gave you for "hard work" but you knew what it really meant even without him saying it. The gem in the middle of the chain was incased in a rare hollow bone, from a specimen the Captain held dear. It was something he seemed very reluctant to part with but did so with a huff, practically shoving it into your hands before getting back to work.

You smile to yourself, your cheeks hot. The relationship between you and he had grown so much over these last years. You didn't want to die here and you could tell by the stares he gave you from across the room and sly glances from looking down at his papers that he didn't want you to either. One thing about Mayuri Kurotsuchi is he valued life, none more so then his own but there came a time when he cared about a select few more.

Nemu

Akon

Now you

You sit there basking in the humming lights of the room for what seems like hours, freeing yourself from the deep pores of your mind by a blinding colored light and the sound of an old metal kettle being poured.

There he stood and all you could do was stare at his immaculate form, a chuckle escaping past those deep black painted lips. You look away from him, all those thoughts still fresh in your mind.

"Your thoughts are occupied yes?"

You nod in response, unable to find those words right now. Mayuri takes a sip of his black coffee and turns his back to you, using the sleeve of his suit to conceal your hand which he reached out to hold, seeing your form trembling before him. He wasn't sure if it was fear in him or the fight which shook you to the core but he couldn't let others see him like this, his reputation far preceding him. He speaks in a rough but somewhat comforting tone that sets your heart racing.

"Trust in me like you have before. My brilliance knows no bounds and I personally will fix this"

He let's you go to get back to his work and for a moment you felt like every shadow, not just in the lab but in the entire world was banished. He had really become your light in more ways then one. Not just in the physical but also in your heart.

You smile softly and rise to get back to your station. You had a war to win