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eden031 · 5 days ago

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No Myrna!

Pairing: Michael „Robby“ Robinavitch x chief resident!f! reader

Warnings: fluff, age gap, mentions of death and injury, mentions of amputation, the Pitt crew being a dysfunctional family, Myrna being Myrna, reader can be read as autistic though it is not explicitly stated, Myrna ships it, unaccurate depiction of how hospitals work, medical inaccuracies

Summary: Some days begin bad and only get worse as the day goes on, but sometimes at the end of it it is all worth it.

Words: 6.2 k

A/N: Hey, so I still wrote this. The next part for ‚First meetings‘ is currently in progress and so is the second part of ‚Sweet boy‘, though I cannot promise to update as frequently as I have in the past few days due to Uni starting again and I don‘t know how much writing I will be able to get done between assignments. I still hope you enjoy :)

It was one of those days, one of those days that promised to be horrendous from the moment they started. It started with a malfunctioning alarm, making her wake up way too late. A hastily prepared, then dropped breakfast, spilled coffee, a quick scrub change that ended in her almost hitting her head on the dresser. Almost getting run over by a total of four cars and she had not even reached the hospital at that point.

Inside the hospital it only got worse, barely not slipping on something wet, something that looked suspiciously like pee, though she was not sure if it was human or animal pee, but honestly she did not care. Nearly being elbowed by a patient in the face as she made her way through the waiting room to get to the ED she finally slipped into the controlled chaos of The Pitt.

Just ducking out of the way in time an empty bedpan came flying at her head. Quickly she made her way towards the breakroom. If this day could get any worse she really hoped that she would not have to be part of it. Setting her backpack down she opened it only to realise her lunch was not in there, nor was her beloved thermos filled with Chai. They must still be sitting safely on the kitchen counter in her apartment. A long sigh escaped her as she leaned against the chair, eyes closed, her shift had not even started yet and she was about to have a breakdown already.

„Morning, Sunshine,“ the gravelly voice of the night shift attending, a hint of humour in his tone as she glared up at him.

„Morning,“ she grumbled at the man who let out a low whistle, „What do you want?“ she sighed, rubbing her face, hoping that the man was just there to check in on her and not deliver some kind of news. As she looked up she saw his expression, mild worry, but also amusement mixed with something that looked like guilt.

„Don‘t tell me, let me guess,“ she sighed, she knew that look well, it was the same look Robby would give her when he told her that they were understaffed, „We are severely understaffed today.“

„Bingo,“ Abbot sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, „Collins, McKay and Mohan all called in sick, you also want all the nurses that are not there?“ His tone was not amused, as she buried her face in her hands, just shaking her head.

„And the med students?“ she asked, hopeful that at least one of them might have called in sick. It was not that she hoped that they were sick, it was simply that with this rotation of med students and the new intern she only really liked one of them.

„All in today,“ Abbot spoke softly as she let out another low groan. This was really not the news she wanted to have to deal with right now. That would mean that shit would really hit the fan today.

„So who is coming in for backup?“ she asked, „It can‘t just be Robby, Dr. King, the med students and I, right?“ she asked. The expression on Abbot‘s face said more than enough as she asked the question.

„Seriously?“ she asked, „No backup?“ she was starting to boil, this was not something she could deal with right now.

„I‘m staying, working a double so you guys aren‘t that understaffed, but…“ Abbot trailed off, gesturing with his hand in the air.

„No one can come in?“ she gaped at him, feeling like he was trying to pull a joke on her, a really bad one at that.

„Almost everyone‘s sick,“ Abbot explained. She hated flu season more than anything, because even if you wore a mask full time in the ED, you would still get sick at some point and apparently the entire Pitt crew was knocked out.

„May God help us all,“ she muttered as she got up from her seat, walking over to Abbot. „Thanks for sticking around,“ she smiled at him, he simply nodded, gently patting her back. They started walking towards central, as they reached the most open part of the ED she could see Gloria walking around, talking to Robby.

She looked around for the transfer notes Ellis had written for her and Collins, though she knew that these were now mostly her patients, glancing at the board she knew that today would get even worse than it had already been until now. Dr. King seemed to have been put in charge of triage, something she was incredibly thankful for, this was not something she needed on her plate now as well.

„So which Med Student do you want to drag around all day?“ Abbot asked as he also glared at the board like it had personally offended him.

„Just keep Santos off my back and I am happy,“ she muttered, glancing over to the side she could see the intern and two med students chatting amongst themselves, „I think Javadi should help with triage, she has some experience there,“ she muttered.

„So you are giving me the honour of working with Dr. Santos?“ Abbot asked, a half teasing tone in his voice, she gave him a mildly annoyed glance. She thought Santos was full of potential, could make a great doctor, but she thought she would fit better in surgery. Her bedside manner lacked to an extent that was almost painful.

„Yeah,“ she nodded, „Please, I know you are a lot better at handling people like that,“ she sighed, giving Abbot a pleading look.

„I know someone that has a lot more patience and a firm but gentle hand that could use some practice working with people like that,“ his voice was still teasing and she shook her head. He was right, she needed to work with people like Santos more often. Robby told her as much, that had been one of the reasons she had ended up in his ED and not in surgery, the simple fact that she could not stand people like Santo.

„Shut up,“ she gave him a glare as she took a deep breath. Suddenly even over the chaos of the Pitt she heard soft tapping of feet, accompanied by the squeaking of wheelchair wheels.

No, please, not today.

„Hey there, sweet cheeks,“ the voice of Myrna came from behind her. Turning her head slightly she gave the older woman a long, hard glare.

„Good morning, Myrna,“ she said in a tight voice. Usually she found some amusement in the older woman, but today she was really not in the mood for her shenanigans.

“Your boyfriend is looking for you, sweet cheeks,“ Myrna nodded in the direction of Dr. Robby. A low groan escaped her at that, most days when Myrna would call Dr. Robby her boyfriend she would get at least a bit flustered, but right now her nerves were already frayed and she was not sure how much of this she could deal with today.

„Myrna,“ she drew out the older woman‘s name in a warning, „Dr. Robby is not my boyfriend, but thank you for letting me know he is looking for me,“ she muttered under her breath as she turned to head towards Robby. Abbot gave her a pat on the back, a reassuring smile on his lips as she started walking away from Myrna she heard her voice again.

„Whatever you say, sweet cheeks,“ then she heard her tone shifting again, probably starting to flirt with Abbot. As she reached Robby Gloria was still following him around, talking to him about patient satisfaction, again. Telling him how his department needed to get better numbers or otherwise the risk of them getting shut down was going to rise. Her brow twitched at that, this was seriously going to be her final straw for the day. As Robby saw her his frown disappeared for a brief moment, but reappeared as Gloria continued to yap in his ear.

„Fucking hell!“ she snapped at Gloria, surprising both Robby and Gloria, but mostly herself „You don‘t work down here and all you do is complain and complain and complain!“ she felt the building anger and frustration of the barely started day begin to manifest, her mind was reeling, she needed to get herself to calm down again. „You don‘t know what it is like to have to work with a barely existent team! You sit in your office all day and complain and complain about our performance!“ Before she was able to say another word, Robby put a hand on her shoulder, stepping towards her.

„Alright, Gloria I think you have heard that speech already,“ Robby gave the CMO an angry glare.

„That discussion is not over yet, Robinavitch!“ With an angry huff she walked past them, not before shooting her a disapproving glare.

„You okay there?“ Robby asked after Gloria was out of earshot. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment then nodded slightly.

„Just a really rough start to the day,“ she whispered, like it was some deep secret. Robby gave her a worried glance, raising his brow in question.

„Robby,“ she took a deep breath, knowing that the following statement would probably explain to him how bad her mood was, „I can feel the part of my scrubs where I cut off the label rubbing against my neck and I feel like my whole body is on fire, I can hear every single sound in my vicinity and it feels like my brain is about to go into an overload induced shut down, so yeah, a really rough start to the day,“ she gave Robby a pointed look at her, slowly lifting his hand from her shoulder. A soft sigh escaped her, usually if it were anyone else that had touched her this long she would have snapped at them in the mood she was currently in, but Robby‘s hand on her shoulder had been a reassurance of some sort, comforting, grounding.

„Okay, I get that, but I need you here with me right now, okay?“ His voice was gentle as he spoke to her. She nodded slightly as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down.

„You take Whitaker with you, I will make sure he stays on track so you don‘t have to worry about that as well. Stay on top of the higher risk patients Ellis handed you over, Abbot will make sure the lower risk patients are cared for. For incoming traumas today it will be you and Whitaker, alright, I will join you if I can, but right now we will have to make sure that we stay on top of everything, okay.“ It was just a rundown of the plan. A rundown of the way they would be operating today and for some reason it was probably a greater comfort than anything else he could have told her. The instructions were clear, care for the high risk patients, handle incoming traumas. Everyone else would have to find a way to deal with their plates during this shift.

“Thanks, Robby,” she gave him a small smile. Robby never failed to help her in situations like this, always knowing what to say or what to do, he had this way about him when he talked to her like this. Taking deep breaths, she tried to focus on what was important right now, deep breaths, be nice to the kid, take care of the patients.

“Of course,” slowly he reached out, giving her time to say something if she didn't want him to touch her. Nodding softly she gave Robby a quick smile, he gently padded her shoulder.

“And remember to eat and drink something,” he gently spoke. Nodding slowly she squared her shoulders, readying herself for the worst thing that could happen during this shift.

——————

Whitaker had joined her quickly, she had put him on two cases they needed to take care of, just getting the history of the patients and a basic workup before their exam and treatment. He had handled that rather well and had even given minor treatment orders to the people he had seen, already lifting some work from her. She still checked up on them, calling radiology or surgery to get these people in line for whatever they needed.

A bicycle accident had come in as a trauma, she and Whitaker had been able to handle it quickly, sending the man to the CT and then to the OR within twenty minutes. The guy had been complaining the entire time, threatening to sue her and the hospital if he wouldn’t be able to ride a bicycle angin.

She had yelled at the Attending of Cardiology when he had bitched about not having enough beds for the cardiology cases she needed to send upstairs. Both had major heart issues, even if it was not a heart attack they would still receive much better and safer care in cardiology. He had folded after she had told him that she would be sending them up anyway, even if he told her that there was no room, which she knew was bullshit because Esme had told her that three beds in cardiology had opened up. While all this was happening there was one major annoyance always not too far away from her: Myrna.

“No Myrna!” she had shouted as she saw the older woman trying to roll out of the ambulance bay door, rolling her back she had put the brakes back into place, leaving the woman at the nurses’ station. Whitaker, the poor guy, had gotten an obscene amount of bodily fluids over him during the entire shift and she was just glad that this was not her.

Another trauma had come in, this time a kid that had fallen off the balcony on the second floor. His mother had screamed in her ear the entire time, elbowed her in the stomach twice and once accidentally hit her in the throat with an open hand. They had gotten him stabilised as well, sending him up for a CT and then neurology, she had yelled at the chief resident there, telling him that they currently had not the capacity to deal with a potentially paralyzed seven year old. He had simply muttered something about his Attending killing him, but had taken the kid upstairs.

“No Myrna!” she had shouted as Myrna seemed to be heading straight for the men’s restroom. Pulling the wheelchair backwards towards the disabled bathroom.

“Or I can get you a bedpan,” she had told Myrna with a deadly glare. The older woman had simply lifted her hands, grinning like a cheshire cat and agreed to use the bedpan. It was like she was trying to get on her nerves today.

“Just tell your boyfriend that I am missing him today!” Myrna sighed as she handed her the clean bedpan. A groan left her lips as she heard Dana shouting at her that they had a motorcycle accident victim coming in hot via air transport.

They had headed to the roof, just her, Whitaker and Robby. The EMT’s had helped bring the man into trauma 2, getting him on the gurney and making him comfortable. He had practically been sliced in half, there was nothing they could really do, it was a miracle the man had even survived that long. They pumped him full of morphine and tried to stop the bleeding as best they could, luckily thanks to the EMT’s they knew that he had a DNR so when his heart stopped they simply turned off the monitor and had to move on.

The wife and kids of the motorcycle accident victim had arrived only about ten minutes after he had passed away. His wife had yelled at her for not doing more to save her husband even after she had explained the DNR and the issue with his injuries to her. She had tried to punch her, then was escorted out of the ED while she was still screaming and thrashing around, swearing to sue the hospital.

She had called Dr. Shamsi, this time she had not yelled at the person she was talking to over the phone. Nicely asking if she had the capacity to take one of her patients into an OR ASAP, luckily Shamsi still owed her for something so that was quickly done and another bed was freed up.

An amputation of the left leg at the knee had been brought in, they had stopped the bleeding, pumped the man full of morphine, called radiology, booked him an x-ray and a CT, bumped a few other people waiting, but got him off their hands rather quickly, especially since they still had the limb and surgery would take him quickly to make sure that they could still try and reattach the leg.

“Uhm…sorry?” Whitaker asked as she stared at the board trying to make a mental checklist of people she could move around or discharge, though most of the patients she was seeing were not ready to be discharged yet.

“What, Whitaker?” she asked, glancing over to him, he stood beside her, staring at the empty space where Myrna’s wheelchair had been only five minutes ago.

“Oh shit no!” she cried out, looking around she saw Abbot talking to one of the nurses, Santos running around like a headless chicken.

“Abbot!” she shouted as loudly as she could, his head snapped towards her, “Do you know where Myrna is?” He just shrugged and shook his head.

“Well, shit!” she cursed, looking around she saw one of the nursing students looking a little lost, like he had no task. “Terry, come here,” she gestured him over to her, “I have a very important task for you,”

Terry had luckily found Myrna, it had taken him almost half an hour, but he had found the woman, something she was incredibly grateful for, especially since in this half hour she had been able to finish up a few cases for Abbot who seemed to be a bit overloaded with them. A fight bite, a kid who had broken his arm, an elderly woman that had broken her hip, a young guy that had gotten his hand stuck in a bottle.

“You know you and your boyfriend make a really cute couple,” Myrna almost purred, “But I have to say that I am kind of jealous of you, I would like to get a taste of that ass,”

“Jesus Christ, no Myrna, for the last time he is not my boyfriend!” she groaned as she headed towards a room in which Dr. King had just deposited an agitated twenty five year old that was vomiting blood.

That case was solved quickly after asking a few questions and finding out that he had a nosebleed and had put his head up instead of down and had swallowed a whole lot of blood. Still she had done an ultrasound and ordered a CT to rule out anything serious. Whitaker was also running around now, helping an asthmatic patient, doing sutures on another one, taping wounds shut or helping out where an extra pair of hands was needed.

Another trauma rolled in, a teen that had been electrocuted by the neighbours new electric fence. Garcia from surgery came down for that, she had tried really hard not to yell at the woman that frayed her nerves on the best of days, but today was not a good day so she had yelled at her as well. Telling her to suck it up and just take the kid that clearly needed surgery for his arm upstairs.

“You know, I never thought I would say that, but…” Robby trailed off as he watched Garcia take the teenager upstairs for surgery, “You in a bad mood really makes all the difference on a bad day, maybe we need you in a bad mood on more days, you have been clearing beds and moving patients like there is no tomorrow,” Robby gave her a small grin as she rubbed her face, feeling like her head was about to explode. She looked at Robby, not being able to suppress her annoyance.

“You can be lucky I didn’t kill anyone yet,” she muttered looking around, “Though you might be getting a complaint about me from cardiology and neurology,” she muttered under her breath, trying to keep herself from shutting down. The only thing that kept her brain from going into a complete shutdown and probably meltdown was the adrenaline pumping through her system. Taking a shuddering breath she was about to bolt towards central again when Robby grabbed her arm.

“Did you eat something?” he asked, giving her a concerned look. His big brown eyes looked like a puppy as he stared at her.

“Robby it is not even noon yet, I don’t need lunch right now,” she grumbled and was about to rip her arm from his grasp when he pulled out a protein bar from the front pocket of the jacket he was wearing.

“Eat that now, I don’t care if you eat it in two bites, just eat it,” Robby’s expression was stern as he handed her the protein bar, giving her hand a slight squeeze as he handed it over to her. Quickly unwrapping it she thanked him quietly and left the room, wolfing it down in three quick bites.

Hysterical screaming came from somewhere, deciding that it was best to head in that direction. She saw a woman holding her own hand, and for a moment it did not register in her mind what was wrong with that image, but then she saw it. She was the woman literally holding her own hand and for a moment she wondered what it was with all these amputations today. Bringing the woman to a room she quickly took care of everything, also putting her in line for an x-ray, calling surgery to give them a heads up about another amputation.

“You know, my husbands never made sure that I ate, and you insist that he is not even your boyfriend,” Myrna tutted from behind her as she leaned against a work station, feeling her back pop in a few places as she stretched it.

“Myrna…” she sighed, rubbing her forehead. For a moment she wanted to yell ‘No, Myrna!’ again, but her thought process was interrupted by Whitaker yelling.

“I need a little help here! Code blue!” he shouted. He sounded a little panicky as she saw him, grabbing a pair of gloves she started running towards the room. A group of nurses already brought the crash cart with them. As she entered the room Whittaker was already doing chest compression. It wasn't even five minutes and the patient was back again, taking a deep breath as she did an exam, trying to find out what was wrong. Waiting for lab results would probably bring some clarity to that situation.

The day went on and after what felt like an entire gruelling shift it was only noon. Standing at a workstation she quickly typed in the information for the chart.

“Here you go,” Robby appeared right beside her, a mug of something that smelled like chai and a sandwich in hand. A laugh escaped her as she pulled out a sandwich from her scrub pocket. It was egg salad, something she knew Robby loved.

“Thanks,” she took the mug of chai, the sandwich, handed Robby his sandwich and gave him a small smile.

“Of course, can’t have my best resident collapse by the end of this shift,” he smiled at her as he unwrapped his sandwich as well, they ate in silence while both of them filled out a few charts.

A groan echoed from somewhere near them. Myrna was watching them, shaking her head like she could not believe what she was seeing.

“No Myrna!” both of them groaned at the same time, “Don’t even say it,” Robby shook his head as he got up from his chair, giving her a gentle pat on the back.

“You got this,” he smiled at her as he disappeared into the depths of the ED, looking over her shoulder she could see Abbot leaning against the nurses’ station, looking like a ghost on two legs, at least to the people that knew him. Getting up from her seat she grabbed a sandwich off the tray and threw it towards him. A quick smile on her lips as he caught it, toasting it towards her with a small smile.

Hurrying off, she continued to treat patients. Broken bones, deep cuts, other issues. She tried her best to keep up with everything.

Patient yelled at her, threatened her, one even spit her in the face. The only reason she had not punched him being that Whitaker had somehow in his awkward and yet adorable fashion deescalated the situation.

“No Myrna!” she hollered across the ED as she saw the older woman trying to escape once again. She didn’t even have to start moving, Robby already there, turning Myrna around and pushing her back towards where they usually parked her. A relieved sigh escaped her lips as she was able to head off again.

Time dragged on and the day felt like it was never going to be over. More angry patients about the long wait times, more agitated people, more people that were yelling and luckily at some point amidst all the chaos of the day shift change arrived. It went relatively smoothly and she was able to leave the ED by eight sharp.

“Hey!” Princess shouted, “Do you want to join us in the park?” She tilted her head towards the park where she knew the rest of the Pitt crew sometimes spent their evenings. For a moment she hesitated, she had the feeling that this day would only get worse if she decided to stay outside for much longer, but as she saw Abbot and Robby standing with Princess she simply nodded quietly.

“Yeah, why not,” she whispered softly as she trudged along with them, at the front of the hoard were Santos, Whitaker and Javadi, chattering about something. In all honesty she was not sure how the three got along, but apparently things like a mass casualty event bring people together. Abbot and Robby were talking in hushed voices, like they were sharing some kind of secret with each other. Finally they reached the park benches, a long groan escaped her as she was finally able to take a seat. Her legs hurt like hell and she saw Abbot taking off his prosthetic, a sigh of relief coming from him.

Beside her Robby was moving his hand around his backpack. Suddenly he let out a sound that was oddly close to pride as he pulled out a small bag. Quickly opening it he smiled softly.

“Come on, hand out,” he gently nudged her side as she stared at him for a moment, confusion settling in her mind, though she was too tired to argue, simply holding her hand out. Carefully he tilted the paper bag and from it dropped a few roasted almonds into the palm of her hand.

Her eyes went wide as she saw them hitting her hand. A bright smile grew on her lips as she looked at Robby.

“Thanks,” she grinned at him, picking up one of them and popping it in her mouth. As she chewed on the sweet almond a soft sigh escaped her. Around her the chatter continued, she continued to snack on the almonds, feeling a single hot tear of gratitude run down her cheek, quickly she wiped it away.

“You okay?” Robby gave her a gentle smile as he looked over at her, a beer in his hand. His big brown eyes that were always so full of worry fixed on her.

“Just,” she looked at the roasted almonds in her hand, she choked slightly, “This just made my day,” she whispered, smiling tiredly at him. “How did you know?” she asked in a quiet tone so that the others around them wouldn’t hear them.

“You mentioned once that these were your favorite snacks after a rough shift, so I decided to get some in case you need a ‘little pick me up’ from time to time,” he smiled at her. She could feel her face getting hot as she nodded softly.

“Can I?” she gently nodded in the direction of his shoulder, she knew that Robby didn’t always want to be touched, just like her, so she just wanted to make sure she didn’t overstep. Especially after this rough of a shift.

“Of course,” he gave her a soft smile. Scotting a bit closer she felt their arms brush, leaning her head against his shoulder was a relief, his warmth a great comfort, the feeling of his breaths calming in a way that little else was to her nowadays. Closing her eyes she simply listened to the conversation around her. Almost about to fall asleep when Whitaker’s voice pulled her out of the lull.

“Who is Myrna talking about when referring to her,” she opened her eyes slightly, seeing Whitaker gesture in her direction. “Boyfriend?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before she heard laughing coming from somewhere beside her, it was definitely Abbot laughing.

“Ah, come on man,” Robby grumbled, she could feel the vibrations of his voice against the crown of her head.

“Whitaker,” Abbot laughed again, he was probably shaking his head. There was a long silence, then a deep breath. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, sorry, Dr. Robby, but I thought you were her partner and Myrna was just always referring to someone else being her partner,” Whitaker sounded mildly embarrassed.

“Honestly, same,” she heard Santos, then a few gulps, probably drowning the rest of her beer can.

“Why does everyone think we are a couple?” Robby sounded mildly confused, amusement lacing his voice. A few beats of silence.

“You are literally letting her sleep on your shoulder,” Abbot sounded so amused that she had to refrain from opening her eyes. “And you hate almonds,” there was a pause, “You carry around almonds for her, you wouldn’t eat them even if it was your only option,” Abbot repeated his statement.

“And you bring her food,” Princess now chimed in. There was a low agreement of murmurs, then another voice spoke up.

“And you bring her tea,” Donnie, he sounded like he was about to start laughing.

“Oh, and I still remember that look on your face when that patient was flirting with her last week, you looked like you wanted to rip that guy’s head off,” Jesse spoke in his usual soft and measured tone, though there was a certain amusement to it as well.

For a moment these statements hung in the air, weighing down the atmosphere, then a soft laugh came from Robby. She was shaken slightly and let out a quiet huff of dissatisfaction, the shaking stopped slowly.

“I guess we do act like a couple,” he sighed, running his hand over face, at least that's what it felt like.

“And it’s a damn shame you aren’t actually one,” Abbot sounded like he had told Robby that countless times already. Slowly she started to blink, opening her eyes she let out a soft yawn, the chilly air in the park made her shiver slightly as she sat up straight again.

“You got a jacket?” Robby asked her as he looked at the goosebumps on her arms. Giving him a sheepish smile she shook her head, before she was able to say anything Robby had already unzipped his hoodie, slipping out of it.

“No, Robby,” she shook her head, stopping him in his motions, gently placing her hand on his. “It’s alright,” she smiled at him, simply wrapping her arms around herself. Glancing to the side she could see the looks being exchanged between the others.

The evening wore on, from time to time she could see Robby twitching when she rubbed her arms. Slowly but surely everyone started heading home until it was just her and Robby sitting on the park bench. Glancing over at him she smiled softly, his features were only illuminated by the dim light from the lantern near them. He looked magnificent with his hair slightly mussed and eyes half closed because he was so tired.

“I think I should head home,” his voice cracked slightly as he was about to get up. She was not sure what possessed her to do it, but she grabbed his hand. The warmth sent a slight shiver down her spine as she squeezed it.

“Thank you, Robby,” she whispered, giving him a watery smile.

“For what?” he looked slightly confused, now standing, looking down at her with those big brown eyes.

“For caring about me,” it sounded so strange to say out loud. Yet she squeezed his hand softly, trying to keep herself from saying more, the tiredness in her bones and yearning in her heart almost too much.

“Of course,” he spoke softly, he sighed, “Do you want company?” he sounded so unsure, like he was proposing something scandalous.

“Yes,” she nodded, it was hard for her to admit these things. She had been alone for such a long time that even asking for something as simple as that felt like a burden.

“Alright, come on,” he did not let go of her hand as he pulled her up from where she was sitting on the bench, picking up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. During the walk to Robby’s place they never let go of each other’s hands, like it was the only way to not lose each other in a crowded room, though the streets were empty.

At his place he had turned on the lights, offered her something to eat, something proper. Together they ate the leftovers in silence, no words needed to be exchanged between them, at least no right now. As the plates were empty the silence stretched on, sitting at the kitchen table in the dim light of his apartment for the first time it felt like whatever had been building between them had come to a peak. The years of shared pain, the years of shared fear, anger and resentment against the world, the loneliness that could threaten to consume someone even when surrounded by people.

After a moment Robby got up, putting the plates into the dishwasher, he leaned against the kitchen counter for a long moment, staring at the washing machine.

“Do you want to stay?” his voice was soft, glancing over his shoulder she could see the pain in his eyes.

“If it’s alright with you,” she answered in a hushed tone, afraid that if she spoke any louder the moment might shatter. That she would wake up in the ED because she had been knocked out by a patient and all of this was just a dream, just a fantasy her mind had conjured up.

“It is,” he nodded, then left the kitchen, for a moment she was concerned, not sure where he had gone. Then he returned two neatly folded items of clothing in his hands. “I guess you don’t want to sleep in your scrubs,” his tone sounded light and for a moment she thought that she could get used to this.

“Yes, thank you,” getting up from where she was sitting and taking the clothes from Robby.

It was a pair of his joggers and an old worn out t-shirt that smelled like him. Changing in the bathroom she put her scrubs into the washing machine, Robby put it on for a quick load, they settled on the couch while they waited for the washing machine to finish, she was snuggled up beside him, her head resting against his chest. Neither of them really acknowledged the fact that they both knew that there was no going back from this, that they had crossed a line on which they had been teetering for way too long.

The beeping sounded, she put everything into the dryer, putting that on. Robby started turning off the lights as they reached the bedroom he picked up a pillow. Shaking her head she had gently wrangled it out of his hands again, putting it on the bed.

Together they settled under the soft covers and for the first time in what felt like forever her mind stopped going in circles as she laid down, the comforting weight of Robby behind her. The first time in forever that when she laid down to sleep she was not plagued by anxiety or the feeling of shame, at that moment it was simple, it was easy, it was peaceful. Though the last thought that crossed her mind before she slipped off to sleep was the way she had hollered ‘No Myrna!’ across the ED and the expression on Robby’s face when he had looked at her while wheeling Myrna back to the nurses’ station. That warmth, that fondness wrapping around her mind like a warm blanket.

#the pitt #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #dr robby #michael robinavitch x reader

258 notes · View notes

justarkive · 2 months ago

Text

TABLE 3 | JJK ch 3

“For good service, and cute waitresses”

pairing: premilitary!jk x secret fuckbuddy! oc

contents: mild language, no smut (yet), fluff, humour, celeb au, very mild angst, slowburn </3

wc: 6k

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: if anyone wants to join pls comment!!

a/n: this fic is going so much better than id thought it would! i love it and cant wait to progress. Nari’s might also come across as mean, but know its in a best friend way and she truly does love oc. ENJOY MY LOVES <3 p.s, all interactions are much appreciated, pls dont be afraid to let me know what you think:)

masterlist | < previous | next >

You find yourself back at Nari’s apartment. These days, it’s the only place you feel like going to. Your own place feeling like a lost cause- clothes piling up, draped over your desk chair you could’ve sworn you cleaned up last week, dishes in the sink that you could’ve sworn you’d washed yesterday. Work has been exhausting, and when you’re not caught up in the bustle of the diner, you’re busy running errands and keeping up with side hobbies, using them as an excuse to avoid everything else.

At least at Nari’s, things feel a little less overwhelming, and it’s easier to forget everything else.

And Nari doesn’t mind, she’d never mind.

She’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of wine, her free hand lazily scrolling through her phone. Her TV hums in the background, playing some trashy reality show neither of you are actually watching. You’re curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the throw pillow in your lap.

You’ve been quiet for way too long, and though you are a quiet person by nature. It’s never been truly quiet with you around Nari.

And Nari notices. Of course she does.

It’s not past a second before she side eyes you over her glass, pausing mid scroll. “Alright” She says, pushing off the counter. “What’s going on with you?”

You blink up at her. “Huh?”

“You look like you just got caught committing a crime,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”

You shake your head quickly. “It’s nothing.”

Nari stares at you for a second longer, then sighs, putting her phone down on the counter. She’s walking over, the heels of her socks dragging slightly against the floor, and plops down next to you, pressing her shoulder against yours.

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the pillow. The words are there, right at the tip of your tongue, but saying them out loud makes it feel too real.

Nari doesn’t give you the chance to stall any longer. She sets her phone down and walks over, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been sitting there looking like you’re about to have a breakdown for the past twenty minutes,” she says. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I start guessing, and you know I have no filter.”

You exhale sharply. “It’s not that serious.”

Nari just stares. “Yeah, okay. So why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

You press your lips together, debating whether you should even bring it up. It’s stupid. It really is. But the anxiety has been eating away at you since he did it, and if anyone’s going to tell you if you’re being ridiculous, it’s Nari.

You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a small, crumpled piece of paper. For a second, you just hold it between your fingers, staring at it like it as if that would make it disappear. Then, finally, you place it on the coffee table between you and Nari.

She frowns. “What’s that?”

You swallow. “Jungkook left me his number.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nari blinks. Then she blinks again, leaning forward to get a better look at the paper, like she needs to confirm that you’re not messing with her.

“Wait—Jungkook?”

You nod, heart hammering against your ribs.

“As in the Jungkook?” You nod again, looking at her as if to say: yeah Nari, who else?

Nari lets out a sharp breath, eyes darting between you and the paper. “And you’re telling me this now?” She takes the paper from your hand “Saturday?! Seriously? It’s been 2 days and you’re only telling me now?” She whines, smacking your arm lightly.

You shrug, biting your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything.

Nari stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “And what exactly is the problem here? Did you text him? Has he shown up to the diner again?”

You bite your lip. “What if it’s a joke?”

Her expression drops into something unimpressed. “What?”

“What if I actually message him, and he laughs in my face? What if this is just some silly game?” You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. “Imagine I actually text him, and it turns out he just left it to mess with me.”

Nari looks at you like you just suggested jumping into oncoming traffic for fun. “Are you stupid?”

You blink. “Yes! What- No. Ugh! I dont know?”

“Why the hell would he give you a fake number? Celebrities don’t just do that.” She picks up the paper, waving it in your face. “And Jungkook? He doesn’t seem like the type to waste his time playing games.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” she cuts you off. “I saw the way he was looking at you. That man is not out here giving his number to random women for fun.” She shakes her head. “And even if it was a joke—which it isn’t—you’d at least know. Right now, you’re just sitting here torturing yourself over something you haven’t even done yet.”

You press your lips together, stomach flipping. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“I do know.” She leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “And at the very least, now you can get a heads-up before he randomly shows up again and you dont have to shit your pants every time he does.”

You let out a laugh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, but you saw what happened last time…”

Nari rolls her eyes. “Listen I get that- Crazy fans and shit? Not it, but you could be missing out on something big here.” She shrugs, taking a slow sip of her wine, like this isn’t making your entire brain short-circuit. “Worst case scenario? He doesn’t respond. Best case scenario? Well.” She smirks. “I don’t think I need to spell it out for you.”

You stare at the number again, nerves buzzing under your skin.

Fuck it.

Your fingers twitch as you pick up your phone, opening your messages. You hesitate, heart in your throat.

The phone sits between you and Nari on the couch, untouched. You haven’t stopped staring at it since she made you unlock it, since she made you pull up Jungkook’s number and prove to her that it’s really there. His name isn’t saved, obviously—you’re not that delusional—but it’s there. Sitting at the top of your recents, right where you left it.

And you hate that it’s there.

Nari sighs. “Alright, I literally can’t take another second of this. Either you text him, or I’m throwing your phone out the fucking window.”

Your body jerks up immediately. “I can’t text him.”

She looks at you like you’ve personally offended her. “Yes, you can.”

“No, I actually can’t.” You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “You do it.”

A scoff. “What? No.”

“Nari, please.” Your voice is muffled, desperate. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You literally will,” she deadpans. “Probably within the next hour.”

“I’m serious.” You peek at her from over the pillow. “Please, just send the first message.”

“You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to use it.”

“Or maybe he gave it to me as a joke.”

She groans, standing up and dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God. What is wrong with you?”

“If I message him, and he laughs at me, I’m never leaving this apartment again.”

She rolls her eyes, dropping back onto the couch beside you. “Yeah, because Jungkook has nothing better to do than sit around and make fun of random girls.”

“Exactly.”

Nari grabs your arm, shaking you. “You’re so stupid.”

You let out a strangled sound as she shakes harder, knocking you against the couch cushions. “Nari, stop—”

“No, because you’re actually so stupid. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

You groan extra loud.

Nari shoves you again, this time hard enough that you almost fall sideways. “You are so dramatic.”

“Okay, then you message him,” you whine, turning back to her with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. Just send one text, and then I’ll take over.”

She groans, leaning her head back against the couch. “Fine. But I’m not doing ‘Hi, this is YN.’ That’s lame.”

You nod immediately. “Yeah, no, that’s boring.”

She thinks for a second, then smirks. “What if we go with, ‘Hey, soldier, miss me?’”

You push her. “Stop.”

Nari just laughs. “Or, ooh!—‘I heard boys like you love discipline, so I waited a respectable amount of time before texting. 😉’”

“Im deleting his number.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

She hums, tapping your phone screen. “Okay, what about this: ‘I promise I’m not a stalker, but I did just spend the past two days debating if this was actually your number.’”

You hesitate. “…Okay- Yeah, that’s actually kinda good.”

“Duh.” She types it out and, before you can stop her, presses send.

Your stomach drops. “Nari, what the fuck.”

She throws the phone onto your lap with a smug grin. “Too late.”

You gape at the screen, heart pounding as the message sits there. And keeps sitting there.

Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately.

Which—of course he doesn’t. He’s busy. He’s literally Jungkook. He’s probably off training or singing or whatever idols do in their free time.

Still.

You groan, throwing your head back. “This was a mistake.”

Beside you, Nari pats your head like a disapproving mother. “No, I made a mistake. I should’ve sent, ‘Hey, kookie~, miss me?’”

You nudge her away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You kind of do. But now, you’re stuck waiting for a reply.

And it’s already driving you insane.

—

Hours pass.

You and Nari don’t do much of anything—just exist in the same space, like always. The TV plays some random drama you’ve both seen a hundred times before, voices droning on in the background while you scroll through your phone and Nari flips through a magazine she doesn’t actually care about. The comfort of it is familiar, easy. This is why you come here. Why her apartment is the only place you really want to be these days.

But none of it stops your eyes from flicking back to your phone every two minutes.

Still nothing.

Nari notices. Of course, she does.

“Y/n.” She doesn’t even look up from her magazine. “Get it the fuck together.”

You huff. “I am together.”

“No, you’re not.” She turns a page, unimpressed. “You look like you’re waiting for an organ transplant.”

You make a face, shifting to sit on your hands so you physically can’t reach for your phone again. “I just—I don’t get why he hasn’t replied yet.”

“Because he’s Jungkook?” Nari deadpans. “You know, worldwide superstar, busy man, famous guy? Maybe, just maybe, he has other shit to do?”

You grumble, kicking at her leg. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “What if he’s ignoring me?”

Nari groans. “Oh my God. I literally cannot do this with you right now.” She tosses the magazine onto the coffee table and sits up, jabbing a finger at you. “This is what we’re not gonna do, okay? We’re not gonna sit here and spiral. We’re not gonna create insane scenarios in our head. And we’re definitely not gonna act like Jungkook is some high school jock plotting to humiliate you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

You glare at her. “That was a very specific example.”

She shrugs. “I read a lot of Wattpad in my youth.”

“As you should.”

“Anyway.” She leans back, stretching her arms over her head. “Since you clearly can’t function like a normal person right now, I’m declaring a ban on all Jungkook-related thoughts for the next few hours.”

“You can’t ban thoughts.”

“I can in this household.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. Mostly because she’s right—this whole thing is driving you insane, and if you don’t stop obsessing over it, you’re going to lose your mind before Jungkook even gets a chance to reply.

So, you let it go. Or at least, you try to.

The night continues as it always does. You and Nari switch to watching trashy reality TV, taking turns talking shit about people you don’t know. You fight over the last slice of pizza, which Nari wins, but only because she threatens to lock you out of the apartment. You don’t think she’d actually do it, but you’re not willing to take the risk.

Time slips by unnoticed, and before you know it, the sky outside the window has darkened completely.

“You sleeping over?” Nari asks, stretching her legs across the couch.

You blink at her like she’s just asked something stupid. “Of course, I am. What do you think?”

She smirks. “Good. I was gonna make you stay even if you said no.”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at her. She dodges easily, flipping you off in the process.

And then—your phone buzzes.

Your whole body goes still.

Nari notices immediately, eyes snapping to your phone, and then to you.

“Oh my god,” she says slowly. “Tell me that’s who I think it is.”

You don’t answer. Just stare at the screen like it might disappear if you blink.

Another buzz.

Nari lunges forward, but you snatch the phone before she can grab it. Your hands are shaking.

She bounces impatiently beside you. “Well? Open it!”

Swallowing thickly, you finally unlock the screen.

[ iMessage:]

Unknown Number: Took you long enough.

Unknown Number: Was starting to think you weren’t interested.

You just stare. Your stomach does a weird little flip, your heart picking up speed.

Nari, practically vibrating beside you, grabs your arm. “WHAT DOES IT SAY!?”

You lift your head slowly, meeting her gaze with wide, horrified eyes.

“He’s flirting with me-“

Nari screams.

And just like that, everything is chaos again.

Your brain short-circuits.

Your hands tighten around your phone, fingers pressing into the edges like you’re afraid it might jump out of your grasp. Your breathing is uneven, and you’re pretty sure your heart is going to give out right here, on Nari’s couch, before you even get the chance to respond.

Nari grabs your wrist, shaking you violently. “WHAT THE FUCK?! REPLY.”

“I CAN’T.” You clutch the phone to your chest like it’s some kind of secret government file, eyes blown wide in panic. “OH MY GOD, WHAT DO I EVEN SAY?”

Nari looks at you like you’ve just spoken in an ancient language. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHAT DO YOU SAY? YOU SAY SOMETHING BACK. LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

“No, no, no, I—” You shake your head frantically, scrambling up onto your knees as if somehow getting higher up will help you think better. “If I reply too fast, it’s gonna look desperate.”

Nari throws her hands up. “Desperate for what? A conversation? Bitch, this is not high school! We are adults. We do not play fucking mind games over text like we’re waiting for our crush to message us back like we’re 15!”

You press your palms over your face, groaning into them. “Oh my God, what if this is a joke? What if he’s messing with me? What if—”

“WHAT IF HE’S NOT?” Nari yells, shoving at your shoulder. “What if he actually fucking likes you, you absolute dumbass?”

You glare at her, shoving her back. “DON’T CALL ME A DUMBASS, I’M HAVING A CRISIS.”

“IT’S A STUPID CRISIS.”

The two of you wrestle on the couch for a second, limbs flying, before she overpowers you and shoves you back into the cushions. You huff, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady your heartbeat.

A few deep breaths. Then another. Okay. You’re fine. You’re cool.

You roll your head to the side, looking at Nari. “What do I say?”

She stares at you, completely done. “You say, ‘Hey, this is me responding to your text message.’”

You groan, throwing an arm over your face. “Be serious.”

“I am being serious.” She snatches your phone right out of your grip, dodging your grabby hands as she holds it above her head. “Look. You’re overthinking. You don’t have to send an essay, just flirt back.”

You peek at her through your arm. “How?”

“Oh my God.” She sighs dramatically, shifting so she’s sitting on her knees beside you. “Okay, let’s workshop this. He said, ��Took you long enough. Was starting to think you weren’t interested.’” She pauses. “Ooh, that’s kinda sexy.”

“SHUT UP.”

“I’m just saying.”

You groan again, kicking your legs in frustration. “I hate this. Why am I like this? I should just block him.”

Nari slaps your thigh so hard you yelp.

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING.”

You whimper. “Fine. Just—help me.”

She grins, shuffling closer. “Okay. So, we’re going for playful, yeah? Something that keeps the same energy.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like, oh? You were waiting for me? That’s kinda cute.”

Your entire body recoils. “EW, no, that sounds so corny.”

She cackles. “Okay, okay. What about, ‘Oh, were you hoping I’d text first? That’s adorable.’”

You blink. “Ugh why are you so good at this?”

“I know.” She flips her hair dramatically. “I am the queen of texting.”

You shake your head, snatching your phone back. “Fine. I’ll say something like that.”

“Good.” She pats your knee. “Now send it.”

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Your pulse pounds in your ears. You type the message. Delete it. Type it again. Delete it again. At this point, you’re just spamming letters on your keyboard.

“Nari,” you whisper.

She groans. “What now?”

“…Can you send it for me?”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

You flinch at the volume of her voice. “But—”

“No buts.” She glares at you, unimpressed. “Send it. Now.”

You hesitate for one more agonizing second. And then, taking a deep breath, you hit send.

You both freeze, staring at the screen like it might explode.

The message sits there. Marked as delivered. Silent.

You toss your phone across the couch and bury your face in a pillow.

Nari gasps. “Bitch, what are you doing?”

“I CAN’T LOOK.”

“Oh my God.” She lunges for the phone. “What if he replies? What if he—”

Buzz.

Your whole body seizes up.

Nari screams.

You scream.

Neither of you move.

Buzz.

Another message.

You shoot up so fast your vision goes blurry, scrambling for your phone. Nari practically jumps onto your back, gripping your shoulders as she shrieks into your ear.

You unlock the screen, heart pounding, pulse hammering against your ribs. And then—

[ iMessage:]

Unknown number: Adorable? That’s a new one. You trying to flirt with me?

Your soul leaves your body.

Nari shrieks. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.”

You smack her. She smacks you back. You both devolve into incoherent screaming, kicking your legs and shaking each other like wild animals.

And somewhere in the chaos, it finally sinks in.

Jungkook is flirting back.

This is real.

What the fuck do you do now?

You’re still gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline, staring at Jungkook’s message like the words might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

Your brain is malfunctioning. Your hands are clammy. Your heart rate is somewhere near cardiac arrest levels.

“Nari,” you whisper, voice shaky. “What do I say?”

Nari, who has just spent the last five minutes screaming and shaking you like a maraca, suddenly changes tactics. She plops back against the couch, crossing her arms. “Nothing.”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing,” she repeats, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix. “Let him wait.”

Your whole body jolts. “WAIT?”

“Yes.” She leans back smugly. “We’re watching a show. You’ll text him in the morning.”

You gape at her, horrified. “No. No, no, no, please—”

“Yes.”

“Nari, please!” You grab her arm, shaking her dramatically. “I will literally die. My soul will leave my body.”

“Okay, good,” she says, deadpan. “Then I’ll text Jungkook myself and tell him his little admirer died of thirst.”

You let out a strangled noise, throwing yourself back against the couch. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She pats your knee like you’re a distressed child. “And you asked for my advice, so now you’re gonna take it. No texting until morning. Let him wonder.”

You stare at her, betrayed. “This is evil.”

She shrugs, putting on some random drama. “Welcome to the game, bitch.”

You sulk for a few more minutes, checking your phone every five seconds like a lovesick fool before Nari finally yanks it out of your hands and tosses it across the room.

“BED,” she orders, standing up. “Now.”

You groan but eventually drag yourself to your feet, trudging to her bedroom like a prisoner on death row. When you finally get under the covers, you let out a heavy sigh.

“This is torture.”

Nari snickers, turning off the light. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You highly doubt that.

—

The next morning, you wake up feeling… slightly less insane. Only slightly.

Nari is still dead to the world when you roll out of bed, stretching with a groan. You grab your phone off the nightstand and check your notifications.

No new messages from Jungkook.

You stare at the screen for a moment, heart sinking slightly. Not that you expected him to double-text you or anything, but still.

Shaking off the disappointment, you tiptoe out of Nari’s apartment and head home. It’s a busy day—you’ve got errands to run, places to be, things to do. You get caught up in it all for a while, hopping from one task to the next.

And then—

Buzz.

[ iMessage ]

Unknown number: So, am I getting a response, or did you decide flirting with me was a one-time thing?

247 notes · View notes

knuiui · 3 months ago

Text

╮TWST Boys feat. "What's your perfume type? "

♡ HEARTSLABYUL ❣

the dorm based on the strict queen of hearts! since that 'certain' fiasco just a week after you and yuuken arrived the first friends you had is from this dorm! you still hangout with them from time to time especially during unbirthday parties! pictures of your outfits for the event always go viral.

╰ Riddle Rosehearts ♥

you and him got close after 'that' incident. you consider him as a smol hedgehog that needed to be protected 🥺 he almost dropped kicked your knee caps after you said that /j. but on serious note, riddle considers you as one of the most hard working person he's ever met aside from his mother. he'd been the witness of your grueling hours of practice just to get a character's accent right (yk cause you're not from here) and study what type of character you're playing as. he wished you'd take care of yourself more though. relaxing is good okay! he's been through the same road and he'd hate to see you suffer some sort of breakdown like he did, minus the homicidal tendencies.

he's seen that video. It practically went viral over at twistok the moment it was said to be you participating in the "What's your perfume type?" kind of questions.

acts cool but is actually panicking on the inside. really considered changing his perfume to match whatever you said was your type.

he didn't get to ofc. that perfume was practically sold out within 24 hours of the viral video being posted. you're fans really are very dedicated. instead he opted for a new fragrance that caught his eye while browsing the store.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Amouage, CRIMSON ROCKS

cater later did the whole trend as well for the members of heartslabyul dorm and asked him the question, he glared for a little bit before answering and hastily turning back to his books. if you squint you can see the tips of his ears almost color matched the shade of his hair.

he answered, "[your perfume]"

╰ Trey Clover ♣

this handsome mf almost had you groveling for him jk. you two has always been in good terms even before the whole heartslabyul fiasco, you darn nearly kneeled on one knee after he gave you a box of his divinely baked sweets. now he's the one that always supplies you snacks whenever you're at nrc campus for practice aside from jamil ofc. he admires how dedicated you are in getting all your scenes on one take. though, he wished you'd take time and eat properly, he can see how small the portion of the foods he brought you actually ate. you insists you'll eat it later but he's not having any of it. mom friend tbh.

of course he saw the video. he might not look like he uses social media daily but he does actually use it a lot more that an average person, his family's bakery has to advertise their products somehow yk?

when he came across it it didn't bother him that much. but now that he thinks about it, didn't his perfume ran out just a week ago? well maybe it's time for some replacement after all.

you'd think that trey is the kind of guy that prefers mild perfume or even something with vanilla on it, considering he always works with sweets. well he likes to subvert expectations sometimes.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Jo Malone, WOOD SAGE & SEA SALT

cater commented the same when it's trey's turn for the twistok trend. trey just smiled casually.

his answer to the question is, "[your perfume]" of course.

╰ Cater Diamond ♦

your bff. besties for life. he's the first one you actually really got along with, because his personality resembles a past friend of yours. you two have weekly meet ups at cute cafes or at the mall to chat and gossip about stuff. Oh sevens, mostly gossip actually. you two are the most knowledgeable with gossips and rumors that are floating around NRC and the entire internet in general. if people think their secret is safe with you, no honey, their secret is safe with you AND cater <3. you've definitely used a picture of his side profile or his back, in one of your stories and the internet almost bursted into flames at the prospect of you, the goddess amongst men dating someone. cater later dropped a short behind the scene video of you using instructing him to pose very non-celeb lover like style. the internet almost collapsed for the second time that day.

that original video has tens of millions of views on twistok, you'd have to be living in a rock or a house with bad wi-fi to have not been aware of its existence.

he's kinda chill with it on the outside, but the background of his latest magicam pictures that includes bottles of perfume and a few boxes of a certain women's perfume says otherwise.

if it's his perfume that you answered with he'd be all smug about it, even posting a story holding a full ass brand new bottle of it. but if it's not it's fine ig not, he'd feel indifferent of the matter because his own perfume is actually picked and gifted to him by you <3.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Chanel, PLATINUM EGOISTE

immediately did the trend a day after the video of you doing it was uploaded. he's bummed that he didn't get to do the trend with you first though.

he'd mysteriously winked at the camera after answering, "[your perfume] girls are goddesses, y'all are drop dead gorgeous <3."

╰ Deuce Spade ♠

this doofus is a part of yuu's gang of idiots of course you two are close! you treat him like your little brother at times ouch. deuce often tags along yuu when he visits your sets, he'd only ever seen your neat and crisp appearance when you're in NRC uniform so imagine his gobsmacked face when he saw your disheveled appearance on set (you have to play a captured hostage). he almost called crewel because he knows that his professor would definitely fly into a rage if he saw his precious daughter covered in dirt and soot, ... yuu had to explain to him while you died laughing in the corner. he definitely teared up when he finally saw you acting out a gut wrenching scene for your character. deuce has always believed that you're special beyond your lack of magical prowess and finally he has been proven right.

ace showed him a video, it has clips of the viral one of you doing the twistok trend but the poster added screenshots of the perfumes you mentioned.

if it's not his perfume that you mentioned he definitely deflated a little bit, it's fine though, his mother bought a bunch of perfumes and she gave him his perfume because it's a bundle freebie with hers.

considered changing his perfume to the one you mentioned but he took one look at his wallet and that idea was shut down immediately.

but, if you chose the perfume carolina herrera good girl, he'll definitely malfunction on the spot. because his mom told him that perfume specifically is the partner of his own.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Carolina Herrera, BAD BOY

when cater came up to him asking what his perfume is, he innocently answered. this poor oblivious boy..

he only realized that it's the twistok trend when he saw the video cater posted, he sulked a little bit but did not regret his answer.

he'd blink then say, "Oh, Carolina herrera I think? the pink shoe one. " quite proudly, it's his mom's perfume.

╰ Ace Trappola 🂡

both of you hated each other's guts. considering the fact that you saw him fighting grim and insulting yuu, adding that his brash personality is very much exaggerated to you by the said cat. ace is definitely the least favorite of yours in yuu's band of idiots. this mf also doesn't know how to watch his tone so when he joked about something it sounded more like an insult. but long story short you two get along the second best now. disregarding the fact that you two almost became enemies to lovers got off the wrong foot, you two usually hang out in this quiet spot near the gym whenever he has basketball practice and you need a quiet place to do script readings the tranquility of the area are only ever broken when a loud screeching from floyd would ring from inside the gym.

yeah, yeah, he's seen it. heck! practically everyone has. he'd always be enchanted by your smell but now he knows what perfume to gift you once you ran out of a bottle <3

he'd act so nonchalant about it you wouldn't notice he'd subtly try to change his perfume however like deuce, he took a look at his savings and it said 'nope'!

he'll be a smug fucker if you said his perfume's name tho

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Killian, BLACK PHANTOM

he'd blinked whe cater said the question while simultaneously shoving his phone to his face, then he smirks smugly and say,

"[your perfume], of course" while looking straight to the camera, as if talking to someone.

you're very loved by Heartslabyul, darling! Make sure to not forget to drop by sometimes very soon! they just miss you so much, your busy schedule be damned there will be an unbirthday party next week make sure to wear your best dress, beloved Alice! ~

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rafesdespair · 2 months ago

Text

taking the edge off

rafe shows up to your house on the verge of a panic attack. you do your best to calm him down, but he has his own ideas of what could help his mind go blank. [wc: 2.5k]

tags; smut, edging, slight choking, very mild manipulation, technically dubcon kissing but overall the entire deed is very consensual! there are no pronouns or gendered language used towards the reader so this is entirely gender-neutral. [18+] only ★ [read this on ao3!]

Rafe showed up to your house pacing, hands running through his hair anxiously as he muttered expletives. You were sitting on your porch when he showed up speeding in on his bike. He threw his helmet to the ground and walked right by you and through your front door. He was already in the living room when you followed, practically panting while he walked back and forth.

He wasn’t the type to show up like this. You were hardly friends; you’d seen each other at bonfires or at the occasional party, but mostly at Barry’s. You weren’t involved in the drug scene, but you and Barry had been friends for years. Whenever you saw Rafe, he was either fucked up, erratic, or in a frat-boy-party mood. But the Rafe in front of you then was different.

When he sat on the couch, you took the chance to finally ask what the hell was going on.

Rafe pushed his head into the heels of his hands and inhaled a stuttered breath. “I fucked up bad, like, real fucking bad. I’m so fucked, dude. I’m fucked.”

You furrowed your brows together. “Okay… I mean, how bad? Like, jail bad? Am I harboring a fugitive right now?” you tried to joke lightheartedly, but it fell flat.

“I need-” he swallowed and wiped his hands down his face. “I need… fuck. I don't know. Something. What do you have?” He stood up now, looking around.

“Rafe,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “I don't do any of that… Why didn't you go to Barry's? Why are you here? What did you do?”

His face twisted into something angry and he tensed his hands at his side. He took a deep breath and visibly held back the urge to yell or break something.

“Barry wasn't there. I thought he might be here, but-” he threw his hands up, exasperated. He sat on the couch again and tears brimmed in his eyes. “Shit, man.”

You didn't know what to do. You've never seen this side of Rafe; you didn't even know he had a side like this. You knew him as someone detached, maybe a bit cold hearted– someone entirely different than the person sitting before you now.

You, somewhat cautiously, sat next to him on the couch and put your hand on his knee. “Rafe, just breathe. You need to tell me what happened. Maybe I.. I don't know, maybe I can help.” The fact that he hadn’t told you what brought him to this state to begin with had started to worry you.

He tensed and untensed his fingers multiple times until he spoke. “It’s better if you don't know. Don't get involved in my shit. Just… Give me a minute.”

“Don't get involved in your shit? Rafe, you showed up to my house halfway to a breakdown- literally almost broke down my door. You involved me in your shit. Give me something to work with.” You didn't want him to leave in this state. He was already a reckless driver and you were sure he was far too out of it to get on his bike.

He shoved your hand off of him and gritted his teeth. “I did some shit I can't come back from. Not just light jail time, this is serious life sentence shit I'm in. Prison type shit.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and he shook his head. “It’s over.”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. You doubted he would tell you any more, and honestly, knowing any more might’ve made you an accomplice. You shoved all questions out of the forefront of your mind and focused on the current situation.

“Rafe,” you started. He looked up at you, eyes glassy and eyelashes clumped together. “Just breathe. Take a moment to relax. Think. Make a plan. You can't do anything if you're high out of your mind or spiraling. You need to reset.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, unconvinced. “I can't. I can't stop thinking. I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind. Everything in my head,” he tapped aggressively at his temples, “it's all a fucking mess.”

You grabbed his wrists in your hands and locked eyes with him. “Breathe. Take some deep breaths with me.” You loosened your hold and inhaled long through your nose, waiting for him to follow.

His eyes searched your face for a moment before he surged forwards, crashing your lips together. He held your head still between his hands, preventing you from quickly pulling away. Your eyes widened and you pushed at his shoulders, but he didn't pull back. He kissed you harder, one hand moving down to cup your jaw.

You took that opportunity to shove him and lean out of his embrace and stand up. “What the fuck are you doing, Rafe?” Your heart was racing and you were entirely tense.

“You told me I need to relax,” he said, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “This helps me relax. No drugs.” He puts a hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you closer until you stumble onto him.

You lean back and sit closer to his knees than in his lap. “This isn't what I meant!” His hands traveled up your thighs and rested there.

“Please,” he sighed out. “I need this. My life’s falling apart. I- I can't even think straight. I'm probably going to prison. Just,” he paused, “give me this.” His eyes are big and pleading. His hands moved up to your waist, squeezing gently. “You need to help me.” His hips slightly arched off of the couch, emphasizing his desperation.

You'd be lying if you tried to avoid the way your body is reacting to this– the way your skin was heating up and desire was working through your veins. You let yourself slip closer to him, but shook your head. “This won't make you feel better. It won't change anything, Rafe.”

He held you tighter, maybe leaving a bruise. “I don't care.” One of his hands moved between your legs. “I don't think you do either. I think you want this.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and huffed out a laugh. “What is happening right now, Rafe? What do you want?”

“To make my mind go completely fucking blank.” He fully pulled you into his lap now where you could feel him pressed against you. “Will you do that for me?”

“You're fucked in the head,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. His grin in response made you bite your lip. Maybe you were just as fucked.

You leaned in and kissed him with an open mouth. You started gentle, but he grabbed the back of your neck and slid it into your hair, taking a handful to control your head. He bit and tugged at your lower lip before licking into your mouth. Your ‘mmph’ of surprise encouraged him further.

Pulling back was difficult with his hand holding you and your own want telling you to stay like this, but you did. His lips chased yours, trying to reconnect the kiss.

Before he could protest, you ran your thumb over his lower lip. “If we're really doing this, we're doing it my way. You're letting me take care of you.”

“Oh, I am?” he replied, smirking while taking your thumb between his teeth. You slipped it into his mouth and pressed it down on his tongue.

“You are.” You slid your thumb out of his mouth, swiping it over his bottom lip before moving down to unbuckle his pants. “Just lean back.”

He settled his hands on your thighs again and leaned into the cushions, watching your movements with amusement. You were taking your time unzipping his jeans, stopping to palm at him and run your fingertips down his bulge.

You slipped your hand beneath his waistband and held him loosely, moving your hand tauntingly slow. He bucked his hips a bit to encourage you, but you only used your other hand to push him back down.

You took him out of his pants and take a moment to just admire, which seemed to amuse him. His cock was pretty. The tip was a blush pink that matched his lips and the color that tinted his cheekbones. You ran your fingertip from base to tip, smearing the bit of precum that had gathered. The sensitivity made his cock twitch.

You spit in your palm and watched the way his pupils dilate, his teeth biting down on his lower lip. Motivated, you wrapped your fingers around him and started jerking him off. You started , watching his expressions and seeing what he responded to the best. When you twisted your hand around the head, he gave a quiet mph.

“I wanna hear you moan,” you said before leaning forward and letting spit drip from your mouth and onto his cock. You moved your hand faster, following the way his breathing picked up.

Rafe gave a proud smirk and said, “make it good then.”

Keeping up pace, you leaned forward to kiss at his jaw. They were gentle and almost teasing until you moved down to his neck. You left open mouthed kisses everywhere and could feel his pulse increase while you sucked bruises into his skin. You loved watching marks slowly decorate him from his collarbone to his jaw.

You kissed your way back up to his lips and spoke against them. “Am I doing good?” you whispered, quickening your speed.

He placed a hand around your neck, applying a pleasing pressure. “Mm, you could do better.” The warmth that spread up through your head made your eyes flutter with a soft whimper playing from your lips.

You doubled your efforts, focusing one hand on massaging his balls and the other working him top to bottom. The two of you held each other's gaze as his breath stuttered, pupils eclipsing the blue of his eyes. He thrusted his hips lightly, nose scrunching in pleasure.

You slowed down then, keeping one hand steadily stroking him and took the other to cradle his jaw while you kissed him. He sighed and licked into your mouth with a needy groan. You let him deepen the kiss and let out another mewl when he squeezed your throat again.

His head fell back against the couch when you tightened your grip around him, followed by a breathy, “fuck.” Absentmindedly, you rolled your hips against nothing, your body seeking some kind of friction. Rafe almost laughed as he sat himself up a bit.

“Y’want me?” Rafe asked with amusement lacing his voice. “Want my dick, baby?”

Your cheeks flushed as you chewed the inside of your cheeks, shaking your head. “This isn't about me.” You thumbed at the underside of his tip, ignoring the pulsing between your legs. “I'll let you pay me back later.”

You spit on his cock again, putting an end to the retort about to slip from his mouth. Instead, he let out a sigh mixed with a moan before biting his lower lip again. He watched your hand move up and down, his breath unsteady with every exhale. You could tell he was getting closer with every stroke. His chest rose and fell faster and his hips stuttered beneath you.

Then, you took your hand away.

Rafe whined, which caught you by surprise. He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist hard enough to bruise and scowled. “The fuck?” His voice was hoarse and confusion bordered with frustration was etched on his face. “Why’d y'stop?”

Your wrist throbbed but his strength and desperation turned you on more. “It'll feel better if you wait,” you said while running your hands up and down his stomach. “I told you I'd take care of you,” you leaned forward to kiss below his ear, “so let me.”

“Why're you fuckin’ around?” He dropped your wrist and squeezed at your hips instead. “S'posed to be helpin’ me.” He tilted his head over, giving you more access to kissing his neck.

Speaking in between kisses, you said, “I am helping. You feel good, don’t you?” When Rafe mumbles out a weak mhm, you stroke him faster. “I’ll let you come soon, just hold on a little longer.” You palmed his balls and added, “you think you can do that for me?” He nodded hungrily.

You were watching him lose control by the second. You knew the Rafe that everyone else knew: hot-headed, combative, cold. But this version of Rafe was entirely different. He was loose under your hands and unraveling more and more. His eyes were hardly open anymore, brain completely fuzzy.

He reacted the most whenever you would take your hand away when he would get to close to coming. You’d work him up, then go slower until the rush subsided. You’d get him there again, then let go entirely. You felt almost cruel as he practically clawed at your thigh, silently begging for more stimulation.

When it was clear that there wasn't a single thought in his head that didn't revolve around his pleasure, you knew it was time to give in. Precum slicked up each movement, filling the room with a sound that seemed to make him want more and more. You worked one hand steadily up and down while the other took care of his balls. You matched your movements to what made his breath hitch— what made him twitch, shudder, and whimper for more.

You kept eye contact with him, or as much as he was able to, as he reached his peak. His lips were glistening with spit, parted and panting. His eyebrows were furrowing and his whines and grunts were full on moans. His nails left darker trails in their wake along your skin; you couldn’t wait to see all the marks he had left on you. The finger shaped bruises on your wrist, hips, and neck excited you more than anything else. You knew you’d be pressing on them for days, reliving this.

”Oh fuck,” Rafe hissed and thrusted into your hand. “Gonna come, gonna come, fuck, please.” His clutch on one side of your hips was so tight that it ached, and it only got tighter as he got closer to his climax. His entire body was tensing up alongside a long moan that reverberated through the room, broken only with gasps of air. His cheeks were flushed darker than you’d ever seen them and sweat along his hairline left his hair stuck to his forehead. He looked wholly fucked out and satiated.

Ropes of cum pooled on his stomach and up to his chest. It was more than you’d ever seen before. He finally let all his muscles relax with a splintered sigh and sunk into the couch. “The fuck did you just do t’me?” His voice was debilitated and rough.

“Fulfilled my promise.” His blue eyes were glazed over with a fading lust and relief. His pupils were still dilated, though not as much as before. He was all soft around the edges now.

After basking in the aftermath of his pleasure, you traced a finger through the mess on his stomach and sucked it into your mouth. “All this from a hand job?” you teased.

He weakly shoved at your shoulder with a groan. “Mm, fuck off.”

#☆ rafe smut #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

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the-daily-dreamer · 8 months ago

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The thing about the breakdown of the Rhaenicent relationship that is talked about but I think is still severely overlooked is the key role that both girls/women (specifically Rhaenyra) play in its destruction.

Because the fandom focuses in on this narrative that the relationship broke down solely because of the ambitions of men. And aside from that fueling the annoying idea that all women are inherently passive victims that suffer because men are ambitious and violent, it’s simply wrong.

While the catalyst was certainly Otto’s ambition and Viserys’s weakness (and perversion), Rhaenyra and Alicent’s relationship truly breaks down because of Rhaenyra’s entitlement, self-serving nature, and inability to see outside of herself and her experiences and Alicent’s (in my opinion reasonable) reactions toward this over time.

The beginning of the break down comes from Otto forcing Alicent to comfort the king and Viserys knowing his desire for her is wrong and forcing her to keep quiet about their visits until he decides to marry her without her prior knowledge or consent. And Rhaenyra (and the fandom) sees this as the ultimate betray against her by Alicent. Rhaenyra holds more resentment against Alicent for the engagement than she does against her father. Why is this? Some might say that it’s because she’s closer with Alicent and therefore would expect more from her than her father (whose relationship with her has been broken by the murder death of her mother). But I don’t think that’s fully the case.

While Rhaenyra having a higher expectation of Alicent may be a reason for her increased and unequal resentment, I think the main reason is that Rhaenyra cannot fathom Alicent could do this because she has never been in this position. Rhaenyra sees this as Alicent being complicit in the deceit and seduction because Rhaenyra would simply rebel. She can’t understand why Alicent wouldn’t simply say “no” to her father or betray the king for her. Rhaenyra’s world view is very blinded by her privilege. She simply thinks Alicent should and could defy her own father because…Rhaenyra has and will again. Rhaenyra is able to disobey her father and get away with it so why can’t Alicent? Ignoring the fact that a crown princess has vastly more power than the daughter of the hand, Viserys is a weak and compliant parent compared to Otto’s manipulative and stern nature. It’s easy for Rhaenyra to disobey because the consequences are either nonexistent or very mild. Alicent doesn’t have this luxury and privilege but Rhaenyra can’t conceive of it.

But also, Rhaenyra sees her father as…her dad. Not the king. Rhaenyra sees it as easy to defy him and his orders because he is her father first and her king second. But for Alicent that is the king. The most powerful man in the world. Defying him could have disastrous consequences for her and her father. But because Rhaenyra doesn’t force herself to see things from another’s perspective, she doesn’t see it as Alicent being beholden to the man who could (if he wanted to) ruin her family or kill her and her father but rather her friend not betraying her dad.

After this we see Alicent be the one to continuously try to extend an olive branch and support Rhaenyra behind the scenes. Asking for Rhaenyra to have the option to choose who she marries (a privilege and kindness Alicent, herself, and every other woman in this universe hasn’t had). Reaffirming Rhaenyra as the right choice for heir when Viserys is questioning his decisions. Defending Rhaenyra against rumors that would damage her reputation. And all Alicent gets in return is snark, anger, and lies (leading to Alicent’s isolation and suffering in court).

Which leads to event two that breaks the relationship: Rhaenyra’s entitled behavior and lying. Alicent spends a great deal of her time coinciding her husband in favor of Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra, seeing herself as exceptional and above the rules, continuously acts out in ways that hurt her standing. Most especially with her decision to go out and try to sleep with daemon and then pushing Criston to sleep with her.

Alicent is the one to be transparent with Rhaenyra about the “rumor” to get her side. Something Viserys would simply not care enough to do. Rhaenyra, knowing her actions being confirmed would be disastrous, tells half truths to Alicent who is all too eager to believe and support her friend. Even worse, she uses the memory of her mother, something she knows Alicent holds incredibly sacred, to further convince Alicent that she’s telling the truth. And this decision by Rhaenyra to lie (over something she knows Alicent holds dear and has used multiple times to try to connect with her) to protect herself directly harms Alicent as her father and only ally in court is kicked out and ostracized. But that’s not Rhaenyra’s concern. While Alicent has given a lot of effort to protect and defend Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra is far too focused on her on wishes and desires to care about the impacts her choices have on anyone else.

And that’s why when Alicent finds out that it was a lie, a lie that got her father taken away from her, she goes full scorched earth and wears the green dress. Because she realizes that Rhaenyra will never stop being entitled and self-serving. She realizes that all this time and effort she has put into fixing things with Rhaenyra and defending her is completely one sided. Because Rhaenyra can only see things from her perspective and can only see things based on how she can benefit even to the detriment of others (herself, her father, Criston, etc.).

Then the final nail in the coffin is the birthing of bastards. At this point Alicent has had her eyes opened to how Rhaenyra will do as she pleases without considering the consequences (to herself and others) and then she watches Rhaenyra flagrantly birth obvious bastard after obvious bastard, pushing the children she was forced to have further and further down the line of succession behind kids who objectively should not have the throne. And it makes her bitter and jealous and as she should be. The fandom is too obsessed with marking Alicent as the reason the relationship was destroyed because she was unnecessarily jealous of poor Rhaenyra who was just so brave to do as she pleased!

But it’s a spit in the face to Alicent. That Alicent was pimped out and forced the have children with a man she didn’t love at the ripe old age of 15 hole Rhaenyra is free to take a lover and birth obvious bastards and get away with it. She has every right to be angry. Not because she thinks all women should be submissive and bend to patriarchy. Because she is watching how privileged Rhaenyra is before her very eyes while she was forced to suffer the way almost every other woman has.

While I acknowledge that Viserys and Otto are the catalyst for the breakdown of Rhaenyra and Alicent’s relationship. Rhaenyra’s flagrant disregard for others and her entitlement are what truly break the relationship until Alicent is no longer willing to be submissive and accepting of Rhaenyra’s behavior. And this in turn, causes her to make choices that service her and her children. The way Rhaenyra has always done and always will.

The breakdown of rhaenicent was always inevitable regardless of which men were involved. Because at their core, Rhaenyra would always put herself first and Alicent would always come to the realization she is no longer willing to be a doormat.

#this was so long #and idk if it makes sense #all I’m saying is that Rhaenyra and Alicent would always fall out #because Rhaenyra is incapable of seeing past herself #and eventually Alicent was always bound to get sick of the entitlement #house of the dragon #game of thrones #team green #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti rhaenyra #anti rhaenicent #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower defense squad

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inirat-andnothingmore · 1 month ago

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One of the reasons why i think Armand is not as popular as Lestat, is because I think Lestat's pain is often chaotically beautiful. It's like, relatable to large audiences, it's charming in a way, it's funny, it's fun to watch and it's hurts quite beautifully. It's explosive. (yes I did just see the season 3 teaser again.)

Whereas I don't know that Armand's pain translates the same way. When Armand is in pain, he's a child in a corner fiddling with bones and it's just sad. It's literally just sad. and it's a little pathetic and you just feel really sorry for the guy. It's not theatrical, it's actually kind of mundane and boring if you think about it. Just a vamp being crushed under the weight of his life. (a horrific life, at that)

Well, that's not very entertaining, is it? not that Lestat's pain is just entertaining, obviously not. Of course you feel for him. You feel for both of them. but maybe, just maybe when the pain comes with hahas or oh-my-gods, it hits different. (I'm only talking about the majority of the general audiences here. for those of here, with character focused bogs, every single scene hits! may god help us.)

Small mild-anxiety inducing part: In future seasons, if and when we see Armand's backstory and him being done justice, it will certainly garner a lot of sympathy, empathy and understanding. People will have a greater comprehension of him and his motivations, thoughts etc. But again, I don't know that, that is the same thing as being liked. (only talking about the show here, not the book-show fans. book fans are generally fond of him?) However, its a little upsetting to know that I give a fuck about the general audiences liking Armand as much as I do, but here we are.

Additionally, when Armand is in deep depressive episodes during his life, which I'm guessing would happen when there's no one there for him to control and/or love, he is just stripped of everything. Stripped of feeling and identity. (since its usually his counterparts' desires that give him identity.)

What I'm failing to convey here, is that Lestat's pain is additive while Armand's is additive inverse. (yes, i am talking about the seething day-to-day pain you have when dealing with difficult things. Not to say that, both of them don't have full blown breakdowns sometimes, of course they do). I feel like Lestat's pain might sometimes result in funny stories in the future. We had three deaths on the banger sisters. Like how our old embarrassing stories is current - good dinner times.

While Armand curls inwards, Lestat expands outwards. While Armand's pain takes and takes from him, Lestat's pain gives and gives Lestat.

very IMP ps: i just wanted get my thoughts about this out of me. They're hazy and mercurial and I might be very wrong.

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ghostgirl-22 · 3 months ago

Note

Patrick wearing lingerie with Tashi….

So… this turned into kink really fast I fear. Sorry if this isn’t what you wanted anon 😞

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Toys, mention of spanking, pegging and mild daddy kink. In addition to what it says on the tin

—-

Patrick’s still trying to dig into their lives. Get into every aspect so they can’t take him out again. Arts not home for a week, and Patrick’s wearing his clothes everyday... Is how it’s going. Sometimes wears his underwear, tight little briefs. Art is just a bit smaller than him, thighs, arms…cock. He’s filled out though. A lot. Patrick gets hard when he thinks about it.

Art’s on a ski trip with the whole Donaldson family and Lily. He isn’t ready to say to his parents and sisters and in laws that Patrick likes to sleep in bed with him and his wife. Art doesn’t say Patrick shouldn’t come but they all know he shouldn’t. And Patrick can’t be alone. Patrick doesn’t say he can’t be alone. But they all know he can’t.

So Tashi stays at home. She’s is happy for the excuse not to go…“I’ve got company in town.” Tashi explains, oh so regrettable that she can’t make it. She doesn’t tell them it’s Patrick or Arts mom would’ve made them both come.

So they’re home alone in a lavish townhouse. He’s showered in their bathroom and he’s digging through Arts clothes for something to wear. And all hidden away in the back there’s this garter and tights. Patrick fishes them out. He leaves the walk-in closet and Tashi’s in bed watching some housewives show and painting her nails. Hair loosely pinned up, in an oversized hoodie and short shorts. She looks so pretty it’s unreal. She doesn’t even have to try.

“Where’s the rest of this? I need you to try it on for me.” Patrick demands, holding up the tights.

She looks up, eyes narrowed and then her expression changes to one of amusement. “Where’d you find that?”

“In the back of Arts underwear drawer.”

“You know…” she goes back to painting her nails, “the clothes I get. But you’re insane for wearing his underwear.”

“I’d wear yours if they fit,” Patrick smirks.

She looks up at him again, still amused but something else is there. Patrick can read her like a book. He walks closer, towel wrapped loosely around his waist. “What?” He asks softly.

She bites her lip. “Those are Art’s.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah… it’s a whole set. Pink, satiny or something. It should be in there.”

“Wait…” Patrick starts because he’s actually having a slight mental breakdown. “You mean he wore pink satin, tights and a garter belt and—and pink satin?

“Don’t have a stroke,” Tashi smirks.

“Fuck,” Patrick groans.

“It was like… forever ago. Halloween. A friend from Stanford took us to a drag night. He was freaking out about what to wear. I bought him that but it was too… revealing. He just wore a dress instead.”

“Too revealing?”

“Yeah… actually you should try it on,” Tashi says, carefully. “Check the bottom drawer, towards the back. I think the gown is in there.”

“You think?” Patrick asks, staring at her a moment longer. She’s looking back at him, those pretty brown eyes dilating in real time, he’s obsessed with her. “Bottom drawer?”

“Mmhm,” she says. “It might fit perfectly.”

Patrick smirks and goes back in the closet. The gown is a tiny, entirely see through number. He drops his towel and pulls it over his head. It’s so smooth… satiny and sheer. Tight on his waist, loose in the chest cause he doesn’t have tits. He’s looking at himself in the full length mirror, he’s got hair everywhere that Art is smooth. He doesn’t bother with the tights for that reason.

He does pull on the satin panties, and that is comical, trying to tuck himself into them. His balls and cock are fighting for space. He turns to look at himself from the side. The frills barely fall below his ass. He could just bend over the slightest bit and he’s exposed. He feels his dick starting to swell, sees it in the mirror.

“Did you find it?” Tashi calls from the bedroom.

“Uh huh,” Patrick replies.

Seeing it on himself, all Patrick can think about is Art’s body, the pink stretched over his chest, the skirt not even long enough to hide his ass, or his cock. Patrick with easy access to both. God, he rubs himself just a little as he imagines it. He wants to call Art right now. “Hey Tashi?” He calls.

“Yeah,” she’s closer now. He turns as she enters the closet, slowly taking him in.

“Do I look pretty?” He asks.

She smirks and then cups his nipples. “Pretty as a princess. Wanna give daddy a kiss?”

Patrick laughs. “And you’re daddy?”

“I am when you’re in that pretty dress,” she says playfully pinching his ass. He grins and looks up before gazing back at her and leaning in to kiss her mouth.

”Good girl,” she sighs against his lips.

“Mm, daddy. You ever peg him in this?” Patrick asks.

“I wish, he would’ve absolutely freaked out. I fingered him once while we were fucking… he came so fast he had an existential crisis,” she sighs, working her thumbs idly over his nipples. Patrick takes a breath, he’s sensitive there and the feeling of her fingers and the satin is crazy. Patrick can understand how Art got off so quickly.

“So you expect me to believe he wore this… and there were no consequences?”

She shrugs and walks her finger tips down his waist. “Well… I spanked him.” She says smiling.

“Say more,” Patrick says, curling one of the stray hairs behind her ear.

“I made him bend over the bathroom sink and I told him daddy was gonna spank him. And then I did it. His ass got so red.” She reaches the panties and slides her fingers over the swell of his cock as she looks at him, her eyes all shiny.

“Fuck, seriously?” He breathes, dizzy as she teases him.

“Mmhm. He got so hard. I’d never seen him like that before. Made me wish I had a dick so I coulda fucked him.”

He cradles her face between his hands, “you can fuck me daddy,” he says, softly.

“Yeah?” She says and she leans in and kisses him. It’s more chaotic. He’s walking her back and then she’s resisting, then pushing him back against the mirror.

“You’re so slutty… can’t even hide it from me,” Tashi says, pushing him back hard and gripping his cock. “I can see everything when you wear that for me.”

Patrick sighs. He can’t help but imagine her talking this way to her husband. Tries to imagine how he’d react.

“I just want your dick,” Patrick says, he’s eager and It’s what Art might say to him.

“I know you do,” Tashi smiles. “I actually have one. Stay there. Don’t touch.” She says.

Patrick lingers in the closet. He’s looking at himself again. Skin flushing, he’s tenting the panties, they were barely doing anything to keep him in before, now he might as well be wearing nothing. He rubs the fabric, continuing where Tashi left off with his nipples. Tashi comes back moments later and she’s got a dildo.

“No strap?” Patrick smirks.

“I’ll get it for your birthday,” she says pushing him up against the glass so she can fuck him with it. It’s slick with lubricant and she’s easing it inside. Panties still on.

“I can take more than that daddy.” Patrick teases.

“Can you pretty girl? You’re gonna come all over your pretty dress.” Tashi says softly. And Patrick sorta regrets saying anything, because moments later she’s ramming into his prostate relentlessly. He almost feels his knees buckle after he spurts come all over the glass in one of the most sudden and intense orgasms he’s ever had. He gets on his knees anyway, she drops the dildo and he grabs her by the waist.

“Does he say thank you?” Patrick says, breathlessly.

“He’s very polite.” She smiles, fingers tangling into his hair.

Patrick tugs her shorts and panties down and licks his “thank you daddy” into the wet heat of her cunt.

#challengers fic #challengers smut #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan smut #Tashi Donaldson smut #patashi

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ddarker-dreams · 4 months ago

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omg i love your yandere giorno series!! I was wondering if you could write a little thing where giorno witnesses his darling having a lowkey mental breakdown/epiphany because she realizes she’s in love with him? sorta like expanding on the little moments in the other fics where reader questions her feelings for him. and she just confesses to him that it’s so hard to accept what he’s done but she can’t help but love him

i'd recently been wanting to expand on the scarlet ribbons yandere bad endings and this meshes well with a christmas-y idea i had 👁👁

This time of year packs your schedule to the brim.

Being the wife of Don Giovanna comes with its unique obligations, which you once stumbled through with the naïveté of a newborn doe. Time and difficult lessons sanded away your inexperience. These trials weren't unlike those he'd undergone since ousting Diavolo, reality proving itself a stubborn foe against youthful idealism.

After what felt like ages apart, he reunites with you in the evening, where he notes some unusual behavior.

For starters, you're eerily silent. While he's no stranger to you giving him the cold shoulder, it's never without reason, like when he restricts your travel for citing security concerns. He can't recall doing anything to earn your ire. If anything, you'd been uncharacteristically amicable recently, regarding him as a collaborator rather than your warden.

Natale was almost like an armistice. You get to engage in charitable pursuits, while he oversees their seedy underbelly. Ultimately, everything is about business, image, and prestige. He doesn't insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise.

It's when you (and your conspicuous Stand) sneak a glance his way for the third time that he speaks up.

"Is something troubling you?"

He could whittle away at your defenses over an extensive campaign, but, feeling the day's exhaustion weigh him down, he opts for a direct approach. You consider him, your Stand peering over your shoulder with suspicious eyes.

"... Your meeting went long," you comment.

He nods, sensing that you're getting at something. When you refuse to elaborate, he offers to show his hand.

"There were some mild disagreements," Giorno replies. "They've been put to rest."

"If what I suggested is causing tension—"

You cut yourself off when he sits beside you on the loveseat, leaving little room between your persons. It's an unusual line for him to cross. He rarely infringes upon your physical space, owing to a courteous code of conduct that you struggled to comprehend. He thinks you want him to be terrible; a cartoonish villain that you could pour all your energy into resisting.

"I'll see it through," he reassures, the tenderness in his voice reserved solely for your ears. "I think the scholarship program is an admirable idea. The funds are there, it's simply a matter of ironing out the details."

You shuffle around. "It's not a lucrative venture."

"That's inconsequential."

"I'm sure your Capos feel otherwise."

"They can be shortsighted," Giorno argues. "And they don't have the final say — I do."

"That's..." you trail off, gnawing your bottom lip, "Why are you so...?"

Giorno, realizing that he's approaching the heart of the issue, can't let this chance go. He sees you contemplating retreat, as you cross your arms over your chest and squeeze your lips shut. If he were a fully benevolent man, he'd grant you your reprieve. Maybe he'll come to regret pushing you too far. Nonetheless, you are his vice, and even he can't always suppress his selfish yearning.

"So...?" he encourages, nearly crooning the word.

You shake your head. "I never know how to feel about you. Hating you used to come easy, now it's just... pointless. Impossible. I don't know. Sometimes, I think I might even lo—"

Aghast, you slap your hand over your mouth, cutting yourself off.

For his part, Giorno wasn't expecting such a vulnerable admission to nearly slip out. Not wanting to push his luck, he leans back, allowing you some space. You appear to be in deep thought. Your Stand has since dissipated, leaving you truly alone.

It's then that he recalls one of the final requests Bucciarati made of him:

"Please ensure her safety and happiness in my stead."

In the years that have followed, the latter has proven trickier than the former.

His hand finds yours. You jump, snapping your head in his direction, shock rippling across your countenance. He responds by giving your hand a firm squeeze. You don't reciprocate, nor do you pull away. Instead, you stare at where your bodies are joined, almost in a trance.

Giorno feels the cool band of your wedding ring flush against his skin. You made efforts in the past to be rid of it, though his Stand's ability ensured it'd always find its way back to you. He wonders at what point you decided to abandon that little rebellion.

Perhaps the revelations surfacing tonight have something to do with it.

Eventually, you exhale a shaky breath. "All this planning has me worn out. I'm not thinking straight. So please... forget I said anything."

And because he cares for you above all else, he nods, prolonging the farce you've both been cast the leads in.

#yandere giorno x reader #jjba x reader #yandere x reader #my stuff #scarlet ribbons #answered #Anonymous

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angelluv16 · 17 days ago

Text

Rumor Has it⁸

✩: Kaia Jenner, the youngest Kardashian-Jenner, is an up-and-coming actress. When F1 driver Charles Leclerc casually calls her his favorite actress, the internet goes crazy. What starts as rumors turns into a whirlwind of drama, chemistry, and public scrutiny.

Part 8

faceclaim: Cindy Kimberly, girls from Pinterest

Want to be added to my taglist? (new verison with Text Au): Click here

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Jenner!reader

request: no!!

warnings: Hate, fluff, Angst, Language,

previous part | Main Masterlist | next part | Series Masterlist

Divider: @bernardsbendystraws

The door swung open without hesitation. Kaia walked in like she owned the place — which, in classic Jenner fashion, kind of felt true. She was in an oversized zip-up, sports bra, leggings, and fuzzy avocado socks shoved into her slippers. Sunglasses covered half her face, a massive iced coffee in hand. She wasn’t dressed for drama. She was dressed for couch time and sister snacks.

"Kenny?" she called out as she headed to the kitchen. "Do you have anything edible in this house? I'm two minutes away from eating ice cubes."

She turned the corner, already grabbing the fridge handle when she saw it.

The crew.

Cameras. Lights. Booms. The whole production.

Kaia froze. Blinked once. Then slowly closed the fridge. “Are you actually kidding me right now?”

From the living room, Kendall looked up mid-laugh. “Hey!”

Kaia blinked at her. “You said casual hangout. This is not casual. This is televised.”

“Okay but like, it’s not that serious,” Kendall said with a shrug.

Kylie was laid out on the couch, face mask halfway peeled off, scrolling her phone. “You literally grew up in front of these cameras.”

Kaia dropped her iced coffee on the counter dramatically. “Yeah, and then I opted out because I have this little thing called boundaries.”

Khloé walked in from the hall, chip bag in hand. “We told you we were filming this week.”

“You told me you might be filming. You didn’t say full crew, lights, mics, and my favorite slippers caught on national TV.”

Kendall tried not to laugh. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Maybe I am dramatic,” Kaia said, ripping off her hoodie and throwing it onto the nearest chair. “But I’m not dramatic on camera without warning.”

One of the producers quietly asked if she was okay to keep rolling.

Kaia turned to them, eyes wide. “Do I look okay? I’m wearing socks with literal avocados on them.”

Kylie snorted. "You wore that exact outfit to the Met fitting last week."

"Because no one was filming that!"

[CONFESSIONAL - KAIA] Camera cuts to Kaia sitting in the studio chair, fresh glam, legs crossed, looking very over it.

"Look, I love my sisters. But they know I don’t do the show unless I’m mentally prepared. Or at least out of pajamas. So walking into Kendall’s and seeing an entire camera crew? Felt like an ambush. Like, where was my warning text? ‘Hey, by the way, we’re filming your mild breakdown today — smile!’"

Back on the couch, Kaia finally gave in. She grabbed the popcorn bowl Kendall had set out, flopped between her sisters, and sank into the cushions.

“If any of this airs, I swear, I’m suing,” she mumbled, shoving a handful into her mouth.

“We’ll blur your socks,” Khloé offered.

“Not the socks,” Kaia groaned.

Kylie finally looked up. “Okay but while you’re here… wanna spill on Vegas?”

Kaia stiffened. "What about Vegas?"

Kendall raised an eyebrow. "You’ve been weirdly smiley since you got back."

"I smile sometimes."

"Yeah, but like... not at 9 a.m. before coffee," Khloé said.

Kaia avoided all eye contact. “Nothing happened.”

Khloé leaned in, whispering, “Did you sleep with Charles?”

Kaia choked on her popcorn. "I plead the fifth."

[CONFESSIONAL - KENDALL] Kendall grins at the camera.

"We all knew something happened in Vegas. Kaia’s not slick. She thinks just because she’s the ‘cool quiet’ one she can get away with stuff. But the second she starts posting cryptic stories and dodging questions? It’s obvious."

Back on the couch, Kaia stood up suddenly. “Okay, love this bonding time, really, but I have a meeting… with myself… at my house.”

“You’re literally running away,” Kylie said.

“Correct.”

She grabbed her coffee, hoodie, and pride — then headed to the door.

“Oh, and for the record,” she called back, “if anything from today airs, I want editing rights.”

Khloé laughed. “Not happening.”

Kaia slammed the door behind her.

[CONFESSIONAL - KAIA] Back in the glam chair, sipping iced coffee.

“Maybe I overreacted. But when you’re trying to keep a low profile and your sisters are literally the most famous people on Earth, privacy’s like… a myth. Like Bigfoot. Or a healthy Kardashian group chat.”

She shrugs.

“Anyway. I love them. I just prefer to love them… off-camera.”

kaia.jenner posted on her story

The Los Angeles sun filtered lazily through the dusty car windows, casting golden streaks over the cluttered dashboard as Kaia lounged in the passenger seat she had one foot on the dash and a large iced matcha in hand. The kind of Saturday that didn’t demand anything fancy — just good vibes, oversized sunglasses, and zero makeup.

"Okay," said Ivy, hands on the wheel and voice filled with mission-level determination. "Thrift store number one is twenty minutes away, and I already checked — they have a vintage bin and a random costume rack."

"Sold," Kaia said with a lazy grin. "I’m manifesting something unhinged. Like... a fake fur coat or a wedding dress. Or better, a One Direction shirt."

"Oh God, are we entering the fangirl era again?" Ari groaned from the backseat, sipping her boba. “I thought we left that behind in, like, 2015.”

"First of all, I never left it. Second, I specifically need Zayn. I’m spiritually aligned with him," Kaia replied, dramatically placing a hand on her chest. “Zquad forever.”

They all cracked up, the windows rolled down now, letting in just enough breeze to ruffle Kaia’s ponytail. For once, there were no cameras, no press, no stylists — just Kaia and her two best friends, cruising down Sunset Boulevard in search of chaos and $5 jeans.

The thrift store was a little corner lot packed from floor to ceiling with everything from old prom dresses to cowboy boots. The smell of aged denim and lavender sachets hit them as soon as they walked in.

“Alright team,” Kaia clapped her hands like a drill sergeant. “Scatter. We meet in thirty with the most cursed item you can find.”

“You’re on,” Ivycalled over her shoulder, already elbow-deep in a rack of faux leather.

Kaia wandered through the aisles, humming a Taylor Swift song under her breath. Something about the comfort of being around things with stories made her feel grounded. She wasn’t the youngest Jenner today. She wasn’t Charles Leclerc’s maybe-girlfriend. She was just Kaia. A girl looking for secondhand treasure and possibly a snapback with a questionable phrase on it.

She flipped through a pile of old graphic tees and paused. Her eyes widened.

“No freaking way.”

There it was. A white tee with the faces of Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis, and Zayn Malik. Circa Midnight Memerios era. Slightly cracked print. Soft in that perfect, worn-in way. Destiny.

Kaia clutched the shirt like it was a relic.

“Guys!” she half-sprinted down the aisle. “GUYS. I FOUND THEM.”

Ivy rounded the corner holding up a pair of sequined bell bottoms, eyebrows raised. “You found the Holy Grail?”

“Better,” Kaia said, beaming. “ A Zayn Malik’s face. On a t-shirt. FOR SIX DOLLARS.”

Ari popped up behind a coat rack, holding what looked like a stuffed possum purse. “Wow. Your thirteen-year-old self is crying right now.”

“She’s sobbing,” Kaia said, holding the shirt against her chest. “She’s shaking. She’s tweeting in all caps and putting Zayn lyrics in her bio.”

“I mean, you do still have that cardboard cutout of him at your mom’s house,” Ivy teased.

“That cutout is vintage,” Kaia shot back. “Don’t disrespect King Zayn.”

By the time they got back in the car, the trunk was full of finds: a denim jacket Kaia planned to DIY, an old pair of Docs for Ari, a crochet crop top Ivy swore she could pull off, and the crown jewel — the Zayn tee.

She posed dramatically with it in the mirror near the register, slipping on a pair of chunky sunglasses from the accessories bin and flashing a peace sign while her friend snapped a picture. She posted the photo on her story, reminding herself that it's going to be the first photo of her future photo dump

She set her phone down and turned to her friends. “Okay, where to now? Ice cream? Bowling? Go bother Charles at the paddock?”

Ari groaned. “Girl, it’s Saturday. Let that man live.”

Kaia smirked. “Fine. Ice cream it is. But he’s totally gonna text me about this shirt.”

Spoiler: He did.

Charles: is that One direction on your shirt?? Kaia: yes 😌 Zayn the love of my life Charles: wow. Kaia: don’t be jealous. he had me first Charles: he doesn’t even race Kaia: he raced into my heart in 2012

Charles: i can't compete with this Kaia: didn’t say you had to Kaia: there’s room for two 🫶

ater that night, Kaia lay sprawled on her bed, freshly showered, Zayn shirt still on. Her limbs a little sore from all the walking, cheeks still flushed from laughter. The best kind of tired.

She looked at her phone — Charles had sent a photo of his new merch hoodie, pretending to pout.

Kaia replied with a selfie, flashing a peace sign in her shirt, tongue out. “Still winning 🫶”

For a few sweet hours, there were no expectations. No drama. Just Zayn Malik, her best friends, and the soft hum of contentment that came with being 20, silly, and a little in love with life.

liked by charles_leclerc, kendelljenner, ariagomes, krisjenner and 2,920,9292 others

kaia.jenner: 2 Week Photo dump!!! (Yes, I brought the shirt.)

tagged: @ ariagomes @ irishaddock

view all comments

username49: kaia jenner being a directioner was not on my 2025 bingo card but it makes so much sense

username50: THE SHIRT?? oh she's a real one 😭

charles_leclerc: I have Competition 😥

username51: not the shirt giving “i was 12 and cried when zayn left” energy

kaia.jenner: Why did you say that?!?!? Now I have to relive my trauma

username52: when kaia jenner drops a dump it’s always a cultural reset tbh

username53: i just KNOW she still has “Little Things” on her playlist

kaia.jenner: I still have their whole discography on my playlist and not planing on taking it off anytime soon

irishaddock: i can confirm she screamed. in public.

username54: two weeks of her life look better than my entire existence

ariagomes: we were NOT chill in that store. at all.

kaia.jenner: I was the most chillest one there what do you mean?

ariagomes: sure miss "OMFG I JUST FOUND THE SHIRT THAT WILL CURE CANCER AT LEAST IN MY WORLD"

flavybarla: Stunning girl

lando: 😎

charles_leclerc: 🤺🤺

username55: i like kaia but the shirt??? girl no 💀

kaia.jenner: mean if you liked me you would also like my over the top obsession with 1D

username56: don’t know who this is but my gf just screamed at the zayn shirt

kaia.jenner: Get out of here I only want your gf here sir

username57: So am I going crazy, or is that charles's hand in the 7th slide??? I know my F1 drivers (yes, I'm crazy)

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @Ale-522 @sarx164@gottalovesae@meadhbhcavanagh@fulla02@fanficfanatic77@ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3@golden-hoax @poolclaws @hadidsworld@perfectmenarefictional@lottalove4evelyn@edgyficuselastica@nebarious@mbioooo0000@fanny2811@greantii@norstappenvibes@mary-op81@jiggly-puff-12 @Karmahnicolas @ana-23-03@nichmeddar@nebarious@sltwins@honethatty12@camillyb@madisontaxarn@mynameisangeloflife @httpsxnox @galaxygurlll

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imsuperhungry · 6 months ago

Text

4 𝙖𝙢 (entry 005)

"𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨,

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨"

WARNINGS: Mild Yandere Themes, Cussing, Mentions Of Blood, Mental Breakdown, I made reader sound kinda weak here...

WORD COUNT: 2202

(11:34, ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ)

You could hardly distinguish whether the violent shivering that seized your body stemmed from the merciless bite of the wind or the crushing weight of the news Ashley had just unleashed upon you. All that mattered now was the desperate journey back to the cabin—where, despite the unsettling truth that clung to you like a shadow, the familiar embrace of warmth would provide a fleeting, comforting illusion of safety

When Ashley and Chris told you about Josh’s death, it felt as though the world stopped in its tracks, a heavy silence pressing into the conversation. You struggled to process the crushing weight of the moment, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of your situation. Not only had you lost the two girls you had come to think of as sisters over the years, but now, you had lost your “brother” as well.

Ashley’s panicked rambling continued after she told you about Josh’s death, but you couldn’t bring yourself to listen. Your mind was too consumed with thoughts of him. Josh—he had lost both of his biological sisters, and now, he had died on the same mountain as them. The guilt that had already been gnawing at you from the prank gone wrong with Hannah now felt like a crushing weight, multiplying with every passing second. You cursed yourself for not somehow intervening, for not magically saving Josh, even though deep down, you knew there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.

What you didn’t know was that when Matt and Emily were also informed of the killer on the mountain, something strange settled deep in their chests. It was as though a switch had flipped in both of them, a primal instinct that surged in different ways. For Emily, the feeling was overpowering, like a compulsion she couldn’t fight—a desperate, almost obsessive drive to protect you from whatever danger loomed ahead. It took hold of her quickly, like a parasite, consuming her thoughts and actions. Her sole objective was clear: get you out, and damn everyone else.

Matt’s reaction, though similarly intense, was more complicated. Along with the protective instinct, there was an undercurrent of something darker—a twisted excitement. Of course, the deaths of your friends should have been a cause for grief, not something to feel exhilarated about, but Matt couldn’t suppress the feeling that protecting you, being your knight in shining armor, might somehow redeem him in ways he hadn’t fully admitted to himself. And as the realization sank in, an internal, wicked grin spread across his face.

Matt quickly wiped the grin from his face, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. There was no time to waste.

You snapped out of your trance and turned to Emily, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them until the cold liquid trickled down your neck, the weight of everything finally breaking through.

You gripped Emily's shoulders tightly, desperate to make her understand the urgency in your voice. "Em— we, fuck... we have to find the others!" Your words were strained, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else. The weeks you’d spent in bed, drowning in grief over Hannah and Beth’s deaths, had already broken you. You couldn’t go through that again—couldn’t handle another loss, not like this.

She rolled her eyes as she placed her hands atop of yours. “Mike and Jess are off 69’ing each other, and only god knows where Sam is.”

Her words confused you. Where was the urgency? You turned to where Matt, Chris, and Ashley stood, expecting to see the same desperation on their faces, but to your bewilderment, none of them seemed particularly keen on finding the others. It was as though the gravity of the situation hadn’t quite sunk in for them, or worse—they simply didn't care.

“She might be in the lodge!” you said, turning back to Emily, your voice sharp with urgency.

You locked eyes with her, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of everything was there between you. God damn it, how could she say no?

She felt the familiar rush of guilt flood through her, remembering the dumb prank, the one that still haunted her. She remembered the frantic voicemail attempts, her calls going unanswered, and the sick feeling in her stomach as she drove to your house, only to find your phone left forgotten in another room, the tear stains on your walls and, most painfully, your face. It hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew why you were crying—everyone did. Ever since the police had announced the girls as missing, no one had heard from you for weeks.

And now, here you were, pleading with her to help, as if there was any other choice.

With reluctance, Emily finally nodded, agreeing to help. She could see the panic in your eyes, the raw desperation, and it tugged at something deep inside her. The sight of you in any kind of pain—whether mental or physical—made her stomach turn, like a sickness she couldn’t shake. She hated seeing you like this, hated that it was even happening.

“Fine…” she starts “Fine, you’re right, but if there really is some maniac running around killing people on this mountain, we need to get help.”

And just like that, a weight was lifted off your chest. The situation was still bleak, the darkness of it all hanging over you like a storm cloud, but something shifted. You knew searching for the others would be harrowing—nothing short of dreadful—but with Emily by your side, there was a sliver of hope, however small.

Matt, however, was still uncertain about the situation. While the "knight in shining armor" fantasy still played out vividly in his mind, a darker, more protective side of him gnawed at him. He hated the idea of you being in any form of danger—whether it was something as trivial as a tiny paper cut or something far worse, like searching for the others on a dark, freezing mountain with wild animals and a killer lurking nearby. His instincts screamed at him to keep you safe, to pull you away from it all, but he also knew he couldn’t let you go through this alone. Still, the conflict inside him was palpable, the desire to shield you fighting against his need to be the hero.

He grabbed your shoulder, his grip firm, and opened his mouth to speak. "Hey, don't you think—"

But before he could finish, Emily was quick to cut him off, her voice sharp and final. “Why are we still talking about this!? Let’s go!” she shouted, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

With that, the conversation was over. No more hesitation, no more arguments. Emily turned on her heel, and without waiting for a response, she started moving. Matt followed along with her, but you decided to stay with Chris and Ashley, figuring that since they had witnessed Josh’s death, their experience might push them to be more helpful—more driven to find the others. After everything that had happened, you needed people who would act, not just follow.

Both Matt and Emily walked down the hill, their figures slowly disappearing into the frigid night, swallowed up by the darkness. You stood frozen for a moment, staring after them, the cold biting at your skin as you watched their silhouettes fade away.

A knot formed in your chest, the uneasy feeling of being separated from them weighing heavily on your mind. You didn’t know where they were going, or what their next move was, and that uncertainty gnawed at you.

Praying to whoever might be listening—if anyone at all—you silently begged that they, along with the others, would make it through this night. That somehow, by the end of it all, everyone would be safe. The thought of losing anyone else was too much to bear, and you clung to that fragile hope, even as the dark woods around you seemed to close in, relentless and unforgiving.

You were suddenly twirled around, your body spun by a pair of hands gripping you from behind. They pushed you in the opposite direction, the unexpected force taking you off balance. You would’ve been taken completely by surprise, but then you heard Chris’s voice behind you, steady and firm, and felt Ashley beside you, her presence grounding you.

"Come on," Chris urged, his grip tightening as he gently pulled you along. "We can’t waste time.”

As you began the walk, you let them push you forward, your body moving like a ragdoll, limp and heavy with sorrow. Each step felt like dragging yourself through thick mud, your mind weighed down by the thought of Josh. Josh, oh, Josh. Just being on his property—the place that had once felt like a second home—was enough to make your chest tighten with grief. It was all too much. You wanted to scream, to wail like a toddler who had been torn from something they loved, to let the tears flow freely, but you couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

You walked in silence with Chris and Ashley until you reached the cabin, each step heavy, each breath colder than the last. The familiar sight of the place only deepened the ache in your chest. The second the door creaked open, you didn’t hesitate. You darted inside, your feet carrying you up the stairs before Chris or Ashley could say a word.

Without a thought, you made a beeline for the bathroom—the one you last remembered Sam entering for her bath. The door was ajar, the space still smelling faintly of soap and steam, though the warmth that had once filled it was now long gone.

You stood there for a moment, taking in the empty room, the silence settling around you like a suffocating weight. The bathtub, still wet from Sam’s last use, felt like a dagger driven deep into your chest.

You pulled yourself together, your breath shaky, and sauntered out of the bathroom, moving aimlessly through the cabin. You passed by the guest rooms, pausing at the second bathroom, and then forced yourself into Hannah and Beth’s rooms. You’d sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t enter either of them tonight—not after everything.

Hannah’s room was eerily untouched, her belongings scattered in the same way they had been before the prank. Beth’s room, though, was different. The bed was unmade, the scent of her perfume still faint in the air, and it all felt so painfully real.

Sam was gone.

It became too much for your body to handle. The suffocating grief, the weight of all the loss, had exhausted you in a way you couldn’t describe—a new, unfamiliar kind of emptiness that left you hollowed out, barely able to breathe. Sam, Josh, Hannah, Beth... The names echoed in your mind like a cruel chant, and somewhere deep inside, you almost wished you could be next. Just to escape this endless cycle of pain.

Before you could stop yourself, your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the ground, the cool wood pressing against your skin as your sobs wracked through your body. You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your chest heaved with each scratchy, ragged breath, the sound raw and broken. The sobs were too deep to stifle, too powerful to suppress. Your body shook uncontrollably, every tear that spilled feeling like a new weight added to the crushing burden you already carried.

There was no way to escape it. No way to stop. The grief, the guilt, the overwhelming sense of loss—it consumed you. It was all you could do to let the tears flow, to let the sobs shake you to your core, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the pain would eventually start to fade. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. Not anytime soon.

Josh’s gaze flickered through the screens, his feet propped up on the table beside the sprawling array of monitors. He watched as you began your slow descent into despair, each moment an agonizing unraveling of the person he once knew. You were like a delicate flower wilting under the relentless weight of sorrow, sobbing on the unforgiving, rough-hewn wooden floor. The sight twisted in Josh’s gut, a bitter pang of helplessness striking every chord in his body.

Faking his death had clearly left its mark on you, and in a twisted, perverse way, that fact brought him a strange sense of satisfaction. It was obvious how deeply you cared for him—your breakdown over his “death” spoke volumes—and knowing that his own feelings were returned brought him a happiness nothing else could match.

Yet, even amidst the happiness, a shadow of sadness lingered. He couldn’t bear to see you like this—none of the others who had once filled the cabin could. To him, you were his little bumblebee, and you deserved nothing less than joy, far from the weight of any negative emotions.

He reached out to you through the screen, his hand moving gently as if to stroke your hair—a fragile attempt to comfort your trembling, tear-streaked form sprawled across the floor.

“Just wait, petal, I'll be back soon.”

#mike munroe #yandere until dawn #until dawn x reader #untildawn #until dawn #emily #jessica riley #matthew taylor #josh washington #yandere #yandere x you #yandere harem #yandere x reader #yanderes

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platinumrosetail · 3 months ago

Note

Hey, back at it with another request for Genshin Impact. No crossover this time.

So this time I want to request a Furina!Reader x Neuvillette?

Furina!Reader is someone who reincarnated from our world the moment Furina was 'born' and tries desperately to keep to the plot. Basically, she has a breakdown due to stress and meets a recently reborn and very much still feral and dragony Neuvillette several years too early and well... canon goes into the trash can.

Examples being: Yandere husband Neuvillette, Furina!Reader adopting the Melusines and preventing Carole's death, Furina!Reader fostering Wriothesly because why not, oh and Neuvillette kidnaps Furina!Reader the first time he meets her and well... you can guess what happened. :)

Sorry I tried to be shorter, but I hope this works.

This is wonderful! Very interesting and love the new ideas you added into it! 😁🤩

Warning: noob author, female reader, yandere character, canon divergence a little, and others.

Character: neuvillette.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were panicking, that’s honestly all you could do considering the predicament you somehow found yourself in currently.

Said predicament was that you had somehow reincarnated into Genshin…. As furina…. And not even before one of the traveler arrives, nope! It just had to be even before furina even met neuvilette.

If your hair wasn’t already white then you would have grey hair by now from the stress you gained from reincarnating into furina….

So, you just sucked it up for now and did your best to try and go with canon with a few mild changes. But what you didn’t know was all your hard work would be thrown out the window by a certain someone soon.

You had went out to one of the beaches Fontaine had and to be alone and gather your thoughts but ended up letting out all of your frustration, stress, and worries by crying

You were unaware that you would meet someone that you loved before you reincarnated but he would be quite different to how you previously knew him.

Neuvilette or as how he actually is called in the past leviathan felt a familiar power on the bank of the beach which he calls home, he goes and investigates out of curiosity and to make sure it isn’t a threat.

He wasn’t expecting to see the hydro archon here, especially crying; her tears going into the water of the ocean which was what alerted him of her presence.

When you looked up to try and dry your tears you weren’t expecting a familiar looking man in front of you….. naked.

You squeaked, covered your eyes and looked away as if that would help as it was burned into your mind of what you saw. Your actions confused leviathan as he doesn’t know why you did it, so as to find out why he came closer making you panic as you hear water shift from him walking closer.

He leaned down to your kneeling form and took your hands away from your face. You try to focus on his face as you know it would be dangerous if you looked a bit more down, mostly to keep yourself safe as you didn’t want to pass out flustered in front of your anime crush.

Leviathan looks at the expression that you have as you looked at him; trying to keep eye contact with him though would sometimes shift for half a second.

He had a sudden thought that you needed to be his even if you were the one to have gotten his power from his past life, he still wants to have you as his…. Mate. Yes, mate sounds right, he thinks as he continues to look at you with narrowed eyes before picking you up.

You didn’t know if you were going to get killed by neuvillette or what, after all you did have his power from his previous life and he might be mad especially since this was way too early to meet him than canon so he might react differently to how he originally acted when he and furina first met so you were taken aback when he picked you up out of nowhere and started heading back into the ocean.

You had been too stunned to realize that you were being taken to his home by him; and breathing under water but you chalk that up to being the hydro archon, that you didn’t think to try and stop him, that is if you could considering he might change his mind and kill you if he isn’t planning to do that at his home.

And with that you had became his mate and wife, but to be honest you weren’t complaining as you had always dreamed of this and read fanfics about him so you guess it’s alright to indulge a little bit.

It wasn’t until a couple of weeks past that you put your foot down and told him that you were needed at Fontaine and you needed to go now. He tried to argue about it but you weren’t budging which made him reluctantly give up after you gave a compromise that thankfully he agreed upon.

You finally arrived back to Fontaine, after getting leviathan some clothes. Apparently his name was leviathan and furina gave him a nickname so as to not cause fear to fontaines people, you don’t know why that wasn’t said in the game but for now you have bigger things to worry about.

You gave leviathan the name he had in the game so the people of Fontaine won’t be as wary as they could be if you decided to keep his original name as he was known in a bad light before you brought him, thankfully only known in his dragon form so he can be in his human form for now.

Like what with the drama that started after you shared with your subjects that you were now married and was expecting a child now. After you finally settled everything about the married and having a child drama you can finally relax…..

You spoke too soon…. Right after you started relaxing you came across the melusines near their birth father’s corpse, so you did what you could only think to do, adopt them as your daughters, you hope that even though you adopted them that things would still work out, of course you made sure that Fontaine won’t have anyone bully your daughters as it would be jail time or death if they picked on your daughters for not being human like in appearance which thankfully saved Carole from what happened to her in canon.

Afterwards your son was born and then you could relax a bit, your darling husband took care of everything after that so that you could rest with luciel; the name your son was given to by both you and leviathan/neuvillette.

It’s been a year or so after your son was born and it was going great!…. Until one day your son vanished. Neither you nor neuvillette knew where luciel was and was growing worried as the day goes by. Everyone in Fontaine was in high alert until one of your daughter found him and another child together.

You recognized this child as wriosthley, and it seemed this was before he was adopted by those evil people that shouldn’t be called parents. So you adopted him and at first he was a bit skeptical as you figured he experienced many horrors that would make him feel that way and you made sure to take your time making him feel comfortable, thankfully he warmed up to all of you after you had him try tea for the first time in his life.

After some of the events from the game happened you were relaxing while playing with a cat when a disguised arlecchino attacked you. You were so distracted that you forgot this scene.

Your screams of fright was alerted to your son who wasn’t far as he had also wanted to relax as well as protect you but he was doing something that was meant to be for a second which was the golden opportunity for arlecchino to strike.

Luciel immediately sprung into action; dropping what he was holding which was a cake for you to help you relax by having something you loved to eat.

Luciel stood in front of you, protecting you from the disguised arlecchino. He didn’t have to fight her as she ran away so as to return and think more of what she should do after discovering that the gnosis wasn’t with you.

The gnosis was in your husband’s hands as you felt it was wrong to have it since it was his power in the first place. Thankfully you had a plan to take care of the prophecy.

(A/n: hope yall like it! I had fun doing this! Anyway I don’t think I have anything else to say this time so hope yall have a wonderful day/evening/night!!!)

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simplyraeblue · 3 months ago

Text

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: no smut, mild angst, cigarette smoking, Gojo can actually act like a saint, mildly inebriated reader, Uraume is lowkey intimidating, mentions of past story line

A/N: first of all… if you guys can’t tell I suck at chapter warnings and tags sometimes lol. BUT SECONDLY. I apologize for the feelings this chapter may or may not cause lol. other than that - I have nothing else to say but enjoyyyy ;) also lowkey lemme know if you all like sentences capitalized or not cause I go back and forth

index part six | part eight

part seven word count : 3,853

You felt sick. all at once, the alcohol caught up with your emotions and you felt like you were going to hurl all over the tabletop and probably poor Shoko.

As if she could sense the shift in your demeanor, her face softened. “Hey, just forget I said anything. He’s not the same person anymore, so I wouldn’t put whatever you two have on the line for something that happened in the past.”

You almost couldn’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. All this time, you’d been slowly breaking down Sukuna’s facade, thinking that the dangerous aura he exuded wasn’t truly him deep down. And to top it off, you were jealous and a little hateful towards her.

“I think I need some air.” you mumbled out, swaying as you bolted up from your seat. Shoko called out after you, but you made a beeline for the door, not wanting to risk having a breakdown at the table. You weren’t even sure if Sukuna noticed your hasty exit.

Outside, the cold air hit you like a wave, doing little to soothe the roiling in your stomach. You doubled over for a moment, hands braced on your knees as you gulped down breath after breath of the crisp night air. It was only then you realized your hands were shaking—whether from the chill or the sudden rush of emotions, you couldn’t tell.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you looked up to see Gojo and Geto leaning against the brick wall near the bar’s entrance, sharing a cigarette. The thin trails of smoke curled in the wind, and the neon sign overhead lit the faint grin on Gojo’s face.

“Hey,” Gojo called, his voice lowered by a tone of concern. “You alright?” He offered the cigarette pack, but you waved it away, the very idea of nicotine or more alcohol making your stomach clench.

Geto, with a quieter demeanor, tilted his head at you. “You don’t look so good.”

Understatement of the year. You could imagine the look Sukuna might give you if he came out right now, his brows furrowed with concern. The very thought made your chest tighten.

“Can—can one of you give me a ride home?” The words tumbled out before you could reconsider, your tone bordering on desperation. “I, uh, I don’t really want Sukuna to see me like this.”

Gojo and Geto exchanged a look. You saw sympathy flicker in Geto’s eyes before he exhaled a cloud of smoke, glancing around as if expecting Sukuna to appear at any moment.

“You sure?” Gojo asked carefully, lowering the cigarette from his lips. “He’ll be pissed if he finds out we just… took you without telling him.”

You swallowed, stomach churning. “Please,” you said, gripping the edge of the wall to steady yourself. “I just… I can’t deal with him right now. Not like this.”

Geto ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Look, I’ve got a bike,” he said, but he didn’t sound entirely confident about the idea. “And only one helmet—”

Gojo cleared his throat. “I drove tonight, and I’ve been sobering up for the last hour. I can take her.” He flicked the remainder of his cigarette into the gutter, offering a faint grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

You shot him a look of relief tinged with guilt. You could already picture Sukuna’s reaction when he realized you’d left. But at this point, you couldn’t face him—couldn’t handle the onslaught of emotions, the questions, or worse, the regret in his eyes.

Geto stubbed out his cigarette. “I'll go back in,” he murmured to Gojo, “distract Sukuna if he asks.” Then he gave you a small nod of understanding before slipping back through the door, leaving you alone in the quiet alleyway with Gojo.

“Thanks,” you breathed, voice trembling as you tried to stand upright without swaying. Gojo rested a light hand on your shoulder, guiding you away from the building and toward a dark Audi parked nearby.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, opening the passenger door for you. You sank into the seat, your breath rattling in your chest, head pounding with a mix of alcohol and leftover adrenaline. As Gojo rounded the car to the driver’s side, you leaned your head back and stared at the ceiling.

For a time, neither of you spoke, the car’s engine and the soft hum of nighttime traffic filling the silence. Finally, Gojo cleared his throat.

“So…” Gojo began gently, casting you a sidelong glance, “you wanna tell me why you’re fleeing the scene like you killed someone?”

Your throat constricted, emotions warring inside you. “You probably already know,” you whispered, forcing yourself to speak above the low hum of the engine. “Shoko told me he— that he really hurt his ex.” You drew a shaky breath. “And not just break-her-heart hurt. It was… it was bad.”

Gojo’s jaw shifted. “I know what she told you,” he murmured, gaze flicking to the road. “I was around for most of it. It wasn’t pretty.”

You pressed your palms against your eyes, trying in vain to stave off the tears that threatened. The buzz of alcohol only intensified the turmoil in your mind. “I can’t stop thinking… what if he does that to me?” The words tumbled out raw and unfiltered. “Maybe not physically, but what if he ruins me emotionally? I’ve seen glimpses of how he can be.”

Gojo gave a low sigh. “Look, I'm not excusing what happened back then. Sukuna was in a bad place. He hurt her more than he ever wanted to admit—hell, he nearly tore himself apart because of it.” He paused at a red light, turning to face you fully. “But that was then. He’s not that person anymore.”

“You sound so sure,” you said, voice trembling. “How can you be?”

“I’ve known him a long time,” Gojo replied, easing the car forward again when the light turned green. “He’s not magically all better, but he’s different now—wiser, maybe. He regrets a lot of what he did.” Another glance at you. “I’ve also seen how he looks at you, how he tries to tone himself down around you. That’s not the Sukuna from before.”

Despite the reassurance, a lump still clogged your throat. “Why didn’t he tell me?” you asked softly, voice cracking on the last word. “I feel like I’ve been opening up to him, trusting him, and now… God, I just feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Gojo insisted, his tone surprisingly tender. “You’re scared. Anyone would be, after hearing that.” He let a beat of silence pass. “I'm guessing he didn’t want to dump all his skeletons on you too soon. He probably thought he had more time to prove he’d changed before you found out.”

You pressed your forehead against the cool window, watching the city lights smear into glowing lines. “I want to believe he’s changed,” you admitted, voice muffled. “But knowing he was capable of that kind of… y'know … it’s terrifying. And I'm jealous of her but also scared for what she went through. It’s all jumbled in my head.”

Gojo lowered his voice. “I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can say that if Sukuna realized you ran out tonight because of this… he’d hate it. Not because he’s pissed at you—but because he’s gonna think he messed up, all over again.”

Your heart clenched at the idea of Sukuna blaming himself. “That’s why I couldn’t face him,” you whispered. “I can’t handle this conversation right now. I'm drunk and emotional, and if I saw even a flicker of that old side of him, it’d break me tonight.”

Gojo nodded, pulling onto your street. “I get it. Believe it or not, I do.” He slowly eased the car to a stop by the curb in front of your building. The engine’s rumble quieted when he switched it off. “But you gotta talk to him eventually. Running is just gonna make this worse.”

You stared at your trembling hands. “I know,” you managed. “Tomorrow. Maybe.”

Gojo twisted in his seat, facing you. In the dim glow of the overhead light, you could see the genuine concern in his expression. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know. If you need backup—hell, if you just need someone to vent at—call me. Or Shoko. Or Geto. We’ve all been there in different ways.”

Your eyes burned with tears again, but you forced a weak smile. “Thanks,” you whispered, meaning it more than you could say. “And… sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

He shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he said, popping the driver’s door open. “Come on, let’s get you inside. You look like you’re about to pass out and I really don’t want you puking in my freshly detailed car.”

Gojo helped you out of the car, half-supporting, half-dragging you as you stumbled toward the front door of your building.

“Wow,” he drawled, trying not to laugh, “you’re heavier than you look. Don’t tell me you’ve been sneaking rocks into your pockets for self-defense.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing. “I’d whack you with one if I had the energy,” you shot back, though it came out more slurred than intimidating.

He snorted, juggling your keys to keep you upright. “Is that a threat? Because I'm not above leaving you out here, you know.”

“Go for it,” you grumbled, only half-serious. “I'll just pass out on the doorstep and ask the raccoons for help.”

Gojo barked a laugh, finally managing to get the key in the lock. The door gave way, and he guided you into the warm glow of your apartment. “Alright, rock lady, you win. Let’s find a couch before you kill me or break something valuable.”

You practically collapsed onto your sofa, every limb feeling like jelly. Relief washed over you for all of two seconds—until your phone buzzed for the tenth time in as many minutes. Your eyes darted to the screen: Sukuna’s name glaring back at you, demanding attention. Are you okay? Where’d you go? Please answer me.

“Wow,” Gojo said, peeking over. “He’s fucking persistent. Most I’ve gotten in a night from him is two texts: ‘Hey loser, be there in five’ and ‘Sleepy. Go away.’”

You choked out something between a laugh and a groan, swatting at your phone. “Please, no commentary. I can’t… I just can’t talk to him.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, hey, I'm just the chauffeur-slash-bodyguard, remember? Not the relationship guru. Although,” he added with a dramatic flourish, “I am pretty great at advice if you change your mind.”

Slumping deeper into the cushions, you shook your head. “I just need—time. Tonight was too much. If he hears me now, he’ll know how freaked out I am, and… I'm already freaking out enough for both of us.”

Gojo gave you a sympathetic smile that was almost gentle. “Alright, fair. I'll spare you my amazing insights and personal wisdom.” He paused, tapping his chin theatrically. “Except for these gems: Drink water. Don’t puke on your floor. And definitely don’t call him drunk—because that’d be a train wreck for all involved.”

Despite everything, a breathy giggle escaped you. “Roger that.”

He grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you with a flourish like he was tucking in a royal. “There. Cozy.”

“Th-thanks,” you mumbled, the humor draining as exhaustion took hold. “And… sorry for dragging you into all this drama.”

He shrugged grandly. “Please, I thrive on drama. Plus, it’s way more fun than that time I had to dog-sit Megumi’s dogs. Those things are like fucking demons. This is a breeze in comparison.”

Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy. “You’re… such a goof,” you whispered, but there was a faint smile on your lips.

Gojo flipped an imaginary lock of hair. “Why, thank you. Now, on that delightful note, I'll leave you to your wallowing.” He started toward the door, pausing just long enough to check you one last time. “Seriously, though—call me if you need anything, or if your phone spontaneously combusts from Sukuna’s texts.”

You nodded, too tired to offer a proper goodbye. As the door clicked shut, your phone buzzed again—a new text you were nowhere near ready to answer. With a long sigh, you let the world fall away, ignoring it all for just a little while longer.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

Sukuna barely registered the next round of drinks hitting the table, his eyes fixed on the door you had just walked out of. A strange, uneasy feeling curled in his gut, but he told himself you just needed some air. Maybe you’d had one too many drinks—nothing to stress over.

But the minutes ticked by, and you didn’t come back.

His fingers drummed against the tabletop, his impatience growing by the second. He was about to push off his seat and go after you when Geto slipped back inside, his expression unreadable. That alone put Sukuna on edge.

“Where is she?” Sukuna asked immediately, voice sharp.

Geto didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slid into his seat, grabbed his drink, and took a slow sip before setting it down. That was a bad sign. Geto always bought himself time when he had news that he knew Sukuna wouldn’t like.

“Sukuna,” Geto started, carefully neutral.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched. “Geto.”

Geto sighed, rubbing his temple before reaching for his drink. “She left.”

Sukuna’s entire body tensed. “What?”

Shoko, who had been mid-sip of her drink, blinked in surprise. “Wait—what do you mean she left?” she asked, turning to Geto. “Shit. She was just here.”

“Not anymore,” Geto muttered, giving Shoko a look. “You didn’t notice?”

Shoko frowned, setting her drink down. “Figured that she needed air. I thought she was still outside.”

Sukuna raked a hand through his hair, frustration gnawing at him from all angles. He pulled his phone from his pocket, spamming you multiple text messages— Are you okay? Where’d you go? Please answer me. Just as anxiety surged hot in his chest, his phone buzzed. Hope sparked for half a second—until he saw the name.

Gojo.

A bad feeling coiled low in his gut as he answered, putting him on speaker while Geto and Shoko leaned in. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Wow, not even a hello?” Gojo’s voice rang over the line, dripping with amusement.

Sukuna wasn’t in the mood. “Gojo,” he growled, “Where is she?”

There was a pause, then Gojo exhaled through his nose. “Relax, she’s safe. I took her home.”

Sukuna’s blood ran hot. “You what?”

Shoko sat forward at that, brows furrowing. “Wait, she left with Gojo?”

Sukuna gripped his phone tighter. “Put her on.”

“Yeahhh, see, that’s not happening,” Gojo replied. “She’s not really in a talking mood. Kind of drunk. Kind of emotional. Not a great combo.”

Sukuna’s patience snapped. “And you thought the best idea was to take her home without telling me?”

“I thought the best idea was to get her somewhere safe before she had a full-blown breakdown in the alley of the bar,” Gojo shot back, his voice losing some of its usual lightness. “She didn’t want to see you right now, Sukuna.”

That hit deeper than Sukuna wanted to admit. His jaw tightened. “Why?”

Silence.

Shoko and Geto exchanged a look. Then Shoko sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose as realization hit her. “It’s my fault,” she muttered.

Sukuna turned on her. “Explain.”

Shoko hesitated only for a second before giving him a steady look. “We were talking. Your past with your ex came up. I told her what happened.”

Sukuna’s entire body tensed. A slow, creeping feeling started in his chest, climbing up his throat - just barely restrained frustration and something dangerously close to fear. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

Shoko continued, her voice softer now. “I wasn’t trying to freak her out. I just… she was overthinking about her showing up and I thought she should know.”

Sukuna closed his eyes briefly, exhaling sharply through his nose. When he opened them, his voice was low, controlled. “Dammit. What exactly did you tell her?”

Shoko hesitated again. Then, “The truth. I didn’t go into every ugly detail, but I didn’t sugarcoat it either. She had the right to know, Sukuna.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Geto sighed. “She panicked, Sukuna. She didn’t know how to process it, and instead of confronting you, she ran.”

Sukuna let his phone drop to the table, ignoring the faint sound of Gojo’s voice still on the other end. He braced both hands against the wood, his grip tight. He could picture it—your face tightening as you processed whatever the hell Shoko had told you, your hands probably fidgeting the way they always did when you were anxious.

“Why didn’t she just find me?” Sukuna muttered, his voice quieter now, frustration laced through every syllable.

Geto gave him a knowing look. “Probably because she didn’t want to see if the version of you she just heard about was still inside you.”

That stung.

Sukuna leaned back, jaw working, emotions clawing at his ribs. He wanted to tell himself you’d call, that you’d text, that you’d at least give him the chance to explain himself before making up your mind.

But you weren’t answering his messages.

“She’s scared,” Shoko said, and the words cut more than they should have.

Sukuna leaned back against the booth, running a hand down his face. He knew this was going to come up eventually—he just thought he’d be the one to tell you, not hear about your reaction secondhand.

Gojo’s voice crackled from the still-active call. “Look, man, she needs time,” he said, his usual teasing edge replaced with something closer to seriousness. “Give her the night. She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”

Sukuna didn’t respond. He just ended the call, shoving his phone into his pocket before standing abruptly, shoving his chair back.

“Where are you going?” Geto asked, though from his tone, he already knew the answer.

“To find her,” Sukuna turned to face him, and for a moment, there was nothing casual or cocky in his expression.

“Sukuna,” Geto sighed. “She needs space right now.”

“She already thinks I might be the same person I used to be,” he said, voice low, controlled. “And you want me to just sit here and fucking do nothing?”

Right now, all he could think about was you. And whether or not he had just lost you before he even had the chance to really call you his.

As Sukuna stormed toward the bar's exit, a firm hand gripped his shoulder, halting his stride. He turned sharply to find Uraume standing there, their expression a mix of impatience and concern.

"Where do you think you're going?" Uraume demanded, their tone edged with irritation.

"Out," Sukuna replied curtly, attempting to shrug off their hand.

Uraume's grip tightened. "To do what? Chase after her like some love-struck fool?"

Sukuna's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Watch your mouth, Rume."

They scoffed, releasing his shoulder but stepping in front of him to block his path. "Someone has to say it. You're acting irrationally. Barging in on her now will only make things worse."

"And you know this how?" Sukuna challenged, his voice low and threatening.

"Because unlike you, I can see when a situation requires patience," Uraume shot back. "You're so blinded by your own ego that you can't see she needs space."

Sukuna's fists clenched at his sides. "This is none of your damn business."

“I think it is,” they countered, unmoving. “Because I saw this coming from the moment you started getting tangled up with her, and I’d really like to save you from making it worse.”

Sukuna’s patience snapped. “Oh? And what exactly do you think you saw coming?”

Uraume clicked their tongue, shaking their head as if he were being particularly stupid. “This. You. Running after her like some idiot who doesn’t understand how feelings work. Getting in too deep. Setting yourself up for something you don’t know how to handle.”

Sukuna’s lips curled in irritation. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Uraume said, voice flattening, “that you’re about to go chasing after her right now, when she clearly doesn’t want to see you, and in the process, you’re going to ruin any chance you do have of fixing this.”

Sukuna’s fists clenched at his sides. “I can't just sit back and do nothing.”

“You should this time,” they shot back. “You should’ve seen this coming, Sukuna. She’s different. She’s not like the others. You care about her—and that’s exactly why this was bound to hurt.”

Something about the way they said it made something twist in his chest.

Uraume sighed, running a hand through their hair. “You’ve never had to deal with this before. You don’t let anyone get close enough for this to happen. Hell, the last time you almost did... well, we all watched how that played out. But this time? You let her in. And now you’re panicking because she’s not sure she can do the same.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He hated how right they were.

Seeing his reaction, Uraume softened—just slightly. “I’m not saying she’s gone for good,” they continued, their tone less sharp now. “If you go to her now, in this state, you'll confirm every fear she has about you. You’ll make her leave for good. Is that what you want?”

Sukuna exhaled slowly, the fight inside him still raging, but now tempered with the weight of their words. Every instinct was urging him to push Uraume aside and haul ass to your apartment, but it was as if his feet refused to move now.

Uraume took a step closer, lowering their voice. “I didn’t want you to go through this, Sukuna. I saw where it was headed, and I knew it would break something in you if it fell apart. So, if you don’t want to lose her completely, listen to me—wait.”

For a long moment, Sukuna said nothing. The bar behind them buzzed with energy, the door to the outside world just a few feet away. His instincts screamed at him to go, to fix it, to see her now before she got too far away.

But deep down, he knew Uraume was right. You couldn’t - shouldn’t - see him like this. He didn’t want you to.

Sukuna’s hands unclenched, though his shoulders stayed tense. “Fine,” he muttered, barely above a growl. “But if she doesn’t reach out soon…”

“Then we figure it out,” Uraume finished, nodding. “But not tonight.”

Sukuna let out a sharp breath and turned on his heel, stalking back toward the booth. Uraume watched him go, their unreadable expression lingering long after he sat back down.

Because this time—they weren’t sure if waiting would be enough to save him.

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊

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