#all because of stupid trauma and my stupid head...

[imatter2iexist]

@oripoke @bo-beanies I have so many photos and documents.. Ive been telling the truth. But instead of being supportive, you subjected me to neglect, abuse, and torment. The TLDR is that you knowingly, and willingly, abused and controlled a mentally ill person; a close friend of years you *knew* was autistic and wouldnt understand; you stole my assets and safety, traumatized me, then threw me on the streets to die, alone. I was i just this object for you to use, abuse, and then leave for dead on the streets when you were done using me? Like i was garbage? In the beginning, there were days I literally could never put my phone down because I was 24.7 comforting bean. Id have to hide and be quiet in the bottom room, just to talk to Rory on the phone for a few minutes, or bean would get would get wildly upset if they saw. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed, and i was terrified. Id do everything you asked even when you hurt me for it. And yet, when i freak about the extreme trauma you cause me, doubled with my brothers abuse- when i had panic attacks from your abuse, you stole everything and left me for dead. Id have stayed by your side for months until you felt better, and you knew that, but either of you talking to me for 2 minutes was too much effort, no matter how badly i needed it... as much as i communicated this, you just ignored it

I was always there for both of you, even when it radically hurt me. I tried so hard to keep bean happy, for MONTHS, but when it was my turn to need help i was abandoned, hated, tossed away like I was nothing, and mocked for the illness i cant control. "Its your fault for being poor, its your fault for being sick" is what you said to me. Of course i snapped. You have no idea how much pain you put me in, to be starving, to be on the street with an infection, to lose my cat. Everything just got worse. My disorder is not something i can control. After 7 months of hell i was still not a person to you i was just an object or a toy for you to use. Why talk to this thing now, why bother? I was just a pet for you two to keep and torment until you were bored of my messages

The pain was too immense for me to handle, each month it just got worse. It hurt so badly. I cant describe it and i wouldnt wish it on even the most evil soul. It's agony. No human deserves what i had to go through- nobody.  Hard drugs couldnt even make it better. It was both mental and physical hell. Do you know how painful my med increases were, too, but i still did them because thats what you told me to do? I STILL listened and trusted you because i cared. I got therapy, too. And you still treated me like dirt, and im the one that has to pay for it in the hospital, in debt, in isolation and immense pain. Im the one that has to pay for all the suffering that you caused. Then you parade my dead name around, and accuse me of things I did not do. I did horrible things, im not saying i didnt. But you cant admit what you've done at *all*

I did everything you both asked of me even when it was hard, contradicting and confusing. Id never asked either of you for ANYTHING. Not ever. All I asked for was to talk, to help me with this stupid fucking disorder, but after everything I went through and how hard I tried and everything i suffered. Instead of being there, instead of responding to the only thing ive *ever* needed from either of you, you radically hurt me, then left me to die. TWICE

You may not believe this, but i don't. Want. To. Be. Like. This. I didnt choose to have this disorder, i dont choose the attacks that happen, and when i attempt suicide its *NOT* for attention like you scream. You put intentions in my mouth so often; it has nothing to do with your stupid blogs. Its to make. The pain. Stop. Its so immense, the only thing that goes in my head is "stop, make it stop, please make it stop" and i try and escape from my body to make the suffering end. There's no other way to escape your own mind but to die. And drugs, which I've gotten even further sick for abusing, but nothing else fucking helps

You all act like its a choice i made, and that's what you abandoned me for. I cant control my panic attacks. I dont control the disorder i got from my brothers abuse. i dont *WANT* to talk to any of you ever again or even think about you ever again. But that's the thing about mental illness, its crazy because it is, and when I said it wont fucking let me.... i mean IT WONT FUCKING LET ME. Could you ask a schizophrenic person to stop seeing demons?? "Like hey dude,  just stop seeing them. Have you tried just stopping?" I know pea had fun mocking me, and you all had a good laugh, "lmaooo you couldn't even not do it for a single day"- i didnt choose to be like this. I have the meds and I have the therapy. I did what you wanted but you just hurt me again. And again. How cruel is it that bean has panic attacks on the daily and gets comforted for it, and you all did this to me for my very first one. Rory told me he loved me more than hes ever loved anyone, he told me i could always talk to him if i was hurting, he told me it was okay, he reassured me he was there for me and that it was completely okay.Rory, you told me it was okay. You did. Then you disappeared without even saying goodbye. After 7 months of confusion, not understanding whats going on or whats even happening to me, or where ill sleep the next day. Constantly hurt and abused and hungry and infected, mourning everything i lost. You can never give me back my cat, or the opportunities i lost, my trans health care, my savings. You cant undo the immense pain I've felt and you cant reverse the trauma you've caused

Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

And I *still* kept trying. I *still* am. BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO DO. My meds are at 220mg and excruciating, therapy is so incredibly confusing, but im still doing it even if i desperately dont want to. But you two can torture me, because you didnt want to talk to me for a few minutes, and explain what I didnt understand. Instead you left me in the dark. While you were both going to *another* con just moments later, and sleeping comfortably, and going to parties and weddings; i was still in the hospital, in incredible pain, for an incredibly long time, from events you directly caused. Do you understand the mental toll that does to a person? I went to hospital to hospital, reaching out, just more and more confused, just more and more hurt.

While im going through all this, as if im not a real human being behind your computer; besides peas ranting the only things i recieved are "man my notifications" "man this sucks" "Yeah I hate it" like im an "it" a toy or a thing. Parading my dead name is a close contender, but its the amount of lies that hurt me the most. I did not ever have any kind of conversation with Rory OR Bean, I did not fake being in a coma for 2 weeks, I was very much fucking out. I've been telling the truth, even when its hard. Why cant you? Im not afraid to tell the truth.Communication and honesty are human things. My attempts have been very real and very painful, I made myself take pictures and I have the fucking discharge papers from every single one, because I've been telling the truth and can PROVE IT. I did so much I didnt want to do. I went through so much I didnt want to. You broke my boundaries and abused me, i gave up so much of myself and my safety and my life for you, and it was okay. But im now the criminal, your boundaries > my life. Your notifications>my human life.

Nobody's reading this, nobody gives a fuck, im never going to hear anything other then "maaaan this is so shitty, we destroyed his life and his mental and his job and his healthcare and we almost killed him with our neglect....but maaan hes really clogging up my notifications and that makes him the most evil, horrible, awful and disgusting person in the world. Let him die so I can get some quiet." And "Urgh omg I cant believe i have to post this". That's all it ever is. That's all its ever going to be. You hide behind an interent wall, pretending not to see the abuse you did to my body, my person, and my life

[dontshootmespence]

Tell Me I'm Not Second Best

Pairing: Non-enhanced Bob x Reader

Summary: After losing your husband, Henry, your first love, due to unforeseen circumstances, you start dating Bob. It’s only been eight months, but you’ve fallen fast and so has he. One night, while packing for a trip, you say your late husband’s name, which triggers Bob.

Author’s Note: I feel like Bob is always in need of some degree of reassurance.

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, relationship trauma, unprotected p in v, sad, grief-laden sex.

Word Count: 2334

----

When you walk into the bedroom, you see Bob hunched over the suitcase, examining its contents to ensure you have everything for your short stay house-sitting for your parents. “Everything okay?” You ask.

“Yea,” he says, proudly showing you what he’s packed. “I think I’ve got everything, but you might want to make sure.”

As you pad over to the side of the bed, you can already tell that he’s forgotten something. “Socks. You need socks.”

“That’s right, I think most of mine are in the laundry. I’ll go get them.” 

When he comes back, you’re checking things for what feels like the fiftieth time to make sure you don’t forget anything. “You want me to bring that cucumber body wash you like?” he asks as he comes back down the hallway to your bedroom. 

“My mom has some, Henry,” you reply. “So no worries.”

Turning to face him, you can see that something is wrong, his face drawn in surprise and then it clicks. “Oh my god, I just called you Henry, didn’t I?”

Bob tried to mask his feelings, but the hurt was written all over his face. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” you said again. 

“It’s okay, sometimes the wrong name just spills out. I know that,” he says, turning toward the staircase. “I’m just gonna go downstairs and take care of the carry-ons, because we have to get going within the hour.” 

You reached out to get him to stop. Repeating over and over again how sorry you were.

“It’s fine, d-don’t worry about it,” Bob said curtly. When your hand touched his shoulder, he shook it off. It’s fine!” The room fell silent and thick with uncertainty.

When he turned to face you, he saw the tears in your eyes. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he said, frustrated with himself. “I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Your lips quivered and a tear ran down your cheek. “I’m really sorry,” you breathed.

Bob shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. Why I’m all touchy. I think it’s just the stress of packing and making sure everything goes according to plan, but that doesn’t excuse me snapping. I’m sorry.”

Just days ago, you’d visited his grave alone. “He’s on your mind. I understand. It’s my own issues. Not anything to do with you.”

You reached out and grabbed his forearm. “You can talk to me, you know?”

“I know,” he responded, lips quivering with the restraint of holding everything inside. “I just…Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“I just don’t want you to get upset, when I ask it.” Bob glanced down at his twiddling thumbs, a nervous tick he’d had ever since he was a kid. You rubbed small circles into the flesh of his forearm, encouraging him to say what was on his mind. He steadied himself, swallowing hard. “Do you…do you love me…the same way you love him?” His voice tapered off, ashamed that he allowed himself to voice his concerns. “I won’t call him your ex. He’s not. And that’s a disservice to him, but-”

Bob took a deep steadying breath in through his nose. “I didn’t want to ask. Because it’s an unfair question. I’m just tired and being stupid.” 

Immediately, you reassured him. “You’re not being stupid. I want you to get it out. To talk to me. Trust me.”

A tear fell from his eye and onto the collar of his gray t-shirt. “I just feel insecure sometimes, you know? I know it’s not fair to you. I just see how you talk about him and I know you’re still going through the grieving process. I know you loved him so much.” He wiped at his nose and continued. “S-so much. And I don’t wanna take that away from you. But I see it sometimes and it just makes me feel less than. It’s such a selfish thing to think, I know, but-”

“It’s not selfish, baby.”

The pitch of his voice rises as the floodgates let loose, tears streaming down his face. “I know it comes from my own relationship trauma and not feeling good enough and it’s so unfair to put that on you, but I can’t help it sometimes.” He bit his bottom lip to stop the quivering. “I just keep thinking that if that drunk driver hadn’t been drunk that night that you’d still be together.”

He began crying so hard his nose began to run. Covering his face in shame, he said, “You’re everything to me. You’re my world, and I’m so afraid that I can’t do what he could. That I can’t make you feel how he felt. And it kills me inside.” He sniffed hard, attempting to stop the tide of emotions that threatened to overtake him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get upset.” His voice shook with unbridled sadness. “I feel like I can’t compete with him.”

“You don’t need to,” you cried, tears falling to the floor.

Nodding, Bob said. “I know logically that I don’t, but my brain…my stupid brain.”

He crouched down to the floor with his head in his hands. “You have this perfect memory of him and I feel like I’m never gonna measure up. Because he was your soulmate, and I’m just the guy that fills the gaps.”

You fell to your knees beside him and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. “You do not fill the gaps. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you having helped me through it. You’re everything to me, Bob.”

He couldn’t maintain your gaze. “I hear how everyone talks about him. I understand it, but sometimes I feel like your friends and family look at me like I’m an imposter trying to take his place. Like I did something wrong. Just because I love you.” He let out another steady breath.

Crawling closer to him, you spoke, “You did nothing wrong. And no one thinks that, I promise.” You swept a strand of messy brown hair out of his eyes. “Henry and I were best friends, and if you believe in soulmates, maybe we were that too, but we had our problems. Our relationship wasn’t perfect.”

Bob sniffled. “I know. I just feel like I don’t want to say anything negative or let you know how I feel because it would be minimizing your grief and I don’t want to do that. I don’t know what to do. Sometimes,” he said, a sob catching in his throat, “I feel like I just want to be held and reassured that you feel the way you do, but I feel like that’s taking away from you keeping his memory alive and that’s what’s important. So I pretend like it’s fine when it’s not. I’m really hurting lately.”

As his head fell against your shoulder, he cried, “I need you to reassure me that I’m not second best. That I’m not a placeholder. That you love me the same way you love him.”

Swallowing against the lump in your throat, you grabbed his hands and pulled him up with you. You cradled him in your arms and let him sob for moment, but now that he’d let his feelings be known, he couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, clutching your shoulder, his head nuzzled into the side of your neck. “I’m just being pathetic and dumping all of this on you. I’m gonna clean myself up and we can just forget-”

“No,” you insisted. “Will you sit down with me? I need you to listen to me.”

Nodding, he followed you to the couch. “I won’t lie to you. It still hurts on occasion. He was a big part of my life, but now you are. I don’t want you to be like him, I want you to be you. Because I love you, for all that you are, here and now.”

Bob’s eyes found yours. “I know. I think I just put him on a pedestal - compared myself.”

“I understand,” you said softly, grabbing his hand in yours. “But I need you to understand that I love you. Not because you’re him, but because you’re you. You’re my Bob. The man who helped me grieve. The man who held me while I cried. The man who brought me groceries when I physically couldn’t get out of bed to take care of myself. I love you.”

Bob collapsed against your shoulder in relief. “I love you too,” he whispered. “I love you so much. I’m sorry for dropping everything on you all of a sudden.”

“It’s okay.”

As the tears subsided, he talked himself through his feelings. “I know love isn’t this ethereal thing that just happens. You make it work. And we’ve worked at it together. My brain just doesn’t want to cooperate sometimes. Thank you for reminding me.” The last of his tears cascaded down his cheeks. “If it’s not too much trouble, can you keep reminding me?” He asked earnestly.

“Every day,” you said softly, bringing your tear-stained lips to his.

He sighed into your mouth as you kissed him. Chuckling softly, he grasped your chin in his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t kiss me right now, I’m a mess. My face is gross.”

“I don’t care,” you said, peppering his face with kiss after kiss.

Bob reached out to the table near the couch. “Can you hand me that box of tissues?” He blew his nose and placed the tissue on the wooden surface. “Thank you again for letting me get it out. I think I need to make more appointments with my therapist.”

“That’s okay,” you replied, a sad smile ghosting your lips. “We’ll work on it together. And you’ll work on it with her.”

Scooting yourself closer to him, you pulled his face to yours and kissed him like he was home. Slowly, languidly, you showed him just how much you loved him. When you climbed into his lap, he stopped you. “What are you doing?”

“I’m showing you how much I love you,” you sighed into his mouth.

Bob swallowed. “You don’t have to prove anything. Not like this. That’s not what I was after.”

You slid your hand around the back of his neck. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

As your mouth found his again, he moaned, hands flying to your sides in an attempt to anchor himself. His fingertips brushed the skin at the small of your back and you arched into him before reaching down to the hem of his pants. “This okay?” You asked.

“Yea,” he sighed. “ I just want to make sure this isn’t because you feel like you need to, or that it’s out of pity. I know that sounds stupid.”

You assured him that wasn’t the case. “Just wanna be close, quiet, with you.”

Your hand palmed over his cock as you bent down to kiss his shoulder, his collarbone, the side of his neck. “I love you,” you said, your breath hitting the shell of his ear and making his breath hitch. You sucked at the pulse point just below his ear that drove him crazy.

“Make the hickeys obvious,” he laughed softly. “So people know that I’m yours.”

“You are mine. Forever.”

Bob sniffled. “You’re gonna make me cry again.”

Resting your head against his, you reveled in each other’s breath, just allowing yourselves to be in the moment. As your hand rested above his heart, you felt it slow and steady into normalcy before grinding your hips against his, lazily pulling your core over his clothed erection. With clumsy hands, you pulled his zipper down and released him from his boxers and jeans. “Mine,” you breathed. 

Kissing him, you maneuvered his cock to your entrance, slowly pulling it back and forth across the wetness that gathered there. As he slipped inside you, you both groaned, hands flying to each other’s bodies, needing the feel of each other. Bob mumbled “I love yous” against your skin as you began moving up and down on his cock, slowly at first but then with increasing vigor. “I love you, baby,” you whined.

You felt a tear slip onto your chest. 

“You crying?”

“Happy tears this time,” Bob replied. “I promise.”

The room quickly filled with hitched breaths and strangled groans. His hands flattened against your spine, pulling you in close so you were skin to skin. “Fffuck, baby,” he sighed. “Need you.”

“You have me,” you said as you swallowed his moan. 

His hand found the dip between your shoulder blades, where he traced slow circles while his mouth found your chest. “Are you close?” He asked.

“Almost, baby, just hold out a little longer.”

You picked up the pace, wanting to feel him come with you, needing that connection. “I never want you to forget how much I love you.” 

Bob groaned, his lips sliding over your skin. “I won’t forget again. I promise.”

The coil in your stomach tightened and you could see in his eyes that he was right there, at the precipice, just waiting for you. “Come with me, baby,” he said, his voice muffled by your neck. “Come with me.”

As you fell over the edge, you both cried out, grasping onto each other as if your lives depended on it. You slowed your pace, milking him dry as his lips found yours. Unable to hold yourselves up any longer, you collapsed back into the couch. “Thank you,” he said, kissing the underside of your chin. 

For a moment, you laid there in each other’s arms, heavy breaths subsiding into steady ones. “D-Do you think next time you go to visit his grave, I could come with you?” 

You nodded, removing yourself from him and coming to rest at his side. 

“I feel like it’s something I’ve been putting off, but I don’t want to anymore. He’s a part of you and a part of us.”

[eriace]

second time’s the charm ; shin asakura

oneshot & fluff ↪ in which shin gets a second chance with y/n after a messy breakup—and this time, he’s determined not to read her mind, but actually listen to her heart. ↷ shin asakura ; sakamoto days

↳ an order of peppermint mocha from @myshinspiration in the comeback cafe event !

IT STARTED WITH a stupid mission at the worst possible time.

Shin Asakura hadn’t expected to run into her again—definitely not in the middle of a hostage situation at a ramen shop, where she kicked down the door and shouted something about "if any of you idiots scratch my new manicure, I will end you."

There she was, Y/n. The girl he broke up with six months ago because, quote, “I can’t keep hearing your thoughts when you’re trying so hard to hide them.”

Shin knew it sounded dumb now. In his defense, emotions were confusing, and he'd panicked.

He ducked as a chair flew past his head, narrowly missing a goon and slamming into the wall.

“You’re late!” he shouted, popping up from behind a table.

“I didn’t know I was invited, sweetheart!” she shot back, elbowing a thug in the ribs with practiced ease.

Despite the chaos, despite the sweat dripping down his temple, Shin felt something tug sharply in his chest. It wasn't just nostalgia. It was regret and maybe, a bit of hope.

After the brawl (and a very messy mop-up), they found themselves seated outside the ramen shop, backs against the wall, legs stretched out, panting under the neon signs.

Shin stole a glance. She looked... the same. A little more tired maybe, a little sharper around the eyes. But she still smiled like she meant it.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I didn’t think I’d punch a guy using a ladle as a weapon today, but here we are.”

Shin laughed. She didn’t.

“I missed you.” He said it too fast. Too quiet.

She blinked. Then looked away. “Took you long enough.”

“I was an idiot.”

“You still are.”

“But like... a reformed idiot?”

That got a snort out of her.

“Why now?” she asked, softer.

Shin picked at the hem of his sleeve, teeth sinking into his lip.

“Because even after all this time, I still hear your voice in my head.”

“Because of your powers?”

He met her eyes.

“No. Just... because it’s you.”

It didn’t magically fix things overnight. No miraculous romantic kiss under the stars (they were too busy dodging bullets). But it did start something.

Like the time Shin showed up at her apartment with a box of apology donuts and accidentally tripped over her cat.

“Your cat’s trying to kill me.”

“Maybe she learned from the best.”

Or the time she pretended to ignore him on a mission and he fake-cried into a bag of shrimp chips until she caved.

Or when she tried teaching him how to make omurice, and he ended up scrambling eggs so violently they stuck to the ceiling.

“Shin! I said fold the egg, not launch it into orbit!”

He grinned at her, apron smudged and hair a mess.

“I’m just adding height to the presentation.”

“You’re adding trauma to my kitchen.”

Still, her smile lingered.

They were messy. Chaotic. Loud. But it was working.

And maybe this time, Shin didn’t need to read her mind to know she loved him. He could see it—in the way she bandaged his knuckles without scolding him, in the way she saved the last bite of dessert, in the way she whispered his name when she thought he was asleep.

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[imatter2iexist]

@oripoke @bo-beanies I have so many photos and documents.. Ive been telling the truth. But instead of being supportive, you subjected me to neglect, abuse, and torment. The TLDR is that you knowingly, and willingly, abused and controlled a mentally ill person; a close friend of years you *knew* was autistic and wouldnt understand; you stole my assets and safety, traumatized me, then threw me on the streets to die, alone. I was i just this object for you to use, abuse, and then leave for dead on the streets when you were done using me? Like i was garbage? In the beginning, there were days I literally could never put my phone down because I was 24.7 comforting bean. Id have to hide and be quiet in the bottom room, just to talk to Rory on the phone for a few minutes, or bean would get would get wildly upset if they saw. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed, and i was terrified. Id do everything you asked even when you hurt me for it. And yet, when i freak about the extreme trauma you cause me, doubled with my brothers abuse- when i had panic attacks from your abuse, you stole everything and left me for dead. Id have stayed by your side for months until you felt better, and you knew that, but either of you talking to me for 2 minutes was too much effort, no matter how badly i needed it... as much as i communicated this, you just ignored it

I was always there for both of you, even when it radically hurt me. I tried so hard to keep bean happy, for MONTHS, but when it was my turn to need help i was abandoned, hated, tossed away like I was nothing, and mocked for the illness i cant control. "Its your fault for being poor, its your fault for being sick" is what you said to me. Of course i snapped. You have no idea how much pain you put me in, to be starving, to be on the street with an infection, to lose my cat. Everything just got worse. My disorder is not something i can control. After 7 months of hell i was still not a person to you i was just an object or a toy for you to use. Why talk to this thing now, why bother? I was just a pet for you two to keep and torment until you were bored of my messages

The pain was too immense for me to handle, each month it just got worse. It hurt so badly. I cant describe it and i wouldnt wish it on even the most evil soul. It's agony. No human deserves what i had to go through- nobody.  Hard drugs couldnt even make it better. It was both mental and physical hell. Do you know how painful my med increases were, too, but i still did them because thats what you told me to do? I STILL listened and trusted you because i cared. I got therapy, too. And you still treated me like dirt, and im the one that has to pay for it in the hospital, in debt, in isolation and immense pain. Im the one that has to pay for all the suffering that you caused. Then you parade my dead name around, and accuse me of things I did not do. I did horrible things, im not saying i didnt. But you cant admit what you've done at *all*

I did everything you both asked of me even when it was hard, contradicting and confusing. Id never asked either of you for ANYTHING. Not ever. All I asked for was to talk, to help me with this stupid fucking disorder, but after everything I went through and how hard I tried and everything i suffered. Instead of being there, instead of responding to the only thing ive *ever* needed from either of you, you radically hurt me, then left me to die. TWICE

You may not believe this, but i don't. Want. To. Be. Like. This. I didnt choose to have this disorder, i dont choose the attacks that happen, and when i attempt suicide its *NOT* for attention like you scream. You put intentions in my mouth so often; it has nothing to do with your stupid blogs. Its to make. The pain. Stop. Its so immense, the only thing that goes in my head is "stop, make it stop, please make it stop" and i try and escape from my body to make the suffering end. There's no other way to escape your own mind but to die. And drugs, which I've gotten even further sick for abusing, but nothing else fucking helps

You all act like its a choice i made, and that's what you abandoned me for. I cant control my panic attacks. I dont control the disorder i got from my brothers abuse. i dont *WANT* to talk to any of you ever again or even think about you ever again. But that's the thing about mental illness, its crazy because it is, and when I said it wont fucking let me.... i mean IT WONT FUCKING LET ME. Could you ask a schizophrenic person to stop seeing demons?? "Like hey dude,  just stop seeing them. Have you tried just stopping?" I know pea had fun mocking me, and you all had a good laugh, "lmaooo you couldn't even not do it for a single day"- i didnt choose to be like this. I have the meds and I have the therapy. I did what you wanted but you just hurt me again. And again. How cruel is it that bean has panic attacks on the daily and gets comforted for it, and you all did this to me for my very first one. Rory told me he loved me more than hes ever loved anyone, he told me i could always talk to him if i was hurting, he told me it was okay, he reassured me he was there for me and that it was completely okay.Rory, you told me it was okay. You did. Then you disappeared without even saying goodbye. After 7 months of confusion, not understanding whats going on or whats even happening to me, or where ill sleep the next day. Constantly hurt and abused and hungry and infected, mourning everything i lost. You can never give me back my cat, or the opportunities i lost, my trans health care, my savings. You cant undo the immense pain I've felt and you cant reverse the trauma you've caused

Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

And I *still* kept trying. I *still* am. BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO DO. My meds are at 220mg and excruciating, therapy is so incredibly confusing, but im still doing it even if i desperately dont want to. But you two can torture me, because you didnt want to talk to me for a few minutes, and explain what I didnt understand. Instead you left me in the dark. While you were both going to *another* con just moments later, and sleeping comfortably, and going to parties and weddings; i was still in the hospital, in incredible pain, for an incredibly long time, from events you directly caused. Do you understand the mental toll that does to a person? I went to hospital to hospital, reaching out, just more and more confused, just more and more hurt.

While im going through all this, as if im not a real human being behind your computer; besides peas ranting the only things i recieved are "man my notifications" "man this sucks" "Yeah I hate it" like im an "it" a toy or a thing. Parading my dead name is a close contender, but its the amount of lies that hurt me the most. I did not ever have any kind of conversation with Rory OR Bean, I did not fake being in a coma for 2 weeks, I was very much fucking out. I've been telling the truth, even when its hard. Why cant you? Im not afraid to tell the truth.Communication and honesty are human things. My attempts have been very real and very painful, I made myself take pictures and I have the fucking discharge papers from every single one, because I've been telling the truth and can PROVE IT. I did so much I didnt want to do. I went through so much I didnt want to. You broke my boundaries and abused me, i gave up so much of myself and my safety and my life for you, and it was okay. But im now the criminal, your boundaries > my life. Your notifications>my human life.

Nobody's reading this, nobody gives a fuck, im never going to hear anything other then "maaaan this is so shitty, we destroyed his life and his mental and his job and his healthcare and we almost killed him with our neglect....but maaan hes really clogging up my notifications and that makes him the most evil, horrible, awful and disgusting person in the world. Let him die so I can get some quiet." And "Urgh omg I cant believe i have to post this". That's all it ever is. That's all its ever going to be. You hide behind an interent wall, pretending not to see the abuse you did to my body, my person, and my life

It's time to PONDER, fellas...

[florenceisfalling]

its ok the situation is long behind me and i have never experienced a bad feeling about it ever 👍 (lying)

[patrickztump]

I’m a bit late for the character ask game, but let’s have 12 and 26 for Arthur! =)

oh thank you thank you thank you for the numbers, catty <33333

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character? this one can probably be easily dismissed/debunked but it's something i thought about once. (and slight spoilers ahead if you haven't played the game)

in the beginning the gang is on the run from a horribly botched robbery. things went bad, lives were lost and it's shaken them but not destroyed them (....entirely). my personal theory (and it may not be my own, but i haven't looked to see if others share it) is that arthur suffered brain damage during that job and is slowly recovering from it. being an outlaw in his mid 30s, he should have known the basics for surviving off the land but instead he has to be taught how to track and skin game, spends time throughout the game discovering/learning about even the most common animals. he also relies on pamphlets for crafting tonics, weapons, etc., which in most cases is understandable. but some i would, again, assume he should have known how to create after spending two-thirds of his life on the run and in dangerous situations.

now of course my brother completely dismissed this, "it's to give the player more stuff to do," which yes, true. but also i think it could possibly explain a few minor details here and there. i cut some slack and, for example, don't think the mission where arthur learns how to use a bow is the result of any head trauma. he just strikes me as a firearm man; quick, easy, and less patience.

another one, that's not my own but one i have come to agree with and adopted into my viewpoint, is that he's more of a mare owner than stallion. his praising for female horses are softer and more affectionate. there's still love for the males but it's more firm, like he's talking to another guy in some ways.

26. What's something the character has done you can't get over? Be it something funny, bad, good, serious, whatever? bad. it's bad. you have generally speaking pretty good control over how he interacts with people and situations, can make good or bad decisions. but in the debt collection missions he can be needlessly cruel - and a certain one, it doesn't matter how you play it, he's a flat out ass. that one is hard for me to get through on a few levels, and he pays for how he handled the situation but that doesn't make it any better.

[imatter2iexist]

@oripoke @bo-beanies I have so many photos and documents.. Ive been telling the truth. But instead of being supportive, you subjected me to neglect, abuse, and torment. The TLDR is that you knowingly, and willingly, abused and controlled a mentally ill person; a close friend of years you *knew* was autistic and wouldnt understand; you stole my assets and safety, traumatized me, then threw me on the streets to die, alone. I was i just this object for you to use, abuse, and then leave for dead on the streets when you were done using me? Like i was garbage? In the beginning, there were days I literally could never put my phone down because I was 24.7 comforting bean. Id have to hide and be quiet in the bottom room, just to talk to Rory on the phone for a few minutes, or bean would get would get wildly upset if they saw. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed, and i was terrified. Id do everything you asked even when you hurt me for it. And yet, when i freak about the extreme trauma you cause me, doubled with my brothers abuse- when i had panic attacks from your abuse, you stole everything and left me for dead. Id have stayed by your side for months until you felt better, and you knew that, but either of you talking to me for 2 minutes was too much effort, no matter how badly i needed it... as much as i communicated this, you just ignored it

I was always there for both of you, even when it radically hurt me. I tried so hard to keep bean happy, for MONTHS, but when it was my turn to need help i was abandoned, hated, tossed away like I was nothing, and mocked for the illness i cant control. "Its your fault for being poor, its your fault for being sick" is what you said to me. Of course i snapped. You have no idea how much pain you put me in, to be starving, to be on the street with an infection, to lose my cat. Everything just got worse. My disorder is not something i can control. After 7 months of hell i was still not a person to you i was just an object or a toy for you to use. Why talk to this thing now, why bother? I was just a pet for you two to keep and torment until you were bored of my messages

The pain was too immense for me to handle, each month it just got worse. It hurt so badly. I cant describe it and i wouldnt wish it on even the most evil soul. It's agony. No human deserves what i had to go through- nobody.  Hard drugs couldnt even make it better. It was both mental and physical hell. Do you know how painful my med increases were, too, but i still did them because thats what you told me to do? I STILL listened and trusted you because i cared. I got therapy, too. And you still treated me like dirt, and im the one that has to pay for it in the hospital, in debt, in isolation and immense pain. Im the one that has to pay for all the suffering that you caused. Then you parade my dead name around, and accuse me of things I did not do. I did horrible things, im not saying i didnt. But you cant admit what you've done at *all*

I did everything you both asked of me even when it was hard, contradicting and confusing. Id never asked either of you for ANYTHING. Not ever. All I asked for was to talk, to help me with this stupid fucking disorder, but after everything I went through and how hard I tried and everything i suffered. Instead of being there, instead of responding to the only thing ive *ever* needed from either of you, you radically hurt me, then left me to die. TWICE

You may not believe this, but i don't. Want. To. Be. Like. This. I didnt choose to have this disorder, i dont choose the attacks that happen, and when i attempt suicide its *NOT* for attention like you scream. You put intentions in my mouth so often; it has nothing to do with your stupid blogs. Its to make. The pain. Stop. Its so immense, the only thing that goes in my head is "stop, make it stop, please make it stop" and i try and escape from my body to make the suffering end. There's no other way to escape your own mind but to die. And drugs, which I've gotten even further sick for abusing, but nothing else fucking helps

You all act like its a choice i made, and that's what you abandoned me for. I cant control my panic attacks. I dont control the disorder i got from my brothers abuse. i dont *WANT* to talk to any of you ever again or even think about you ever again. But that's the thing about mental illness, its crazy because it is, and when I said it wont fucking let me.... i mean IT WONT FUCKING LET ME. Could you ask a schizophrenic person to stop seeing demons?? "Like hey dude,  just stop seeing them. Have you tried just stopping?" I know pea had fun mocking me, and you all had a good laugh, "lmaooo you couldn't even not do it for a single day"- i didnt choose to be like this. I have the meds and I have the therapy. I did what you wanted but you just hurt me again. And again. How cruel is it that bean has panic attacks on the daily and gets comforted for it, and you all did this to me for my very first one. Rory told me he loved me more than hes ever loved anyone, he told me i could always talk to him if i was hurting, he told me it was okay, he reassured me he was there for me and that it was completely okay.Rory, you told me it was okay. You did. Then you disappeared without even saying goodbye. After 7 months of confusion, not understanding whats going on or whats even happening to me, or where ill sleep the next day. Constantly hurt and abused and hungry and infected, mourning everything i lost. You can never give me back my cat, or the opportunities i lost, my trans health care, my savings. You cant undo the immense pain I've felt and you cant reverse the trauma you've caused

Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

And I *still* kept trying. I *still* am. BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO DO. My meds are at 220mg and excruciating, therapy is so incredibly confusing, but im still doing it even if i desperately dont want to. But you two can torture me, because you didnt want to talk to me for a few minutes, and explain what I didnt understand. Instead you left me in the dark. While you were both going to *another* con just moments later, and sleeping comfortably, and going to parties and weddings; i was still in the hospital, in incredible pain, for an incredibly long time, from events you directly caused. Do you understand the mental toll that does to a person? I went to hospital to hospital, reaching out, just more and more confused, just more and more hurt.

While im going through all this, as if im not a real human being behind your computer; besides peas ranting the only things i recieved are "man my notifications" "man this sucks" "Yeah I hate it" like im an "it" a toy or a thing. Parading my dead name is a close contender, but its the amount of lies that hurt me the most. I did not ever have any kind of conversation with Rory OR Bean, I did not fake being in a coma for 2 weeks, I was very much fucking out. I've been telling the truth, even when its hard. Why cant you? Im not afraid to tell the truth.Communication and honesty are human things. My attempts have been very real and very painful, I made myself take pictures and I have the fucking discharge papers from every single one, because I've been telling the truth and can PROVE IT. I did so much I didnt want to do. I went through so much I didnt want to. You broke my boundaries and abused me, i gave up so much of myself and my safety and my life for you, and it was okay. But im now the criminal, your boundaries > my life. Your notifications>my human life.

Nobody's reading this, nobody gives a fuck, im never going to hear anything other then "maaaan this is so shitty, we destroyed his life and his mental and his job and his healthcare and we almost killed him with our neglect....but maaan hes really clogging up my notifications and that makes him the most evil, horrible, awful and disgusting person in the world. Let him die so I can get some quiet." And "Urgh omg I cant believe i have to post this". That's all it ever is. That's all its ever going to be. You hide behind an interent wall, pretending not to see the abuse you did to my body, my person, and my life

Sambar Deer (Rusa unicolor) and Rufous Treepie (Dendrocitta Vagabunda) - Sariska National Park, India 

Photographed by Naveen Kumar Singh‎

[tojisbbg]

gang baby

❝she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit!❞

♡ sylus, caleb, rafayel, zayne, xavier ♡

sypnosis: you're just a girl. yeah, you can't decide between five hot LI's presented to you in the popular otome game, love and deepspace, but that's okay. who said you can't have them all? literally.

wc: 11k (lots of smut beware)

a/n: valentines day special!! guys, don't question it, ok? i wrote this with my whole pussy. ok bai. (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: all lads LI's x fem!reader (yes, you read right), gangbang, slight plot, reader gets transported in lads universe, smut (no details, find out hehe), all acts are consensual, not edited. disclaimer: not based off tomorrow's catch-22!!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"fuck!" you yelled out in frustration, chucking your phone off your bed as the poor device fell on the floor with a loud thud. you could hear your best friend giggling from your laptop, making you shoot her a sharp glare.

"shut up." you sneer, but it only fueled her laughter more.

"damn, infold really hates you, bro." she pokes further at your miserable failure, making your shoulders slump in defeat as you grumble.

"i can't believe it. i've been grinding for two months straight to save up fifteen thousand diamonds for the valentines day banner! i was sure i'd pull them all, and you're telling me i only got two out of the five?? this is a fucking joke." you ranted, making your friend hum as she understood your anger.

"yeah, i'd be mad as hell too. but hey, at least you got sylus and caleb. just watch the rest on twitter or something." your best friend tried to comfort you, but it only made you pout.

"but i want them all." you sulked, making her roll her eyes.

"you're such a whore." she sighed, making you grin.

"duh, why choose one when i can have them all." you nonchalantly responded.

"yeah, yeah, forgot you had no shame." she shook her head in disbelief.

"man, i don't know what else to do. i literally milked the game dry, there's no other way i can get more diamonds for more pulls before the event ends. this is so unfair." you whined, fingers tangled in your hair.

"you can always-"

"no. i'm not giving those greedy hoes my money." you cut off her suggestion, your tone stern.

you were a poor college student who worked part-time at a stationery supply store (living the aesthetic life while crying over classes and fictional men); money's tight, and you're not about to spend hundreds on this because you know it'd become a horrible habit sooner or later.

despite being broke, your spending habits were outrageous.

"yeah girl, then i don't know what to tell ya. i'm chilling with my rafayel card. oh shit, it's almost three in the morning, bitch. we have class tomorrow, go to sleep." she yawned tiredly.

"you're leaving me just like that? after i went through so much pain and trauma? is this how deep our ten years of friendship runs? just say you hate me and want me to die a slow painful death." you dramatically rambled, making your best friend rub her temple in faux annoyance as she groaned at your stupidity.

"when i see you tomorrow, i'm gonna slap you. goodnight, hoe." with that, she hung up.

you closed the lid of your laptop and placed it on charge, stretching before standing up to go pick up your phone. you noticed the small cracks on your screen as you walked back to your bed.

you unlocked your phone, noticing how the lads server kicked you out. you exited the app, clicking on it again as you were met with caleb's face.

so l-long for longe-ge-... before fa-fa...dust

so long for-for-.... fading-fa..-dus..

so-so...lo...ng-..fading...

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the app glitch horribly, the audio was choppy and produced crackling noises. the graphics were disoriented and there was a pop-up notification saying you needed to upgrade your memory.

you could feel your irritation rise once again, getting tired of this shit as you decided to deal with it tomorrow or something. however, every time you tried to exit the app, it wouldn't let you.

your phone literally froze.

"great. just fucking great." you sarcastically murmured.

not only did you not get the limited cards you wanted, you were broke (in the real world and in lads), you're screwed for your morning classes and your phone is currently on its last breath.

also, you were hungry as fuck right now, craving for some five guys.

"fuck this." you sighed in defeat, settling your phone next to you before laying down to sleep. you figured that eventually your phone would turn off once the battery died, so until then you just turned to the other side and ignored the device.

soon enough, fatigue took over your body as you were slipping away into a deep slumber.

unaware, your phone screen turned off momentarily, before flickering on once again as the screen crackled and glitched before stopping.

data retrieval complete, memory upgrade...

successful.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred in your sleep, eyebrows pinched together as you felt a cold breeze run across the bare skin of your thighs and arms.

nonetheless, you don't remember leaving your window open, it was the middle of february. you groaned, eyes still shut tight as your hand reached down, trying to locate your blanket.

"comfortable, sweetie?" you heard an oddly familiar, deep voice suddenly speak.

did someone break into your house? and why the hell did your mattress feel so hard and cold?

your eyes shot open, adjusting your blurry vision as you realized you were not in your bedroom. you were laying on the cold, dirt ground and it made you panic.

you helplessly sat up and noticed the long pair of legs in front of your body, making you look up as you saw the towering figure of a man. the night sky was dark, making it hard for you to make out his face.

"who are you? and what the hell am i doing out here?" you asked, but your voice barely came out as a whisper.

a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, before he bent down to come eye-level with you. as soon as you met the bright, ruby red orbs of his foxy eyes; your jaw dropped in horror.

no. fucking. way.

"shouldn't i be the one asking you those questions, sweetie?" sylus smirked, head tilting as he keenly watched your facial expressions.

"you're not real. i'm dreaming, yeah, just a dream that feels too real." you blurt out, a breathy laugh scratching your dry throat, trying to calm yourself from freaking out as your heart leaped to your chest when he directly looked at you.

"a dream, you say? hmph, you're a strange one." he shook his head before grabbing your wrist, bringing your palm to his lips. the warmth of his rough hands, which were definitely double the size of yours, made you shiver due to the contrast of your cold ones. he bit the side of your palm before gently sucking on it, making you jolt from the sudden sensation.

sylus watched you with pure amusement glinting in his eyes.

"you're like a scared little kitten, so expressive." sylus commented, making you swallow harshly.

well, this definitely was not a dream, thanks to sylus's help for that confirmation.

but the question was.... how the hell did you end up here?

suddenly, there was rustling in the distance, making his eyes twitch as he became alert. sylus slightly shifted closer to you, now scanning the area for the intruder.

"miss bodyguard?" with a dramatic gasp, you heard rushed footsteps approach you. it was hard to miss the hues of indigo, pinks and blues in his eyes along with the striking dusky purple hair that was a little more visible thanks to the moonlight.

"r...rafayel?" it felt odd saying his name out loud, it almost made you feel a little schizophrenic.

just a bit.

"duh, who else would it be? what are you doing here in the N-109 zone at this hour. also, the hell are you wearing? so not creative or fashionable." rafayel questioned, of course, not forgetting to throw in his snarky little insults along with it.

"what's wrong with what i'm wearing?" you glared at him.

"it's the middle of february and you're dressed like it's a hundred degrees outside." the lemurian smirked down at you.

you cursed at yourself for going to bed in shorts and a thin shirt. well, to be fair, it's a cute snoopy set. also, who in the hell could've predicted this to happen!?

"she wanted to have a little sleepover with the wanderers that lurk around here." the dragon teased, making your face heat up.

"i did not." you mumbled under your breath.

"uh-huh, you're not really in the position to defend that claim." rafayel egged further.

"whatever, what are you doing here? you usually don't go out of your way to come to the N-109 zone." you tried to change the subject, remembering from his anecdotes that he usually has third party people as his "networks" to gain intel.

"just some business you shouldn't sweat your pretty little head over, cutie. but, you know, we should really talk about what your business is with the leader of onychinus." he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between you and sylus.

"it's nothing, uh, i don't even know him." you chuckled nervously, making sylus look at you with a sharp look.

"is that so, kitten? you wound me. and here i thought we had something more than just... acquaintances. i guess those nights of naughty touches, kisses and naked glances mean nothing to you, right?" sylus shamelessly bullet-pointed, his tone dropping an octave lower as your cheeks grew warm.

on the other hand, rafayel's eyes widened at the revelation.

"you fucked the leader of onychinus?! woah, woah, woah, pause. what about everything that happened between us?? we had sex in my bathtub, the hotel and don't forget-" he was flabbergasted, only to be cut off by sylus.

"you were messing around with this half-baked fish, sweetie? i'm disappointed in your taste. if you planned on two-timing, you could've selected a better opponent for me. this is just... offensive." he snarked, his red eyes beaming with irritation as he looked at rafayel, who's face grew dark from his brash words.

"what did you say to me, you fucking crow? half-baked fish? i'm the god of tides, a majestic lemurian. you dare to speak to me like that?" rafayel's voice became husky, languid footsteps towards the other man.

"h-hey, hey, let's all calm down. there's a very logical and reasonable explanation, i swear." you tried to mediate between them, but it didn't seem like they planned on giving a flying shit about what you had to say any time soon.

"y/n? there you are. i've been blowin' up your phone for hours. thought a wanderer got to you and i got worried about how i'd pay the rent by myself." xavier walked from the shadows, his words laced with a gentle joke as he approached you and the other two men.

holy fuck, this was not good.

"and who are you guys?" the ash-blonde male asked, eyes narrowing before looking down at you.

"xavier." you meeked, not even knowing what to say anymore.

"why are you seeing other guys, y/n? am i not enough? you know i don't like it when you hide things from me. i thought you learned your lesson after i punished you for choosing lumiere over me." xavier now towered over you, his voice laced with envy as you gulped.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

"xavier, i promise i can explain. this is all just a-" you tried to somehow pull an excuse out of your ass, but your brain was fogging up.

"pipsqueak?"

"y/n? what an odd place to be at during such an odd hour, you left your patient copy in my office."

two other figures emerged from the sides, making your eyes close in disbelief, wishing that you could somehow disappear from the face of earth right now.

why the fuck are they all here.

at the same time.

"you've got to be kidding me." you covered your face with the palm of your hands.

"caleb? i thought you were dead." zayne spoke in a monotone, glancing at his childhood friend.

"wow, i missed you too, zayne." caleb rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his words. however, the small spark of tension barely lasted before caleb looked back at you.

"care to explain why you're in such a dangerous zone at this time? you know you can't hide from me, pipsqueak. what connections do you have here? who are you seeing? was locking you up in the attic not enough for you?" caleb lectured, his voice gruff before zayne decided to add on to the fire.

"you're utterly reckless, your heart condition isn't getting any better." zayned pushed the frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

all five on them now circled you, bickering and arguing with each other along with bombarding you with questions. you balled your fists in annoyance and frustration.

"shut up! oh my fucking god, i don't know, okay?! i don't know how i ended up here, so stop asking me. fuckin' hell, i can't even get a moment to breathe or think because all of you little shits won't shut up for a second!" you snapped as you stood up, making all of them look at you with surprised eyes.

you gulped, feeling a little cornered as you have five insanely tall, broad and buff men look down at you; like helpless prey.

caleb was the first person to break the momentary silence, grabbing your arm to pull you towards him.

"let's go home, pipsqueak. i'll cook your favorite tonight since it's valentines day." he smiled, only for your other arm to be tugged backwards as you yelped.

"home? her home is with me, we're roommates. i think you got the wrong person." xavier calmly replied, but his words were laced with venom.

"she's going nowhere with either of you. she's my bodyguard and i need her to come back with me to my studio. y'know, in case some scary wanderers are lurkin' around." rafayel pushed xavier to the side, intertwining his fingers with yours before giving you a charming smile as he attempted to walk off; only to bump into someone.

"i don't think so. she's been out here for so long, i might need to give her an exam to make sure she's okay." zayne cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you felt like you were the rope being tugged in tug-of-war. sylus deeply sighed at the situation and before you knew it; in one smooth swoop you were now in the strong arms of the leader of onychinus.

"what fools. she's in the N-109 zone for a reason. for me, of course. come on, sweetie, you must be freezing. let's go inside." sylus look down at you with a gentle smile playing on his lips.

you groaned, squirming out of his hold as sylus let you, watching you get back on your feet.

"this is ridiculous! you all are acting like a bunch of kids, fighting over me like i'm some kind of toy. none of you own me!" you stood your ground.

"fine, then why don't you choose?" sylus scoffed, crossing his arms. you grew quiet, looking at each of them before averting your gaze to the ground.

"i... i can't." you whispered.

"you can't? or you don't want to?" xavier snickered.

"you're the one who's been toying with us. we deserve an explanation, no?" rafayel grinned.

"explanations are too time-consuming, actions speak louder than words. so, how are you gonna fix it, y/n?" hazel eyes peered at you with intensity through the glass lenses.

oh, you're so fucked.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

everything happened so fast, you didn't know who swiped your panties off or unclasped your bra.

you felt betrayed at how they evilly plotted against you, telepathically agreeing to punish you for your unfaithfulness. what happened to hating each other? so, here you were now, splayed on the soft mattress in sylus's room; like art on a display.

they drank in the sight of you, perky tits spilled out as the smooth glaze of your skin glimmered under the dim lighting of the room. their eyes were full of hunger, eye-fucking you as you grew shy under their intense gazes.

"s-stop staring at me like that." you whined, looking away as your face reddened at the attention.

you felt someone stroking your thighs, making you shudder as you looked in front of you, seeing caleb gripping the supple fat of your plush thighs.

"never knew you were such a dirty little slut, princess. all these years of knowing you... and to think you were capable of this? how naughty." caleb smirked, prying your thighs open as you gasped.

but, your lips would soon be sealed with zaynes as he kissed you roughly. his pillow-soft lips molded with yours, the smacking sound of saliva filled the room. a big, veiny hand came up to cup your cheek gently as he slid his tongue inside your mouth, licking the wet muscle before sucking it.

caleb used his thumb to spread your soaked folds apart, watching the lewd string of your arousal connect them both. your clit was puffy from being neglected, a sheen of wetness covering your cunt; making his mouth salivate. he leaned down, mouth hovering above your pussy.

"fuckin' beautiful." caleb swore under his breath, the warm air fanning above your aching cunt, giving you goosebumps. you moaned into zayne's mouth, feeling caleb's warm and wet tongue lick a fat stripe up your cunt.

"hope you didn't forget about us, cutie." rafayel pouted, licking at your nipple before wrapping his lips on the swollen pebble. sylus soon followed his footsteps, greedily kneading at your other tit before leaning down and pressing open-mouthed kisses on the soft mound.

meanwhile, xavier's lips were buried in your neck as he punished you with licks and bites on the expanse of your unmarked flesh.

"ngh~ xavier!" you whimpered against zayne's lips, the doctor now nibbling on your bottom lip.

he licked the side of your neck before softly clamping his teeth down, suckling and leaving a purplish bruise. as a soothing apology, xavier kitten-licked the fresh mark before moving down to your collarbone with wet kisses.

caleb continued to lap at your wet cunt, his saliva mixed with your juices dripped down his chin. the tip of his tongue circled your clit before suckling on it, making your legs tremble as a moan ripped out of your throat as you tried to close your legs.

"f-fuck.. hnghh.." you cried out, feeling him plant his palms on your inner thighs, forcing you to keep them open. caleb peered up at you from between your thighs, amethyst eyes glaring at you as his lips were glossy.

"don't interrupt me when i'm eating." he huskily spoke before slapping your dripping pussy, producing a wet 'pap!' noise. you yelped because of your increased sensitivity, not having enough time to recover before he dove back in.

with one last wet smooch, zayne released your lips before crawling down right next to his childhood friend. they exchanged a quick look, a mischievous smirk dancing on the colonel's lips.

"oh? was my tongue not enough for you, princess?" he lowly spoke, pinching your inner thigh as you bit your bottom lips.

"ahh... need z-zayne to help... please?" you begged, making him scoff. zayne couldn't help but grin with pride, your words stroking his ego a little.

"you heard her, move." zayne pushed caleb a little to squeeze himself between your legs, taking off his glasses before throwing them to the side. caleb, utterly betrayed, seethed with jealousy.

"so that's how you wanna play? fine." caleb accepted it as a challenge, but of course, he won't let neither of you get the last word.

zayne ignored his little childish outburst, digging in as his scarred hands rested on your lower stomach before his fingers stroked the expanse of it, gently moving to the side to hold your hips; caressing your smooth skin while tracing the faint stretch marks decorating it.

your puffy clit peaked out of your wet slit, making zayne lean down to press a wet smooch on it. you shuddered, mouth gaping open as your breathing quickened. zayne dragged his tongue up your sopping folds slow and languidly, the tip of his tongue digging into your wet pussy. the difference in how zayne and caleb ate you out was clear. caleb liked to eat your honeyed cunt like a starved dog, as if it was his last meal; unlike zayne, who liked to take his time and savor the taste of your sweet cunt.

"mhmmm.... zaynee~" you slurred his name, drunk in pleasure as he took his time to lap at your pussy, suckling and nibbling on your clit. amethyst eyes bore into the back of zayne's head, fuming with anger and envy.

caleb's fingers dug into your thighs, making you wince in pain but soon it deliciously simmered into the pleasure you were getting from zayne's tongue. the colonel snickered, watching how slick your pussy was from saliva and your juices, deciding to toy with you as revenge.

you felt the pads of caleb's middle and ring finger brush against your hole, probing the tight opening. you groan, feeling him push in both fingers at once.

"c-caleb!" you stuttered out, feeling him scissor his fingers in and out of your tight hole; the thickness and length of his digits rubbing you in all the right places.

suddenly, xavier roughly grabbed your jaw, squishing your chubby cheeks in his hands; forcing you to look at him. the expression on his face was dark, eyes clouded with lust and possessiveness.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself, dirty girl. you like having four other guys touch you, hm? this mouth is fucking filthy, maybe i should clean it, yeah?" he smirked, blue eyes sharply peering down at you.

"x-xav.." you were cut off by his grip tightening just a little more, making you wince.

"shhh... not another word, my dumb little girl. now i just wanna hear you gagging on my cock, 'kay?" xavier unbuckled his belt before unzipping his pants. he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, making his hard cock spring against his abs, your eyes widening at the sight.

his dick didn't have a lot of girth, but fuck it was long. xavier tapped the blush pink tip of his leaky cock on your lips, spreading his precum all over them like it was your own personal gloss. his thumb rested on your chin before pulling it down, forcing your mouth to open as he slid his cock in; the ash-blonde male let out a shaky sigh.

both sylus and rafayel continued to paw at your tits, biting and sucking on your nipples. with a lewd 'pop!', they released your swollen bud, eyeing their shared masterpiece as your tits were littered with hickies and trails of saliva.

"why don't you return the favor, sweetie? these cute little hands of yours seem empty." sylus gives you a toothy grin, bringing your hand to the tent forming on his pants, making you palm him through them. a deep groan escaped his lips as your hand stroked him through the rough fabric of his leather pants.

rafayel now sat on his knees by your other side, grabbing your wrist before bringing it up to his lips. he kissed the soft, warm flesh of your wrist; inhaling the scent of your skin as he let out a moan.

"you smell so fucking good. god, it's driving me insane." he breathed out, licking your pulse point before gently biting down on it. rafayel continued to sniff and kiss your wrist, using his other free hand to undo his pants and pull his aching cock out; stroking it as it throbbed in his palms. he teased his slit, spreading the sticky precum all over the tip.

your eager hands fumbled with sylus's belt as you tried to undo it, a little difficult because your mouth was still full of xavier's cock and forced you to maintain eye contact with him; as if looking at anyone else in this room would make his existence perish. but, sylus decided to be kind enough and help you because who is he to deny you?

you dug your hand inside his boxers, eyes widening as you realized that you couldn't even fully grasp his dick. he was fucking hung, thick and long, not lacking in any area. a guttural moan escaped his lips, feeling your soft fingers caressing his balls.

you took out his cock from the confinement of his boxers, stroking the shaft of it as your fingers teased the throbbing vein that ran on the underside curve of his dick. sylus threw his head back in pleasure, a soft whimper heard as his chest heaved.

"feels so fuckin' good, sweetie." he praised, your hand still lazily moving up and down his thick meat.

you felt the tip of zayne's nose nudging your clit, providing more stimulation as he continued his assault on your sopping wet cunt; his tongue flicking at a leisurely pace between your folds. caleb matched the rhythm of zayne's tongue, finger-fucking you with deep and hard strokes.

your moans were muffled by xavier's cock as he drove his hips into your mouth; your cheeks hollowing as you tried to not graze the skin of his dick with your teeth. you could hear the soft grunts and whimpers falling from his lips, eyes closed in bliss as he still had your cheeks firmly squished between his fingers.

"fuck yeah... you were made for this, takin' my cock so well." xavier breathed out, slender fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head closer.

you could feel the pressure of zaynes tongue slurping your clit along with caleb's fingers abusing your cervix collide. the familiar knot began to settle in your lower stomach, making your thighs tremble as your eyes screwed shut, toes curling in pleasure.

caleb could feel your walls contracting, you were definitely close and as much as he would love to see you cream all over his fingers; you've been cruelly unfair to him.

xavier lazily opened his eyes, cerulean orbs looking down at you half-lidded. he scoffed, watching your face flush as saliva trickled down the corner of your mouth. you opened your eyes briefly, he watched as they rolled back from the pleasure you were recieving from your childhood friends.

he pulled his cock out of your mouth, glaring down at you.

"nghhh~ p-please..!" you mumbled against his tip, crying out in pleasure as you tried to kick your leg forward to get away from the two men ravaging your pussy. however, both caleb and zayne pinned your legs down.

"focus on me." xavier scowled, and in one swift and hard thrust, his cock slid down your throat as far as you could take him. your eyes blew wide open, as you gagged on his dick. he was being nice earlier, but now you really pissed him off.

you had the nerve to think about those two when he was being kind enough to rinse that dirty mouth of yours with his cock?

"fuckin' ungrateful brat, ignoring me when i'm stuffing this filthy mouth full of my dick." he panted, fucking your face as tears streamed down your face and drool dripped down your chin.

zayne and caleb continued their combined attack, making you scream as your felt zayne sucking on your clit harder while caleb's fingers continued to rub against your walls at a faster pace.

suddenly, all sensation was lost as caleb pulled out his fingers while simultaneously grabbing onto the back of zayne's head with his free hand; yanking his hair back to unlatch his mouth from your weeping cunt. your eyes widened as tears streamed down your face, your hole pulsating at the feeling of nothing.

"only good girls get to cum." caleb darkly chuckled, zayne wincing in slight pain as he swatted the hand that yanked his hair.

"do that again and i'll fucking kill you." zayne murmured, making caleb roll his eyes.

"mmphh...!" your cries were muffled as xavier continued to use your throat as his personal fuckhole. he continued to shove his dick deeper, a small bulge forming on your throat as he pressed against it.

"there we go." xavier grinned sadistically, continuing to chase his high.

"h-hahhh... fuck, gonna cum." he panted, face flushing as he threw his head back, driving his hips forward. you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you towards his lower stomach; shoving his cock deep in your throat one last time as your nose was buried in his soft pubes.

"shit.. shit- hnghh... take it- fuck, take it all." xavier moaned, his thick cum painting your throat as he came so much. your mouth became overloaded with his cum, leaking through the corner of your lips as you tried to swallow as much as you could. he pulled out, watching your gasp for air as you coughed.

"what do you say, slut?" he darkly asked.

"t-thank you." you breathed out, voice croaking.

"good girl." xavier smiled wickedly, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb, your tongue peeking out to lick it.

with the intense throat-fucking session with xavier and the cruel denial of your orgasm, you forgot about sylus who was still painfully hard in your hand.

"come on, sweetie, i know you could do better. want some help? yes, no, maybe so?" sylus whispered huskily, leaning down to bite your ear before kissing your temple.

"s-sorry.." you sniffled, still extremely sensitive.

"poor baby, don't cry. i'll help you." he cooed, grabbing your hand before spitting on it. the warm feeling of his spit made you shiver, he brought your hand to his cock; guiding you as you used your spit coated hand to grab his dick again.

this time, his hand firmly stayed on yours, tightening the grip. the silver haired male moaned, moving your joined hands up and down his throbbing cock; fucking your wet fist.

"hnghh... yeah, f-fuck..." sylus panted, thrusting his hips into the makeshift hole he made using your hand. his foxy eyes narrowed, bright ruby orbs rolling back as he rasped out swears from the absolute pleasure he was feeling.

rafayel hovered above your naked torso, his pretty cock resting on the valley between your tits. he grabbed his dick, giving it a few strokes, whimpering at his own touch before looking down at you.

"you're so beautiful." the lemurian whispered through labored breaths, face flushed as his mixed indigo eyes peeked at you through a half-lidded lust-filled stare.

rafayel swallowed harshly, guiding the tip of his leaky cock to your nipple; circling the hard bud as his precum coated it. your breath hitched, watching him use his hard cock to paint streaks of his precum all over the expanse of your hickey-littered chest.

he then spat on his hand, rubbing his spit all over his dick to lubricate it before settling it between your soft tits. using both of his hands, he squished your tits together to squeeze his warm cock between them. the whimper leaving his mouth was almost embarrassing from how loud and needy it was.

without a second more of hesitation, rafayel began to rut his hips forward, thrusting between your tits. he stroked your nipples before using his thumb and index finger, pinching the swollen buds and rolling them between his fingers.

"ahhh~ rafayel! f-feels good...!" you moaned, watching the blush pink tip of his cock peek through your cleavage every time he motioned his hips forward.

"hnghh... love your tits so much, cutie. so soft... so tasty and cute." he breathes out a small chuckled, eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he continued to thrust his cock between your boobs. his precum coated the valley of your tits, making it easier for him to slide between them.

while he continued his ministrations of using your titties to fuck himself, you focused on making sylus cum. you increased the pace of your hands, feeling his hand tightening the grip on yours, the vein on his cock pulsating as frequent deep whimpers left his lips. your thumb caught his slit, teasing it as he could feel his balls tighten.

"hmm... gonna make me cum, kitten." he groans, continuing to pump his cock using your hand until you felt the warm, thick wads of his cum dribble down your fingers. his hands slightly trembled, chest heaving as he tried to compose himself.

"fuck, that was... so hot." sylus chuckled, releasing your hand as he watched you bring your cum covered fingers to your mouth; licking his release as you hummed in approval.

he could feel himself get instantly hard again from such an erotic sight.

"you're mean, darling." he shook his head, making you grin.

you broke away your gaze from sylus, watching rafayel fall apart as he desperately groped your tits.

"h-hahhh... need y..-your help, cutie! please?" he pathetically begged, swallowing harshly as his hips stuttered. rafayel grabbed your wrist once more, smelling your scent and licking your flesh; groaning at how intoxicated you made him feel. the tip of his tongue traced your fingers before encasing them with his soft lips, sucking and biting on your digits; indigo eyes looking at you with a pleading look.

you smirked, knowing that it'd be easy to tease him. you were basically at all of their mercy, but knowing you still had just a little bit of power against him at least; it made your heart beat in your pussy.

"you poor thing, need my help?" you pouted, faux sympathy written all over your face. the others watched in amusement and rafayel's horny-fucked brain couldn't even have the dignity to feel embarrassed.

"p-please... promise i'll be good, so good." he breathed out and you smiled in satisfaction, sitting up before pushing him back. rafayel now sat on the mattress, hungry eyes watching you sit back on your knees.

you leaned down, squishing his cock between your tits before sliding them up and down. rafayel's eyes screwed shut in pleasure, countless of goans and whimpers slipping out of his tongue; showering you endlessly with praise.

"y-yeah cutie, just like that... nghhh~ gonna make me cum." rafayel shamelessly moaned, mouth gape open as his breathing was uneven. you stuck your tongue out, lapping at his tip before wrapping your lips around it; suckling on it as if it was a lollipop.

you rubbed your tits together on his shaft, using your mouth to suck the rest. your drool trickled down from his swollen tip to the squishy tight slit created by your tits; making his cock slide with ease. the sounds produced was obscene, shlick shlick shlick. rafayel could feel his body tremble in pleasure, stroking your hair as his balls twitched.

"gonna cum! h-hahhh... p-please, cutie!" his lips were swollen from how much he bit them. soon enough, his hot cum was painting your tits, dripping down your nipples as his cock throbbed.

"fuck.." rafayel sighed, stroking your cheek as he glanced at what he did.

mentally clicking a picture to remember for the rest of his life when he fucks his fist to the thought of you.

"better?" you innocently batted your eyelashes, looking up at him with a dazed expression.

"you little minx." his breath hitched as you turned your face to the side, catching his thumb between your lips to give it a small suck before biting it playfully.

"you seem to be enjoying yourself a little too much, brat." you heard a daring voice break the moment, looking up to see a mean caleb glowering down at you.

you swallowed harshly, looking at rafayel for some help, but the cheeky lemurian only grinned at you; eyes twinkling with trouble as he moved away.

"you like being used like this, don't you? have you forgotten who's in control here?" now, xavier came into view as he scoffed, taking in your pitiful state.

"i think it's time that you learn your place." caleb suddenly pushed you towards the ash-blonde haired male, making you gasp as you were now sitting on his waist; hands pressed against his bare chest. you could feel the curve of xavier's hard cock press against your ass, making you unknowingly grind against the throbbing length of it to seek for some friction.

"tch, look at you. you're like a fuckin' bitch in heat." xavier snickers, holding down your hips with a bruising grip, making you wince. you felt the tip of his dick slip between your wet folds, his hands maneuvering your hips to help you glide on him. a breathy whimper leaves your lips, feeling his sticky tip caress your achy clit.

you hear the clinking sound of caleb's belt being undone and in what felt like mere seconds; you could feel his warm body heat radiating behind you. his lips grazed your nape, the tip of his nose gliding on your skin. he left wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder, trailing down the deep passage of your spine; making you arch forwards from your increased sensitivity.

xavier on the other hand fondled your tits, pinching and twisting your nipples. his fingers moved down, brushing against your hips. suddenly, you felt his tip prodding your tight hole, making you gulp.

they were all so fucking big and thick, you were wondering how you'd take them all. god, you couldn't even use process of elimination to figure out who'd be less painful to take in.

however, all that thinking flew straight out of your ears as xavier planted his feet on the mattress; harshly thrusting upwards into you. a croaky moan ripped out of your throat, your head lolling back to caleb's chest as you breathed heavy.

although xavier wasn't that thick, he was long as fuck; he couldn't even bottom out fully inside your cunt. you could feel his tip kissing your cervix. while caleb continued to place bite marks and lick at his work, xavier paid no mind to his counterpart; fucking you at a brutal pace.

"hnghh~ a-aahh... xav! w-wait!" you tried to slow him down, but that only made him go faster. he grabbed your hands which were resting on his lower stomach, pulling you forwards as you fell on his chest; away from caleb's touch.

the colonel scowled at the loss of your skin, glaring at the ash-blonde male in front of him. xavier didn't care, his hand finding purchase to the supple fatty flesh on your ass, spanking you hard as you yelped in pain and pleasure. your eyes squeezed shut, trying to form coherent words.

"you know i hate it when you don't look at me while i'm fucking you. open your eyes, y/n." he tapped your face, forcing you to look down at him. you bit your lips, trying to prevent another moan from flying out of your mouth, feeling xavier's cock rub your wet velvety walls just right.

his tip continued to bruise your cervix, his thrusts were deep and hard as he made sure you felt every inch of him in you. a ring of cream began to form at the base of his shaft, your juices dripping down to coat his heavy balls as you felt your thighs burning.

"hope you didn't forget about me, princess." caleb whispered, hovering behind you as you felt him grope your ass cheek. your eyes widened as you felt him spread them, his index finger gently grazing your other untouched tight hole.

"nghh.. wait, caleb! h-hahhh, never did it there before." you confessed, making him chuckle.

"well then, i'm glad to be your first here. don't worry, i'll make sure you're ready for me." caleb's words did seem genuine but rather because of the fact that he was about to touch you and feel you somewhere no one ever has.

you nodded at his words, too fucked out to even care about anything else. you were more focused on cumming, your cunt puffy and weeping from being neglected the last time your orgasm was denied; thanks to caleb.

so, you definitely didn't wanna get on his bad side again.

caleb spat on his fingers, bring it down to your ass before spreading the sticky spit on your hole. you soon felt his wet digit push through the tight ring of muscle, making you wince in pain as you breathed heavily.

"f-fuck... hurts.." you whined, but it would soon dissipate as xavier continued to drill into your pussy, distracting you from the pain of having caleb's finger in your ass.

it took some time but eventually the colonel was able to finger-fuck your ass with two of his fingers, meanwhile, xavier thrusted up into your leaky pussy that sheathed his throbbing cock. the ash-blonde haired male rubbed your clit to provide some more stimulation, your body trembling once you felt caleb withdrawing his fingers from inside you.

caleb sat on his knees, spreading your ass once more before leaning in, the tip of his tongue dragging from where you and xavier were connected; all the way up to your ass hole.

"ah! caleb!" you cried out, feeling him land a glob of spit on the tight hole before pulling away. caleb grabbed the base of his cock, his tip was a reddish-purple; angrily weeping precum as he stroked himself a few times. you could hear him groan behind you before feeling his wet tip squish against your hole.

"c'mere." caleb commanded, a hand coming down to gently grab your jaw, pulling you back to him. he tilts your head up, making you look into his eyes; leaning down to press his lips on yours in a searing kiss.

that's when you felt the burning stretch of his fat tip pushing past the tight ring of muscle in your ass, a pained cry leaving your lips, only to be muffled as he swallowed it; not letting go of your lips. tears pricked your eyes, feeling him slowly feed his cock into your tight ass, inch by inch.

the kiss with caleb was rough and messy, full of tongue and spit. the wet smacking sound of his lips clashing with yours as he drinks in your moans was so erotic. as his cock was now thrusted deep in your ass, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size. his hand still firmly grabbing your jaw in place to not break away from the kiss while the other played with your tits.

meanwhile, xavier continued to give you nice slow and soft thrusts in your cunt, paying close attention to stimulate your clit. you were so full of both of their cocks, your mind was blank.

all you thought of was dick, dick, dick.

it was embarrassing and greedy, how full they made you feel, how good the burn felt as they both stretched out your holes.

it was definitely a pornographic sight.

as you grew used to having both of them inside you, caleb was the first to quicken his pace, pistoning his hips into you as his cock began to rub your walls. following in suit, xavier tried to match his rhythm, fucking your cunt with more rigor. your mouth gaped wide open, unable to respond to caleb's kiss anymore as you were too cock drunk.

"a-a..ahh! nghh~ feels so good!" you cried out in pleasure, feeling them both rub against the thin barrier that separated the two. you could feel your lower stomach churn in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as you began to drool from the corner of your mouth.

"what a dumb little slut, fucked your brains out already?" you heard xavier darkly chuckle, pinching your clit as you yelped at the sudden sharp sensation.

"p-please... wanna cum so bad! x..-xav.." your throat was parched as you tried to control your breathing, your lower stomach tightening as you could feel the familiar build-up of your orgasm.

"tch, you're moaning his name when i'm stuffing you full of my dick? where are your manners, pipsqueak?" caleb's tone was gravely, glaring at you with a look that could only make your knees grow weak, his grip on your jaw tightening just a little to remind you he was still here; balls deep in you.

"s-sor.. hgnhh.. sorry! please, c..caleb.." you stammered out, feeling the alternating push and withdraw of their cocks syncing together; turning your brain into mush.

displeased with your switch up, xavier yanked you forwards by your arm, squishing your cheeks together.

"you deceitful vixen, running to him when you don't get what you want? i'm the one taking care of this slutty pussy and you have the nerve to beg him? the fuck is wrong with you." xavier seethed with anger, his hips bucking into yours with more intensity; making you wail out in pleasure.

"i'm sor-" you tried to helplessy apologize again, only to be pulled back by caleb; the start of a tug-of-war as if you were a toy.

"don't fucking apologize to him, princess. you're mine, so when i say that you can cum, then you cum." caleb whispered, making you shiver as you sniffled out a cry.

"please.. fuck, please- i can't! t..too much.." you whimpered, making them both scoff.

"you can take it." both caleb and xavier sneered, making you whine.

"ungrateful brat, wanting us both and now you're saying it's too much?" xavier slapped your clit, making you jolt. you felt caleb bite down on your shoulder, the cold metal of his dog tag pressed against your warm, flushed skin.

you felt them twitch inside you, throbbing thick cocks rubbing against your insides. caleb and xavier continued to slide in and out of you, making your body grow hot.

"fuck, fuck, please! s-so close..!" you breathed out, feeling xavier's thrusts grow sloppy as with one final hard thrust; he emptied his balls inside you. his thick, warm cum filled your cunt as you quivered, his hips still rolling back in you.

your head was spinning, both of their scents were intoxicating. their hands were groping, slapping and stroking every bit of skin exposed to their lustful eyes. both caleb and xavier's thrusts held no mercy, battering your cunt and ass as your thighs felt like jelly. you squealed, feeling your walls tightening as you desperately squirmed, trying to lift yourself off and escape.

"where are you going? don't run away, i'm not done yet." caleb yanked you back to him. caleb's grunts and groans got louder by your ear, his arm wrapping around your stomach to hold you down in place; his cock fully in your ass as he shot fat wads of his sticky cum.

before you could process anything, they sadistically exchanged a cruel smirk, pulling out of you as your holes gushed out an obscene amount of their mixed cum.

"n-no! no! hnghh.. w-why.." you sobbed at the loss of contact, the fullness of their cocks gone as your orgasm was destroyed for the second time.

"since we weren't enough, why don't you go ask the others." caleb pushed you to the side, making you collapse on the mattress as tears ran down your cheek.

you looked up and noticed sylus and rafayel looking down at you, an unwavering glint pinned on your ruined form as they waited for your next move. it was humiliating, how you were begging them to let you cum; but it was too much.

you were going insane, needing some relief.

you weakly crawled to sylus and rafayel, sniffling as your body began to shake. your thighs were dripping with xavier and caleb's cum, your messy holes pulsing and aching.

"sy.. raf.. please, make me cum. i-i... i promise i'll be a good girl." you desperately pleaded, fat teardrops running down your flushed cheeks; making them both groan as your pathetic state only made their cocks harden.

"poor little kitten, they were so mean to you, weren't they?" sylus cooed as he wiped your tears away, tone honeyed with gentleness but with an undertone of mischief.

you nodded helplessly, leaning into his touch as you nuzzled your cheeks into his palm. you kissed the inside of his hand, licking the warm and rough skin.

just like a kitten.

sylus grinned at your antics, amused at how compliant you were. however, he wasn't that mean; he'd humor you.

"need us to make her feel better, cutie?" rafayel teasingly spoke, long fingers running across your slit as you whimpered; the tip of his digits circling your clit.

"mmphh, y-yes... please.." you bit down on your lip, tasting the metallic taste of blood.

"alright, sweetie. we'll help you." sylus chortled, leaning against the headboard. he grabbed your hips, spinning you around in one fluid motion, your back now facing him. he then lifted you up before placing you on his waist, as if you weighed nothing.

you yelped as sylus hooked his beefy arms under your thighs, pulling them up to your head; putting you in a mean full nelson. the sudden pressure and stretch made your cunt gush out more of the cum that was fucked into you earlier, soaked pussy lips spread apart as you were now exposed and on display in a very vulnerable position.

"s-sylus!" you shyly meeked, making him hum.

"what? don't be selfish, sweetie. you know the fish is an artist, let him see this masterpiece." sylus bit your earlobe.

rafayel settled between sylus's legs, now in front of you as he shamelessly stared at your messy folds. he salivated as it took everything in him to not just lean down and makeout with your tempting cunt.

"stop lookin'." you whined, feeling how intense his gaze was. however, rafayel just gave you a breathy chuckle.

"why not? she's sooooo pretty." he licked his lips, flashing you a boyish grin, making your heart leap into your throat.

the lemurian lowered his head, pressing gentle kisses on your soft stomach, dragging his lips up your navel until he reached your tits. he sighed in bliss, smoothering his face between your boobs as he kissed and licked the mounds of flesh.

his dick rested on top of your pussy, sticky tip parting your folds as he rutted his hips; sliding the length of his cock against your slick covered cunt. his tip repeatedly nudged your clit, rubbing it as you moaned in bliss from the heavenly contact.

your hand found purchase in his dusky, purple hair; carding your fingers through his soft locks. you tugged on his hair, making him moan as the vibration rumbling from his lips were felt on your nipple as he sucked; making you choke out a moan.

the silver haired male kissed your temple, smiling.

"come on, sweetie, need you to hold your legs up for me so i can take care of you." his voice was groggy, releasing your legs before grabbing your hands to help you lift them as you obeyed.

"there you go, good girl." sylus praised, grabbing the base of his cock, swiping it a few times between your messy folds, nudging his tip on your hole. you moaned at the feel of his cock deliciously rubbing against your aching pussy.

"p-please... nghh- no more teasing." you were breathless, feeling rafayel once again capture your nipple in his mouth, suckling as if his purpose in life was to worship your tits.

"if you say so, sweetie." sylus compliantly shoved his inches in you, feeding your greedy hole his hard dick. your jaw dropped, eyes rolling back as his fat girth stretched your cunt; sliding in with ease because of your arousal along with xavier and caleb's shared cum.

rafayel watched your hole eagerly swallow up sylus's cock, gulping at the sight as his dick was painfully hard; globs of precum dripping onto your clit.

"so tight even after all that? how cute." sylus lets out a huff, slowly moving his hips upwards to give you some slow and deep strokes; tip squishing against your cervix.

"h-hnghh... fuck... feels so good, sy." you moaned, turning your head to the side to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. he happily accepted, sucking on your bottom lip before swiping his tongue against it for permission to explore your mouth.

his hands firmly grabbed your hips before planting his feet on the mattress, grounding both himself and you before pounding upwards into your dripping cunt. your mouth flew open from his sudden shift in pace, and he took that chance to shove his tongue in your mouth; exploring every cavern and crevice. both of your tongues mingled and tangled, sucking and licking as drool trickled down your chin.

"fuck, cutie... you look so hot like this; it's tempting. i can't let the crow have all the fun now, can i?" rafayel's fingers stroked your thigh, leaning down to kiss your plush thighs, gently biting the soft skin.

"ahhh... raf.." you whimpered, biting your lip as you feel his tip poke your ass hole. you released one of your legs, pressing your foot on his chest to stop him.

"hm?" the lemurian tilts his head in confusion at your sudden action, stopping his advances.

"n-not there... need you and sy at the same time.." you licked your dry lips, words barely coming out as a whisper. rafayel's eyes widened at your request, sylus's ruby orbs mirroring the same bewilderment.

"naughty girl, you want us both in this sweet cunt of yours? you think you can handle it?" sylus teased, a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

you nodded frantically, your foot running down rafayel's chest as you looked up at him with a cheeky smile; eyes barely open as you gazed at him with a dazed look.

"i can handle it, p-promise." you assured, making rafayel grin.

"well you heard her, crow. make some space." he grabbed the base of his shaft, now aligning his cock with your hole that was already occupied with sylus's thick cock. the silver haired male scoffed, rolling his eyes before momentarily stopping his thrusts; letting rafayel ease into you.

a screamish-moan ripped out of your throat, your walls clamping instinctively on both of their cocks; both men grunting in response as the space became tighter. your eyes swelled with tears, the salty warm fluid streaming down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to the painful stretch of having two giant cocks lodged in your cunt at the same time.

"shh... there, there, pretty girl. it's okay." rafayel tried to console you, his words barely making it to a full sentence before his voice betrayed him; a strangled whimper slipping off his tongue.

"i gotcha, sweetie." sylus mumbled against the skin of your nape, his hand snaking around your waist, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub soothing circles on the bundle of nerves to distract you.

the both of them allowed you to adjust to their cocks, providing additional stimulation to help you relax so that your walls aren't as tense. rafayel's teeth grazed your nipples, teasing and flicking the pebbled buds while sylus's fingers worked their magic to affectionately pinch and stroke your clit.

"nghh~ feels good... hnnghh- need more." you whined, moving your hips on your own accord, wincing as you could feel both of their dicks rubbing against your velvety wet walls.

"ya sure you're ready, cutie? we have all night." rafayel let out a shaky laugh, half-joking.

"moveee." you bucked your hips, making sylus chuckle.

"someone's impatient, not that i mind." with that being said, sylus once again began to slowly thrust into your pussy. he grunted, feeling his cock graze against rafayel's, the sensation feeling a little weird but he ignored that fact.

rafayel moaned at the sudden friction, his hand wrapping around your calf to push it by your head; mirroring your other leg which you still held up obediently. rafayel leaned closer, pressing against you before latching his lips onto your; kissing you senselessly.

you moaned into his mouth, feeling the both of them pistoning into your tight, dripping hole. rafayel hissed as he felt your fingers tug his hair, angling your jaw to deepend the kiss.

the room was full of wet skin slapping followed by the lewd sound of your pussy gushing out your juices; coating their cocks in your arousal as it dribbled down to their balls. rafayel's lips continued to suck and kiss at your swollen and bitten once; his tongue suckling with yours before pulling away as a string of saliva connected you two.

he pushed himself off of you, bringing the leg he held for you towards him. he kissed your ankle, running the tip of his tongue down to your calf before kitten-biting the flesh of it.

"mmphh... you taste so fucking sweet." rafayel swore under his breath, thrusting his cock deeper into your weeping hole. sylus followed in suit, both of their tips bruising your cervix.

"shit... you're taking us both so well, sweetie." sylus praised, now matching the movement of his fingers that were once leisurely rubbing your clit to the pace of his thrusts.

in seconds, everything shifted.

their gazes darkened, clouded with need and hunger. you squealed, feeling both sylus and rafayel thrusting in and out of your cunt with no mercy as their movement didn't falter.

not once.

they were so perfectly synced together, as if they were one.

"a-ahhhh~... f-fuck! please, please, please! so close... god! i'm gonna cum!" you choked on your tears as you sobbed, the pleasure you were feeling was intense.

your eyes rolled back, toes curled as you were gasping for air. both men grunted and moaned; focusing on chasing their high.

"how bad you want it, kitten?" sylus groaned, fucking his hips upward as you whimpered.

"so bad, fuck, need it so bad!" you desperately answered, convinced that you wouldn't survive another ruined orgasm.

"yeah? ask nicely, where are your manners, cutie?" rafayel snickered, driving his hips into your; pelvis meeting yours with brutal thrusts that made your body jerk.

"h-hahhhh... oh my god...- please, please, please. let me cum? i promise i'll be good, so fuckin' good. please raf... sy... need it so bad." you threw out every last ounce of dignity within yourself to beg them with your last bit of voice.

both men, clearly satisfied with your answer, feed your cunt with their cocks using an unforgiving pace of thrusts. rafayel's hips were a bit sloppier, but they were fast and needy, like he was scared that you'd disappear. in contrast, sylus's pace was slow but his thrusts were hard and deep; making sure his tip met your cervix with every movement of his hips.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." the silver haired male let out a guttural moan, eyes screwed shut as he could feel his cock pulsate; vein twitching as blood flowed with adrenaline.

rafayel shamelessly moaned on top of you, panting like a dog as he continued to fuck his dick into your wet hole.

"open your mouth." he demanded and too fucked out to even decipher his intentions, you obeyed. rafayel spat into your mouth, the thick glob of spit coating your tongue before you swallowed it.

"good girl." rafayel grunted, feeling his balls tightening as he was close to cumming as well.

your stomach knotted, the build-up of your orgasm even more stronger as your gummy walls clamped down on their cocks viciously.

"auughh~ i'm cumming! fuck.. hnghh..." you choked out a moan, eyes screwed shut as hot liquid squirted out of your cunt; coating rafayel's lower abdomen. you creamed on their cocks, body twitching as you feel both of them creampie you; shoving their sticky and gooey cum deep into your womb.

your juices and their cum dripped down your thigh, coating sylus's balls as you could hear his breathing become uneven from the aftermath of such intense pleasure. rafayel collapsed on top of you, still mindful to not crush you with his entire weight.

"so tired..." he childishly whined, biting your nipple playfully as you huffed.

"you're heavy, raf, get off." you grumbled, making him pout as he smoothered his face between your boobs once again.

"nah, you're too soft." he argued, making you roll your eyes.

"i feel sticky and gross.." you mumbled, noticing how the room was a bit more quieter. xavier was passed out on the couch and caleb left the room a few minutes ago for whatever reason; zayne watching the whole scene intently from the edge of the bed.

you locked eyes with him, noticing the slight blush on his face. he cleared his throat, looking away.

"perhaps a hot shower might be nice." he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"yeah, it does sound tempting." you hummed.

"need some help, sweetie?" sylus offered, but his tone had a hint of mischief.

"i got it." zayne suddenly spoke up, walking over to where you were sandwhiched between rafayel and sylus. he pushed the groggy lemurian over, making him groan.

"hey! i was comfy." rafayel complained, making the doctor roll his eyes.

"it's my place, surely i know my bathroom better." sylus snickered, making zayne narrow his eyes.

"if i could perfom hundreds of heart surgeries, i'm sure i can figure out how to work your damn shower." zayne snarked back with an equal amount of bite, making the silver haired male smirk.

"touche, she's all yours, doc." sylus chuckled.

zayne sighed, scooping you up in his arms before heading into the bathroom; locking the door behind him.

"you look... fucked." he blurted out, making you laugh at his dry comment.

"wow, thanks, i didn't know." you playfully rolled your eyes, making him crack a small smile.

"that was... intense. after you shower, i could get you some painkillers to help with any soreness. can you stand?" zayne asked with a flicker of concern in his hazel orbs, settling you on your legs and lightly loosening his grip; only for your knees to wobble as you held onto his bicep for support.

"i guess not." he answered his own question, making you chuckle.

"mind helping me out, doc?" you asked, peering up at him with a girly smile. zayne felt his heart skip a beat, heat creeping up to his neck.

it's not like this would be his first time being intimate with you, but you still made him feel incredibly nervous.

"if you insist, then i don't mind." his tone was soft and gentle. you smiled at his agreement, taking off his glasses. you leaned onto the sink for support, watching him undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt; revealing his chiseled chest.

fuck, his physique was like a greek god.

he undid his belt, zipping down his pants before kicking them off together with his boxers; his cock springing to life as his pinkish tip was a little swollen while dripping with precum. you leaned forwards, now pressed against him as your bare chest rubbed against his.

zayne groaned at the intimate skinship, his cock rubbing against your soft thighs. your hand reached down, grabbing the shaft as you experimentally gave it a few strokes.

"let me take care of you." your voice was a bare whisper, making him shudder. but, to your surprise, he shook his head.

"no, you don't have to do this for me, i'll get myself off or something. just ignore it, okay?" zayne tried to convince you, but it only made you frown.

"but i want to... i've been wanting to feel you the whole night." you pressed soft kisses along his jawline, making him swallow harshly as you saw his adam's apple bob.

"then let me make it up to you since that bastard pulled me away from you. i'll make you feel good, baby." he lifted your hips, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as his cock was now nestled between your folds.

he walked inside the shower, pulling the glass doors to close it before turning on the water; adjusting the temperature. you cupped his face, pulling him closer to yours to seal his lips with yours.

zayne moaned into your mouth, molding his lips with yours as he softly kneaded your ass. your tongue poked his bottom lip, seeking for entry which he happily granted. you kissed him with a needy vigor, sucking his tongue as you stroked his wet jet black hair.

pulling away breathlessly, zayne looked down at you with swollen lips. he attacked your neck with kisses, making your whimper as you felt his tongue graze your flesh, softly tracing the hickies left on your skin with the tip of his tongue. he moved down to your tits, sucking your nipples as your hand held the back of his head; pushing him closer as you moaned.

"mhmm... feels so good, zayne." you praised, watching him tug your nipple between his teeth before giving it a deserving suck. he soon lets go of your swollen bud, hazel eyes meeting yours.

"i'll be gentle, okay?" he assured, making your chest feel warm and fuzzy as you nodded; wrapping your arms around his neck.

zayne grabbed the base of his cock, tapping your clit a few times, making you jolt. he smirked at how responsive your body was, aligning his tip with your hole. with a firm grip on your hips, he begin to sink you down on his hard cock, slowly shoving his inches inside you.

your mouth formed an 'o' shape as your eyes shut tight, feeling full as he bottomed out.

"s-so full.." you moaned, feeling him slowly thrust inside of you as the curve of his dick molded so perfectly in your wet walls. you clenched down on him, making him grunt at the sudden tightness.

"you feel so good, babygirl." zayne whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek and temple before sliding you up and down his dick. you rested your head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent as you kissed his neck.

this felt so new compared to what happened just minutes ago. the others fought over you like you were some piece of meat to claim; but zayne treated you like you were made of glass.

he was so gentle with his touches and strokes, you could almost cry.

zayne's tip nudged your cervix with every push of his hips, now having you pressed against the wall to have a better hold of you so that he can drive his hips into yours faster. your cunt weeped with arousal, gummy walls coated with his precum.

his thrusts were sharp yet slow, making sure it applied the right amount of pressure and friction to make you feel like you were seeing stars. his balls slapped against your ass, your nipple between his lips.

"hnghh.. love your cock, zyane. g-gonna cum.." you let out a shaky breath, clenching down on him as your increased sensitivity betrayed your body, not allowing you to hold onto your orgasm for too long.

"it's okay, baby. you can cum." he grunted against the wet skin of your tits and you didn't realize how intimate and erotic the whole sight was.

a choked out whimper escaped your throat, your cunt clamping down on him as you squirted all over his cock. your body twitched and trembled at your orgasm, panting as you leaned against his chest.

"shit, please... i need you to fill me up." you begged and that's all it took him to bust a fat load of his thick, hot cum inside your hole.

"fuck.." he swore and god it sounded so hot coming from his mouth.

the bathroom was filled with the sounds of uneven breathing and the running showerhead.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you stirred awake, groaning as you now laid on your back. sunlight beamed into your room, making your eyes burn as you tried to crack one of them.

"fuckin' hell.." you cursed under your breath, adjusting your vision as you sat up on your bed. your head was swirling as you held it in pain, wincing.

it was all a dream.

you slapped yourself, not believing how delusional you became to believe that whatever the hell that was could be reality.

"yeah, i'm losing it." you sighed deeply, scratching your head. you tapped your phone screen, reading the time as your eyes blew wide open.

fuck, it was well past noon, meaning you missed your morning classes already.

"you're kidding me." you huffed out in annoyance, leaning back on the headboard as you unlocked your phone.

you saw the many, many, many missed calls from your best friend; making you snort.

as you swiped through your applications, your eyes fell on the love and deepspace icon. memories of your strange dream replayed fresh in your memory, your body weirdly aching.

you brushed off those thoughts, clicking the icon as you wondered if infold fixed those weird bugs and glitches by now. you were surprised to see the app back into shape, running in good quality as you logged in with ease.

"huh, weird." you mumbled to yourself, calmly collecting your daily’s.

until you realized you had five unread messages.

hey pipsqueak, hope you're not still mad at me for being a bit mean to ya. i'll cook for you when you come back :p

hope you're not missing me too much, sweetie. come back and i'll take you for a joyride.

cutieeee! i miss you already :C come back soon, okay? need my personal pillow back.

if your throat is still sore, come back so we can have hotpot together. it'll be my treat.

have you taken those painkillers like i told you to?

your jaw was wide open, not believing your eyes. these texts seemed way too real to be automated.

"what the fuck." you quickly opened your front camera, only to see the faint purplish marks decorating your neck.

holy shit, all of that was real.

a smirk etched on your face as you quickly tapped the facetime app, ringing the only person you knew could stand this news and have a silver of faith in you to be convinced.

"finally decided to call me back? thought you died in your sleep or something." your best friend nagged at you, making you chuckle.

"you won't believe what happened last night." you giggle, making her roll her eyes at you.

"let me guess, you had a dream about all the lads guys fucking your brains out." she responded with a bored voice.

"even better."

---

a/n: hehe, if you made it to the end, kuddos to you cuz rereading through this was a pain the ass. if you couldn't tell by now, this was very self-indulgent, so i got carried away. hope you guys enjoyed it tho!!

[imatter2iexist]

@oripoke @bo-beanies I have so many photos and documents.. Ive been telling the truth. But instead of being supportive, you subjected me to neglect, abuse, and torment. The TLDR is that you knowingly, and willingly, abused and controlled a mentally ill person; a close friend of years you *knew* was autistic and wouldnt understand; you stole my assets and safety, traumatized me, then threw me on the streets to die, alone. I was i just this object for you to use, abuse, and then leave for dead on the streets when you were done using me? Like i was garbage? In the beginning, there were days I literally could never put my phone down because I was 24.7 comforting bean. Id have to hide and be quiet in the bottom room, just to talk to Rory on the phone for a few minutes, or bean would get would get wildly upset if they saw. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed, and i was terrified. Id do everything you asked even when you hurt me for it. And yet, when i freak about the extreme trauma you cause me, doubled with my brothers abuse- when i had panic attacks from your abuse, you stole everything and left me for dead. Id have stayed by your side for months until you felt better, and you knew that, but either of you talking to me for 2 minutes was too much effort, no matter how badly i needed it... as much as i communicated this, you just ignored it

I was always there for both of you, even when it radically hurt me. I tried so hard to keep bean happy, for MONTHS, but when it was my turn to need help i was abandoned, hated, tossed away like I was nothing, and mocked for the illness i cant control. "Its your fault for being poor, its your fault for being sick" is what you said to me. Of course i snapped. You have no idea how much pain you put me in, to be starving, to be on the street with an infection, to lose my cat. Everything just got worse. My disorder is not something i can control. After 7 months of hell i was still not a person to you i was just an object or a toy for you to use. Why talk to this thing now, why bother? I was just a pet for you two to keep and torment until you were bored of my messages

The pain was too immense for me to handle, each month it just got worse. It hurt so badly. I cant describe it and i wouldnt wish it on even the most evil soul. It's agony. No human deserves what i had to go through- nobody.  Hard drugs couldnt even make it better. It was both mental and physical hell. Do you know how painful my med increases were, too, but i still did them because thats what you told me to do? I STILL listened and trusted you because i cared. I got therapy, too. And you still treated me like dirt, and im the one that has to pay for it in the hospital, in debt, in isolation and immense pain. Im the one that has to pay for all the suffering that you caused. Then you parade my dead name around, and accuse me of things I did not do. I did horrible things, im not saying i didnt. But you cant admit what you've done at *all*

I did everything you both asked of me even when it was hard, contradicting and confusing. Id never asked either of you for ANYTHING. Not ever. All I asked for was to talk, to help me with this stupid fucking disorder, but after everything I went through and how hard I tried and everything i suffered. Instead of being there, instead of responding to the only thing ive *ever* needed from either of you, you radically hurt me, then left me to die. TWICE

You may not believe this, but i don't. Want. To. Be. Like. This. I didnt choose to have this disorder, i dont choose the attacks that happen, and when i attempt suicide its *NOT* for attention like you scream. You put intentions in my mouth so often; it has nothing to do with your stupid blogs. Its to make. The pain. Stop. Its so immense, the only thing that goes in my head is "stop, make it stop, please make it stop" and i try and escape from my body to make the suffering end. There's no other way to escape your own mind but to die. And drugs, which I've gotten even further sick for abusing, but nothing else fucking helps

You all act like its a choice i made, and that's what you abandoned me for. I cant control my panic attacks. I dont control the disorder i got from my brothers abuse. i dont *WANT* to talk to any of you ever again or even think about you ever again. But that's the thing about mental illness, its crazy because it is, and when I said it wont fucking let me.... i mean IT WONT FUCKING LET ME. Could you ask a schizophrenic person to stop seeing demons?? "Like hey dude,  just stop seeing them. Have you tried just stopping?" I know pea had fun mocking me, and you all had a good laugh, "lmaooo you couldn't even not do it for a single day"- i didnt choose to be like this. I have the meds and I have the therapy. I did what you wanted but you just hurt me again. And again. How cruel is it that bean has panic attacks on the daily and gets comforted for it, and you all did this to me for my very first one. Rory told me he loved me more than hes ever loved anyone, he told me i could always talk to him if i was hurting, he told me it was okay, he reassured me he was there for me and that it was completely okay.Rory, you told me it was okay. You did. Then you disappeared without even saying goodbye. After 7 months of confusion, not understanding whats going on or whats even happening to me, or where ill sleep the next day. Constantly hurt and abused and hungry and infected, mourning everything i lost. You can never give me back my cat, or the opportunities i lost, my trans health care, my savings. You cant undo the immense pain I've felt and you cant reverse the trauma you've caused

Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

And I *still* kept trying. I *still* am. BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO DO. My meds are at 220mg and excruciating, therapy is so incredibly confusing, but im still doing it even if i desperately dont want to. But you two can torture me, because you didnt want to talk to me for a few minutes, and explain what I didnt understand. Instead you left me in the dark. While you were both going to *another* con just moments later, and sleeping comfortably, and going to parties and weddings; i was still in the hospital, in incredible pain, for an incredibly long time, from events you directly caused. Do you understand the mental toll that does to a person? I went to hospital to hospital, reaching out, just more and more confused, just more and more hurt.

While im going through all this, as if im not a real human being behind your computer; besides peas ranting the only things i recieved are "man my notifications" "man this sucks" "Yeah I hate it" like im an "it" a toy or a thing. Parading my dead name is a close contender, but its the amount of lies that hurt me the most. I did not ever have any kind of conversation with Rory OR Bean, I did not fake being in a coma for 2 weeks, I was very much fucking out. I've been telling the truth, even when its hard. Why cant you? Im not afraid to tell the truth.Communication and honesty are human things. My attempts have been very real and very painful, I made myself take pictures and I have the fucking discharge papers from every single one, because I've been telling the truth and can PROVE IT. I did so much I didnt want to do. I went through so much I didnt want to. You broke my boundaries and abused me, i gave up so much of myself and my safety and my life for you, and it was okay. But im now the criminal, your boundaries > my life. Your notifications>my human life.

Nobody's reading this, nobody gives a fuck, im never going to hear anything other then "maaaan this is so shitty, we destroyed his life and his mental and his job and his healthcare and we almost killed him with our neglect....but maaan hes really clogging up my notifications and that makes him the most evil, horrible, awful and disgusting person in the world. Let him die so I can get some quiet." And "Urgh omg I cant believe i have to post this". That's all it ever is. That's all its ever going to be. You hide behind an interent wall, pretending not to see the abuse you did to my body, my person, and my life

Grasses in the wind.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Liz is my favorite person ever

[theonewiththefanfics]

An Itch You Can't Scratch (one-shot)

Synopsis: After taking a bad fall, Y/N gets rushed to the ED of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital only to come face to face with a man she had a one-night stand with, and who ghosted her that same morning without a word - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. As if her bad day couldn't get any worse than it was...

Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x fem!Reader (age-gap relationship (Reader is 26, Robby is implied 46-48))

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: descriptions of wounds (open breaks), puke, swearing, etc., SMUT

Word count: 13,319 (yeah, this sort of started out like a cute little chaotic story and became... this. I might make more parts to these two, people like it enough, because I already have some ideas, and ideas for other stories too also, let's please pretend like Robby didn't have the worst shift of his life and everyone is happy and alive :) )

Please don't copy my work or repost it onto other platforms. all of the characters belong to HBO Max.

Catch Pt 2 here :)

In all honesty, Y/N thought Sara was overreacting. There was no need to be hauled to the ER on a Monday morning, at seven AM. So, what if she’d slipped in the shower? So, what if she’d hit her head against the towel rack? So, what if she’d sprained her ankle? Y/N could just pop a couple of Tylenol and be on her merry way, but no.

            When Sara had heard the thud and the subsequent crash of shampoo and conditioner bottles, she’d rushed inside the bathroom only to find Y/N sprawled out in all her naked glory. She cursed the stupid bathroom latch their landlord refused to change.

After Sara had had her fill of laughter, she helped Y/N stand, get somewhat dressed (a loose cotton shirt and some shorts), and helped her hobble down the stairs of their apartment, her leg in a make-shift splint of dishtowels and left-over wood paneling from an IKEA dresser.

            A groan of protest escaped her as Sara parked in the hospital parking lot and rushed to the passenger door, opening it for Y/N and helping her get out.

            “You are worse than my mother,” she huffed as she leaned her weight onto her good leg. “I am completely fine.”

            Sara sighed, and Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming. “My love,” she said. “My other half. The Yin to my Yang, the milk to my matcha. My partner in crime for whom I would kill and/or dispose of a body. I can quite literally see the fucking bone sticking out of your lower leg.”

            “It’s a sprain,” Y/N gritted through clenched teeth.

            “It’s an open fucking break and the fact that you refused to have an ambulance called, boggles my fucking mind, yet here we are.”

            To that, Y/N had nothing to say, but still, she thought Sara was being way too overdramatic. And honestly, if she kept mentioning the real situation of her sprain, making her remember the sound of the snap, how it had been the worst sound she’d ever heard, and Y/N had spent more than twenty years listening to her brother singing in the shower, before she moved to Pittsburg for her job, she would put Sara in a hospital bed herself. And then they could be the ED besties.

            But the worst was the pain that came when Sara reminded Y/N of why she had to go to the hospital.

            It had been a miracle no neighbor had called the cops or the EMTs themselves, though it didn’t necessarily comfort Y/N either. If she could scream bloody murder like that and nobody batted an eye, it didn’t say anything good about the complex they lived in.

            One look down had confirmed Y/N’s worst fears – she had, in fact, broken her leg. Not only that, it was an open break where part of her bone was sticking right out of the meat of her calf. For the first few moments, she’d been in such a shock, that the only thought running through her head was – I look like a poor man’s version of a Disney turkey leg. Then she’d started screaming. And that had made her puke.

            Right then and there, still lying half out of the shower, half on the floor, she’d emptied her stomach. There hadn’t been much in it, just the cup of water she’d drank when she’d awoken, but still. At least Y/N had been in the bathroom when it had happened. Tiles were easier to clean up than carpet, and she already felt bad enough Sara would have to wash the floor.

            But now, as some form of punishment, no doubt, Sara was helping Y/N hobble towards the emergency department of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital, when a sad-looking man noticed them and rushed inside, grabbing a wheelchair, and getting by Y/N’s side in a matter of a second.

            “Here, sit down.” The man, Dennis Whitaker he introduced himself, took hold of her other bicep and moved the wheelchair behind her.

            “I’m fine,” she groaned. “I’m not an invalid. I can make it inside on my own. Besides, that wheelchair could be used for someone that actually needs it.”

            “You actually need it.” Sara levelled a gaze at her. “And I will make you a fucking invalid because I will clock you so hard in the head, you will have a concussion, if you don’t have one from the fall.”

             For a tense second, Y/N stood (or wobbled) her ground, Y/E/C eyes locked onto Sara’s hazel ones which were slowly narrowing with each passing moment until she cursed and said, “Alright fine.” Together Whitaker and Sara lowered the injured woman into the wheelchair. “God, I hate your mom-stares.”

            “It’s the only way to get you to do anything in terms of taking care of yourself.”

            “It’s not!” Y/N protested. “I’ll have you know, I made myself an omelet yesterday for breakfast. Veggies and all.”

            “Yeah, after I berated you that a stale Coke from three days ago, isn’t actual breakfast.” Sara walked side by side as Whitaker pushed the wheelchair into the madhouse that was the emergency department.

            It was fascinating to observe the situation as an outsider – nurses and doctors were like level-headed owls, their heads swiveling this way and that way, as they assessed the patients and their statuses, while the residents and patients themselves, not all, but quite a bunch, were like headless chickens, rushing around and trying to prioritize afflictions or become a priority to the doctors.

            Codes were called left and right, people moved from one side to the other, snapping on gloves and donning protective gear, and in the center of it all, was the command post – the nurse’s station which Whitaker had wheeled her to.

            “Dana, is there a room available?” he addressed a slim, blonde woman, probably the one in charge.

            “Room six is available, what’s the, oh,” she stopped mid-sentence as she noticed Y/N and the bone sticking out of her leg.

            “I don’t mind waiting,” she gave her a sheepish smile. “There’s probably loads of people before me. Besides, it’s just a sprain.”

            “Well, that’s probably one of the worst sprains I’ve ever seen,” Dana deadpanned as she motioned with her head towards someone behind them.

            Y/N shrugged. “Well, I am just special like that.”

            “Yeah, maybe in the head,” Sara grumbled as she gave the charge nurse all the necessary info for the moment. “Speaking of which – she also hit her head when she went down with her… sprain.”

            Dana’s lips quirked up as she hummed and tapped something on her iPad, weaving around the table, leaving Whitaker to follow her like a lost puppy as they moved to the room Y/N was now assigned to. “We’ll schedule you a CT ASAP.”

            Y/N turned her head to look at her best friend. “Given how this little trip was your idea, you’re paying off my medical debt.”

            “Just let these nice doctors and nurses take care of you.” Sara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because quite honestly, I’m not too into the idea of searching for a new roommate. Do you know how many creeps I’d have to go through? And what if the one normal one I find has a fatal flaw?”

            “Such as?”

            “I dunno. What if they hate musicals?”

            “Oh, the tragedy.” Y/N pressed a hand against her chest as they wheeled her inside the room.

            There was another presence there, a young doctor, probably late twenties or early thirties. A cute little dimple on his chin, dark hair, and blue eyes. Reminded her a bit of the guy from Air Bud, if she squinted a bit.

            “My name’s Dr. Langdon,” he introduced himself, giving Y/N a reassuring smile. “And this is Dennis Whitaker, our fourth-year medical student. Would it be alright, if he and another one of our residents observed the situation today? This is a teaching hospital, but it is well within your rights to refuse.”

            She shook her head. “Observe away. Not much I can hide.”

            “Alright, thank you.” He ventured out for a quick second only to come back with a young woman who introduced herself as Dr. Mel King, a second-year resident. “Okay,” Dr. Langdon said. “Let’s get you onto the bed and see what we’re working with.”

            The three medical professionals surrounded her and helped Y/N move from the wheelchair on the paper-covered bed, without jostling her leg too much, but it was enough.

            So far, she’d been able to take her mind off the pain by distracting herself – she bickered with Sara, recited the script of The Hunger Games movie in her head while fantasising about a blond Josh Hutcherson, because Peeta was just elite like that. She’d even gone so far as to go over the division table, but now, as more attention was being placed on the broken leg, it started to hurt more and more. It was like Y/N mind-over-mattered an itching spot left by a mosquito by chanting “It’s not itchy” over and over in her head, but the second she stopped, the itching came back in full force.

            “So,” Dr. Dimple, she nicknamed him in her head, started. “What happened?”

            Y/N sighed, looking at the ceiling. “Can I just give you the not-humiliating version and say I’m a klutz?”

            He gave her a charming smile as a nurse prepped an IV line. “Unfortunately, we need to know beyond “clumsy”. The environment where this accident happened is important.”

"It could introduce pathogens into the wound," Mel, as Dr. King had requested to be called, said.

            Y/N chewed on her bottom lip before muttering, “I slipped in the shower and sprained my leg. And then got assaulted by some shampoo and conditioner bottles… and then I threw up.”

            “And don’t forget the head!” Sara said from the door where she still stood, observing the work happening.

            Y/N threw her a knowing smirk. “Never do. And I haven’t had any complaints yet.”

            “The throwing up could indicate a concussion,” Whitaker said. “Dana’s already scheduled a CT. And in terms of the leg, you actually have an open fra-,”

            Y/N took hold of Whitaker’s bicep like he’d done so for her when he’d helped wheel her inside the emergency department. “Please listen to me when I say this – unless you want me to hurl all over you, and trust me, I can aim, the only thing I have, is a sprain. Got it?”

            He gulped and nodded, stepping away from Y/N like a man who’d gotten sprayed by too many fluids in one day and didn’t want to be anywhere near the danger zone. “Loud and clear Miss Sprained-Ankle-Woman.”

            “Good.” The nausea that’d started creeping up her belly subsided. “Because I can deal with you people having to do things, but if I have to actually listen to any of it, or think about it, I will be sick.”

            “We can give you some anti-nausea medication for that,” Dr. Dimple soothed. “But first, we’ll get you a CT, and then we’ll have a surgery room prepped for you because you need to get this reset as quickly as possible. You will probably have some metal plates and screws to hold the uh… sprain together, and then a cast for about six to eight weeks.”

            “Great,” Y/N grumbled. “This is just fucking great. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my vacation, before, oh… oh, absolutely not.” Y/N’s eyes widened to a comically large size as she looked past her room and into the waiting area. “Sara, you need to get me out of here right the fuck now.”

            “Hey, woah, what is going on?” Dr. Langdon rushed to where Y/N was trying to get the IV line out. “Please don't do that, you'll only hurt yourself more.”

            “Y/N, what’s going on?” Sara’s brows were pulled tight in a frown, as she tried to help Dr. King get the oxygen monitor back onto her finger. “You need surgery, for fuck’s sake.”

            “It’s him,” she hissed, not taking her gaze away from where it’d locked on. “And I don’t want to spend a second anywhere near the dick.”

            “Who?” Sara swiveled her head to look beyond the glass separating them from the chaos beyond. “Who’s the dick?”

            “Him.”

            And then four pairs of eyes locked onto the man standing and talking with the charge nurse at The Hub, Y/N was glaring at.

            “Do – do you two know each other?” Dr. Dimple asked.  “Do you feel unsafe with him around?”

            “Yeah, you could say we know one another,” she scowled and crossed her arms as Mel managed to finally reattach the oxygen monitor, all of their attention onto her. “That’s the dude I hooked up with two weeks ago, and completely ghosted me that same morning.”

            Every single head snapped to look back at Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, who’d also finally noticed Y/N was at his workplace, as a patient no less. His eyebrows were right up to his hairline, brown eyes wide with disbelief and mouth agape as she glowered at the older man.

            It was quite a surreal moment – all of these capable doctors and residents and nurses, stunned by the information so bad, that they almost seemed to forget Y/N was there. She wondered what was going through their heads, as this seemed like it wasn’t a regular occurrence. Which stung even more – if Michael had been a fuckboy, she could take it, but it didn’t seem so. So, what was wrong with Y/N that had made him run away after the night they’d spent together?

            When they’d met at the bar, he had told her he was an emergency department attending. The big boss of his little duckling residents, dutifully running the hospital department with the help of the nurses.

Why, when Sara had finally managed to get Y/N inside the car, it hadn’t occurred to her, he would work in this particular hospital. Just why?

Y/N couldn’t say. Maybe she’d hoped he worked the night shifts. Maybe she’d hoped, he worked somewhere else, or even out of town, but, of course, for whatever sins she’d committed, karma couldn’t do her a solid one.

            Sara gasped, rushing by her side as Y/N watched Michael flounder and try and decide what to do – whether to interfere and face the music or run away from the hospital. He apparently chose the latter as he twisted on his heel and high-tailed it to the other end of the department, leaving a cackling Dana behind.

            “That’s him?” Sara strained her neck. “That’s the hot doctor?”

            Y/N scoffed. “The one and only. Couldn’t even leave a fucking note or something. Like I can take a hint a one-night-stand is a one-night-stand, alright? But don’t just fucking bolt out of the door like your ass is on fire before the other party wakes up. Fucking dickhead.”

            “Well, maybe it wasn’t as fun of a night for him, as you thought, and he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Sara raised a brow.

            “Oh, trust me,” Y/N smirked. “It was a very fun night for him. I would know. I was there, and you can’t fake the kind of shaking. Four hours will do that to a guy,” she winked and touched the tips of her pointer finger and thumb in an A-Okay sign.

            “Yeah,” it was Dr. Dimple smiling at her, the grin on his face almost wolfish in nature. “Yeah, you are absolutely my new favorite person in the world.”

            However, whatever he wanted to say or ask, was cut short when Dana returned to inform that her CT slot was coming up, and so Y/N was wheeled away, not daring to look at Michael as they passed one another in the hallway.

            As the results came back for a minor concussion, the anesthesiologist informed, that they recommended a spinal for the surgery, while the team prepper, but Y/N shot it down immediately.

            “Absolutely not. Look, I know it’s not safe to go to sleep after a concussion, but I will not be listening to the sounds of some bone-carpenter crunching on my leg. Put me under,” she gave him her most pathetic look. “Please.”

            The specialist still tried to argue, but he couldn’t do it much longer, as Y/N needed surgery as soon as possible, so after five minutes of strongly recommending the spinal, he relented and in half an hour, Y/N had managed to get hers – she was out like a light, without a sound in her ears.

            It was the best sleep she’d ever had in her life. Like floating on a cloud, surrounded by doves and angels singing her lullabies. She never wanted to wake up, but something was rousing her out of the blissful state.

            A large warm hand around her palm, thumb rubbing the top of it, was soothing her senses. It was like hot chocolate after being out in the sow. Or sitting by a fireplace with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

            “Good afternoon, Miss Sprained-Ankle,” a low, rumbly voice greeted Y/N as she floated back into consciousness. Her eyes locked onto two gentle, brown ones, and despite the medication, she knew she wasn’t hallucinating him.

            Michael’s face was beard-covered like it had been when they’d met. He still had the same worry lines on his forehead and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Y/N had said she liked those the best.

            “It shows you’ve smiled and laughed despite everything else,” she’d informed him over the rim of her Pornstar Martini.

            She couldn’t truly imagine just how draining his line of work was, both physically and mentally, but the laugh lines she could see hiding under the beard, harmonizing with those around his eyes, was a feature Y/N had noticed first.

            “So,” she slurred her tongue a swollen mass of sandpaper in her mouth, and Michael noticed that, holding a cup of water against her lips until she’d had her fill. “Do I have to keep breaking bones to wake up with you next to me?”

            “I hope not.” With gentleness Y/N knew he possessed, yet didn’t expect, he brushed away a droplet that’d slipped past her mouth, and onto her cheek. “I hope this is the only time I ever have to see you in such a state.”

            “Can’t promise that,” she shook her head. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

            “Yeah?” amusement was evident on his weary face. “And what kind of reputation is that?”

            “When I was in first grade, on the first day of school, I broke my arm. And then like a few months later, I smashed my face against a radiator and split my lip open. Still have a scar,” she pointed right below her right nostril where a sliver of lighter skin was. “And then, but that was like third grade or something, I smashed my head against a metal railing and split my head open. I could even push my fingers inside and scrape my -,”

            “Okay, I understand,” Michael interrupted her and pulled the hand that was tapping against the hairline on her forehead. “You are an ED connoisseur, but please, don’t make this a habit.”

            “Damn, straight I am.” Y/N gave a confident nod, but before Michael could ask anything else, she said, “You know what I don’t get? Like why did my leg bone hurt while sticking out of my body, but my teeth that are sticking out right now, don’t?” She clacked them for emphasis. “They’re outside bones.”

            A soft smile bloomed on Michael’s face as he brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. She could feel someone had put her hair in a protective style and had to wonder if it had been the man beside her. But that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he care like that for her?

            “For one,” he muttered. “You broke your fibula – the smaller bone in your lower leg, and in doing so, hurt the surrounding things like muscles and skin. That is one reason why you felt such pain. And two – if you broke a tooth, it would hurt too. Your cavities hurt, don’t they?”

            “Mmm,” a self-satisfied smile bloomed on Y/N’s face. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a cavity.”

            “That’s good. Dentists aren’t cheap.” As a response she just clacked her teeth again, making Michael laugh. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea?”

            “Nope, I am A-Okay. Honestly, that was like the best sleep of my life. Well…” Y/N pouted, taking her gaze away from Michael’s. “That night when I fell asleep with you is also up in the Top 5, but then I woke up and… you know… you weren’t there.”

            She was obviously delirious from the medication being pumped through her veins, but much like when Y/N was drunk, she was a throw-up-remember-everything kind of a girl, instead of a black-out-drunk. Besides, it wasn’t like she could run anywhere. Quite literally.

            Michael sighed, dragging a hand down his face, visibly cringing at her words. “About that… I – yeah, I think the only thing I can say is I’m sorry. For, you know, ghosting, as you youngsters say.”

            “ ‘S alright.” Y/N shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, as if the second she’d seen him, she hadn’t been ready to bolt. “I’m over it.”

            “No, no it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have done that. Because that night was… great. It was amazing, actually. And everything leading up to the uh, you… you know, the...” he cleared his throat, and a smirk pulled up on Y/N’s lips.

            “The sex? Come on, you can say it in your big old man age. It’s just three letters.”

            “Jesus Christ.” Michael rubbed his neck as a slight pink shade crawled up his neck, which made Y/N let out a chuckle at how uncomfortable he looked talking about this. Maybe it was time to let this go, for his sake and her own sanity.

            “Look, if it makes you feel any better,” Y/N shifted to the edge of the mattress and patted the side of her bed, so he could sit down. After asking if she was sure, he did take the offered space. “I – I’ve been treating you a bit unfairly with this. I think my ego was a bit crushed after waking up and not having you there, but, umm… you’re off the hook. Besides, I think I’m in your debt with all of this. Your team is amazing.”

            “They’re pretty great, aren’t they?” he mumbled, one of his hands having moved to toy with the wristband the hospital had assigned to Y/N. “But still, how I reacted then, and even earlier in the morning… it wasn’t right. I mean, I’m pushing fifty for fuck’s sake. That’s not what someone my age does.”

            “So what?” she raised a brow. “The issue is you think you’re a cradle-robber? Because you’re no more that than I am a grave robber. I’m twenty-six, Michael,” she turned her palm up hoping he’d accept it and slide his hand in hers. After a moment of hesitancy, he did, and Y/N squeezed it in reassurance. “I mean, if you think you’re doing something bad, by having slept with someone two decades younger than you, I’ll have you know, according to regency times, as a woman who’ll be turning twenty-seven this year, I’m pretty much a decrepit old spinster.”

            Michael let out a soft laugh as his fingers trailed the lines on Y/N’s palm. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Me? I’m your probably dad’s age.”

            “And looking hotter than ever, if you ask me.”

            “Yeah? You think so?” He asked as Y/N hummed in affirmation. “Well then, for a decrepit old spinster, you are beautiful. And acting with much more grace than I deserved or deserve.”

            Something in the way he said those last few words made her heart squeeze. “Michael… of course you deserve grace.”

            “You’re being far too good to me… you’re far too good for me…”

            Y/N’s brows furrowed at that. Slowly, she attempted to rise in a sitting position, but she didn’t get far before Michael had his arms around her waist, like they’d been two weeks ago, pushing a pillow to stabilize the small of her back. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he opened an apple juice box and handed it to her.

            “To get your sugar up.”

            But she just stared at him, only reaching for the little carton after he’d resumed his previous sitting position. “Is that what this is about?” she asked. “Some insecurity you think I deserve better than you? Because I can decide those things for myself. I am an adult. With a fully-developed frontal lobe, mind you.”

            He took in a deep breath, held it for a second, then released it, and Y/N watched that whatever kind of decision he’d come to, had released a certain tension that’d been accumulating in his body. “Kind of, I guess. But mostly…” he swallowed, then nodded to himself, eyes trained on her wristband. “Mostly I got scared.”

            “Of what?” Y/N tilted her head. “I mean, I know my morning breath probably isn’t that attractive, and the smeared makeup made me look like a coked-out raccoon, but -,”

            “No,” Michael shook his head, chuckling. His cheeks were reddish at her words, but as he lifted his eyes to hers, there was a grateful look to them. Like he was thankful she wasn’t making fun of him even in his ripe old age. “You,” he stumbled over his words a bit, “when I saw you there, sleeping by my side like you belonged… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than that. And that’s when I thought to myself – if I worked up the courage, could there be more mornings like that? Could I make you breakfast and coffee one day? Maybe I’d get the privilege of falling asleep next to you as we watch movies at night. And that scared me.”

            “The possible future?”

            “Wanting that possible future, because that feeling, the one that started to grow right here,” he tapped the center of his chest. “I couldn’t think straight. So, I had to go.”

            “I mean,” Y/N swallowed hard. “That is a lot to imagine after only a few hours together.”

            “Does that… creep you out? ‘Cause it’s totally understandable if it does. I mean Jesus, I’m old… and you’re so young.”

            “No, it doesn’t.” And she meant it when she said it. “I find it actually quite endearing, but you can stop being so hung-up on the age difference. If you think there might be some daddy issues on my side, I can assure you – there’s none. I quite like my dad, and I definitely don’t see you as such a figure. Not after the things you did to me. ‘Cause, quite honestly, sex with you was probably the best dicking-down I’ve had in a year.”

            If Michael had been drinking anything, Y/N was sure he would have choked with how he sputtered at her words. “Well, uh, yeah, I uh… I’m glad you… enjoyed it.”

            “I did. And I know you enjoyed it too,” her smile was nothing short of wicked.

            “Yeah, and apparently now the rest of the residents and nurses and doctors know it too?” Michael raised his brows at her.

            It took Y/N a while to realize he was talking about when she’d gotten admitted and spilt the beans on their night together, implying their copious amount of copulation. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, but I’d like to think your reputation has now gone sky-high between the female nurses and doctors. Maybe the guys and theys as well. But I do apologize for talking about your private life while at your work. In my defense, until that very moment, I didn’t know you worked here. And well, I was pissed.”

            “You and your mouth will get you in trouble one day,” Michael pointed at her.

            “Yeah? Would you like to put something in it, to shut me up? Last time, you really liked it when I -,”

            “Okay, trouble, that’s enough.” Even though his words had a finality to them, humor glowed on his features. He seemed relaxed. Content even, as he took the now empty apple juice box Y/N had been sipping on this whole time.

            “You on a break?” She started scooting down the bed once more, and Michael instantly helped her get situated.

            “Want to get rid of me so quickly?”

            “No. It’s just you’re spending an awfully long time with me. Don’t you have other patients to check in on? I don’t want you to waste your time if you need to get to someone else. Or maybe grab a bite to eat? I’m fairly sure doctors don’t know how to have a good work-life balance, despite continuously recommending it to us, mere mortals.”

            “Time with you isn’t a waste.”

            Oh.

            Oh, how badly did Y/N want to rip off the little wires connecting her to the heart monitor, because had Michael not turned the sound off, she was sure the whole hospital would be hearing it go nuts at his words, the squiggling beat of it a treat for only Michael this time, because when he noticed it, a smirk bloomed on his mouth. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to, not when he murmured, twining their fingers together, “I want to kiss you so bad.”

            “I definitely won’t be opposed to that.” Y/N’s answer might have come way too quickly, but she was beyond feeling embarrassed about wanting him. “You have permission to kiss away. For as long as possible. All day, every day, whenever you want to.”

            “Well, thank you for that,” Michael chuckled, cupping her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. “But… not right now. Let me take you out on a proper date. Let me do this right.”

            “Oh my God, seriously?” Y/N whined throwing her head back. “You’re gonna make me wait? Especially after that whole speech and whatnot? You are a cruel, cruel man Dr. Michael Robinavitch.”

            Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he leaned to hover over Y/N, a golden necklace slipping from the inside of his shirt and dangling before her. She wanted to pull it between her teeth like she’d done so during their one night together. It took every dwindling ounce of willpower not to.

            “Maybe, I just want you aching. And yearning. You were the one who said men don’t yearn enough nowadays. But I have. For you, for two whole god-damned weeks. Now it’s your turn.”

            It was pathetic how Y/N wanted to cry and whimper. “But I didn’t even do anything! You were the one that ran out! Why am I being punished for your actions?”

            “Do you – do you not want to go on a date with me?”

            “I do, but I’d rather you rail me as soon as possible.”

            “Well, for one,” Michael tried to continue on as if Y/N’s words hadn’t made heat creep up his face, but he could only do so much. He was a human, after all. “You’re not allowed any strenuous activities until you’ve got a clean bill of health. And two, all teasing aside, I want to do this properly. I want to do right by you this time.”

            “Why would you?” she exasperated. “I wasn’t complaining when you didn’t do it right by me, and I’m certainly not going to if you suddenly decide to stop being chivalrous. Maybe even right here. We could recreate some scene from Grey’s Anatomy?” Y/N wiggled her brows at him, eliciting a deep rumble of a chuckle.

            “Grey’s is just a malpractice lawsuit after a malpractice lawsuit, and I, unlike the characters there, don’t want my medical license to be revoked. Until you get discharged, I’m one of your doctors.”

            “My hot doctor, you mean.”

            The sigh that left Michael was not weary or a worn-out kind of noise. Rather it was a resigned I-guess-this-is-my-life-now kind of a sigh, especially combined with the endearing look on his face, it made Y/N feel warm all over.

            Slowly, as they talked a bit more, her eyes began to droop, exhaustion from the morning, from the surgery and the subsequent consequences settling in once more. “Will you stay?” she asked as Michael brushed a knuckle along her jaw. “Just until I fall asleep?”

            “Of course,” Michael took her hand in his, sitting down by her side again, as he pressed a kiss to her wrist. “And I… I wish I could promise I’ll be here when you wake up, but I, -”

            “I know,” Y/N interrupted him with a soft and understating smile. “By that point, you’ll probably be off saving lives. It’s why I’m not asking you to.”

            “I’ll try though.” He promised.

            “Okay.”

            And with her hand still in Michael’s, Y/N drifted off once again without even realizing it was pitch-black outside, and Michael hadn’t been wearing his shift scrubs. He should have long been home resting, and yet, he hadn’t been able to leave her. Not like he did before.

            By the time she awoke early the next morning, Y/N was clearheaded, and yet all her thoughts mulled over the conversation she’d had with Michael the previous night. Would he go back on his word? Had he only talked with her like that because she was high on pain meds, and maybe thought she wouldn’t remember their discussions?

            She knew he hadn’t promised to be there when she awoke, so Y/N didn’t hold it against him, but she couldn’t deny the sting. But that was immediately soothed by the hoodie that’d been laid over the back of a chair.

            His hoodie.

            A promise he would at least have a reason to come back and check in on her. It was Dana, the charge nurse, peeking her head inside that pulled Y/N back into the present. “How are we feeling today? Ready to be discharged? Dr. Langdon will be with you shortly for a follow-up.”

            The woman in the hospital bed groaned. “Can’t I just stay here? Like you people – you are normal. Sara will be a mother hen on crack. I am willing to brave hospital food, as long as I don’t have to go home to all that fussing. She’s probably already bullied our landlord into installing a lift or something.”

            “She cares for you,” it was Dr. Langdon piping in, as he entered her room, pulling on a pair of gloves and nodding to Dana in thanks. “You’re pretty lucky to have a friend like her.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Y/N sighed as Dr. Langdon looked over her leg, asked some questions about pain levels and talked her through the post-op care. “But in my defense, she has a tendency to overreact.”

            “I’d say you have a tendency to underreact, but that’s just my professional opinion.”

            She rolled her eyes as Dr. Langdon finished his assessment and handed off her chart to Dana, so they could start the discharge process. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.”

            “In any case, I do think the whole ED is in debt to Sara.”

            To that she raised a brow.

            “Well, had she not made you come in, I don’t know if Dr. Robby would have had a chance of seeing you again. Because, if I have to be honest, we’ve all been scratching our heads the past couple of weeks trying to figure out why he’s been in such a mood. Now we know why.”

            “You two shit-talking me?” Michael’s soft tone interrupted the conversation, as he crossed his arms and leaned against the entryway. “How are you feeling?”

            She tried and failed to hide the heat creeping up her veins. Even if Y/N had succeeded, that damned monitor, the sound no doubt having been turned back on by Michael before he left, to make sure if anything went awry at night, someone was there for her, betrayed her anyway. God, she wanted to punch the smile off both the men's faces.

            “Fine.” She turned her head to look at the wall, as a nurse stepped in and removed the IV catheter and wrapped her hand in gauze. “Not looking forward to the itching that will appear, in what? Three days?”

            “No scratching,” Dr. Dimple pointed at her with a pen. “You could injure yourself and cause a serious infection. No rulers, no knitting needles, no crochet needles, no twigs or branches, no nothing.”

            “But what about -,”

            “No nothing,” he emphasized. “Or I will have to recommend Dr. Robby make a house call on you. Though that isn’t much of a threat for you two, is it?”

            “Okay, Frank? Scram. Now. There’re patients that need checking on. I can take care of Y/N.”

            “Yeah, I bet you can,” Dr. Langdon let out a laugh but was out of the room before either she or Michael could say anything.

            The only thing Y/N was happy about, was that the comment had made not only her flustered, but Michael as well, as he shifted on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous tick. In the end, he gave her a smile that said “Sorry about him” and padded over to where he’d left his hoodie.

            And that only made her even more flustered, because seeing a man like him, so level-headed and sure, get visibly nervous over her, did things to Y/N. Which made her want to do things to Michael, but then Dana returned, two crutches in hand, Whitaker wheeling a wheelchair once more, and all passion slipped away.

            “Right, thanks.” She eyed the crutches like they were cow-eating pythons. “I fucking hate my life.”

            Low, warm laughter filtered through the room as Dana helped Y/N get redressed and situated her in the wheelchair, crutches placed over her knees as she was rolled to the nurse’s station.

            “I uh, took the liberty of calling Sara for you,” Michael said as he leaned against the table. When Y/N raised a brow in question, he elaborated, “She’s in your emergency contacts. Should be here in fifteen or so.”

            “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

            “I know,” he smiled. “But I wanted to.”

            And there it was again, that warmth that blossomed in her chest, only this time she let it spread, let it wrap around her heart and wash away that bitterness, that’d been there since the morning Y/N had woken up cold and alone.

            It hadn’t been just the sex, though that night Michael had given her some of the most earth-shattering orgasms she’d ever had (thankfully, Sara had been away with her girlfriend, so she didn’t have to suffer through the teasing).

            It was the conversations leading up to it, the sense of ease Y/N felt around Michael. He was witty and sarcastic, his humor dry, but not at the expense of others while being engaging and thought-provoking at the same time. What had sealed the deal for her though was when he actually engaged in the debate, she presented him – if he had to kiss a fish-spider hybrid, what would he choose – fish head, spider body or fish body, spider head?

            He’d made her laugh so hard she cried, and when Y/N had deemed it was time to call an Uber and go home, she’d taken the risk and asked if he wanted to come to her place. And after a few moments where she wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole, he’d nodded.

            Together they waited for the cab, standing side by side, yet not touching. He’d opened the car door for her, before slipping in himself.

            The tension could be cut with a knife, and afterwards, Y/N had given the driver five stars for enduring it, while the whole way, one of Michael’s palms had slowly moved to rest against her thigh, and she’d had to clench them together because if she didn’t, there would be a noticeable wet spot underneath.

            After an agonizing half an hour's drive, they finally got to her place. Michael held the door open for her, and insisted on paying for the Uber, no matter how much Y/N protested.

            Every step towards the apartment she was renting on the fourth floor of the complex, was agony. As she fumbled for her keys, Michael’s fingers were slowly skimming the side of her dress where the zipper rested.

            Y/N’s whole body was a live-wire, and she wondered how in the world had the lock not melted from the heat, as it slid in place and she unlocked the door, the motion now forever having a sexual connotation, for in that moment Michael was the key that would unlock her desires.

            Together, they stepped beyond the threshold, and yet still, he never once removed his touch from her body. From that damned little black number. She’d only worn it because she’d been set up on a blind date. They were supposed to meet up at the bar for a drink before going to a play, but as it turns out, even guys who like theatre can ghost.

            When Y/N realized the situation, she wanted to go home, as her date was the one who had the tickets, pull this thing off and drink the already opened bottle of wine that was in the fridge, but she could have at least one good cocktail before that.

            That’s when Dr. Robby, or as he’d asked her to call him by his first name, Michael, slid into the seat next to her. They didn’t talk for the first five minutes, not until she’d been scrolling through Instagram and some post had caught her eye. Something about green tea enemas and glowing skin, and the man beside had released a heavy-duty sigh, accompanied by “fucking Dr. Google.”

            It’s when slowly but surely, they’d struck up a conversation, which had now resulted in Y/N having Michael towering over her, his beard scratching against the crook of her neck where he’d placed his chin.

            When his hands wove and settled against her stomach, any sort of resolve she’d had, snapped. Instantly, she turned, weaving her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to hers in a bruising kind of kiss. The kind that left you breathless and dizzy and wanting more.

            She felt an insatiable thrill rush down her spine as Michael responded with just as much vigor, the pads of his fingers digging deep into her hips and pulling her to be flush against his chest, so much so, that Y/N could feel his own desire growing in his groin.

            “I’ve never hated clothes more than I do right now,” she giggled as Michael grappled with the door handle and pushed it close without disconnecting from one another.

            “Then let’s get them off, shall we?”

            The way he dragged the side zipper open, was almost reverent, worshipping even. Like he wanted to prolong the build-up between them, and Y/N couldn’t lie – she was loving it, even if she was losing her mind. So many times, when she’d had hook-ups, guys tended to just get her naked as fast as possible, which was fine. She was down for it, but there was something indescribable about how Michael reveled in feeling her slowly start to tremble, in how he kissed up and down her neck, while his fingers took their sweet time. It drove her insane with want, in an amount she’d never felt before.

            His pointer finger dragged its way up Y/N’s bicep, making goosebumps erupt all over before he slowly slid a strap down. Then the other, until the dress was pooling around her waist, and still, where usually she’d be helping the guy shimmy herself out of the dress, Michael didn’t rush. He simply allowed his hands to explore her body, skimming along her ribs and up to the black lacy number she’d worn, then right back down.

            “You counting if I have all my ribs in place, Dr. Robby?” Y/N let out a shaky breath, trying to alleviate the gathered tension, for she was just about to combust, but all she got was a soft smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her neck where her pulse was visibly thrumming.

            “I don’t have much time in my day to stop and admire art. So please, indulge me. And art, which I’m allowed to touch, should be revered even more so.”

            Her eyes may or may not have rolled to the back of her head at his words, and he hadn’t even gotten his head between her legs yet. Yeah, Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, the attending of a trauma centre, would be the death of her.

Name of the deceased - Y/N Y/L/N. Date of death - 4th of April, 2025. Cause of death – self-combustion. Reason for self-combustion – a sexy as fuck doctor.

            Quite honestly, if that was how she was going to go, so be it.

            Finally, though, after what felt like ages, her dress was shed, leaving her only in her underwear and strappy high-heels she’d worn.

            “If there is one thing I hate, it’s not having a photographic memory,” Michael grumbled as his hands skimmed along the waistband of her panties. “But trust me when I say this, I will be picturing this moment for decades to come.”

            “You are more than welcome to have a look at what’s hiding underneath,” Y/N said. Or that is what she would have said, had she not simply whimpered in response. Not very sexy of her, but the feeling of his chest rumbling with a laugh, totally made up for it.

            She gathered enough of her bearings to step out of the fabric around her feet and move them along to her room. Never did his eyes leave her, never did his gaze waver or wander as they faced one another, her queen-sized bed behind her.

            “You are awfully overdressed,” Y/N mumbled, allowing herself the luxury of running her palms along the still-covered planed of his chest. His breathing was steady, but to feel the erratic thumping of his heart excited her beyond measure. It meant all that composure was just an act, and she was thrilled she’d be the one to crack it.

            She was just about to move her fingers to the buttons of his shirt when Michael slid down to his knees. If his hands hadn’t been resting against her thighs, she was sure she would’ve buckled and crashed. And Michael, damn the man to hell and back, knew it, if only by the smirk that stretched his face as he unlaced the strappy heels she had on and helped her stand on her feet.

            Y/N covered her face and groaned, throwing her head back. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me?”

            “Torturing you?” A kiss against her navel. “The only person being tortured tonight has been me. At the bar. In the car. Even now, you’re driving me crazy. So, if this is torture, simply consider it payback.”

            With the gentlest of touches, only a doctor could manage, Michael skimmed over Y/N’s stretchmarks, scars and blemishes – pieces of herself she didn’t particularly like, but the way he touched her… it was like he was mapping out the carve-marks of a Michelangelo statue. She was Venus and those – the history of her life.

            By the time he got back up to her mouth, she was a trembling mess, her nails digging into the muscles of his back, as finally, to her relief, he allowed her to rid him of the shirt.

            Much like he’d done to her, Y/N allowed herself the pleasure of exploring his body, mapping out the ridges and slopes of his chest and abdomen, before moving around to his back, and once they made their way to the small of it, she dug her nails against the skin there. The groan she was rewarded with, was sweeter than the cocktail he’d bought her.

            “Is it okay, if I touch you here?” Michael’s fingers slipped along the tops of her breasts before they moved to her back where they toyed with the clasp of the garment.

            “More than,” Y/N’s words were a breathless whisper by that point, and her inhale stuttered in her chest as she deftly snapped it open.

            It was clear he had experience, and not just because he was two decades her senior, but probably also because he’d done so in the trauma center, he worked at. For a brief, stupid second, she wondered how he could still find such acts pleasurable when he’d no doubt had to have done it during horrendous emergencies, yet all that was wiped away when Michael lowered his head and his teeth grazed a nipple.

            Her sharp gasp echoed around them, and Y/N weaved her fingers through his hair, pushing his face closer, as he lavished at her chest. The next day, she was sure, there would be bruises and love bites blooming like flowers across her chest and sternum, not to mention the delicious beard burn.

            Y/N moaned as he pulled the peak into his mouth, but when an uninhibited thought entered, it made her throw it back in a deep groan.

            “That feel good?”

            “So fucking good, but also, so yeah, I,” she stammered trying to get her brain to cooperate and create a coherent sentence. “Okay, so I just imagined you in glasses, and this got like ten times hotter.”

            “Glasses?” Michael chuckled, pulling slightly back and looking up at her. “That’s what does it for you?”

            “Correction – you in glasses. Though you right now are so doing it for me too. But that image just… yeah… kinda glad you don’t have any on. I’d probably be a pile of ash by this point.”

            “Now that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” He said, slowly moving to her other breast, but not neglecting the one he’d already loved on, by cupping it in his large palm. “I mean, I’m just getting started.”

            Yeah, Y/N was dead and done for.

            As he continued licking at her chest, the hand that’d been fondling one of them, slid down her front and tentatively brushed against her clothed core. It was a single knuckle right against where her clit was, but it was enough for her to jolt in his grasp. Michael just steadied her and held tighter around her waist.  

            Once he deemed Y/N’s breasts worshipped enough, he trailed back up between them and covered her mouth with his, yet the knuckle, that damned fucking knuckle, still slid against her pussy. He could no doubt feel how wet she was, the material, though there wasn’t much of it anyway, soaked through so bad, her thighs were already sticky.

            “Michael please,” Y/N was now openly begging. She was way beyond feeling embarrassed for such a move when in the span of half an hour, he’d reduced her to liquid fire. No one had ever made her feel this wanted. This needed. And she desperately wanted and needed him too.

            “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, as he pushed his thumbs beyond the waistband of her panties and started to lower them down. The cool air hit her exposed core, and Y/N released a breathless moan. “You gotta tell me what you want and don’t want. I’m not gonna go any further until you do.”

            “I want you to touch me.”

            “I am touching you.”

            She could feel him smirk as his hands took hold of the globes of her ass and squeezed.

            “No, I want you to touch me there,” Y/N whined and tried to chase his mouth with hers, but Michael pulled back, shaking his head.

            “Gotta be more specific than that, sweetheart.”

            She debated on pulling away completely, on not giving him what he wanted either, but she was pathetic for this man. So, instead, she took one of his hands and guided it from where it rested against her ass, towards the front, sighing in relief as he let her do so. With her fingers guiding his, they slid to rest between her legs as Michael slowly, ever so exploratory, found her clit. She pressed her hand harder against his, so he could match the pressure on her core, and when he did so, overwhelming pleasure flooded her veins.

            “There,” Y/N breathed. “I want you to touch me there. And then,” she moved his hand deeper, by the wrist, until she could feel the pads of his fingers nudging against her entrance. “I want you to put three of your fingers inside me, while you suck on my clit, until I’m a crying mess.”

            As Y/N lifted her head back to look at him, there was absolutely no sign of the warm brown irises that’d looked at her so gently at the bar. Sure, it was dark in the apartment, yet even in bright daylight, she’d bet all her student loans, only two black abysses would be staring back at her, especially with how fast his chest was rising and falling.

            “And then?”

            God, had his voice dropped even lower? How did he manage to make it so gravelly, yet smooth as the darkest, most succulent chocolate?

            “And then…” Her fingers trembled as she moved her hands to the front of his pants, undoing the buckle and flipping open the button, lowering the zipper as she went. All the while, Michael applied steady pressure on her clit, circling the bundle of nerves just enough to drive her towards the edge, but not enough for release to come. “And uhm, then…” She pushed his pants down as far as they would go, letting them bunch around his knees.

            It took barely a moment for him to step out of them completely, kicking them to some forgotten corner of her room, leaving him in only his boxers. Somewhere along the way he’d lost the shoes and socks, but Y/N wasn’t about to go and hunt for them. Not with how he still circled her clit with those experienced appendages.

            “Yes?” He raised a brow and pressed harder against her clit, making her pull in a sharp breath.

            “And then,” Y/N trailed a teasing finger along the band of his boxers, for once delighting in how his abdomen muscles went taut, and his obviously hard dick twitched inside the confines. “And then I want you to fuck me. However, you want to. As long as by the end of it, neither of us know up from down and left from right.”

            When she cupped him over the clothes he still had left on, it seemed like it snapped something in Michael, some taut, already fragile wire, that’d begun fraying ever since she’d invited him back to her place. Because this time when he kissed Y/N, it was a hungry kiss. A man starved being served the most lavish meal of all.

            She was on the mattress in a matter of seconds, body covered by his towering frame. They molded perfectly together, Y/N thought. When she rolled her hips up to get at least some form of friction, he responded in kind, clearly searching to satiate his own desire.

            Michael’s hands slid from her shoulders down the length of her arms before intertwining their fingers and bringing them up and over Y/N’s head, not once disconnecting from the kiss.

            “You keep them there,” he instructed, breathing the words into her mouth. “And when I’m done with my appetizer, we’ll move on to the first of the main courses.”

            “Appetizer?” Y/N squeaked out. A good hook-up in her books was at least two orgasms, usually only having one. But calling eating her out an appetizer, and then having a numbered list of courses, was something else completely.

            Michael’s only response was that same damned smirk she’d learned could only mean torture, as he made his way between her legs, and without wasting another second, diving in between them.

            The first lick of his tongue was a broad, all-encompassing one. And Y/N could only hope her neighbors had some good noise-cancelling headphones at the ready.

            His forearms had settled against her hips and palms splayed themselves over her stomach to push her down against the bed, as she tried to chase his mouth.

            And what a mouth it was.

            Who knew the soft-spoken trauma doctor she’d met on a random Friday night at a bar while waiting for a date that never came, would be the creation of the Devil himself?

            But when he pushed two thick fingers inside, shortly followed by a third, just like Y/N had asked, all thoughts flew out of the window. The way he curled them in an attempt at finding that spot that made her gasp and choke on air, the way he scissored them, stretching her, preparing her for the first course he had in mind, was diabolical.

            Her first orgasm came unexpectedly. She could feel it like a wave – pushing and pulling – but she hadn’t expected the moment it crested and shattered against the rocks, swift and sharp, coming without a warning, all due to the teasing that’d happened before, no doubt.

            Michael rode it out with Y/N, until her hips stopped grinding against his mouth, and he could gently remove his fingers from her pussy.

            He placed a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh, the skin raw and tender from his beard, that now glistened with her juices.

            “ ‘M sorry,” Y/N mumbled, an arm thrown over her eyes as she came down from her high and tears streamed down to her temples, just like she’d requested.

            “Whatever for?”

            “Didn’t warn you I was coming.”

            As the aftershocks receded, and she removed her arm, she found Michael looking up at her completely puzzled. “And why would I need a warning? I could tell, you know.” He rose to hover over her. “The way you were clenching. Fucking proud of it too.”

            “No, I mean,” she huffed, trailing a hand down his chest. “Sometimes guys don’t want to… you know… have that in their mouth. They’d rather finish a girl off with their fingers and not have to… taste it.”

            Now that was one way to kill a mood, but Y/N had already opened her big mouth and the words were out.

            “And why wouldn’t I want to taste it, hmm?” Michael tilted his head at her, as his hands drifted up and down her sides, over her breasts and clavicles, to skim along her neck and finally settle on the pillow beside her head. “Why wouldn’t I want that, when it’s the end goal? You got your tears,” he kissed the corners of her eyes where the salt still lingered. “And I got my wine.”

            Her gaze drifted to the beard, the one she would be feeling for days to come, as she went about her life. The one that was glistening with the remnants of her orgasm even in the dark, and Y/N wondered, what it would be like to sit atop it. To have him pull her down by the waist as she claimed his mouth for her throne. They were such salacious thoughts, for a moment, embarrassment flushed through her, but come on! After such an eating out, Y/N was allowed to fantasize.

            “And by the end of this, if you let me,” Michael mumbled, a golden chain dangling in between them. Quickly she snatched it between her teeth and pulled, making him come closer. “I’d like to do so at least once more.”

            “You are absolutely welcome to it. Morning, noon and night.”

            But at that moment, Y/N had no intentions of allowing him to go for another round, as when he leaned down for a kiss, she lifted a leg over his hip and twisted, throwing Michael off his balance and onto his back, with her now on top.

            “But right now… you had your starter.” She gave him a wicked grin. “And I’ve yet to still have mine.”

            “Fuck me,” was all he managed to groan out as he threaded a hand through his hair, head pressed tight against her silk-covered pillows while Y/N rid him of his boxers.

            His length sprang free, thick and aching. It slapped against his abdomen and her hand curled around it immediately to give him some sort of relief, precum dripping from the tip. Or maybe, she intended to do quite the opposite.

            He’d taken his sweet fucking time riling her up. She could take hers. But it was the way he let out the smallest of “please”, the way his eyes locked onto hers, practically begging to put him out of his misery, that did her in. She’d tease him come morning. For now, she was way too aroused herself to deprive her body of his any longer.

            Y/N gathered a bit of saliva in her mouth and let it drip down onto his length, before dragging her tongue along the vein at the base of it, her lips wrapping around the tip as she made her way up and giving it a gentle, yet firm, suck.

            Michael’s hips jolted, and a hand grasped onto her head. He didn’t push it down or pull her hair in any way, more so it seemed he needed something solid to hold onto as she pulled his length into her mouth, until it hit the back of her throat, making both of them choke.

            “You don’t need to do that,” Michael started, ready to pull Y/N away if it became too much for her, but she stayed there, relaxing her muscles bit by bit, until he was so deep down her throat, her nose brushed against the hairs of his pelvis.

            “Fucking. Hell.” Those were the only two words he managed to express before Y/N trailed her mouth up and started to really suck him off. After that, it was just grunts and groans, his hand tightening and then unclenching in her hair, but never pressing, never pushing her to take more than she wanted to. Michael was completely immersed with her pace, and ready to take whatever she gave him.

            That sort of power could make anyone lightheaded, and when Y/N started to feel him twitch in her mouth, she pulled completely off.

            Instantly, his eyes snapped open, head rising to look at how she climbed his body and settled her knees around his hips, pressing her core down against his length. She was just about ready to let it slide inside when Michael’s hands closed around her waist and stopped her.

            “Condom,” he breathed out, chest rising and falling rapidly, probably the only word he could manage, which was great, because at least one of them still had some thinking skills left.

            “Shit. Fuck. Right, yeah.”

            Leaning over to her nightstand, Y/N half-fell over the bed to open the lowest drawer. In between her panties and vibrator, was a little foil packet which she fished out. She was glad of Michael’s unwavering hold, because the way she was precariously dangling over the edge, could end badly and with a stupidly gotten concussion.

            When she was back to straddling him, opening the packet and rolling the condom on his length, their eyes met.

            Michael rubbed his thumb in a circle on her hip. “We can always stop if you don’t want to go any further.”

            “I’m not a quitter,” Y/N scoffed, yet it didn’t elicit the smile she was aiming for, as he rose into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her, hers resting onto his shoulders.

            “And this isn’t some race or competition. You can revoke consent anytime you want. And so can I.”

            “I know that,” Y/N nodded, her gaze softening at his words. He could easily create a power imbalance between them. With double the decades of age and experience on her, Michael could be pushing at her limits, trying to twist things into teaching her how to properly please a guy and so on, yet throughout all of it, his focus had been zeroed in on her wants and needs. She shifted a bit in her lap at the thought that she hadn’t checked in with him. “Do you want to stop?”

            “No.” His voice was soft but sure, and then, after a moment of him searching her eyes, the smile she’d hoped for, formed on his face. “But uh, and that is obviously if you are alright with it, I wouldn’t be opposed to adding your… friend… to our activities sometime later.”

            “My friend?” Y/N tilted her head in confusion. “Oh…” A furious heat exploded through her body, and not because of the fact Michael’s cock was slowly rubbing against her clit, the head nudging just right for pleasure to zing through her.

            He’d obviously noticed her vibrator, though the bright purple shade would be hard to miss. “You’re not turned off by it?”

            “Why would I be? You’re a woman who has needs. And if that’s how you take care of them, it’s completely fine. I mean, as long as you’re being hygienic and safe about it. Besides,” Michael breathed against her neck, as his hand slid between their bodies and he grasped himself, lining the tip up with Y/N’s entrance. “Real men see them as tools to use to their advantage, not competition. And well, not to stroke my own ego,” he smirked, “but I don’t think I have any competition here.”

            Y/N wanted to call him out for that statement, but he wasn’t lying. Not with the way his length stretched her out as he pushed inside. The fingering beforehand was incomparable to the feel of Michael sliding inside at a slow and agonizing pace, but one she desperately needed and welcomed.

            He was thick and veiny, all ridges and girth, and so, so perfect for her.

            It took a minute for him to be fully sheathed, and a minute more for Y/N to adjust, her forehead pressed against his, while he rubbed his hands up and down her back while she settled.

            This wasn’t fucking. This was sex. This was intimate, and it was something she hadn’t known she’d wanted from a partner. Usually, it was fast and hard, leaving both her and the guy she was with, panting against the sheets. Satisfied in the sense that both (hopefully) had had orgasms, but something was always missing. Now, Y/N knew it was this – time.

            Time spent exploring one another, time spent learning and teaching, and time spent simply enjoying each other’s bodies.

            “You good?” Michael muttered, shifting ever so slightly and making the tip catch a spot inside of her, Y/N had only reached with her purple “friend”.

            “Yeah,” she nodded. “You?”

            “Yeah.” Michael kissed her. Whether as an affirmation of his words or simply because he could, she didn’t know. But neither did she care. He was the best kisser she’d had the opportunity to enjoy, so she’d take it.

            While they kissed, Michael started moving. At first, it was slow rolls of hips, figuring out what movements made both of their breaths hitch and hearts pound, but it wasn’t long before Michael was on his back, knees bent as Y/N bounced up and down, his thumb pressed against her clit the whole time.

            Her second orgasm of the night was a more controlled approach. She could feel the coil tightening in her abdomen, and when Michael started lifting his hips up to meet hers, Y/N listed forward, balancing herself against his chest.

            “You gonna come?” he breathed against her ear as she pressed her chest against his, Michael’s hands wrapping along the small of her back and holding onto it, so he could fuck up into her pussy. “I can feel you clenching around me. Fuck, you feel good.”

            “Michael,” Y/N moaned his name. Not Dr. Robby or Robby how he’d explained the people in his life called him, but the name he’d asked her to call him. His real name.

            One snap, two, three. That was all it took for heat to explode. The only grounding thing in the world was his scent – some form of cheap cologne, antiseptic and sweat, but she knew she still had a long way before she came down, with how he was drilling up inside of her, chasing his own release.

            It elicited another, albeit smaller orgasm, but the most pleasure she got was when she realized he’d come with her as his palms grabbed onto her ass and pulled her sharply down, her name a sweet grunt on his lips against her ear.

            Yeah. Y/N needed to go out with more doctors. At least they knew where to find the clit and not neglect it once they had.

            He brought a hand up to her face and pulled her by the cheek to meet his mouth, a satisfied sigh leaving her as he did so.          

            “That was the best one yet,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

            “And the night’s still young.”

            They went three more rounds after that (because she only had three more condoms, and she’d rather use them on one man who knew how to make her come three more times, than three men, who would have trouble getting one out of her).

            Michael was also a man of his word, as he had her vibrator join in on the fun. Y/N had her ass up in the air while he railed her from behind, an arm wrapped around her middle, pressing the toy to her clit, the vibrations sending pleasure unlike any other through her.

            His front was flush to her back, beard having left delicious burns down her spine, as he’d kissed her there, before eating her out once more in between the rounds and pushing his again-hard cock inside.

            That was the final orgasm she could manage, and it seemed Michael knew it. It was the kind that not only made her legs, but her whole body shake, leaving Y/N a trembling mess against the sheets, while he soothed her through the aftershocks.

            “You with me, sweetheart?” he mumbled against her temple as he gathered her in his arms and laid them side by side.

            “Jus’ give me a momen’,” Y/N slurred while Michael brushed a finger from her cheek to her jaw and back. “I think I’m a medical fucking miracle with how you just fucked my brains out, and yet, I can still function. Barely though.”

            Michael’s chuckle reverberated through her body, as after she’d recovered slightly, he gathered her up and moved them to where she instructed the bathroom was, to make sure she peed and didn’t get a UTI. If these had been normal circumstances, she would have never let a guy see her peeing, but quite honestly, Y/N wasn’t sure she’d be able to get back from the toilet seat on her own.

            “You’re more than welcome to have a shower if you want. Of course, only if you’re down with smelling like peaches or passion fruit.” Y/N nudged her chin towards the shower gels lining the floor, one hers, the other Sara’s.

            “I wouldn’t be opposed to, but only if you join me.”

            She hissed, biting her lip. “I don’t have any condoms left. Besides, from what I’ve heard and read, shower sex can be quite precarious. I’m surprised that you as a trauma doctor would risk such a thing.”

            “I’m not asking to have sex,” Michale laughed and helped her stand on her still wobbly legs after she flushed. “I’m asking for you to shower with me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

            And that’s what they actually did. They simply had a shower. Michael washed her back and she washed his, along with his hair. When she did so, the blissful look on his face, the way he allowed himself to melt against her touch, sent a new kind of thrill through her. But it also made her wonder – when was the last time he allowed someone to take care of him?

            By the time they got out from under the water, it was close to four in the morning, so they dried themselves down and went to bed. Y/N’s down duvet was a warm and fluffy cloud around them. Sure, she could have asked him to leave, but why would she, when he seemed so content to be there? Whether anything came from it once they awoke, didn’t matter. If he didn’t want to leave at that moment, Y/N would be the last person to push him to.

            She drifted off almost instantly, warm and safe in Michael’s hold, but when the real morning came and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, body sore and satiated, she was met with a cold spot next to her.

            There was no fucking sign on Michael, and judging by how she’d been tucked in, he’d left a while back.

            Her dress and underwear had been neatly laid out on the chair in her room, heels tucked beneath it. As she ventured into the apartment, there were absolutely no signs of him, except for a cup of tea on the kitchenette. She knew it’d been made for her – it was filled to the brim, but much like the sheets, it was also already cold.

            Sourness settled in her mouth as she poured the liquid down the drain. Not even a single fucking note. It was like they’d never even met.

            Y/N hadn’t expected him to leave his phone number, God forbid, his address, what with how he’d laughed when she’d told him she was twenty-six, and he’d responded that he could be her father with that age gap. She knew she was some kind of spur-of-the-moment mistake he’d made. A weakness in his judgement, but fucking hell, she at least deserved an “it was great meeting you, wish you all the best,” note. Especially because he knew the only reason she’d gone to the bar was because she’d been ghosted by a date.

            And now – now Michael was also a ghost, an unscratchable, unreachable itch under her skin she couldn’t get to.

            That was the real reason Y/N’d felt so bitter for the past two weeks. If he’d been a bad lay, or maybe she’d been the bad party, she would understand the one-and-done-dump, but something about falling asleep while being wrapped up in one another, and then just leaving without so much as a goodbye, was crueler than if he’d left while she was still coming down from her release.

            Now though, as she watched him while they waited at the nurse’s station, she noted how his fingers twitched by his side. She wondered whether he wanted to touch her as badly as she wanted to touch him, but then horrible reality kicked in – there wouldn’t be any sort of touching for a while.

            She was stuck with her leg in a cast, and a scheduled check-up with Dr. Langdon in a week to take it off and remove the stitches, before it would get swaddled again for a month or more.

            Y/N cursed the day she’d met Dr. Michael Robinavitch, for he’d released a monster of carnal urges, she didn’t even really know resided in her. And he was the only one who knew how to properly tame it because even in his scrubs and hoodie, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and all sorts of bodily fluids she didn’t want to think about, all she wanted to do was grab him by the neck and get him to some supply closet to have her way with him like they were actually in Grey’s Anatomy.

            “Michael, I,” Y/N started but got cut off by Sara waltzing into the emergency department.

            “How’s my pirate doing?” She threw her arms around her shoulders and squeezed. “They assign you a parrot yet?”

             “I don’t have a fucking peg-leg.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she signed a final form. With that, Sara took the wheelchair handles, gave Dana a salute and wheeled her out of the hospital, making Y/N crane her neck back and shout a final thank you to the nurse.

            She was just about to ask Sara to slow down as she needed to talk to Michael, when she felt his presence moving with them, silent, steady and strong, his hands taking hold of the crutches as the automatic doors opened.

            He followed them out and once they got to Sara’s car, helped Y/N settle in the front seat.

            “You good?” He tucked a strand behind her ear.

            “Yeah.” She gave him a genuine smile, and her heart pounded in her chest as his eyes trailed to trace her lips. “I am. Thank you. For taking care of me in there.”

            “Honestly, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the only time I’d like to see you back here is for your check-ups.”

            Y/N nodded, suppressing a smile. “Duly noted. No shower karaoke for me.”

            “I’m serious. You have an appointment with Frank in a week, but other than that, please take care of yourself, alright?”

            “You don’t have to worry about that.” She nudged her head towards Sara who was wrangling the crutches inside the boot of the car. “Mother hen is on the job.”

            “Good.” Michael nodded and before Y/N could properly prepare herself, he’d leaned down, cupping her jaw in his hands and kissed her.

            Her brain short-circuited at that, but when his tongue probed against the seal of her lips, she had to start wondering if she’d actually died when she’d hit her head in the shower. It didn’t take more than that though for her to open up, for her arms to brush against his scrubs and weave into the salt-and-pepper hair.

            By the time Michael pulled back, both their lips were kiss-swollen.

            “Let me take you out on a date.”

            Y/N let out a breathless laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “What happened to the doctor-patient thing?”

            Michael only smirked. “You’ve been discharged. You’re no longer a patient of mine.”

            “Okay, but even so – what would we do? My leg’s in a cast, and I can barely hobble around with the crutches.”

            “I can carry you. I don’t mind.”

            “And throw out your back, old man?”

            “Hey, I’m not that old!” Michael protested, and when he noted the smile on her mouth, he pressed his against it once more.

            “How about this,” Y/N proposed, “when you’re done with your shift, you could come over to my place, and -,”

            “Our place,” Sara butted in, sliding into the driver’s seat. “So, whatever you have in mind – no hanky-panky with me next door.”

            If Y/N rolled her eyes any harder they would get stuck in the back of her head, but she returned her attention to the awaiting attendant. “And we order some take-out. We watch a movie and then just… go to sleep?”

            “It might be very late by the time I’m off.”

            When she raised her hand and cupped his rugged cheek, it took him no time at all to lean into her touch. “I can wait.” She pecked his lips. “I’m in no rush.” She could only hope he understood the double meaning behind what she meant with it.

            Later that night as Y/N sat by the TV, the glow of the screen illuminating her face, she fell asleep with her head against Michael’s chest.

            And when she awoke, her sheets were warm with the remnants of his body, even if he wasn't there anymore.

            She was alone, yes, but atop the pillow rested a note:

            Shift started at 8. Sorry, I can’t be there to wake up with you.             I’ll be home by 9.

            It was almost impossible to wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the day.

Even as the itching under the cast started.

-----

Tags: are open :) if you wish to be tagged in further fics, please drop a comment under the fic or message me or leave me an ask :)

A/N: I have arisen

if you wish to know how this man makes me feel, please listen to Slutty by The Scarlet Opera.

I am FERAL.

P.S. I hope you enjoyed it :) feedback/constructive criticism is always appreciated :)

[imatter2iexist]

@oripoke @bo-beanies I have so many photos and documents.. Ive been telling the truth. But instead of being supportive, you subjected me to neglect, abuse, and torment. The TLDR is that you knowingly, and willingly, abused and controlled a mentally ill person; a close friend of years you *knew* was autistic and wouldnt understand; you stole my assets and safety, traumatized me, then threw me on the streets to die, alone. I was i just this object for you to use, abuse, and then leave for dead on the streets when you were done using me? Like i was garbage? In the beginning, there were days I literally could never put my phone down because I was 24.7 comforting bean. Id have to hide and be quiet in the bottom room, just to talk to Rory on the phone for a few minutes, or bean would get would get wildly upset if they saw. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed, and i was terrified. Id do everything you asked even when you hurt me for it. And yet, when i freak about the extreme trauma you cause me, doubled with my brothers abuse- when i had panic attacks from your abuse, you stole everything and left me for dead. Id have stayed by your side for months until you felt better, and you knew that, but either of you talking to me for 2 minutes was too much effort, no matter how badly i needed it... as much as i communicated this, you just ignored it

I was always there for both of you, even when it radically hurt me. I tried so hard to keep bean happy, for MONTHS, but when it was my turn to need help i was abandoned, hated, tossed away like I was nothing, and mocked for the illness i cant control. "Its your fault for being poor, its your fault for being sick" is what you said to me. Of course i snapped. You have no idea how much pain you put me in, to be starving, to be on the street with an infection, to lose my cat. Everything just got worse. My disorder is not something i can control. After 7 months of hell i was still not a person to you i was just an object or a toy for you to use. Why talk to this thing now, why bother? I was just a pet for you two to keep and torment until you were bored of my messages

The pain was too immense for me to handle, each month it just got worse. It hurt so badly. I cant describe it and i wouldnt wish it on even the most evil soul. It's agony. No human deserves what i had to go through- nobody.  Hard drugs couldnt even make it better. It was both mental and physical hell. Do you know how painful my med increases were, too, but i still did them because thats what you told me to do? I STILL listened and trusted you because i cared. I got therapy, too. And you still treated me like dirt, and im the one that has to pay for it in the hospital, in debt, in isolation and immense pain. Im the one that has to pay for all the suffering that you caused. Then you parade my dead name around, and accuse me of things I did not do. I did horrible things, im not saying i didnt. But you cant admit what you've done at *all*

I did everything you both asked of me even when it was hard, contradicting and confusing. Id never asked either of you for ANYTHING. Not ever. All I asked for was to talk, to help me with this stupid fucking disorder, but after everything I went through and how hard I tried and everything i suffered. Instead of being there, instead of responding to the only thing ive *ever* needed from either of you, you radically hurt me, then left me to die. TWICE

You may not believe this, but i don't. Want. To. Be. Like. This. I didnt choose to have this disorder, i dont choose the attacks that happen, and when i attempt suicide its *NOT* for attention like you scream. You put intentions in my mouth so often; it has nothing to do with your stupid blogs. Its to make. The pain. Stop. Its so immense, the only thing that goes in my head is "stop, make it stop, please make it stop" and i try and escape from my body to make the suffering end. There's no other way to escape your own mind but to die. And drugs, which I've gotten even further sick for abusing, but nothing else fucking helps

You all act like its a choice i made, and that's what you abandoned me for. I cant control my panic attacks. I dont control the disorder i got from my brothers abuse. i dont *WANT* to talk to any of you ever again or even think about you ever again. But that's the thing about mental illness, its crazy because it is, and when I said it wont fucking let me.... i mean IT WONT FUCKING LET ME. Could you ask a schizophrenic person to stop seeing demons?? "Like hey dude,  just stop seeing them. Have you tried just stopping?" I know pea had fun mocking me, and you all had a good laugh, "lmaooo you couldn't even not do it for a single day"- i didnt choose to be like this. I have the meds and I have the therapy. I did what you wanted but you just hurt me again. And again. How cruel is it that bean has panic attacks on the daily and gets comforted for it, and you all did this to me for my very first one. Rory told me he loved me more than hes ever loved anyone, he told me i could always talk to him if i was hurting, he told me it was okay, he reassured me he was there for me and that it was completely okay.Rory, you told me it was okay. You did. Then you disappeared without even saying goodbye. After 7 months of confusion, not understanding whats going on or whats even happening to me, or where ill sleep the next day. Constantly hurt and abused and hungry and infected, mourning everything i lost. You can never give me back my cat, or the opportunities i lost, my trans health care, my savings. You cant undo the immense pain I've felt and you cant reverse the trauma you've caused

Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

And I *still* kept trying. I *still* am. BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO DO. My meds are at 220mg and excruciating, therapy is so incredibly confusing, but im still doing it even if i desperately dont want to. But you two can torture me, because you didnt want to talk to me for a few minutes, and explain what I didnt understand. Instead you left me in the dark. While you were both going to *another* con just moments later, and sleeping comfortably, and going to parties and weddings; i was still in the hospital, in incredible pain, for an incredibly long time, from events you directly caused. Do you understand the mental toll that does to a person? I went to hospital to hospital, reaching out, just more and more confused, just more and more hurt.

While im going through all this, as if im not a real human being behind your computer; besides peas ranting the only things i recieved are "man my notifications" "man this sucks" "Yeah I hate it" like im an "it" a toy or a thing. Parading my dead name is a close contender, but its the amount of lies that hurt me the most. I did not ever have any kind of conversation with Rory OR Bean, I did not fake being in a coma for 2 weeks, I was very much fucking out. I've been telling the truth, even when its hard. Why cant you? Im not afraid to tell the truth.Communication and honesty are human things. My attempts have been very real and very painful, I made myself take pictures and I have the fucking discharge papers from every single one, because I've been telling the truth and can PROVE IT. I did so much I didnt want to do. I went through so much I didnt want to. You broke my boundaries and abused me, i gave up so much of myself and my safety and my life for you, and it was okay. But im now the criminal, your boundaries > my life. Your notifications>my human life.

Nobody's reading this, nobody gives a fuck, im never going to hear anything other then "maaaan this is so shitty, we destroyed his life and his mental and his job and his healthcare and we almost killed him with our neglect....but maaan hes really clogging up my notifications and that makes him the most evil, horrible, awful and disgusting person in the world. Let him die so I can get some quiet." And "Urgh omg I cant believe i have to post this". That's all it ever is. That's all its ever going to be. You hide behind an interent wall, pretending not to see the abuse you did to my body, my person, and my life

[bunni-v1]

May we get some crk thoughts, my liege? I too have a hyperfixation—

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcannons (SFW & NSFW)

🍓Thank you for the excuse to write this shit, I feel less insane being asked to do it lol. I still think this might taint my public image, so lets hope none of my future employers fuck with tumblr. Anyway only smc since he's who I'm obsessing over. I was gonna add pv, but I write wayyyy too much to include both of them on one post. Maybe I'll do him if someone asks nicely. I'll have a mix of both sfw and nsfw so beware lol.

MDNI (I'll find u)

TW: Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive behaviors; Stalking mentioned; Nsfw under the cut; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader; Sfw & Nsfw headcannons

Credit for Beast Bite Idea: @rollingeevee (go give them love I adore this AU)

-To start I'm gonna say, he's insane, like genuinely. He leans into a lot of yandere-esque behaviors, but I firmly believe he's not a full-on yandere, just really fucked up in the head (trauma and such, poor thing, wah wah wah.)

-Pre-Corruption Shadow Milk surely had a lot of admirers, but admiration is very different from genuine love and connection. He was, in a very literal sense, on a different level than all the cookies on earthbread. He's immortal, a god meant to care for all cookies, romantic relationships with cookies (other than the other heroes) just aren't an option in his mind. (For the sake of these, none of the beasts have had any romantic interaction with him, because I don't wanna deal with that can of worms rn.)

-All that to say, it's highly unlikely he has much experience in relationships. Maybe he's had flings, and some sexual encounters, but I doubt he would commit to someone he would inevitably lose to time. And, sure, he certainly could artificially extend their lifetime... but that's unethical and unfair to his partner. The burden of immortality is not one a regular cookie is baked to bear.

-So when he is inevitably corrupted and sealed away, romance isn't really a thought on his mind. He's very fixated on escaping that stupid tree and enacting his revenge. Which he does, at least in part, and with his freedom comes half of his powers and ensuing chaos.

-There are not many ways he could meet you if I'm quite honest, so I'll leave that up to personal interpretation. However you do meet him, though, you have to be intriguing. He gets bored of people easily, so you have to stand out -- be that in your demeanor or the way you speak or how you challenge him, it just has to be interesting. Once he's interested he's hooked.

-He's rather... mmm... obsessive? He likely stalks you for a while before he makes any moves. He wants to learn your patterns, the cookies you surround yourself with, the things you like, your job, your favorite foods, what flowers you like, and how do you feel about his chaos? He'll even manipulate things around you, just to see how you might react. (Is it fucked up? Yeah, lol! But isn't it equally endearing? He seems to think so.)

-You have frequent reoccurring dreams about him in this period of time. You've only seen him from a distance at this point, but you can't quite shake him from your thoughts. What's very important here is that you realize that your thoughts are not your own. Acknowledge that he's watching, and make sure that he's aware you're aware. Be that by purposefully doing something he could recognize as acknowledgment, or outright saying that you're aware he's messing with you. He values curiosity and intelligence in a person, if you can break yourself out of his cycle he's 100% sold on you.

-It doesn't take much longer after that for him to make his first official appearance. Bowing gracefully in front of you as he materializes from thin air, smiling like a man driven mad by infatuation.

-Believe it or not, he's really not all that creepy or pushy. He's very playful and charming, and while you have the knowledge he'd been watching you for a long time at this point, it's hard not to fall for him. He flirts with an ease that no other cookie really has, and he's so very funny never failing to get a smile out of you at his jokes.

-Now, this may go against what others characterize him as a lot, but I don't believe he's the type to steal you away and lock you up. Shadow Milk is a cookie who wants to be wanted, he doesn't want his feelings to be entirely one-sided, it would really hurt him to pour himself into someone who does not want to reciprocate his passions.

-He's unbelievably patient with you. Despite what the mental manipulation from earlier implies, he allows you to set the pace and make the moves, mostly nudging you gently in the direction he wants you to go now that he has your attention. Again, he wants you to choose him. He wants you to love him, so he will happily wait as long as it takes for you to realize and accept your longing for him.

-He gives you the flowers you like, and listens to you talk about your exceedingly boring days (with rapt attention, of course, he loves listening to you talk as much as he loves talking). If you ask, he'll take you anywhere you'd like to go on earthbread with a snap of his fingers, showing you sights you'd only dreamed of seeing. (Whether or not these are illusions are still up for debate).

-It's very hard not to fall for him with all this considered, and he knows that of course. He was just waiting for you to confess, and you have to confess. He won't do it even if you make it clear you want him to. It's not something he'd ever admit to you -- or himself -- but he doesn't want to risk even the slightest bit of rejection. It would break him more than he's already been broken, so you'll have to do it for our poor little jester.

-When you do though? Oh, he's over the moon! Practically swooning as he scoops you up and spins you around in celebration. He's so overjoyed. He is wanted, there is someone in this world who loves him genuinely. There's no false platitudes or any worshipping done, just raw affection between the two of you. (Just the tiniest bit of manipulation at the start, but obviously you've dismissed and forgiven that at this point).

-Again, he doesn't immediately take you away from your life if you don't wish to be. He does heavily encourage you to come spend your days with him, though. He can take care of you, he's literally a god, you'll never ever want for anything so long as he can control it (which he can, duh).

-I feel it very important to emphasize that in a relationship with him, you are equal. Even if you literally cannot be equal in stature and power, you are equal in the relationship -- if anything you have more sway over him than he does over you. He's very, very in love with you, and he will do just about anything you ask of him so long as it doesn't interfere with obtaining his souljam.

-Having established that, let's get to the fun stuff.

-Shadow Milk Cookie is very physically and verbally affectionate. If you are around him it's likely he's touching you in some way. Whether that's him literally hanging off you like a baby monkey or just a hand on your arm, he likes to have a physical tether to you.

-Plenty of messy wet kisses all over your cute little face, he loves seeing you get all flustered and feeling your dough burn up from his barrage of affections.

-It's also very common for him to carry you around in various different styles. Over the shoulder, piggback, princess style, like a sack of potatoes... doesn't really matter. It's also a regular occurrence that you fall asleep as he floats around the spire of all knowledge. He doesn't need sleep, and he does not sleep often, but he likes holding you while you do so. It's proof of your trust in him, and he usually uses the time you are sleeping to be more genuinely affectionate. Soft words whispered in your ears bringing you sweet dreams as he runs his hands up and down your back, kissing the crown of your head with such love it would make a grown man blush.

-He calls you cute little nicknames, like shortcake or sweet thing. The most common, and his favorites, are doll/dolly and little star. (Little star is something he hums with such affection it makes you weak in the knees. You know he's feeling more adoring when he uses it.) Talks about how cute you are, how pretty you are, how desirable you are. How any cookie would be so lucky to have you -- too bad they could never compete with him!

-That being said, most of his affections are pretty surface-level stuff at the start of the relationship. At least, what you get to see. He has a hard time opening up to others, he's a very sensitive cookie deep down in his dough. It takes quite a while to get him out of his shell and start showing you who he is as himself.

-Who he is, is a very aching cookie. He lost so much, struggled with his own corruption, and still hasn't fully accepted it himself. He feels as though he has been betrayed and discarded by everything he once loved, it's no wonder he has a hard time showing you such ugly sides of himself.

-You warm him up, melt him slowly, and you get to see peaks of genuine love and adoration behind those heterochromatic eyes. He may never allow you to see all of him at once, but you do get to know him. If you continue to love him despite seeing the uglier side of things, there is a distinct shift in the way he showers you in affection.

-Initially, he's very showy with everything, his love is a spectacle for the two of you to watch. It's almost like he's put himself outside of the relationship rather than in it. After he opens up, it's quieter, more intimate. He's more involved in it, like it's less about showing you how much he loves you, and more about sharing that mutual feeling between the two of you.

-You didn't have much room to show him how much you cared for him, but now you do. He allows you to initiate physical affection and doesn't flinch away at the touch. He accepts your words of admiration for what they are, not questioning your intentions for any reason.

-Kisses are softer, more full of emotion. Less like he's drowning you and more like he's trying to swallow you up. Desperation to have you as close to him as possible can take him over quite frequently during make-out sessions, and they leave you breathless and fuzzy rather than burning and flustered.

-Now, you can't write Shadow Milk without acknowledging how fucking jealous he is all the time. Now, I believe it's less of a jealousy thing (though, that really is something that is frequent), and more of a possessive/protective thing.

-He doesn't get jealous of the average cookie, alright, not unless you show interest for whatever reason. They're not really a threat to him, and why would they be? He's secure enough to know that you wouldn't leave him for some random half-baked simpleton. HOWEVER, he DOES get jealous of the other beasts and especially Pure Vanilla Cookie.

-The other beasts aren't as powerful as him, but they're still powerful and cunning (some of them at least). Truly, on a level of divinity and ability to care for you, they are his closest competition. Even still, he only gets jealous if one of them seems to want to stake a claim on you, or you become too fascinated with one of them.

-If neither is the case, he highly encourages you to form relationships with them. They are cookies that, seemingly, he cares for. While they can be difficult to get along with, if you are someone Shadow Milk deems worth his time, you are someone they will also deem worth their time.

-Ah, I should also mention he gets... pouty about Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. He doesn't see either of them as a threat, so I couldn't say he's jealous... he just gets annoyed when you're being attentive to them when he's around. Black Sapphire is smart enough to set hard boundaries with you to start, for both of your sakes, but your relationship with him is very positive. You are Shadow Milk Cookies partner, after all, you're a very important Cookie and Black Sapphire has no reason to be unkind to you.

-Candy Apple Cookie on the other hand is the one who's jealous here. You find her positively adorable and her little crush on Shadow Milk is nothing but endearing in your eyes, but she very much is huffy about your relationship with him. Of course, she can't do anything to you, that would only turn against her in the end so she just pouts. You can win her over slowly, though, just by being sweet to her and comforting her when Shadow Milk rejects her once again.

-Your relationship with them seemingly pleases Shadow Milk, though you can't really tell if he's happy or not. Sometimes he seems pleased, other times he's pouty, so who really knows other than him.

-However, the cookie that really seriously gets under his skin the most is Pure Vanilla. He does everything in his power to keep the two of you as far away from one another as possible, but it's almost inevitable that you meet PV, especially when he becomes Truthless Recluse.

-Pure Vanilla is everything Shadow Milk is not. Kind, gentle, patient, soft-spoken, and of course truthful. He's very afraid you may meet PV and realize that you do not want to be with him anymore. You would rather have someone like Pure Vanilla Cookie to dote on you in a fashion that he cannot bring himself to do openly yet.

-Of course, you don't, but that doesn't stop the fear from seeping into his dough. The only way to ease him is by being patient and displaying your loyalty through and through. He won't really be calm until Pure Vanilla is take care of, but you can assure him that you won't be leaving him for his other half anytime soon.

-Circling back to his possessive and protective tendencies, Shadow Milk does see you as an object of his affection. He is fully aware you are your own cookie, you are not something he ever wishes to control entirely and remove autonomy from, but you are his. His to keep and love and protect.

-He's very obsessive about your well-being and happiness. If something hurts you (alive or not), it's gone, destroyed. He won't even make a show of it, it just disappears. If you are upset, he is there doing everything to make you feel better. Whatever you want, whatever you need! He's here for you, please rely on him (he needs you to rely on him).

-If you are out and about he keeps an eye on you, which you are aware of. It's rather obvious, so even if he doesn't tell you, you can feel him watching you. Ignoring it becomes easier with time, but if anything happens to you he wastes no time in popping up and taking care of whatever happens.

-This leads into my next headcanon (inspired by the ever-talented @rollingeevee go check them out!), he has a bite of sorts that he uses as a means of monitoring you. It's something he uses to pinpoint where you are at all times, even when he's not monitoring you actively. The bite acts as a connection between you and him, emotionally and physically tying the two of you together.

-You can feel what he feels through the bite, anger, sadness, joy, pretty much anything he feels you can feel. It also acts as a reminder to you that you should not stray too far from where he is, sending an uncomfortably heavy feeling through your dough. (This is a manifestation of his worry, and it only really happens when he notices you've gone somewhere a little too far from the safety of the spire).

-However, this goes both ways. He can also feel what you feel at the same intensity that you feel it. You can, likely less so, also tell where he is. There is a pull in the back of your mind from the magic telling you where to find him at all times, and it only lets go when you are in proximity of him. If you miss him, he feels the same heavy feeling in his dough reminding him that you would like him by your side.

-Now, finally, we have to address the topic of mortality. Shadow Milk is likely more aware than you ever will be of how mortal you really are. This is why he's so very protective and possessive of you, he doesn't want to lose you prematurely.

-However, if you are okay with it, he is completely fine with artificially extending your life span. In fact, he does it happily. He might even start doing it without asking if the topic hasn't been broached in a certain amount of time. He wants to spend as long as you'll allow him by your side, and if that means breaking a few rules of magic and cookie society then so be it. He's a god after all, he doesn't have to answer to anyone (other than the witches).

-Anyway, let's get to the shit you freaks are really here for. (Me, I'm freaks.)

-I don't really think sexual intimacy is something Shadow Milk desires all that much, but he more so likes it because it's... interesting? I'm sure he derives physical pleasure from sexual intercourse, but less so than the average cookie might. Most of his enjoyment comes from seeing you enjoy yourself.

-It goes without saying, but Shadow Milk Cookie is a freak. He's into pretty much anything under the sun (except maybe one thing...), and so long as you're down to try something he's happy to oblige you.

-He is a switch, but he leans dom most of the time, and you won't get him to sub early on in your relationship. That requires a bit too much trust for him, so he'll need time to be cool with giving you that kind of control over him. But he will bottom for you as your relationship progresses, and that's a whole different side to him.

-Lets start with him in a dominant role, though, since it's more common to get from him.

-Obviously, he's a tease, through and through. He loves to watch you squirm and react to the things he does. Tantalizingly light touches drawn over your dough, teeth grazing your soft body almost piercing but never quite getting deep enough, heated breath blown over your most sensitive spots but never relieving you with his mouth as you so desperately need.

-Truthfully he could spend another thousand years just tracing over you, committing each inch to memory until he's satisfied in knowing every inch of you. Unfortunately, (or fortunately), he's not nearly as patient in the bedroom as he is outside of it. Not with all of you on display for him, so trusting and open, ready for him to defile you. Oh, his sweet, sweet little dolly~

-Even with his impatience, his teasing does not stop. His hands continue to ghost over you, making sure you're still squirming even as he succumbs to his need to taste you.

-Oh, and tastes you he does. He doesn't have to subscribe to regular cookie physical limitations, so he somehow manages to swallow you whole. Jaw unhinging so he can get as much as he needs from you, tongue splitting itself to give you attention everywhere, and god is it long and dexterous. He can reach so very deep and it moves with such precision, it makes you cum embarrassingly fast.

-That is if he allows you to cum in the first place. He's a big fan of edging, which shouldn't be a surprise. He likes to get you so close, then deny you of your pleasure. Your whining and grumbling is the cutest thing on all of earthbread, don't you know? He can't help but edge you when you're so damn cute every time.

-Your pleasure is in his hands, and it requires such relinquishing of power and trust. In a weird way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially when you thank him over and over once he finally allows you to come undone after hours of teasing.

-Speaking of, he is a big fan of being praised for the work he does on you. Your moans and pleas are reward enough, but if you mumble out about how good you feel, how much you love him, how amazing he is he'll become drunk on your praise. Chasing after it with fervor, meaning he's going down on you with so much more excitement somehow.

-He's into blood (jam?) play. He likes leaving physical reminders of your relationship all over your body (yes, even ur vag/dick if you let him). With how sharp his teeth are, it's impossible for you not to bleed when he does so, and he does really like the sight of your jam. It's so pretty and so different from his own, another reminder of how different you are, and how much you trust him. (He'll lick it up and purr at the taste.)

-Bruises are also littered about your dough, his grip on you is tight, like you might slip away from him. The treatment is rough and harsh, but it feels so nice to be manhandled by him. The bruises are just nice little reminders of who you belong to. (He gets all proud when other cookies worry about them, like he's done something worthy of praise).

-He likes watching, he's very much a voyeur. Occasionally requests that you pleasure yourself for him so he can watch you struggle to get off, and he'll only help you out when you're near tears begging him.

-He prefers coming across you by himself, without having to request it. Or just feeling waves of pleasure through your bite. He'll watch you quietly fuck yourself without letting you know he's there. (Though, you most certainly can feel his eyes on you, that's what makes it so fun right?) Sometimes he'll join you after, and other and times he'll leave you be, it's 50/50 either way and regardless you still end up happy.

-If anyone else walks in on you when you're alone, he's very unpleasant. Accident or not they'll learn to be more aware of their surroundings next time.

-That doesn't mean he's against being watched though. Actually, he finds the idea of someone else seeing how well he treats you enticing (especially if it's someone like Pure Vanilla hehe). If you are together and someone walks in (or spots you in public), he won't stop. Instead, he'll lock eyes with them and smile big and wide, showing off his favorite little dolly for them.

-He's just so proud of you, and you're so very pretty beneath him, the whole world should get to see how you fall apart for him. He'll even make you look at them just to see how you fluster.

-If the offender tries to do anything other than watch, though, well... I really hope they didn't want to live for much longer. He's very much not a sharer, at all. The idea of anyone even thinking they could touch you and make you feel good both makes him laugh and want to tear them apart at once.

-He's very much into roleplaying and can get really into it. To the point, it loses the sexiness and is just the two of you playing around, which can be a bummer but is usually really fun. He likes things that lean into power dynamics but explicitly avoids god/king and worshipper/subject. A little too close to home for him, and would honestly be too boring and basic for him.

-He loves it when you dress up for him in pretty little outfits, be it lingerie or something more cutesy, he adores it regardless. Going out of your way to pretty up for him is a huge turn-on. He also loves it when you let him dress you up how he likes. Regardless of what you're wearing, it's not coming off the whole night. It will get ruined and he won't apologize for it. Besides, he can just replace it, right?

-Sex is more fun for him, but he can be intimate when he wants to be. Usually, when you're in control, he is at his most gentle. Yes, he's a brat when he bottoms and he'll fight you tooth and nail, but once you get him to submit he's the softest and sweetest you've ever seen him.

-He looks at you like you're the god, wide eyes taking in everything you do with such admiration it might make you crumble on the spot.

-He's much quieter, treating it less like a spectacle. Moans soft and squeaky, like he's not used to using his voice in such a way. He clings to you like a vice at each little movement, almost afraid you might disappear if he lets you go.

-Oh, and he praises you so much. 'So good', 'Thank you', 'You're perfect', and 'I love you' all tumble from him with such genuine gratitude.

-Being allowed to let his guard down and have you take control is cathartic for him, which is why it's so uncommon to have it happen. It's why he fights you for control so hard because this is an intimacy he isn't used to. It is hard for him to allow you to see him so weak, but you never use it against him. You're so very sweet and loving, and it makes him melt like butter in your grasp.

-If you have the bite I mentioned earlier, it only makes things so much more intense. Both of you can feel the raw emotion connecting the two of you, making the pleasure heighten further.

-In fact, when he gives you the bite it's the first time he allows you to top him. To connect you to him makes him very vulnerable, so he would naturally have to be in a vulnerable state already when he does so.

-It's unlike any of his other bites, it's far more painful when he initially bites down, but when his magic flows through it your body feels light and airy. The pleasurable feeling wrapping itself around your spine, and you feel what he's feeling. All that adoration pours into your being at once, and it's overwhelming to really feel how much he loves you.

[imatter2iexist]

@oripoke @bo-beanies I have so many photos and documents.. Ive been telling the truth. But instead of being supportive, you subjected me to neglect, abuse, and torment. The TLDR is that you knowingly, and willingly, abused and controlled a mentally ill person; a close friend of years you *knew* was autistic and wouldnt understand; you stole my assets and safety, traumatized me, then threw me on the streets to die, alone. I was i just this object for you to use, abuse, and then leave for dead on the streets when you were done using me? Like i was garbage? In the beginning, there were days I literally could never put my phone down because I was 24.7 comforting bean. Id have to hide and be quiet in the bottom room, just to talk to Rory on the phone for a few minutes, or bean would get would get wildly upset if they saw. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed, and i was terrified. Id do everything you asked even when you hurt me for it. And yet, when i freak about the extreme trauma you cause me, doubled with my brothers abuse- when i had panic attacks from your abuse, you stole everything and left me for dead. Id have stayed by your side for months until you felt better, and you knew that, but either of you talking to me for 2 minutes was too much effort, no matter how badly i needed it... as much as i communicated this, you just ignored it

I was always there for both of you, even when it radically hurt me. I tried so hard to keep bean happy, for MONTHS, but when it was my turn to need help i was abandoned, hated, tossed away like I was nothing, and mocked for the illness i cant control. "Its your fault for being poor, its your fault for being sick" is what you said to me. Of course i snapped. You have no idea how much pain you put me in, to be starving, to be on the street with an infection, to lose my cat. Everything just got worse. My disorder is not something i can control. After 7 months of hell i was still not a person to you i was just an object or a toy for you to use. Why talk to this thing now, why bother? I was just a pet for you two to keep and torment until you were bored of my messages

The pain was too immense for me to handle, each month it just got worse. It hurt so badly. I cant describe it and i wouldnt wish it on even the most evil soul. It's agony. No human deserves what i had to go through- nobody.  Hard drugs couldnt even make it better. It was both mental and physical hell. Do you know how painful my med increases were, too, but i still did them because thats what you told me to do? I STILL listened and trusted you because i cared. I got therapy, too. And you still treated me like dirt, and im the one that has to pay for it in the hospital, in debt, in isolation and immense pain. Im the one that has to pay for all the suffering that you caused. Then you parade my dead name around, and accuse me of things I did not do. I did horrible things, im not saying i didnt. But you cant admit what you've done at *all*

I did everything you both asked of me even when it was hard, contradicting and confusing. Id never asked either of you for ANYTHING. Not ever. All I asked for was to talk, to help me with this stupid fucking disorder, but after everything I went through and how hard I tried and everything i suffered. Instead of being there, instead of responding to the only thing ive *ever* needed from either of you, you radically hurt me, then left me to die. TWICE

You may not believe this, but i don't. Want. To. Be. Like. This. I didnt choose to have this disorder, i dont choose the attacks that happen, and when i attempt suicide its *NOT* for attention like you scream. You put intentions in my mouth so often; it has nothing to do with your stupid blogs. Its to make. The pain. Stop. Its so immense, the only thing that goes in my head is "stop, make it stop, please make it stop" and i try and escape from my body to make the suffering end. There's no other way to escape your own mind but to die. And drugs, which I've gotten even further sick for abusing, but nothing else fucking helps

You all act like its a choice i made, and that's what you abandoned me for. I cant control my panic attacks. I dont control the disorder i got from my brothers abuse. i dont *WANT* to talk to any of you ever again or even think about you ever again. But that's the thing about mental illness, its crazy because it is, and when I said it wont fucking let me.... i mean IT WONT FUCKING LET ME. Could you ask a schizophrenic person to stop seeing demons?? "Like hey dude,  just stop seeing them. Have you tried just stopping?" I know pea had fun mocking me, and you all had a good laugh, "lmaooo you couldn't even not do it for a single day"- i didnt choose to be like this. I have the meds and I have the therapy. I did what you wanted but you just hurt me again. And again. How cruel is it that bean has panic attacks on the daily and gets comforted for it, and you all did this to me for my very first one. Rory told me he loved me more than hes ever loved anyone, he told me i could always talk to him if i was hurting, he told me it was okay, he reassured me he was there for me and that it was completely okay.Rory, you told me it was okay. You did. Then you disappeared without even saying goodbye. After 7 months of confusion, not understanding whats going on or whats even happening to me, or where ill sleep the next day. Constantly hurt and abused and hungry and infected, mourning everything i lost. You can never give me back my cat, or the opportunities i lost, my trans health care, my savings. You cant undo the immense pain I've felt and you cant reverse the trauma you've caused

Yes, I hurt you too. I did fucked up things, too. But not. And I repeat. Not until after 7 months of this mental and physical torture. I couldnt take it anymore

And I *still* kept trying. I *still* am. BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO DO. My meds are at 220mg and excruciating, therapy is so incredibly confusing, but im still doing it even if i desperately dont want to. But you two can torture me, because you didnt want to talk to me for a few minutes, and explain what I didnt understand. Instead you left me in the dark. While you were both going to *another* con just moments later, and sleeping comfortably, and going to parties and weddings; i was still in the hospital, in incredible pain, for an incredibly long time, from events you directly caused. Do you understand the mental toll that does to a person? I went to hospital to hospital, reaching out, just more and more confused, just more and more hurt.

While im going through all this, as if im not a real human being behind your computer; besides peas ranting the only things i recieved are "man my notifications" "man this sucks" "Yeah I hate it" like im an "it" a toy or a thing. Parading my dead name is a close contender, but its the amount of lies that hurt me the most. I did not ever have any kind of conversation with Rory OR Bean, I did not fake being in a coma for 2 weeks, I was very much fucking out. I've been telling the truth, even when its hard. Why cant you? Im not afraid to tell the truth.Communication and honesty are human things. My attempts have been very real and very painful, I made myself take pictures and I have the fucking discharge papers from every single one, because I've been telling the truth and can PROVE IT. I did so much I didnt want to do. I went through so much I didnt want to. You broke my boundaries and abused me, i gave up so much of myself and my safety and my life for you, and it was okay. But im now the criminal, your boundaries > my life. Your notifications>my human life.

Nobody's reading this, nobody gives a fuck, im never going to hear anything other then "maaaan this is so shitty, we destroyed his life and his mental and his job and his healthcare and we almost killed him with our neglect....but maaan hes really clogging up my notifications and that makes him the most evil, horrible, awful and disgusting person in the world. Let him die so I can get some quiet." And "Urgh omg I cant believe i have to post this". That's all it ever is. That's all its ever going to be. You hide behind an interent wall, pretending not to see the abuse you did to my body, my person, and my life

Beloved of The Anemo Archon

[poisonofthepaint]

lucky you

jack calls you in on your day off, which leads to hooking up in the on-call room, which leads to him finding your tattoo.

wc: 2.5k

cw: MDNI, semi-public sex, f!reader, age gap, pinv, oral, lmk if i'm missing anything!

The date you were heading toward was less than exciting. You knew you needed a life outside of the hospital, Dana had given you a wake up call last week. You had been working doubles like it was nothing, but this was your first day off in a while, so you figured you’d download a dating app, get a free dinner on a Friday night. Not that you couldn’t afford dinner, this was more like dinner and a show. Max was a kind guy, but you could tell he didn’t take you seriously— that he underestimated you. So this was your chance to show up a man, and have him pay for your dinner. Win win.

Then, your phone rings. The ringtone that you have set for hospital staff interrupts your music and blares through the speakers. You groan, checking to see who it was. You were surprised to see that it was Jack, you figured since he was agreeing so hard with Dana last week that he would be the last person calling you.

“It’s my day off,” you answer

“I need you here.” Jack sounds out of breath. 

“Are you kidding?”

“You know I’m not. Ellis is sick, I thought we could manage but we cannot. I need you here.”

“You’re buying me dinner.” you say, exasperated.

“Gladly,” Jack ends the call. 

You know he wouldn’t call you unless it was actually an emergency, Jack wasn’t like that. He wanted to be able to manage. He wanted to be able to handle it by himself. So when he calls you, it’s important. You take off the blue dress you had on, switching it out for a plain white t-shirt before throwing your scrubs on top. You grab the bookbag full of your supplies for shifts and head out of your apartment.

The hospital is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you walk. It’s a bit chilly out; the springtime air blowing through the trees. It looks like it’s gonna storm, and you get to the hospital right before it starts, ducking your head as you walk into the entrance. 

The patients are grouchy in the waiting room, all groaning and yelling. The seats must’ve been taken up hours ago, there’s more people standing than sitting. You push your way through the front door.

“Good, you’re here.” Abbot was waiting at the doors like he had timed you. “You’re not supposed to wear perfume here.” he chastises.

“Had already sprayed it when you called me, figured I didn’t have time to shower.” 

“Right,” his eyes catch yours and he refuses to look away. “We have a lot of injuries from a car crash. A bunch of guys were speeding on the highway and about six of them were sitting in the open truck bed. A semi driver didn’t see them swerving around and knocked them off the road.”

Jack finally breaks eye contact and walks away, you follow him back into Trauma 1. There’s a young guy, probably around twenty-three, screaming in pain. His hand is holding on by a string, like, literally. It’s barely connected. 

“Noah, this is my best resident, she’s gonna take a look at you.” Jack tells him, yelling over the boy’s own screeching.

“I don’t care who she is, fix my fucking hand! I’m on a baseball scholarship!”

“I’m really glad I cancelled my date to be here.” you say, examining his arm.

“You were going on a date?” he says, you think you hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, but you brush it off.

“Aren’t you the one who told me to go have fun?” Jack doesn’t answer, just goes back to the patient, and you do too.

There are a lot of injuries, some superficial, some very serious. Noah will lose his hand, because he was stupid. You learn that he was the driver of the truck, and that he was drinking. You try to have empathy for all of your patients, but it’s hard when they’re being willingly stupid, and killing their friends. Noah heads up into surgery, and everything is rather stable now. The ED returns to its normal business, waiting for beds upstairs, triaging emergencies from the ambulances. 

You sit at your station and chart your patients, trying to remember all that happened in the whirlwind of your arrival. Jack stands right in front of you, charting as well. He looks back once, twice.

“You need something?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Nah, just making sure you’re good.”

“I am just peachy, although I could use some dinner.” you smile up at him brightly.

He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, “Guess I did promise.”

Jack pulls out his phone, opening DoorDash before handing it over to you. You swipe through the restaurants before you find some Chinese place that catches your eye. You put what you want in the cart before handing his phone back to him.

  “Thank you, Dr. Abbot!” you get up from your seat and go to do a round of checkups.

You briefly see him shake his head as he looks down at his phone. 

It’s  a while before the food gets there, and even longer for the driver to argue with the nurse at triage. Jack finally sees the commotion and goes out and grabs it, apologizing to the nurse.

He calls you over and you grab the food, heading into the breakroom. You sit down and open up the paper brown bag. You think about how your night worked out, you got free dinner and a show anyway. And this was actually a show you quite enjoyed. You did love your job, maybe an unhealthy amount. But you had worked so hard to get here, and you were good at it. You were Abbot’s best resident. You were fast at assessing and scoping out which treatment would be best. You flew around the ED like it was nothing to you. 

After a few minutes of eating alone, Jack came to join you, taking what he ordered out of the bag.

“So, what’s wrong with Ellis?” you pry.

“She thinks she has the flu, super high fever and throwing up.”

“Got it, just wanted to make sure this wasn’t all a ploy to get me here on my day off.”

“And if it was?” Jack asks. 

You’re stunned for a second before you regain yourself, “Then I would say you’re very unprofessional, and that you’re interfering with my personal life.”

He shrugs– smirks, “You don’t want a healthy work life balance. Plus, we have fun together, don’t we?”

You try not to think about how he can read you; how he’s got you memorized like you’re the back of his hand. “We do.”

You finish your food and throw the empty container in the trash, excusing yourself. You swoop into the on-call room, trying to calm yourself. You rest your back against the door and swipe a hand down your face. 

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Jack since your first day at The Pitt. it was a schoolgirl one at first, you thought he was cute. It was fun to be attracted to your boss; to have a little work crush that you could be excited about. But then, it started getting deeper, Jack paid extra attention to you, he could tell that you actually enjoyed the ED. You were always with him on cases, he picked you for his ‘team’ during busy mass casualties. He got to know you, you got to know him. He was no longer a mysterious crush who you just thought was cute. You liked him, in a way you didn’t want to. It was distracting some days. It was even more distracting when you had a feeling you weren’t being delusional. When you wondered why he called you, a second year resident, instead of one of the seniors, or another attending. 

There’s a knock at the door, and you open it, shocked to see Jack standing outside. He walks in and you allow him, moving out of the way so he can lock the door behind him. You can feel your heart in your throat. You sit down on the bed, hoping it’ll stabilize you. 

There’s silence; tension you could cut with a knife. He stands with his hands resting on a countertop. The storm rages outside the window, a big crack of thunder rings throughout the room. Jack is just looking, trying to scope you out. He pushes off and approaches you. You swallow, and look down at your feet, trying to avoid eye contact, but Jack isn’t having any of it. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. He leans down, presses his forehead against yours. He lets his lips ghost yours— just barely.

“Tell me to stop.” he begs, out of breath, just like when he called you.

You place a hand on his neck, fingers threading lightly through the hair at the bottom, “What if I don’t want you to?” He groans, burrows his head into your neck. “I want it, Jack, of course I want it.” 

That’s all it takes. His lips are on yours without another beat. The kiss is rough— needy. Your teeth clash against each other, and his tongue explores your mouth. He lays you back onto the bed and your legs open, making room for him. He settles himself and gets to work on your neck, his hand slowly slides up your shirt, resting on your stomach.

He’s still being cautious, you think. You push his hand up and he cups your breast. He makes a strained noise when he feels the lace on your bra.

“You were gonna wear that for him?” Jack asks, right into your ear.

“No, I was wearing it for myself.” an honest answer. 

Jack rips your pants off and sees, what he assumes, is the matching thong. The underwear shifts down a bit, and you think Jack is gonna pass out.

Your small tattoo, a mistake from undergrad. A scripture on your hip that reads, ‘lucky you.’

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, kid.” he brushes his thumb over the words. Thinks about them. Doesn’t move for a minute. 

“Good thing we’re in an emergency department.” 

The nickname sends a wave of arousal through you, just like it always does. It’s how he usually referred to you during emergencies, when you’d catch something that no one else saw. It was how he praised you. You never imagined you’d hear it in this context.

Jack stands up and you whine. He quickly strips off his clothes and is back on you in a second. He rests on his stomach and kisses your tattoo sloppily.

He rips off your underwear with ferocity. You’d be smart to feel a tinge of embarrassment. He is your boss. But you don’t. This feels right, this feels good. He swipes a finger through your folds and you keen. 

“So wet for me.” he mumbles.

Jack wastes no more time. His tongue makes quick work on your clit. He moves like he knows you. Like he’s done this a million times, like there’s no room for error. And there isn’t. You both knew this needed to be quick. There were patients outside of the door, and the nurses and other doctors will be wondering where you two went. He works at your clit and you try your hardest to not make any noise. He looks up at you while his tongue is buried in you, and you let out a cry. He reaches a free hand up and covers your mouth. You bite down on it and let your head fall back on the lumpy pillow.

Then, Jack pulls away. “The fuck?” you say it into his hand, so it’s a bit muffled.

“We’ve only got time for one thing. You’re gonna come when I do. Just had to get you ready.” He says.

You want to salute. You want to scream. You don’t really know how this is happening. 

Jack pulls off his boxers and you gulp. You see why he needed to get you ready. The length alone was bigger than anything you’ve taken, but he was girthy too. 

He pulls a condom out of a drawer in the room. “Did you stash that in here?” you laugh.

“No, they keep them in here. I always wondered why, but now I see.”

He rolls it on quickly and comes back to the bed. He rests on his heels, taking you in. “Are you sure?” Jack asks again.

“I’m positive. I’ve wanted this since I met you.”

He nods slowly, small smile coming to his lips. He moves so his hands are right next to your head. Jack lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in deep. 

“Shit,” he mumbles. “So fucking tight.”

“You feel so good,” you cry.

“Yeah? This good for you?” He sets a brutalizing pace, hips never faltering. His head falls into your neck again. “Your perfume is driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Could smell you whipping around this hospital. Every time you passed me, I thought I was going to have to take you right there.”

He’s rambling now, you realize. Pussydrunk from how you feel. 

“Maybe I’ll have to wear it more, break the rules a bit, if it leads to this.” you say, resisting the urge to moan in the middle of your sentences.

He pants, stifles his own noises. “You’re close,” you say.

“It’s been a while, every time I went on a date, I would just think of you.” 

“Is that true?”

“I’m already in your pants, no reason to lie.” his hips start to stutter. “Y’gonna come with me?”

You scope out the feeling in your stomach and focus in on it, Jack brings a hand down between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. “Fuck, God, yes. Yes, I am.”

The room is filled with heavy breaths, the air has gone thick. You spot a bolt of lightning run through the sky and grab Jack’s head, bringing his ear down to your mouth. “Now,” you whisper.

The thunder hits right as you both finish. It’s loud enough to mask the noises neither of you could hold back. He continues the pace until you come down. You both gasp into each other. Jack slowly pulls out, taking the condom over to the trash can and burying it under some paper towels. 

He comes back to the bed and sits on the edge, massaging your shin. “I’m gonna make an assumption and say that was the best sex of your life,” you scoff, but don’t deny it. “But, we have to get back.”

“I know,” you say, wishing you could stay in this room forever. “God, this is really gonna fuck with my work life balance.”

Jack laughs and stands up, placing a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, lucky girl. We’ll figure it out.”

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically “you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

---------------

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck shiver and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding the cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”