#is it too much to ask for them to be happy

[kukinkrim]

the exception

saja boys x manager!fem!reader

theme: love (?), fights, unfinished.

notes: can be interpretrd as platonic love/familial love, contains spoilers from the movie. might make a part 2 if this gets enough love lol

part 2.

"shit," jinu hears someone whisper from beside him and he was sure it was abby. the rest of their chants stopped abruptly, the other three turned sharply, catching the edge of abby's panic. "of course, she's fucking here."

there was something about abby's fear-stricken expression that made them hesitate. afraid, perhaps, of what it meant for their usually easy-going fellow demon to be the complete opposite. tense. panicking, maybe. perhaps, even afraid.

"who?" it was mystery who asked quietly, scanning the crowd to see what caused his fellow demons to react. it wasn't long before his eyes sees her too and he swore his heart froze at the sight as fear washed over him in waves. what abby felt at the moment was clear as day to him; as if he and abby had one heart, beating so fast in anxiety it would explode at any moment.

"why is she here?" baby managed to ask, barely a whisper but they all hear it anyway. he could feel anger clawing at his chest. red, hot, and searing. "she isn't supposed to be here!" if not for romance's hand on his shoulder, he would have stomped his way over and dragged her somewhere far away—yell, probably, at her stupid face for being here when she wasn't supposed to be.

a paid leave.

after that horror show of a stage where the nation's top girl group publicly broke up, the saja boys were, of course, automatically crowned the winner. despite all the depressing things that happened a dew hours ago, they were happy enough to give their manager a much deserved paid leave for the day. 'you deserve a break, manager-nim!' they exclaimed, enthusiastic, as if they weren't planning the demise of the entire country just a few hours later.

she wasn't supposed to be here. she's supposed to be at home, in her pajamas, holding a bucket of ice cream and binge watching her brainrots all night long. at the safety of her home three hours away from here. not here, not in this last concert.

but she's here, and she's walking unknowingly towards her own eternal damnation. too close to the stage than they would have liked.

just because she loved them too much, grown too fond, always the supportive one behind the scenes. she came because she wanted to watch them shine, yet—"she's going to fucking die."

romance doesn't flinch at the glare that baby sent him, even when he aggressively shook his shoulder to get his hand off his skin. baby was anything but scary—the fire behind them, however, is another story.

while he doesn't care if gwi-ma punished them for straying too far from their mission. if they became too close with a mortal than they were supposed to. he can take a decade more of suffering and he's sure the other four too, as they are stronger than they seem.

gwi-ma could lash him with fire, chain his soul in eternal hell, tear open his memories and make him relive the worst of them on repeat.

he could survive it.

they would.

but she's human. their manager. she's soft and too good for the world. if gwi-ma can no longer hurt them, the leash on their necks becoming too lose, then he'll find other ways. and he's no doubt not above using other people to get what he wants.

he could feel the purple tattoos on his skin pulse. searing, burning his skin as it glows underneath his robes. a warning. gwi-ma is noticing the hesitation, sensing the doubts that's been planted in their heads. he's sure the others could feel it too.

continue, gwi-ma whispered to their ears. if you value your lives, continue.

feed me.

sing.

but their hesitance was all what gwi-ma needed to grumble in fury. he roars, angry, and all five demons crouched down to cover their ears at the sheer intensity and volume of their king. terrifying. his flames licked barely at the skin and it already felt like they were melting. their tattoos glowed purple, leaving pain in its wake.

gwi-ma was angry.

"no–" mystery mutters as he holds his arms in a poor attrmpt of self-comfort, but his attention was somewhere else. in the center of arena was a portal, like a throbbing wound in the shape of a god’s hunger, an extension of gwi-ma's body as the honmoon tore. "no no no!–" his outburst dragged the rest of them out of their stunned daze, and they watched in horror.

hundreds of demons were crawling out of the portal—feral, fang-ridden, spine-bent monsters from the deepest pit of their world.

and more were still coming. thousands. maybe worse.

and they're all headed towards you.

it was jinu who was the first to move.

it was like he was flying. his entire body launching toward you, fueled by nothing but pure instinct and that shattering sense of knowing he'd never forgive himself if somethimg had happened to you right infront of him.

he collided with you just as one of the creatures came too close, claws raised.

his arms wrapped around you, tight and trembling, and then you were both hurtling through the crowd, crashing into stunned, half-conscious bodies, rolling until your momentum died in the chaos.

jinu was shaking. pain shot through his shoulder. his whole body was screaming as his tattoo pulsed once more, warning him of his mission. it burns it burns it burns—

but you were still in his arms. alive.

"you're safe," he whispers as he shields you with his body. it didn't matter if you couldn't hear him in your state, still brainwashed under their song. all that mattered was you were and will be kept safe from harm.

behind him, footsteps followed.

guttural screeches. the sound of claws tearing through flesh. adisgusting gurgling, like the demons were choking on their own corrupted blood, and then ash.

surrounding him was the four demons he's grown close to. their fangs bared, eyes burning with need to protect. their tattoos, like his, were flaring like war paint but the pain didn't matter.

all eyes were on you; their manager.

[vouges]

word count: 750 - nsfw, minors do not interact.

Tattoo artist Simon! who had a busy schedule, very high in demand yet for some reason always had a spot available for you.

Tattoo artist Simon! who swore the discount he gave you was just a friendly gesture, brushing it off as a way to make a loyal client feel appreciated.

Tattoo artist Simon! who never did more than necessary, the touch routine and practiced, yet with you he always let his fingers linger longer than they needed to, almost caressing, before you heard the familiar buzz of the needle.

"Gotta keep still for me, yeah?" he murmured, "Can’t be messing up my pretty canvas"

Tattoo artist Simon! who felt like a fool every time his cock hardened when you’d send through a picture of your healed up tattoo, with a sweet little thank you message always accompanied by a heart that pathetically made him want to cum in his boxers.

Tattoo artist Simon! who insisted you were just another client, even as he fucked his fist to the images of you engrained into his mind. He felt like a desperate mess, cock achingly hard as ropes of cum shot out, splattering across his stomach all from the slithers of skin that he’d seen when tattooing you. God, how easily you made him feel like an inexperienced virgin.

Tattoo artist Simon! who messaged back embarrassingly fast when you asked if he ever wanted to meet up outside of just a tattooing session. He cringed afterwards, noticing the typos and the awkward combination of emojis used.

'A thumbs up and two smiles?' he thought to himself, 'Real great Simon, should've thrown in the entire happy categories of emojis whilst you're at it'

Tattoo artist Simon! who couldn't believe his luck when you and him wound up on your sofa after dinner and a few drinks at a local pub but makes no move to question it as you both kiss messily, tongues dancing and hands reaching everywhere they can with the current restriction of your clothes.

"Wow- this is actually happening, huh?" he mumbled as you kissed messily, hands grasping at each other, "God, you've no idea how long I've been waiting for this"

Tattoo artist Simon! who had to bite down on your shoulder to muffle the groan that escaped him as he bottomed out in you for the first time. Hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise as if he was scared you'd disappear if he let up.

"Fuuuck-" he whispered shakily as he tried to remind himself you had neighbours and very thin walls, "God that feels so good."

Tattoo artist Simon! who quickly gave up on any attempt to be quiet once he heard how pretty your moans sounded, selfishly wanting them to grace his ears with every thrust as he tilted your head back, not wanting you to stifle your moans with the cushions underneath you.

"Shit- no, keep making those sounds," he murmured, breath hot against your skin, "Wanna hear every single one of ‘em, don't go quiet on me, doll"

Tattoo artist Simon! who honestly felt like he'd never experienced sex this good, even on a less than comfortable sofa that he knew would leave him sore in the morning, it was worth it as he felt your pussy clench around his cock, so warm and tight, milking him for all his worth.

"Fuck- so...so, good-" he almost whined, punctuating each word with a thrust, his balls slapping against your skin as he increased tempo, "Could stay like this forever."

Tattoo artist Simon! who kissed you with so much more care than you'd ever expect as you both came, you gushing around his cock as his cum shot out, painting your walls, before slowly oozing out from where you were both connected.

Tattoo artist Simon! who had to take a moment to admire the sight of your blissed out face as you lay back on the sofa, slick with sweat and his cum running out of you.

Tattoo artist Simon! who laughed as he lay beside you on a sofa that was way too small, the both of you talking about everything and nothing at all before realising you'd both denied wanting this for so long.

"I tried so hard not to like you, thinking you were too good for me- hoping it would keep the thoughts at bay," he chuckled, a contagious sound as he ran his fingers across your skin, "Didn’t work for shit obviously with you wanting me just as bad."

—

reblogs appreciated just so then i can gauge if people like it or not

[butyoudidthis4what]

She's Here

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Reader

21.2k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: I know there’s not a supply closet on the floor plan but we’re pretending; took what I needed for the set up of PittFest from the show, storyline diverges once PittFest patients start arriving; angst; active suicide risk Robby; Robby has not been to therapy; miscommunications; Robby cries; Reader cries; suicidal ideation/suicide planning; allusions to PIV sex and oral (m. rec) sex; dry humping kind of; alcohol; joking use of daddy; mentions of blood; mentions of guns and shootings; breaking up; making up after argument; Robby puts his foot in his mouth; reader has some insecurities; grief; mentions of death/dying/coding; seizures; CPR; anxiety about partner's safety; mentions of compartmentalization; age gap kind of implied with Robby but not explicitly referenced (he's an attending when Reader starts as an intern); no use of y/n or related

Summary: The day of PittFest becomes unbearably worse for Robby. A little over four months into the relationship you've both been waiting years for, you find Robby on the floor of pedes. When Langdon throws it in his face, Robby assumes you betrayed and doesn't react well.

AN: Based on this ask sent in by @loveyhoneydovey. First Robby fic!!!!! I don't know how I feel about it!! I'm very nervous about his voice and characterization here and if it feels like him. I'm always very nervous though. We get some development of your relationship through vignettes of the past like I've done before. Dividers made by the amazing @saradika-graphics. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments and as always thank you so much for reading!!

“We’re doing it.” Robby’s voice is just above a whisper as he walks in with Jack.

“That could mean one of several thousand things, Robby.” Jack glances at him. He keeps his voice hushed like Robby’s. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than ‘we’re doing it.’” 

“Her and I,” Robby clarifies. “We’re together. It happened today. I’m taking her out tomorrow night.” 

“About fucking time,” Jack mutters lowly. He claps Robby on the shoulder as they keep walking. “I’m really happy for you brother. For you both.”

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” Jack looks at Robby and raises his eyebrows while squinting a little, asking what Robby wanted instead. “I don’t know,” Robby shrugs, “I thought you’d have some more enthusiasm.” 

“I do,” Jack nods, “but given your near whispering, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to express it right here in, you know, the middle of the entire fucking ED,” Jack’s dropped his voice even lower the further they’ve walked in, “because it seemed like maybe not everyone knew yet and I wasn’t sure if you really wanted me to be the one to tell them or make them starting asking even more questions.” He gives Robby a look for a second before softening it into a small smile and nodding at Robby.

You grin to yourself when you see Jack. You and Robby agreed that Dana and Jack had to know right away but that you wouldn’t tell Dana until Jack was here. You could tell that Dana knew something was up, though. 

You walk by Robby and Jack on your way to Dana, smirk at them. “Boys.” You nod. 

Robby lets out a long breath and shakes his head a little. He has no idea what to do with you sometimes, in the best way. Jack just smirks back at you a little, but softens it out just a bit at the end and nods to silently tell you he’s very happy for you. 

You smile as you walk up to Dana, standing next to her as she looks up at the board. “We’re together,” you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. “He’s taking me out tomorrow night.”

“About fucking time,” Dana whispers back. She gives you a sly smile and bumps your hip with hers. “I’m very happy for you, both of you.”

“Thank you,” you nod, making eye contact with Robby across the floor, “I am too.” 

You stand up when you hear someone else enter the supply closet. You think it might be Dana coming to lovingly corner you and get info on how your date was. But it’s not her. It’s Robby. “Hey,” you call out to him. 

“Hi.” His response is a little short and confuses you but you just let it go. He walks over so that he’s standing next to you. A respectable distance apart. Robby starts looking through the shelves but as you watch him it’s clear he’s not really actually looking for anything. “Heard you had a date last night.” His voice is strained, he sounds like he’s trying to hide some simmering anger. But you recognize it for what it really is. Jealousy.

You stop pulling the tubing you need from the shelf but don’t turn to look at him. How did he even know about that and why does he fucking care are the only two things you can really think about. He has no right to be mad. You and Robby have been dancing around each other for years now. At his behest. And at a certain point it felt like his reasoning for that changed. 

After a couple of seconds you sigh. “I did yeah.” 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, mouth in a line. You have to roll your eyes at him as you pull out the tubing. “You sleep with him?” 

You scoff and finally look over at him, but he’s still looking at the shelves. “I’m sorry, please tell me how the fuck that is even close to your business.” 

Robby just pulls his lips down. Not sad per se but thinking. “So you did.”

You just want this conversation to be over at this point. Because it hurts. Because Robby has been and it seems always will be right there but unwilling or unable or not wanting to try being with you. “Yeah. Sorry I needed to get laid and actually went out and got it. You should fucking try it, Michael.” It’s not even a conscious decision, deciding to push him away first in this conversation, to try and act unaffected by the thought of him being with someone else. 

He ignores your jabs, but the confirmation that you were with someone else makes his blood boil, jealousy ripping through him and clouding his thoughts. “You let him touch you. Touch what’s mine.” 

“Ha!” you laugh. Then there’s ten or so seconds of silence as you gape at him while his words fully process because you’re so struck by his fucking audacity. “What’s yours? What’s fucking yours? Are you out of your fucking mind Michael? Please, since fucking when have I been yours?” He still doesn’t look at you. “Hey! Look at me, asshole!” You throw the tubing in your hand at him. 

That gets him to turn and look at you with a scowl on his stupid handsome face. He knows that you’re not at all his. He can’t bring himself to admit it though. “Thought we were going to do this. Do us. When you’re an attending. Guess not.”

You have to laugh at his words again, exasperatedly this time. “No Michael. You don’t get to do this. I’ve wanted to do this. Do us. You are the one who hasn’t. And for a while I understood why, and even when I didn’t, I have always respected your feelings. It was you’re under me and ‘I don’t want to mess up your career or give you a reputation and have that impact us’ and ‘when you’re an attending’ that slowly seemed to turn into ‘I’m not sure if I want you anymore’ and ‘maybe when you’re an attending’ and I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to decide if you really didn’t want to do this, didn’t want me anymore, or if you were just trying to protect yourself or something. Because it went from when you’re an attending to maybe when. So why would I be waiting around anymore, Michael? I waited for years. And if it was just about me being under you and my career and people knowing I earned everything I got then why didn’t you come ask me out and say you were ready to do this the second I got offered and accepted an attending position?”

You swallow hard and have to look away from Robby. You’re so confused by him but still down so bad. Deep down you know him calling you his hit you so hard because you are. You have been. Even if he didn’t know and didn’t want you. You’d given yourself to him. But you won’t cry for him. Not here. Not at work. Not where everyone would know regardless of your explanation. 

And Robby hates it. How sad you look. How you could ever possibly think he didn’t want to be with you. That he didn’t want you. He never realized at some point he’d said maybe. It was never maybe for him. But your last question floors him. 

“When you what?” Robby whispers, face furrowed in confusion, lips pulled down even more. 

You scoff at him again. “Don’t even try Robby. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t fucking know that in fucking August of last year I got offered an attending spot.” You look back over at him. Robby’s still facing you but his head is dropped slightly, eyes looking left and flicking around a little. He looks half confused and half devastated. “Holy shit, you really didn’t know. How the hell did you not know, Michael?”

He shakes his head slowly, still thinking. “Gloria and I were at each other’s throats particularly bad last August. Things were crazy here and she kept harping me about needing to interview and pick an attending and I snapped one day and told her that I didn’t even fucking care, that she could pick one for all I cared.” He looks up at you again. “I never thought she actually would. And she never told me that she actually did.”

You stare at him. It’s a plausible story and you can always tell when he’s lying to you or giving you a half truth or omitting something. And it’s not like you’ve told anyone. You’re one of those people who are afraid to announce it like it’ll jinx it somehow since it’s something that will start in the future. Your one exception to not saying anything was if you got with Robby. You’d tell people and let it be known because you figured it would appease some of his worries about it seeming like you got your job only because you were sleeping with him or in a relationship with him. But he never came to you after you signed. It broke your heart more than you wanted to admit. 

You’re not sure how to respond and Robby’s not sure what else to say. “Well, she did. And it was me. So hopefully that’s not disappointing news to you, I guess.” 

“Disappointing ne-” He decides part way through to not even finish the thought. Because the meaning of it all catches up with him. You have an attending position. And honestly, kind of even better, you have an attending position and Robby can honestly say he had absolutely no input into the decision. So while you’re not quite an attending yet, you’re pretty damn close. And that means Robby doesn’t have to break his own heart and tell you that you guys can’t. Doesn’t have to say when you’re an attending. For all intents and purposes you are one. “You can be mine now, Kid?” It’s almost a statement but not quite. 

You nod a little, look down at your shoes. “If you want me, yeah.” Robby doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice this small and the fact that you think he could possibly not want you kills him. 

“If I want you? If?” He’s quick to close the distance between you, hands at your waist and pulling you to him as he stops walking. Both of you are breathing heavier and after your eyes flit down to look at each other’s lips the tension between the two of you finally snaps. 

You kiss each other hard, sliding right into tongue and sucking. Your arms wrap around Robby’s neck, hands finding his hair and running through it, tugging at it when he kisses you in a way you particularly like. Robby pulls away so you can see each other and you make a noise of protest. “There was never a maybe. And I’m sorry if I said that. There’s no if. Never has been, Kid. Never will be. So will you go out with me? Be mine?” 

You smile at him, steal another kiss before nodding. “I’ll go out with you. And I’ll be yours as long as you’ll be mine.”

Robby laughs. The two of you are finally together. “Oh, I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours.” 

You and Robby have been together a little over four months now. You’re pretty much living with him, you just haven’t made it quite official yet. It still feels a bit soon, even for you. Your lease will be up around ten months of dating so you think that’s when you’ll make it official and completely move in. If he wants. You’re pretty sure he will. You always hear about it the next day if you don’t sleep in the same bed the previous night.

You’re not surprised when you wake up and the bed is empty, even if you are a little disappointed. You know this is a bad day for him. A hard day. You’ve never actually been with him or around him on this day before because until now he took it off and you always inevitably ended up working it. You’re not sure what changed for him and why he feels like he’s ready to be there and work today and you’re not sure if it’s truly what’s best for him at this point, but you’ll support him, be there for him, let him lean on you, whatever he needs. You won’t give him a hard time about his decision to work. 

Robby’s in the kitchen making coffee when you pad in. You’re dressed only in one of his oversized shirts. He’s not entirely certain about working today. But he’s tired of letting the day have control over him. It feels wrong. And when Jake asked for Robby’s PittFest ticket so he could take his girlfriend Leah instead of Robby it felt like a sign.

“Morning,” you say softly as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind. You press your cheek against his broad back and rest your hands on his tummy. 

“Morning, Kid.” Robby squeezes one of your hands before continuing to make the coffee. 

He’s been up long enough for the sleep to disappear from his voice and to shower. His hair is wet. “Sleep well?”

“I always sleep well when you’re in bed with me.” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Michael.” You press a kiss to his back. “Seriously.”

“I slept well, yes. I meant it.” There’s a hint of exasperation in his tone and you get it. You do. But you ask because you care about him and worry about him. 

“Good.” You close your eyes and just breathe him in for a couple of moments. “You sure about working today?”

He knew it was coming. And he knows you mean well and are asking because you care about him and he loves it. He really does. Because he doesn’t remember the last time he’s had someone care about him the way you do. Because you’re in love with him and he’s in love with you even if you haven’t said it to each other yet. You both can tell the other is. But for some reason he doesn’t really understand, he just falters right before he can say it, can’t bring himself to as though that’ll somehow be what makes it more real, like it isn’t already. And he knows you haven’t told him because you don’t want him to feel pressured to return those three words.

But at the same time, you asking multiple times just in different words is going to be annoying today. That level of checking in on him. It is already. Because he just wants it to be a normal day. He doesn’t want everyone treating him like he’s made of glass just because one bad thing happened on this day. It’s suffocating. He knows it’s out of love and concern but it gets suffocating. 

Just like all the PPE was on this day when Adamson died. Maybe that’s part of why it hits such a nerve. 

Robby takes a second to breathe so that the mild irritation and frustration doesn’t seep into his tone. He doesn’t, however, explain or communicate that he can’t deal with the constant checking in, that it suffocates him. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be okay. I’ll have you there with me if I need anything.” He’s hoping that last part tells you that he’ll come find you if he needs you and so you don’t have to ask. It understandably doesn’t. 

“I will, yes.” You’re quiet as you listen to the coffee percolate. You can feel how tense he is. You know you’ll never really be able to understand how hard this day is for him or in what ways it is. So you just want to be there for him, make sure he’s okay. You think maybe a distraction will help. Robby pours himself a cup of coffee as you speak. “Wanna shower with me?” you ask with a seductive lilt so he knows exactly what you mean. 

He laughs softly, takes a sip of his coffee and starts to turn in your arms. You relax your arms and let him, greet him with a sweet smile. “Come here,” he whispers, sticking his lips out. 

You shake your head. “I have morning breath.” 

He clicks his tongue at you. “When have I ever cared about that before?” 

You shrug. “It’s different when we both do.” 

“Come here,” he says again, more stern this time as he makes eye contact with you. You consider it for a moment but eventually give in. You want to kiss him. You always want to kiss him. But you keep it chaste and short. There will be time for more after you brush your teeth, you’re sure.

“Shower?” You raise your eyebrows at him, a little smirk on your face, nails scratching gently at his back. 

He smirks at you. “My coffee will get cold.” He holds the cup up and tilts it just slightly before taking another sip.

You breathe out a slightly incredulous and hurt laugh, take your arms from around him as you speak. First he dodges the question and then that. You tell yourself it’s just because of the day and that he’s not in the mood or mentally there and that’s okay. That it makes sense. But coffee? He couldn’t just say no? “Wow, coffee’s better than my mouth or pussy, ouch.”

Michael rolls his eyes at you. That’s not at all what he meant. “Stop. And I’ve also already showered, which I know you know.” 

This time you just scoff and shake your head at him a little. “Yeah, because neither of us have ever gotten back in the shower with each other after we already showered. But okay,” you laugh quietly as you step back. Robby tilts his head at you as you walk away, he knows you have more to say. You stop and turn around to look at him before turning to go back to the bedroom and en suite to shower. “You know, Michael, you can just say no. You’re allowed to say no. I’m not going to force you to shower or have sex with me. Saying no is okay. Not being in the mood is okay, especially on a day like today. I suggested it to try and help distract you and maybe make you feel good.” The maybe is a little slip of insecurity. “You don’t even need a reason and you never have to explain why, but just, the way you communicate that no. The shitty excuses hurt. And they make me wonder about myself far more than ‘no I’m not in the mood’ does.” You turn and walk away. 

Robby sets his mug down and you hear it, shake your head to yourself. “Kid!” he calls after you, pushing off the kitchen counter. He never meant to hurt you or make you doubt yourself. He never meant to make it feel like this was a you thing. Because it’s not. It’s him. It’s the day. It’s his mood. 

You’re really not in the mood at this point. For sex of any kind or to have a conversation with him right now, honestly. You keep telling yourself that it’s just a really bad day for him. It has nothing to do with you or the two of you. It’s the day. You know Robby doesn’t see it well and you don’t point it out more because he has so much of his own shit going on, but you still have so much insecurity. About yourself. About the two of you. You worry you’re not good enough for him or aren’t what he expected and thought you’d be. 

You walk in the bathroom quickly and uncharacteristically lock the door behind you. Usually both you and Robby leave the door unlocked or even partially open when you shower. You turn the shower on and take his shirt off quickly, wanting to just be in the shower and have it as an excuse for not hearing him. If he even tries to talk to you. 

Robby almost slams into the door when it doesn’t open. He hadn’t expected it not to open. For you to have locked it. “Kid, please,” he calls loudly, hoping you’ll hear him over the water. He knocks on the door, with the middle knuckle of his index finger. “Please!” You can hear him. You just don’t feel like shouting, and again. You don’t really want to talk. 

You stand under the stream of hot water and zone out a bit. Ruminate. You know that you and Robby are fine. That you’re great. You know he’s attracted to you. That he loves having sex with you. You had incredible sex last night for god’s sake. It’s the day. It’s the emotions it brings up for him. The grief. You shouldn’t have even brought sex up. He’s sad and grieving and triggered today. Why would you do that? 

“Kid!” Robby calls again, still knocking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or insinuate coffee was better than you or anything like that.” When you don’t answer Robby goes and sits on the edge of the bed and lets out a long sigh. He lets his head fall back and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He really could do without you doing this. Without this added thing and stress. The day is hard enough as it is. 

His voice brings you back and you start to do all of your normal shower things. You’re surprised when Robby’s not immediately knocking and calling for you again once he hears the shower turn off. You figure he’s probably gone back to his coffee and the thought sends a little pang through your heart. 

You wrap your towel around yourself and open the bathroom door. You almost jump a little when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted at you. You look at him for a moment and then walk to his dresser and open your drawer, pull out a set of scrubs, an undershirt and some underwear. You grab your bra off the floor where Robby threw it last night. You can feel his eyes on you, the way he’s tracked you across the room and is watching you. 

When you turn back around and see him he’s smiling to himself, it’s almost anticipatory. His eyes run up and down your towel covered body. He looks like he’s eager to see you naked when you get dressed. And he is. He abso-fucking-lutely is. It melts you a little bit. But you’re hurt still and he hasn’t offered an apology to your face. So you take your clothes and walk towards the bathroom. 

Robby draws out a scoff, but the disappointment rings through more than his irritation. “So what, I don’t even get to admire you as you get dressed anymore?”

You turn at the threshold of the bathroom door to look back at him, capture his gaze. You drag your eyes from him to the open bedroom door and then back to him. You’re stoic as you shrug. “Your coffee’s getting cold out there.”  

You just catch Robby’s shoulders and face fall as you turn back and step in the bathroom before shutting and locking the door. You already regret it. Wish you could take it back. You shouldn’t have hurt him just because he hurt you.

Your words sting, they hurt and sadden him. But he can at least understand why you said it. Robby lets out a long sigh and rubs his face but doesn’t get up. He doesn’t care about the fucking coffee. He doesn’t even want it anymore. He wants you. He wants to hold you close and kiss you. He wants to apologize. He wants your forgiveness. He needs all of that. Needs you.

You get dressed and finish getting ready in the bathroom quickly. You know you need to apologize to Robby and you want to, you really do feel awful. You just kind of hope he’ll also apologize to you. This is not the start to this day that either of you needed. 

Seeing Robby still sitting on the bed when you open the bathroom door is unexpected. You figured he’d go get his coffee and wait for you in the living room. 

You look at each other for a moment and then you break the silence. Robby wants to be the one to but the words just get caught in his throat before he can even open his mouth. “I’m sorry for being passive aggressive and saying that. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve just talked to you and worked it out.”

Robby gives you a small smile. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry too.” He beckons you with two fingers and you walk over to him, stand between his legs when he opens them for you and rest your hands on his shoulders. He waits for you to look down at him before he continues. “I never meant to make you doubt yourself or feel unwanted. In any way. I didn’t think any of it through before I said it. Didn’t think about how it would make you feel.”

You squeeze his shoulders gently. “I accept your apology.” You’re not sure what else to say.

“You know I want you. I always want you, Kid. I did this morning, I just…” He shakes his head and sighs. “My brain, you know? The thoughts and all that shit.” 

“I know, yeah,” you murmur, running a hand through his hair. “I thought sex might be a good distraction. I should’ve thought a little harder about it before I offered.” 

“It usually is.” He tilts his head at you. “Can I kiss you for real now? Not whatever that was that you gave me in the kitchen.”

You laugh softly and nod. “I’d like that.” Robby wraps his arms around you as he stands up, stopping at the right height to kiss you instead of standing straight. It’s a kiss that at just about any other time would lead to far more. It certainly leads to another kiss and then another, and before you realize it you and Robby have been standing there making out for a solid couple of minutes. 

He groans as he pulls away from you. “I don’t want to stop but I do want to have time to treat you to breakfast burritos and your choice of caffeine from that place down the street. Eat as we walk to work.”

“Treat me or yourself?” You smirk at him. 

“You.” He shakes his head at you a little as he says it. “The fact that it’s also a treat for me is just a fun coincidental bonus.” 

“Yeah, coincidental my ass, Robinavitch.” You try to keep your smirk up but it turns into a smile the more you stare at those big brown eyes you love so much. It almost slips out but you catch yourself, turn to walk to the entryway to get your shoes on. I love you. 

The two of you get breakfast burritos and coffee on the way in. Neither of you say anything but you both think it’s ironic that the coffee was a whole thing and then he just left his mug and the carafe of it sitting there at home. Once you get to work you get your stuff in your lockers, stethoscopes around your neck and head to the hub. 

The day passes relatively quickly. For you at least. From what you’ve gathered from others and what Robby has said when you’ve talked to him, things have not been as smooth for him as they have been for you. You make sure he has some semblance of a lunch, drinks some water. 

Towards the end of the shift he comes and finds you. It’s the first time he’s really purposefully sought you out all day. You wouldn’t say he was avoiding you but a little bit you felt like that. After you asked him if he was okay when you saw him for the second time while at work and got an exasperated answer you realized he was tired of being asked. You knew he was probably getting it from Dana too. So you stopped directly asking, figuring it out subtly through other means. And he’d appreciated it when you backed off. He’d recognized when you’d done so. It had made him feel a little less suffocated and a lot loved even without exchange of the words. Because it was clear how well you knew him and how easily you picked up on what he needed. 

That’s why him seeking you out has you so concerned. It has to be bad. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Robby’s voice is strained as he grabs your elbow and starts walking you towards an empty room. 

Your face furrows as you let him lead you into the room. “Everything okay?” You wonder if this is about Dana and what happened to her.

He doesn’t answer, just closes the door as you walk in the room and stands with his back to the window. “I’m gonna tell you something but you have to keep your reaction really controlled, okay? And obviously you can’t tell anyone.” You nod. “Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and has been stealing meds.” 

The furrows smooth out of your face and you have no real facial reaction other than in your eyes which only Robby can see. They widen just slightly with shock. “What the fuck?”

“I know. I fucking know. I sent him home but I fucking,” Robby’s shaking his head hard. His eyes are a little glassy. You know Langdon is kind of Robby’s protégé. Everyone does. Just like everyone knows you kind of are too. “I let a drug addict practice medicine and treat patients. I fucking let him.”

You tilt your head and shake it at him. “Michael, you didn’t let him do anything. This isn’t your fault. I understand you feeling like it is, and that’s valid of course, but I promise you it’s not your fault.”

He shrugs at you, looks so incredibly helpless and at a loss. It breaks your heart. You walk towards him and pull him further in the room a little bit, drawing the curtain to give the two of you a little privacy. You walk back so that you’re standing right in front of him, just enough space between the two of you that you can see each other. 

You don’t say anything as you reach up and start rubbing at his shoulders and the back of his neck before he can. You feel him relax and he drops his head, eyes fluttering close while his hands come to settle on your hips. 

He doesn’t understand how you always seem to know what he needs. When he needs you to talk to him. When he just needs quiet acceptance and to just be in your presence like this. How you’ve picked up on him rubbing his neck. It’s more comforting and soothing when you do it, the circles he rubs on your hips over your scrubs keeping his hands busy. 

You’re a little surprised by it honestly. You thought he might reject this little bit of comfort you’re offering him. Not because of you but because he rarely accepts it at work even in private like this. You’re pretty sure his brain constantly tells him he doesn’t deserve the comfort here. 

“We need to get back out there,” he finally mumbles, bringing his head back up and opening his eyes. 

“Probably, yeah,” you agree. You stop rubbing his neck and loosen your arms but keep them where they are for a moment to see if he’ll hug you. You’re not going to push it on him, not going to make him feel bad when it’s too much for him right now. 

Robby’s hands squeeze your hips one last time. “Thanks, Kid.” He pulls away and you drop your arms, stepping out of the room with him once he pushes the curtain back. 

You both get sucked back into work and you don’t see much of Robby until him racing in from the ambulance bay catches your attention. Dana comes walking in quickly behind him and you catch her gaze, tilt your head as you walk over. 

A frown and worried brows are etched deep into her face. “There’s a shooter at PittFest. MCI protocol.” 

Everything freezes for a second as you hit fight or flight, limbs going cold and nausea creeping up on you. You say nothing to Dana, immediately turning and following after Robby because you know he put his phone in his locker earlier and is going to get it. 

“Don’t!” you yell at him as he opens his locker. “Michael, do not call or text him!”

He doesn’t stop, grabbing his phone and starting to unlock it. “Are you out of your fucking mind-”

“If he’s hiding and doesn’t have his phone on silent it could give him away,” you rush out before Robby can hit send or call. 

He freezes and looks up at you finally. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck!” That one is yelled. “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”

You walk over to him and cover one of his hands with yours. “Because you’re effectively his dad in a lot of ways, Michael, and so you’re too close to it, of course your first instinct was to call him to see if he was okay. I love him too and it’s not that I don’t want to know if he’s okay, and I know it’s very unlikely there’s really anywhere to hide and that it’s probably so loud his phone ringing would barely be audible, but I just think it’s better to be safe right now. He’ll know to call or text you or his mom. He’ll know. And if Janey hears from him she will call you. I know she will.”

He’s breathing hard as he looks at you before finally look away as he shuts his locker. “What if it’s David, Kid?” he whispers. Robby looks back at you and his lip trembles just slightly. The implication is clear. Robby had told you about David and everything that was going on there. You know his worry is valid. “What if I just got Jake killed? Killed another person on this fucking day.”

You let out a long breath as you shake your head. There’s a lot to unpack there. “Okay. Everything you just said, and all of your feelings make sense and are real and valid and I’m acknowledging them. I’m not trying to brush anything off. And I will be there for you whatever happens. But we don’t have a lot of time here so we’re going to have to come back and explore this all more if you want. For right now though, you didn’t kill Adamson, Michael. Covid did. You had to make a terrible decision nobody should ever have to make, but that wasn’t you killing him. And you can’t do this to yourself Robby. If and I mean if it was David, it would still be a random act of violence. You can’t control that. And right now the patients about to come in and Jake and Leah need you to focus on getting everyone ready for this and then handling this MCI and you cannot do that and be focusing on the what ifs, okay?” 

Robby wants to believe you. He wants to believe what you just said but he can’t. He just fucking can’t. He did kill Adamson. He will have killed Jake. He knows you’re right about the end bit though. He has to shove all of this in a box so that he can focus on what’s about to happen and patients. 

You can tell Robby wants to fight you about it but decides not to in favor of very uncharacteristically hugging and kissing you publicly at work before walking away to start implementing protocol with Dana. It leaves you standing there blinking at the wall for a second before you’re able to turn and walk back towards the hub to help. 

Robby’s hugging Jack as you walk up. You and Jack exchange a look. You know that Jack knows that Jake’s at PittFest. You know Jack knows how bad the day is for Robby. 

When Jack starts unpacking supplies you go in to help him. 

“How is he?” Jack asks. 

You can’t help the way you huff. “How do you fucking think Jack?”

When he doesn’t reply you look up at him. Jack’s looking at you with his eyebrows raised and mouth set, edges up just a tiny bit to show he’s not mad, asking excuse me? and how did you just speak to me? without a word. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry.” You set down what you’re holding and rub at the back of your neck. You see Jack’s smile pull up a little more as he recognizes what you’re doing, what you’ve learned from Robby. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten snippy. It’s just Jake, you know?” The breath you let out is shuddery. “I don’t know if even I could save Robby if something happened to him and Robby couldn’t save him, Jack.”

Jack’s face softens and he squeezes your shoulder. “I know. I wish there was more I could say, but I know. I’m worried about him and that possibility too.”

The two of you start to unpack again. “I just need him to call or text Michael or his mom and say he’s okay and on his way home. I need this to not happen to him today. I mean or ever, but you know. He doesn’t need to feel more grief and loss that he thinks he’s responsible for today.” 

“All we can do is be there for him,” Jack murmurs. 

“Yeah. I guess,” you murmur back. 

Once you finish unpacking and arranging supplies Jack faces you before the two of you walk out to where Robby is starting to gather everyone. 

“I need you to promise me that if something happens with Jake, if, god forbid, he ends up here and is critical, you will let me run it with Robby. We won’t get him to not work on him, we won’t have time to argue about it with him. We both know that.” Jack nods at you. “So you need to let me be the one to work with him. You need to let me be the one to convince him we’re not getting Jake back and he has to let Jake go. Because you’re the best thing in his life. You keep him going. So I don’t want him associating being unable to save Jake with you. He might work through the emotions it brings up, he might not. But if he doesn’t… Robby’s only going to survive something like that with you by his side. He could survive it without me, he could cut me out and lose me and survive. He couldn’t survive it without you. So I need you to promise me if Jake ends up here, you’re going to let me be with Robby until TOD is called. Same with Jake’s girlfriend.”

You swallow hard as you look at Jack. It will be hard for you to stay away. You worry Robby will wonder why you’re not there, why you didn’t drop everything to come help him. But you also know that he’s not really going to be worried about that in the moment. He’ll be too focused on Jake. And Jack’s words make your heart ache. Yes, because it’s sweet that Jack knows what you mean to Robby, that he can see it and that Robby has talked to him about it. But it’s more because you recognize the sacrifice Jack’s volunteering to make for Robby and Robby’s happiness and ability to get through this. The sacrifice in running the risk of losing his best friend, because Jack doesn’t have anyone else. He doesn’t have a significant other. He has Dana but that friendship isn’t like his and Robby’s. 

“I think you’re selling yourself quite short there, Jack,” you whisper. 

He shakes his head to say he doesn’t care. “Promise me.” 

You hold his gaze for another few seconds before you look away. “Okay,” you nod, “I promise.” 

“Good. Let’s go.” 

“Jack?” He turns at the threshold and looks back at you. “Thank you.” 

He simply nods and the two of you walk out. You stand by Shen while Jack stands by Robby, the two of them talking things through with the group, explaining how a lot of this is going to work, who’s going to be where, what to do when different things happen. 

“Communicate,” Robby tells the group. “Ask for help if you need it.” 

You look at Dana when he says that. Which was the wrong move because you both end up having to stifle laughs. You know it’s inappropriate. You know it’s not funny. And you know that Robby’s really good at the whole ‘do as I say not as I do’ thing, and if what he just said isn’t a textbook example you don’t know what is. So in the moment his words just strike you as funny, in part because all of this is a situation where if you don’t laugh you’re going to cry. Dark humor becomes a coping mechanism. You at least do a good job of stifling it and covering your mouth, can tell you hid it enough and everyone was so focused on Robby and Jack they didn’t see anything. 

Everyone disperses and patients start rolling in. Time loses any real meaning. It could have been forty minutes or four hours. You have no idea. You just know that patients keep rolling in. Never Jake or Leah. 

Neither of you can decide in your heads whether that’s a good or bad thing. Whether it means they’re dead on the scene or that they escaped and are okay and lost their phones in the chaos and are trying to get further away from the scene before they ask to borrow someone’s phone to call people or are just trying to get home.

Robby and you both glance at Dana every chance you get. She has Robby’s phone so she’ll know if Jake or Janey get in touch with him. The patients in front of him at least help distract Robby somewhat. That anxiety about Jake never goes away. The feeling of responsibility never goes away. But it goes to the back enough that he can focus and be a good doctor. 

Patients continue to arrive. In ambulances and cop cars and civilian cars and business vans. 

But never Jake and Leah. 

You’ve been at the Pitt a year and a month now. You’ve been an R2 for a month. You’ve already learned a lot. You’ve already had devastating losses and incredible saves. You’ve already thought about staying here past your residency. You’ve already grown close with a number of people. You’ve already grown very close with one person. 

Michael Robinavitch. Robby. 

You know how bad it could seem. How bad it might already seem. But you and Robby both know it’s there. Something far beyond platonic. You both feel it. And it only grew over your intern year and is continuing to. 

You haven’t discussed it outright but the energy and attraction between the two of you is so clearly there and you’ve seen it in his eyes. When he’s leaning in close to you to help teach you something and his pupils are a bit more dilated than they should be in the lighting. When he sees another man flirt with you and they blaze with what seems like anger but is really jealousy. When you’ve just pulled a double together and have hit silly and are laughing so hard you’re both crying at something so incredibly stupid and his eyes crinkle with affection that never appears for anyone else. 

And Robby’s seen it in your eyes. When something horrible happens and your eyes find his before anybody else’s and a little spirit comes back into them just from making eye contact with him. When he’s hiding how badly something with a patient or family has shaken him and turns to find you and you’re already looking at him with soft eyes full of recognition and understanding that make him feel so seen in a way he hasn’t felt before. When you bring him some sort of treat, sweet or savory, and pass him a post-it note that you pretend is a note about a patient but really says it’s in the fridge with his name on it and your eyes sparkle with an adoration he’s yet to see you look at anyone else with. 

Robby knows he cannot do anything, there cannot be anything between the two of you, not even some semblance of anything until you’re an attending or maybe an R4 if you’ve already accepted an attending position. Being with you before you’re an attending wouldn’t look professionally great for him, but that’s not what he worries about. He worries how it would look for you, like a young woman sleeping with her boss, how people would at the very least have in the back of their minds that you were sleeping your way to the top or you got given things because you were sleeping with your boss or were eventually offered an attending position because you were sleeping with your boss. 

Robby knows not everyone would think that. And he knows it absolutely would not be that. But he doesn’t even want you to risk it. Not for him. He knows your career and reputation have to be your first priority. 

Dana and Jack have both asked him about you after observing the two of you together. He assures them that while, yeah, he has some feelings for you, it is strictly platonic between the two of you, him mentoring just like he does everyone else. 

And so neither of you have ever made any really overt move. Because you both know you can’t.

So there’s been no real discussion about ‘one day’ or if there ever could be a future for the two of you. 

But now that you're a month and a bit into being an R2 and don’t have the label of ‘intern’ and feel like you have a better handle on being a doctor you’ve grown more confident. Not over-confident or cocky. Not even close. Just a bit more sure of yourself. Professionally and personally. And so your joking around with and screwing with and flirting with Robby has intensified a little. It’ll continue to do so your entire residency. 

And while Robby is a bit more reserved, particularly when it comes to flirting and anything vaguely sexual, he still gives it back in his own way. It is overwhelmingly not one sided. 

It’s not just sexual. You and Robby are close. You go to each other with problems and to vent. You seek each other out for comfort. And it’s comfort that forces you both to acknowledge it and discuss it, this thing between you. 

You find yourself sitting on the roof, back pressed up against the wall and legs out in front of you. You’re technically off. You want to be anywhere other than this fucking hospital. And yet you can’t bring yourself to move. 

You stay quiet and still when you hear the door to the roof open, hope whoever is up here won’t notice you before they leave. 

Unfortunately for you the person who walks onto the roof has spent the last thirty minutes looking for you. And Robby’s slightly panicked about it. You’ve seemed off all day. Sad. Overwhelmingly sad. In particular the last time he saw you he felt like you looked… done. With everything. With the world. 

The sigh he lets out when he sees you sitting there on the roof is of relief. You can tell that it’s not irritation or annoyance. 

“Go away,” you call half-heartedly when he starts to walk over. 

“Go away? I don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away before.” Robby tries to keep it light. 

“First time for everything,” you mutter. 

That pulls a small laugh from him. He comes and sits next to you against the wall. He’s close, your sides pressing against each other. Closer than the average mentor-mentee would be sitting for sure. 

You don’t say anything and so for a few minutes the two of you sit in silence, each of you focused on the way the other feels pressed up against you. But Robby wants, maybe needs if he’s honest with himself, to know what’s wrong so he can help you. 

“Talk to me Kid.” And there it is. That name he only calls you. 

You shake your head a little and sigh. Robby hates how sad it sounds. He doesn’t even really think about his next move. He just reaches out and slips his hand into yours where it rests on your thigh, laces your fingers together.

With the setting and context of why you’re both up here together it’s an incredibly intimate gesture. 

You’re not quite sure what to make of it but he initiated it and it feels good. Makes you feel safe and cared for. You look down at your intertwined hands for a moment. His hand engulfs yours with how much bigger it is and it’s so warm. He always runs so warm. 

“I don’t know,” you finally force yourself to say. “I really don’t know.” 

Robby nods slowly. “Just one of those days?” he offers. 

“I guess.” You shrug. It might seem like the silence is purposeful but in reality it’s Robby trying to think of what to say. “I’m just tired, I think.” You sniffle and it’s then you realize that you’re kind of teary. “Fuck,” you mutter. 

“It’s okay, Kid. I’ve had these days too. Some days you’re just tired and so it all hits harder, even shit that normally wouldn’t make you blink.” Robby rubs what he hopes are soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Yeah,” you take in a choked breath, “I’m just really fucking tired.” The tears start to fall freely then and you squeeze Robby’s hand hard like it’ll make them stop. They’re at least mercifully silent, it’s not like you’re totally sobbing in front of him. 

But then Robby really notices how much you’re crying and lets go of your hand to raise his arm so you can lean into him as he pulls you to him, your legs shifting automatically to get in a more comfortable position as you lean into his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers, tilts his head so that his cheek rests on the top of your head.

You shake your head but hold onto him as you cry, relish in the circles his big hand rubs on your back. You don’t cry for long. A few minutes. And it’s not loud or even sobbing, it’s just crying. Just blinking out tears that end up wetting his scrub top, the occasional shuddery or hiccupped breath. 

You don’t move once you stop though and Robby doesn’t ask you to. Doesn’t shift his body to suggest you move. His cheek remains on your head and his hand continues to rub circles on your back. “I’m sorry,” you eventually whisper. 

“Never be sorry for needing to let something out. It accumulates in this job.” Robby goes to turn his head so that he can kiss the top of yours but he catches himself and stops before he can. “And if you don’t let it out somehow it can become debilitating.” 

You can feel the vibrations of him speaking and it soothes you further. “Everything just felt so shit today. All of the backstories of what brought my patients in today. All crime and abuse. Every single patient.”

“That’s one of the worst kind of days here,” Robby sympathizes. 

“I hate that it’s one kind.”

That makes him laugh which makes you smile. “Yeah there’s a lot of kinds of worst days in this job unfortunately.” 

You sigh and finally pull away from him. But his hand on your back doesn’t let you go particularly far. And when you both lean in a little your faces are close enough to feel each other’s breaths. “Does it ever get better?” you whisper. 

Robby shakes his head slightly. “No.”

You both watch each other’s eyes glance down at the other’s lips. You both lean into each other even more. You both tilt your heads in the opposite direction of the other. You both let your eyes flutter closed. 

But the second you truly feel the heat of Robby’s breath against your lips he pulls away. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

You look down, embarrassed and disappointed and guilty. But despite the almost kiss and Robby pulling away neither of you have otherwise moved. You’re still close together. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmur. 

“No!” Robby laughs, a heavy dose of self-exasperation in it. “Don’t be. God, fucking don’t be. And don’t think I don’t want to. That I don’t want… that. With you. But your name and reputation and career… we can’t. We can’t.” Robby moves his head back so he’s looking at you, uses his free hand to guide your chin up so you’re looking at him. “When you’re an attending, okay?” You nod at him and he repeats it. “When you’re an attending.” 

The sinking feeling in your and Robby’s stomachs intensifies as more patients come in who aren’t Jake or Leah and at the lack of phone call or text. You get your patient in Walsh’s hands to be taken up to surgery and change into a fresh trauma gown and step outside, checking on triage but also getting some air. 

“You good?” Robby asks, walking up behind you. He doesn’t really wait for your answer, continuing to walk towards Shen and Ellis. But the quick press of his ungloved hand against your lower back as he walks by makes up for it a little. 

You don’t bother voicing an answer, nor do you follow him to ask him the same question. You already know the answer. 

As Robby’s talking about getting gurneys to the right angle and helping fix them a truck comes squealing in. Shen and Ellis jump up and start yelling out colors. You put on a pair of gloves pulled from your pocket and wait nearby to see if there’s a red coming. But then you hear it and are hopping up on the tire of the truck to look in the bed. “Michael!”

You yell his name. And Robby immediately knows it has to be Jake. He has never heard you yell his name before and there’s only a handful of reasons why you would today. He tells himself there’s a tint of hope to your tone. “Jake?” Robby yells as he runs over. But he hears Jake’s voice and a wave of relief passes through him now that he at least knows where he is and that he’s okay enough for right now to speak. 

“Red zone. GSW left chest,” Ellis assesses Leah. 

“Jake, are you shot?” you ask him as Robby arrives. 

“I don’t know my, my leg maybe, it’s Leah. It’s Leah’s blood, she was shot, was shot in the chest and I’ve been putting pressure on it the whole time, and I don’t know-”

“That’s good,” Robby cuts him off, “you did good, okay?” 

You get Leah onto a gurney and Jake out of the truck. He walks in holding onto the side of Leah’s gurney opposite Robby. “Get him a wheelchair!” Robby calls. He notices you walking away while he argues with Jake about getting in the wheelchair and staying there and out of the way. He finds it odd, is a little miffed that you’re abandoning him with Leah and Jake. 

But you’re speedwalking to Jack. “Leah. GSW left chest. I don’t think there’s any way. It had to have shredded her heart,” you say just loudly enough for Jack to hear as you take the bag of blood he’s squeezing into his patient from him. He nods at you, gives you a rundown on the patient in front of you as he walks backwards towards Robby, turning when he’s finished. 

“Samira!” you call out to her when you see her look around. “Jake.” You flick your head at him. “Probable GSW to the leg. But head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and it’s masking another injury.” 

“Got it.” She nods and is off to Jake, finding a gurney for him to get on. 

Robby glances at Samira with Jake. “What the fuck?” It’s loud enough for you to hear. 

“Me, Michael!” you call over to him. “I sent her to do a head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and not feeling another injury.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a vague nod as he turns back to Leah. He can’t believe he didn’t think about that either. That’s twice now you might’ve saved Jake. First telling him not to call just in case. Now this. He’s lucky. He’s beyond lucky to have you. “Jake you do whatever the fuck Samira tells you without a fucking word of argument!” 

You get the patient you took from Jack stable and up to surgery, start working on the next red to roll in. They stabilize relatively fast and you find yourself squeezing in blood again. But this time your eyes are flicking between the patient and Robby and Jack and the way Jack is having to talk Robby into accepting that Leah is gone. You can’t hear any of it but you know that’s what’s happening based on the expression on Jack’s face and how he keeps chasing Robby’s eye contact.

After a minute everyone stills and you watch Robby write on Leah’s card and circle around it. You know he called it. Jack’s back over to you quickly, taking the blood from you this time as you give him the rundown on this patient. “Michael!” you call as you walk over to him quickly. 

“I have to go tell Jake,” he mutters, shaking his head and turning to look in your direction but not at you. He’d been watching them wheel Leah into pedes. 

“Do you want me to go with-”

“No. No it’s fine, thanks, I got it. Santos was looking for an attending, go find her.” He walks away without looking at you. He can’t bring himself to. The shame he’s feeling at not being able to save her, at failing Jake a little too heavy to let him lift his head to look at you. 

You watch him for a second as he walks away. Your heart aches for him, for the man you love and the news he has to go deliver to a teenager he considers his son in a way. You can’t ruminate though. Too many other people need you. 

So you do what Robby said and go to find Santos. You get involved with her and by the time you’re done you look around but you can’t spot Robby. “Dana, have you seen Robby?” you ask her as she walks by. 

“I think I saw him taking Jake to pedes.” She grimaces at you. 

You nod and make your way there, opening the door and stopping short. “Michael?”

Robby’s on the floor, knees up to his chest and holding onto his necklace while reciting a prayer through tears. He doesn’t acknowledge you. It hurts to see him like this. It’s physically painful. But he needs you so you set it aside. 

“Michael,” you say softly as you sit down next to him so that your sides are pressing against each other’s. “I’m here.” You grab one of his hands, hold onto it harder when he tries to pull it away. 

“You need to go back out there,” he sniffles. “They need you.” He flicks his eyes up at you. 

There’s truth in his words. But there’s also truth in yours. “Not as much as you do right now.” 

“I can’t,” he whimpers. “I, I…” He shrugs at you before breaking down in tears again, but this time letting himself fall into your gownless lap. 

“Okay,” you whisper, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I couldn’t save her,” he chokes out, “another person I couldn’t fucking save. Another I killed. Another I let down. It’s two because Jake. I let him down too and he knows it.” You curl around him as much as you can, move his gown and kiss at his shoulder. You let him have a moment and get it out. Because you both know you don’t have much longer than that. “And the worst,” he sobs, “the worst part is it should’ve been me, Kid. It should be me on that gurney. It was my pass that I gave him for her.”

That last sentence is hard to hear. Because you can’t imagine a world without Robby in it. A world where you have to bury him. You want to tell him not to say shit like that, but you swallow down your upset because he doesn’t need that right now. You know there’s very little he needs right now in a sense. He doesn’t need a lot of words or you trying to make this better and discuss his feelings and emotions. He just needs to let some of this out.

Robby knows that’s all he needs right now, too. To let some of what’s eating away at him out in the one place he feels safe. 

You. 

You’re his safe place. He didn’t realize just how much he needed you here with him until you walked in and sat next to him and took his hand. You make it better. You make it hurt less. Just by being here for him. 

“You didn’t kill Adamson or Leah,” you murmur after a minute. “And you haven’t let them or Jake down. Your feelings are valid Michael, and I know I can’t begin to understand on multiple levels but the way you are feeling makes sense. We can work through your feelings. You can work through them. You can get through this. No matter how hopeless and impossible it feels right now.” You pause, have to swallow hard and blink away some tears. “And I wish that nobody was on that gurney. I don’t want anyone on that gurney. I wish none of this had ever happened. For you and Jake and Leah and everyone involved. And maybe saying this is wrong of me. It’s probably selfish. Maybe I’m a terrible person for it. You can hate me for it if you need to and like I said I truly wish none of this happened and nobody was on that gurney. But I am really fucking glad it’s not you on that gurney Michael because I have no fucking idea what I would do.” You let out a shuddery breath. “And I wish we had more time and that I could say more and hold you more and that all of this was over but it’s not.” You scratch at his scalp a little. “They need us.” He nods and sits up, looks over at you. “They need you.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. He’s let himself grow numb. Because right now that’s what he needs to be to get through this right now. 

“I need you,” you whisper back. He knows what you mean. He knows what you’re worried about. Him taking a walk off the roof or something.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kid.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He nods.

“Good.” You nod and stand up, hold out your hand to him. He lets out a soft laugh as he takes your hand and lets you help him up. 

You both take a second to wipe your faces a bit. “Find me if you need me, okay?”

“I will,” Robby promises again. 

You nod and open the door, both of you walking out. Within seconds both of your names are called.  

“Hey.” He grabs your wrist gently before you can go. You look at him with raised brows. He wants to say it. He wants to say it so badly. But he can’t. “Thank you.” I love you.

Robby slips off his stool at the high top a group of you are sitting at and follows you up to the side of the bar, takes his drink with him. You were sitting across from him at the end of the table and the rest of the group was so focused on their conversation he doesn’t think anyone even realized he followed you. A little bit he doesn’t care if they did. 

You’re down near the last two stools at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get you your drink. It’s busy so you’re sitting while you wait, wanting to be off your feet after a long shift. Robby setting his beer down startles you for just a second. But you can quickly tell it’s him. 

By the sweatshirt sleeve rolled up. By the smell of his cologne lingering just enough under all the hibiclens you can appreciate it since you know what it smells like very well by now. By the hand that sets down the beer. By his fingers. 

You look over at him with raised brows. His glass is still over half full. He came to talk to you. 

“You’ve been calling me Michael lately.” He keeps his face pretty stoic, for him at least. But you can see the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his beard shift just slightly as the corners of his lips twitch up. 

“What an astute observation, Dr. Robinavitch.” You keep your smirk to a minimum. “I don’t have a gold star sticker on me to give you but I can buy you another drink.” Very little in life gives you as much pleasure as screwing with Robby. If you were together like you wanted you could think of at least three body parts that would be added to that list. 

Your words earn you the slightest raise of his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Why what?” Your eyes sparkle with mirth as your drink gets dropped off and you take a sip. They’re beautiful sparkling like this. They always are but Robby finds them particularly beautiful like this, when you’re happy and light-hearted and teasing. 

And it’s just like you to make him say it. Be specific. “Why do you call me Michael? Why’d you start?”

“Makes me feel special.” You smirk fully this time. “It makes me feel special because there’s a handful of people you let call you it, especially at the hospital, and you actively try and make people not call you it. I wasn’t actually sure you were gonna let me call you it at first. Guess being an R3 has privileges. But then again, I’m the only R3 you let call you it.”

“You’re the only R3 who has ever called me it. None of the others have tried. And you didn’t answer the second question,” he points out. 

“I mean  yeah, I kind of did. I started because it makes me feel special.” He gives you a look and you sigh. “In part because I wanted to see if you’d let me. In part because, I don’t know,” you smile softly to yourself and look down, “I like it. Calling you Michael. It makes me feel close to you.” Robby’s never seen you look so shy and it rocks him a little. But the shyness fades quickly for you as you look back up at him. “And in part because some of the new interns got comfortable a couple of months in and were getting a little too flirty with you for my taste. So you can imagine how smug and pleased with myself I was every time I called you Michael in front of them and you said nothing and every time one of them called you Michael and you had to correct them and tell them it was Robby or Dr. Robinavitch until they finally got the picture.”

“So jealousy?” He smirks. It makes him feel good in a way, knowing that you were jealous of attention he was getting. That you care about him and want him enough to be jealous. To feel a little possessive. “And that’s why you needed to feel special? A little petty of a response, no?”

“Oh Michael,” you chuckle, take a sip of your drink. “You and I both know you are so not the one to talk about being petty as a response to jealousy. Should I start listing things you’ve done in response to me being flirted with?”

“You really shouldn’t call me it.” He’s grown a bit more serious again. 

“Are you telling me to stop?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want you to. Just… You shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Your brows furrow a little in confusion. You don’t get why it matters unless he doesn’t want you calling him it for a personal reason.

“People will wonder why you’re allowed to. It makes,” he gestures between the two of you as you take a sip of your drink but doesn’t name anything, “obvious. People will start thinking and seeing it.”

You choke on your drink, coming close to spitting it out all over him. The coughs you get out once you’ve managed to swallow turn into laughter. “Michael.” You cock your head at him and give him an incredulous smile. “You cannot actually believe that me calling you Michael is what’s going to give this thing between us away. Because it’s been given away. It was given away for sure by the end of my intern year. Nobody asked me anything during my intern year I’m guessing because I was an intern, but a couple weeks into being an R2 I was getting questions. Dana and Jack never asked you or talked to you about it? Because they’ve certainly asked and talked to me.”

Robby blushes at the realization. Deep down he probably always knew that everyone could see it and he’d just managed to convince himself otherwise. “Of course they did,” he answers your question, not sure how to respond to everything before it. “I just thought it was because they were more… perceptive. That they knew me better and could see it in me.”

You have to laugh a little and bite your lip. “You know, you’re sitting here pointing out that halfway through my third year of residency I’ve just started calling you Michael, your first name, and it’s almost like you’ve forgotten you always call me Kid. Only me. Since my first fucking day here. I don’t remember the last time I heard you say my first or last name for something other than introducing me to someone, in front of a patient or in some very formal situation. And I’d like to point out that not a single god damned person has ever heard you call me Kid and then tried to call me Kid unlike with me calling you Michael. I wonder why that is? It’s almost like it comes across as a little more than a nickname to people.”

He looks at you for a second. “I…”

You hold your hand up and half wave him off. “It’s okay. I’ll stop calling you it, Robby.” It’s half teasing and half serious. 

You slide off your stool and grab your drink intending to walk back to the table. Robby’s quick to slide off his stool and stand in front of you though, blocking your path. He looks at the stool you were sitting on pointedly and then back at you. You follow his silent order and sit and set your drink back down.

He leans in a little closer to you than he was. “I never asked you to stop calling me it, nor did I say you needed to.” He raises his eyebrows at you and bobs his head. “Nor do I want you to. I like it when you do. A lot.” 

You smirk at his admission and shrug at him. “You were making an awfully big deal about it.” 

“Yeah because it, it…”

You’re genuinely not sure how he wanted to end that sentence. “It what Michael?”

Robby shakes his head at you. “Just… you’re not an attending yet. Maybe when you’re an attending, okay?”

You know Robby isn’t talking about you calling him Michael. Isn’t saying that you can’t call him Michael until you’re an attending. He’s saying what he’s said since that time on the roof that when you’re an attending the two of you can act on the feelings you clearly have for each other. 

But the maybe in front of that phrase is new and hits you like a slap across the face, heart twisting as it sinks into your stomach. He’s never said that before. It’s never been a maybe and not a certainty. Robby watches your face fall and hurt cloud your eyes. He replays what he said trying to figure out what part it was that hurt you, that made your entire demeanor change. If you’re just that disappointed you didn't change his mind and aren’t suddenly a couple or if it’s something else. He can’t figure it out.  

You swallow thickly, tears sting your eyes but you’re quick to blink them away. “Yeah.” You nod at him finally. “Maybe. But you know, that assumes I become an attending here, Robby. In Pittsburgh at the very least. And I don’t know if I will.”

You slip off your stool, leaving your half empty drink and heading over to the table. You tell everyone the exhaustion has hit and so you’re going to head home. They’re sad to see you go but nobody questions much. You cover well enough that if anyone had noticed you and Robby talking they wouldn’t think you were hurt by him and running away. Which you know is kind of what you’re doing instead of just asking him about it. Asking him if he doesn’t want to try the two of you anymore. If he doesn’t want you anymore. If that’s why it’s a maybe all of the sudden.

Your words throw Robby for a second because he realizes that you’re right, neither of you know for sure if you’ll get an attending job at PTMC or anywhere else in Pittsburgh. He realizes the two of you have never had a real conversation about if you want to stay in Pittsburgh, if you’re going to apply for attending spots in Pittsburgh or if you want to go somewhere else. And then he realizes you called him Robby. 

He’s not sure what to do with that. What it means. He slides off his stool and goes to look for you at the table, doesn’t see you but thinks you’re in the bathroom until he’s told no, you left. He has to play it cool and nod like he isn’t internally panicking about whatever the fuck just happened. And he can’t just leave because it’ll look suspicious. He has to wait a respectable amount of time, ends up leaving when Samira and Langdon do. 

Robby calls you as he walks home. No answer. He has no idea what to even say to you right now so he doesn’t leave a message. He decides to text you instead. He’s worried about you and whether you’re okay and got home safe. He’s always worried about you when he doesn’t have eyes on you. 

R - Let me know you got home safe  R - Please

You don’t reply immediately. Or within five minutes. Or within ten minutes. It’s almost long enough to make him start panicking and change his direction to walk to your place and see if you’re there. Because of course he knows where you live and has been to your place before. But then you finally reply.

You - I did, yeah, thanks. Was showering. I hope you have a good rest of your night

It’s the truth. You were in the shower. In the shower standing under almost scalding water ruminating on ‘maybe when you’re an attending.’ Maybe. When did it become maybe for him? And why? You hate how bad it hurts, the thought of never getting to even try with him. The thought of him not wanting you anymore, of his feelings for you just disappearing. It makes you anxious. 

And more than anything right now, you’re confused. So fucking confused because he’s still flirting with you just as much and as hard as he always has when you guys are alone together or when you’re close enough to whisper. His hands and fingers still linger just a couple of seconds too long when he passes you something or wrap over yours to show you how to do something. You still feel his eyes on you when you talk to other men, especially if the men flirt with you. You still notice him checking you out sometimes. But now it’s maybe. Maybe. 

Robby lets out a breath when your message comes through. He debates calling you again to try and talk on the phone but he’s still not sure what to say. He walks into his apartment and drops his stuff, heads to his room and takes his scrub top and pants off before letting himself sit on the edge of the bed and reply.

R - Good.  R - Are we okay? You left quickly and without saying bye

After you finish getting ready, you slide into your bed and turn the tv on while you think about what to say to his message. Tone is so hard to get out of texts but you can tell he clearly still cares about you and whatever is between you. Enough to ask if the two of you are okay. It helps your anxiety a little bit. 

You - Yeah, we’re fine

He believes you but the word ‘fine’ also scares him. It’s not good or great or perfect or even normal or like we always are. So he can’t let the conversation die. Not when he’s still so unsure about whether you guys are okay or if he did something or if you still want him or if you’re mad at him. 

R - Are you working tomorrow? 

You - Yeah but at night. I’m starting a string of six nights to help cover. 

Robby knows you’ll be with Jack every night. He remembers Jack mentioning a string of six on. He’s not jealous in a romantic sense. He’s jealous of the time Jack will get to spend with you and is already thinking of excuses to stay late to be with you. He’s sad that he won’t see you for more than maybe an hour or so for the next six days.

R - Abbot’s going to try to steal you from days permanently

You type out your reply. It’s genuine but you know it’s going to seriously fuck with him and that the idea will freak him out and make him scared of losing you. Or will it? You don’t seem to know anymore. And that hurts. And hurt people hurt people. But you pause. You erase your last sentence. ‘Maybe when I’m an attending.’

You - He just might. Going to bed at 7 in the morning rather than getting up early enough to be at work for 7 in the morning kind of appeals to me

Robby stares at your response, a wave of deeper anxiety passing over him. You can’t go to nights. He’d barely see you. You can’t be serious about this. 

R - Really?

You - Yeah. Why?

Fuck. You are serious about this. And what the fuck is he supposed to say in response to your question? He knows you know why. He knows you know how he feels about you. How he wants you too. How he can’t wait for you to be an attending or even accept a position because then he can finally have you.

R - Would be a big loss for day shift. You’re one of the best

That hurts a little. That you switching to nights would just be a loss to day shift to him. Not a loss to him personally. That he wouldn’t miss you apparently.

You - You guys would be fine 

R - I’d miss you. I’ll miss you this week

You smile at him saying he’d miss you and that he’s going to this week. But part of you struggles to believe him after the bar.

You - Would you? Will you? 

He can’t believe you’re even asking that. And because it’s a text he can’t hear in your voice whether those two questions are serious or teasing. It hurts him to think that they might be serious. 

R - Of course 

You - Well I really doubt I’ll end up switching. So you’ll only have to miss me for a week 

R - Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

You are so confused by this man. It’s ‘maybe’ and ‘a loss to day shift’ but then it’s also he’ll miss you and his heart will grow fonder. But it was a good line. And between him telling you he’ll miss you unprompted and that being away from you for almost a week will deepen his feelings for you, you’re starting to feel back to your usual self and, while the change has been subconscious mostly, you go back to texting him like your usual self. 

But before you can reply Robby sends another message. It terrifies him. He’s not sure how he even worked himself up to asking you. He just needs to know. Needs to know if the two of you are really okay. 

R - Will you miss me at all?

It’s an incredibly vulnerable ask. You know it. He knows it. He knows you know it. He needs a very ‘you’ answer to it. So you give him one.

You - 🙂‍↕️

R - Good

You - Did you have to google what that emoji meant? (P.S. You should have added girl after good)

Robby laughs to himself and shakes his head at you. This feels better. Normal. Like you. 

R - Did you just call me old? (P.S. Stop it)

You smile to yourself. You know he means the stop it playfully. He’d have said way more if he actually wanted you to stop.

You - 😶🤐 You - Did you change the font size on your phone?

R - I’ve changed my mind about missing you 

You - Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Michael

R - Go to bed, Kid R - Don’t  R - Don’t even think it

You giggle to yourself. He’s lucky he was so quick to realize and send the ‘don’t.’

You - Does it make it better if I told you it was going to be daddy and not dad?

Robby groans to himself a little. No. That’s what he wants to tell you. No, it makes it worse in a way. It has him half hard pretty quickly. 

You - I’ve been in bed this entire conversation too, so 

You know you’re getting close to Robby’s limit of this shameless of flirting and overt sexualness. You’re toeing the line. It hits just right though. It makes him harder. Fully hard. And Robby has to groan to himself a little louder this time because if you guys were together he’d work himself up to sending you a picture of his very obvious erection under his boxers, or facetime you and make you talk him through it. But you’re not together. And you’re an R3. And he can’t.

You - Wanna know what I’ve been doing? 

You wait a few seconds just to let him start to think before you hit send on the picture you took of your tv that shows you’re watching some trashy reality tv show he hates. Or pretends to hate. Because he always knows enough about the last episode to talk to you about it. Maybe he hated it before you, maybe he still does kind of hate it, but now he watches it for you. 

You - I’m sure that’s what you were thinking I was doing. Anyway. Did you make it home safely?

Robby lets out a quiet laugh. You’re so ridiculous. So perfect for him. He’s so spectacularly fucked when it comes to you. 

R - Yes and I’m going to shower. You go to sleep

You - 😏😏 You - Alright I’m stopping  You - Sleep tight and try not to miss me too much this week 

R - Sleep well, Kid

Robby throws open the door to the stairwell and walks in. He’s shaking, closer to tears than he wants to admit to himself and he is pretty sure he has never felt this much rage in his life. All of his emotions, all the grief and loss and sadness and guilt have turned into anger. 

And all because Langdon had to come back and then run his fucking mouth. He’s trying to calm down, to let go of the anger before he goes back out there and does or says something he’s going to regret because his mind is too clouded with anger. His hand rubs the back of his neck as he paces to try and burn off some of the adrenaline. 

He replays the confrontation in his head over and over. Eventually he’s struck by one thing in particular. How the fuck did Langdon even know about what happened in pedes? You were the only one who saw him-

Robby stills. It feels like another part of his world is coming crashing down around him. The only way Langdon could have known is if you’d told him. Or you’d told someone else who’d told him. If you were gossiping about him. About something so incredibly private and intimate. 

The door to the stairwell gets thrown back open and Robby walks further into the Pitt, head on a swivel looking for you. His jaw clenches when he sees you standing alone and charting. He stalks over to you.

“We need to talk.” The anger in his voice is palpable. And unlike the last time he sought you out, this time he’s not asking to speak with you. You saw him follow Langdon out so you assume it must be related and Langdon really must have done or said something.  “In here. Now.” 

He’s seething. He leads over to the supply closet and opens the door, walks in behind you, locks the door behind him. “What happened?” you ask, brows furrowed.

Robby just stares at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to admit something. And you slowly realize his anger isn’t at Langdon or that situation or at anything else. 

It’s at you. 

He finally speaks. “I cannot fucking believe you.”

You shrink back at his words and tone. “What?”

“There are a lot of fucking people here who I would expect this shit from or not be surprised when they did it. But not you. Not fucking you,” he spits out. “How could you? How could you fucking gossip about that?” Robby tells himself the tears forming in his eyes are ones of anger and nothing else. “How could you betray me like that? I trusted you. I fucking trusted you.” His voice cracks on the second trusted.

To say you’re confused would be a massive understatement. Your stomach twists with anxiety. You don’t like any of this. You don’t like how he thinks you betrayed him or broke his trust. Because you’re not sure if your relationship could survive him truly believing that. “Michael, please believe me when I say that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The confusion written all over your face just pisses him off more. It’s like you’re trying to be the victim. “No. Don’t do this shit. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. Don’t try to be the fucking victim. The very fucking least you could do at this point is own the fuck up to it.”

You are desperately trying to play your day through your head to see if you can figure out what he’s talking about, figure out what you did that apparently betrayed him and obliterated his trust. You and Dana talked during the day but you never told her anything, just expressed your concern about him and him saying and acting like he was fine. You and Jack spoke while organizing supplies, but again, you just expressed concern about him and how he’d react if something happened to Jake. You said nothing to either of them that they didn’t already know because Robby had told them. You have no idea how he could consider any of that gossiping. 

“You’re really going to make me fucking spell it out for you, hm?” He bobs his head condescendingly. 

Tears spill over your lash line and slide down your cheeks because of the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s treating you. Because you know exactly where this conversation is headed if he won’t explain to you and then listen to your response. Because he’s slowly breaking your heart. 

“You told someone, Langdon or whoever the fuck else, about what happened in pedes. About me breaking down in there and being on the floor. You just fucking blabbed that to whoever,” he scoffs, a few tears running down his cheeks. Out of anger, yes. 

But out of heartbreak too. You gossiping about this, you breaching his trust like this, shatters Robby. Because he loves you. Even if he hasn’t said it. He’s stupidly in love with you. He has been. He thought you were the one. That you were it. His end game. He pictured a proposal and a wedding and a house and maybe kids.

And then you broke his heart. 

“Okay,” you sniffle through some tears. “I know you don’t believe me but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t tell anyone absolutely anything about pedes. I never would-”

“Well nobody else came in and saw me so how the fuck else would Langdon know? Hm?” he snarls. “You fucking gossiped about it. Like it was this casual thing.” He shrugs at you as more tears fall down his face and he glares at you. “We’re done. Because I will never be able to trust you again. Not with anything like that, with how I feel, to see me when I’m vulnerable. And I deserve a partner I can trust with that.” His anger slips for a moment, the trembling of his chin and the way his eyes soften into hurt and grief give it away. “We waited all this fucking time, I waited all this fucking time for you and you do this before we even hit six fucking months?” You can see when the anger returns as his primary emotion in addition to hearing it. “You threw it all away! And for what. For fucking what? Please tell me. Because I don’t fucking understand.” 

You’re at a total loss. You know that it ultimately doesn’t matter what you say. Robby isn’t in a state of mind to truly hear or listen to anything you tell him and even if he was, he doesn’t want to. Not right now at least. He just broke up with you. For, as far as you can tell, nothing. Your heart is shattered just like his. You thought he was the one. You knew he was deep in your heart. He was always there when you pictured your future. 

It takes you a moment to gather a few thoughts and calm your crying down enough to coherently talk. You clear your throat and sniffle before starting.

“You very clearly aren’t interested in listening to anything I have to say, but I’m going to say a few things anyway and hope you do listen, or think about them later. I did not tell anybody anything about pedes. I would never. Even now.” You take the briefest pause, worried that if you stop for any longer he’ll cut you off and not let you say anything else. “I love you, Michael. I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I never said it because it felt like you weren’t ready to hear it or say it quite yet, or I don’t know, maybe I mistook things and you didn’t, don’t love me.” You shrug. “I was so proud of you when I watched you pull yourself together in the face of multiple things, any one of which let alone all of them combined would have kept most people on the floor of that room, and go out and save lives and rally a team and support others and hold others up while you were dying inside. And I really hope one day, that for yourself, you’ll be able to learn and speak with Langdon or whoever else you need to and know that I was telling the truth and didn’t say anything to anyone and never would’ve. I loved you, Michael. You were amazing today. You are so much stronger than you think or give yourself credit for. I’m proud of you. You should be proud of yourself even through all the hurt, Michael.”

“No.” Robby shakes his head. He’s too angry and hurt and grief stricken to see anything clearly or even truly process your words. He stoops so that he’s face to face with you and you’ve never seen Robby look this angry and hurt. He makes sure you’re looking at him dead in the eyes as he speaks. “No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you.” 

He stands back up, unlocks and throws the door open and walks back out. Like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just issue you your very own scarlet letter by telling you that you can only call him by his full name and title, a stark contrast to the intimacy of Michael and even the casualness of Robby that everyone, except for you now, gets to call him. Like he didn’t just break up with you. Like he didn’t just shatter your heart. Like you’re not even worth hearing out or having an actual conversation with or listening to. Like you’re nothing. 

Pretty fucking cruel of the world for it to end where it started. In this supply closet. 

You lock the door behind him and slide down it, give yourself a few minutes to quietly sob, thoughts racing. But you don’t want to do this here. You can’t and you won’t. You open a pack of gauze and use it to clean off your face, unlock the door and peek through it until you see a good moment and sprint to the bathroom. 

You press a cold paper towel beneath your eyes. You know it’s probably pointless but maybe it’ll help a little. You’re focusing on thinking about how to get out of here and have the least number of people see you as possible. After a few minutes you toss the towel, splash some cold water on your face and dry off. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Marginally better, you guess. 

You slip out of the bathroom and look around. You should tell someone you’re leaving. The only two you decide you’ll be able to bring yourself to talk to are Jack and Dana. You spot Jack first.

“Hey,” you greet Jack as you walk up to him. Janey has arrived and Robby’s over talking with her so the hub is free of him for now. “I’m heading out.”

Jack looks up at you. To anyone else it would seem like he didn’t react. But you know him well enough to see the slightest raise of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips turn down. You have a fake smile plastered on your face and even with the damage control you did in the bathroom, someone would have to be an idiot to look at you and not know you’d been crying. And you know Jack is far from an idiot. 

You know he knows when his eyes leave you and go to Robby and then back to you. “Okay… We’ll probably do some sort of debrief and then I’m sure some people will go to the park. Robby’s probably going to be here for a little bit yet.”

“I figured, yeah.” You nod. “Thanks Jack.” You spin and start walking away before Jack can say anything further or Robby can walk back over or even look in your direction. You don’t want to feel it. You have enough already. His glare at you, livid and disappointed and betrayed and disdained and hurt. And even though you know why he’s with her, seeing him with his ex is hard. Especially when you realize you’re now just another ex for him to be seen with too. 

You wonder if they’ll bond over their fear for Jake before they knew he was okay and get back together as you walk to your locker. You grab your backpack and take the back way out to limit the chances of anyone seeing you and manage to hit the street without encountering anyone else.

You have a few things of Robby’s in your locker that you’ll have to figure out how to return to him. More things at your place. You’re going to have to go home and still see him. Have his presence there. Thinking about it makes tears sting at your eyes. But you refuse to break down until you get home, you won’t do it even out here. You need to be home before you break down. About any of it. Robby or the mass casualty incident you just went through. And it’ll mostly be about Robby. Probably 99%. You’re numb to whatever it is you saw and went through, focused on losing Robby.

And as brokenhearted and sad and hurt you are, part of you is mad. That Robby could even think you would do such a thing, much less believe it enough to accuse you of it and end your entire relationship over it without a real conversation. You know it was a bad day for him. Beyond a bad day. Probably one of the worst days of his life. But that’s not an excuse or justification for how he treated you. He didn’t even listen to you, wouldn’t even contemplate it being possible that someone else saw him and he just didn’t see. 

Part of you knows that with the day being what it was and what it became, Robby’s mind was trying to protect himself. That his mind could only see loss and grief and convinced him that you were going to leave him at the end of the day after seeing him like that in pedes. So when he saw an opportunity to control it, to set the terms of losing and grieving you, he took it and didn’t ask any questions. 

Robby does not want to gather everyone and give some kind of debriefing speech, but he knows he has to say something to everyone. Once everyone is gathered he starts talking and as he looks around the group he realizes you’re not there. He tells himself he doesn’t care but he absolutely does. Even with how much you hurt him he misses you. He wishes you were here to ground him a little. He thinks he could forgive you, especially if you had an explanation. Maybe you didn’t mean to say as much as you did to whoever. 

But as everyone walks away and goes back to whatever they were doing he slips back into anger because it’s an easier emotion to process and feel at the moment. You’re an attending now. It’s your job to be here for things like this. To stay for debriefings. No matter what might’ve happened in your personal life. 

So when he feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out and sees it’s you calling him he rolls his eyes  and sends it straight to voicemail on the second ring. And he gets annoyed when you don’t leave a message and immediately call him again. This time he just lets it ring until it hits voicemail. Maybe you’ll get the hint this time, he thinks. He figures you must because you don’t leave a message again and don’t try calling him a third time or send a text. Robby gets involved in another case with Jack and one with Mel and doesn’t think much of it. An hour and a half passes in the blink of an eye.

When he walks out of one of the trauma rooms and stops at the hub the exhaustion finally slams into him full force. He’s hungry too, can feel his blood sugar dropping. His ability to regulate and deal with his emotions is going further out the window with both of those developments. Which, he presumes, is why when he sees Langdon walking towards the ambulance bay doors to leave he walks over to him quickly. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Robby glances down at his watch. “I told you to leave over two fucking hours ago!”

“Why the fuck do you care? I’m leaving now.” Langdon doesn’t stop walking. 

Robby stands there for a second watching Langdon walk away. He needs to know he was right. That it was in fact you who told Langdon. 

“Hey!” Robby yells at Langdon and walks to catch up with him. “Who fucking told you?” He knows Langdon will know what he’s talking about.

“I’m not fucking telling you,” Langdon laughs dryly. “Unlike some people here I’m not going to rat out-”

Robby interrupts him by saying your name. “Was it her?”

Langdon laughs, shaking his head at Robby before he apparently realizes the question is serious. “You can’t be fucking serious.” Robby’s lack of response makes it clear he is serious. “Of course it wasn’t her! She would absolutely never spread shit about you, especially something like that. Someone else saw you in there on the floor firsthand. They’re glass fucking doors, Robby!” Langdon lets out an incredulous laugh. 

Fuck. Fuck. Robby’s heart drops into his sinking stomach and everything starts to spin, his extremities turning to ice. He knows Langdon is telling him the truth. He knows he monumentally fucked up. He just broke up with you for nothing. He just destroyed your heart for nothing. He just shattered the most precious and important and meaningful person in his life. He just imploded everything for no fucking reason. 

He just lost the best things in his life, your relationship and you, the person who kept him going. And he has nobody to blame but himself. 

He vaguely hears Langdon start to say something else to him but he’s taking a deep breath to try to get his dizziness to pass and walking back inside. Robby thinks about how he spoke to you. The words he said. How he barely let you say anything and didn’t listen to what he did let you say. He’s not sure if the two of you can recover from this. He’s not sure he deserves you giving him a second chance. If anything, he’s more sure he doesn’t. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try, if he doesn’t apologize and ask for a second chance. 

His eyes skim across everyone on the floor he can see once he’s back inside. He walks by most of the rooms and doesn’t see you in with any patients. You’re not in the breakroom. Maybe the bathroom. He doesn’t want to stand around waiting though. 

The roof. You saw him go up to the roof this morning because that’s where Jack was getting some air. He’d told you he was going up there to talk with Jack. Maybe you’re up there trying to clear your head. As he gets to the elevator and presses the up button it hits Robby. You could be standing on that ledge. You could be thinking about jumping. About disappearing from his life permanently. About really and truly leaving him forever. Nothing left but a grave to visit.

The only thing that stops Robby from turning to give into the feeling and be sick in the trash can is the elevator doors opening. He slips inside and hits the button for the roof, holding the close door button down the entire way up as though it really does anything. He tries to tell himself he’s just projecting his feelings onto you and that he has no reason to think you’re on the ledge.

Robby can’t decide whether he’s relieved that you’re not on the roof. Certainly he’s relieved you’re not on the ledge but it means he still doesn’t know where you are. He stands in the middle of the roof sucking in huge breaths of air trying to come down from the panic that’s starting to consume him. It’s not really working though. It’s just turning into hyperventilating. 

“Well you’re almost in my spot,” Jack calls to Robby as he walks out onto the roof. “What is going on? She-”

“I fucked up Jack,” Robby blurts out. “I fucked up so so badly and I don’t, I don’t know if I can fix it.” He slips completely into hyperventilating at this point as it plays in his head again. Him destroying everything in that supply closet. 

“Okay you’re having a panic attack, Michael-”

“No, no I’m not, I’m not, I’m just,” he’s shaking at this point, his body and his voice, “I just lost her and I, I, I…” Robby can barely put that three word phrase together. 

“I promise you that you are having a panic attack, Michael, believe me I know.” Jack steps in front of Robby and catches his gaze. “You have to follow my breathing, okay?” Robby shakes his head for a second and squeezes his eyes closed trying to fight back tears before starting to nod. “Look at me.” Robby opens his eyes and watches Jack. He watches Jack’s exaggerated breathing and tries to follow it. By focusing so hard on following Jack’s breathing Robby’s mind stills for a few moments. “Alright, better?” Robby nods at him. “What the fuck happened?”

Robby’s quiet for a moment and turns and takes a step so that he’s not facing Jack anymore. It’s a little too much. “I broke today. During the middle of it all, after Leah.” Robby’s voice cracks on her name. “She found me crying on the fucking floor in pedes and helped me get through it and back.” Robby pauses and lets out a huffed laugh. “For this to make sense I have to tell you that Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and stealing meds. Fucking, I don’t even know what to say about that right now.” He can see Jack’s slightly surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “Anyway, after everything calmed down Langdon and I had it out in the ambulance bay and he threw it in my face. What happened in pedes.”

“Mmmm,” Jack cringes in acknowledgment. Robby knows he knows where this is about to go. 

“She was the only one I saw see me in there. So I assumed she told fucking Langdon or someone else who then told him. That she was gossiping about it.” Robby shrugs and sniffles. “I dragged her into that fucking supply closet with me and lost it. Asked her how could she, told her I couldn’t believe her, all while she was looking at me confused which just pissed me off more in the moment. She said it wasn’t her but I wasn’t listening. I barely let her speak. And then,” Robby pauses, lips trembling hard. “And then she said she loves me and is proud of me and she ended her last sentence with Michael and all I said was that she didn’t get to call me Michael or Robby. That it was Dr. Robinavitch to her. Then I walked out. I saw Langdon just now and he told me it wasn’t her and I know he was telling the truth.” Robby takes in and lets out a big breath quickly, sniffling again and wiping some tears away. “So I broke up with her and broke her heart for nothing. And I’ve been trying to find her to apologize as if she’ll ever take me back. She shouldn’t. I know she shouldn’t but I have to try Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “I have to try.” 

Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out. He looks like he’s trying to decide what to respond to first. He runs a hand through his hair and then drops his hands to his hips. “Yeah,” he draws the word out. “That’s…” he sighs. “You guys might be able to work this out. It’s very obvious she knows you and how you think, better than you probably, and she is so fucking in love with you,” he tries to give Robby a somewhat reassuring smile, “so, I don’t know. You have to try, I agree. But she left, Robby.” Jack glances at his watch. “Two hours ago.” 

“What?” Robby whispers, turns back to face Jack. He glosses over everything Jack said to try and give him hope because he can’t take any possibility of false hope right now, as much as he knows Jack wouldn’t lie to him. 

“When you were talking to Janey. She came up to me at the hub, looking like she’d just had the conversation you described with you and said she was leaving.” Jack shrugs. “I said we’d do a debrief and some people would probably go to the park after and that you’d be here for a bit yet and she said she figured that and thanks and walked away.”

“Did you actually see her leave?” Robby doesn’t know why the thought of you leaving and being at home in your bed sobbing, or having already sobbed yourself to sleep makes it all feel worse. 

“No-” 

“So she could still be here.” Robby nods as he says it. “She could have gotten involved in a case or something and not left yet.” He starts walking back to the elevator. 

“Theoretically,” Jack agrees. “I think she probably left, Robby. You know her locker code? See if her stuff is there.” 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Robby nods as they step in the elevator. “That’s good, that’s a good idea.” He’s praying that your stuff will still be there. That you’re not at home alone crying over him and how he treated you and the end of your relationship. Because he doesn’t want that. He’s not sure anymore if that’s really what he wanted when he was so sure you gossiped about it. 

As soon as he’s off the elevator Robby’s speed walking to the lockers, Jack following behind at a more normal pace. Robby hears Jack stop a few feet behind him as he opens your locker. Your stuff is gone. You’re gone. At home alone. Just like he didn’t want. 

“Michael,” you pant as his lips move down your neck and to your collarbone where he sucks a bruise into your skin making you moan softly again. “We should stop, you, you should go home and get some sleep before work.” The hand in his hair tugs at it to get him to look at you. 

It’s the night of your first date. After dinner you guys came back to your place. It started with just sitting and chatting on the couch, having another drink. Then you started kissing as you talked. Then you were kissing more than you were talking. Then you straddled him. And now he’s laying on top of you on your couch, bracing himself with his arms to not put too much of his weight on you. You have to have been making out like this for the better part of an hour. You’ve both been shamelessly grinding into each other, pulling little sounds you’ve always wanted to hear from the other. Robby’s painfully hard. Your underwear has to be soaked through or close to it. 

“What?” Robby’s already halfway gone, mind hazy with thoughts of you. It takes a second for what you said to process. “What? No first date sex for me?” he pants softly. You know he’s teasing you, that he truly didn’t come here with any expectations and he would absolutely never pressure you. 

“Nope.” You smile at him as you pop the ‘p.’

Robby groans a little at you as he moves off of you to sit normally on the couch, helping you sit up next to him. “Why not?” He pushes his bottom lip out at you a little as you climb into his lap. “That hardly seems fair.”

You give his bottom lip a quick nip before kissing it. “Because I care about you and this. Us.” 

“But if there’s already an us…” he trails off with a raise of his brows at you. “And we’ve been basically dating for four years.” You snort a laugh and give him a look. “Okay, we’ve been close friends with feelings for each other for four years. That should count for something right?” He lets one hand rest at your hip and the other in your lap. 

“In a way, yes, of course it does.” You run your hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp a little just to see the way his eyes flutter closed. “I still need to keep you interested though. Make sure you have a reason to ask me out again and keep me around.”

Robby scoffs as he opens his eyes. He gives you a look. “Kid, you really think that after pining for you and dreaming about you for four fucking years that I’m going to finally get inside of you and then just decide I’m romantically done with you?”

You shiver at his words and the thought of him inside of you. “Maybe I won’t be good in bed or you won’t feel a spark or it’ll be flat.”

Robby lets out a breath as he takes your face in his hands. “I can pretty much guarantee you none of that will be the case.  Having sex with you is just going to make me more obsessed with you, Kid.”

You nod, give him a small smile and lean into one of his hands. “Maybe I just like torturing you.” A slow smirk pulls onto your face. “You made me wait four years. And yes I understand and respect and appreciate why. But I still think it means you can take me on a date for every year you made me wait, and then maybe I’ll let you put your cock inside of me, Michael.”

He groans, dropping his hands back to your hip and lap where they were. “So breakfast, lunch and dinner dates tomorrow?” 

You giggle at him, lean in and give him a kiss. You love knowing how desperate he is. It makes you feel good. But while you and Robby have known each other and been dancing around this for four years, that’s almost what makes you feel like the sex is going to be more meaningful and like for some reason you should wait just a couple of dates. Because you could fall in love with Robby. Because you know you already are starting to fall in love with him. That you have been since you met him. 

“No.” You shake your head at him. “But that was a great try.”

“Can I at least do four days in a row?” he whines. 

You hum in fake thought for a few seconds. “I’ll allow that.”

“Good.” Robby leans in and kisses you again, deepens it when you open your mouth a little for him when his tongue presses at your lips. He’ll never get enough of this. Enough of you. He pulls away just a little before you’re both desperate for air and rests his forehead against yours. “I’m going to make you break before the fourth date.” 

You chuckle. “Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael.” You pull your forehead from his and give him an almost sympathetic look. “You should know better than to challenge me by now. Because now that you’ve said it, I absolutely won’t let you break me.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs the word, “I was trying so hard to be hot and sexy for you I forgot how incredibly stubborn you are.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “You know you don’t have to try, Michael. You just are hot and sexy.” 

He just hums at you and squeezes your hip and thigh. “Come on, I’ll go. We both do need to sleep before work.” You sigh a little about it as you get off his lap and stand up. You don’t really want him to leave but you know it’s better to do it this way. “I’m gonna use your bathroom before I leave.” Robby kisses the top of your head as he passes you. 

You get a thought and slip to your kitchen while Robby’s in your bathroom, quickly getting your bottoms off. You make sure your underwear adequately reflects how turned on and wet you got just from making out with him and then them off and get your bottoms back on. You tuck the underwear in the back of your waistband and pull your shirt down over them. 

You wait for Robby on the armrest of your couch, smiling at him when he reappears. The two of you walk to your door together. “I had a really great time tonight, Michael.” You’re smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. 

“So did I, Kid. The best time.” Robby’s hands find your waist again, just holding you gently. “Will you go on a second date with me?” he asks like you don’t both already know the answer. 

“You know it.” Your smile somehow widens a little more and you have to fight to get it off your face so that Robby can kiss you when he starts leaning down and in. Neither of you are surprised or mad when the kiss turns into making out for a couple of minutes in front of your door. 

You break apart naturally when you need air and you let your forehead fall to rest on Robby’s chest. After a second you pull back. 

“Here.” You grab your underwear from your waistband. You let them dangle off your finger for a second to make sure Robby knows exactly what they are. “To get you through the night and proof you don’t need to try to be hot and sexy.” You smirk at him as you shove them in his pocket. “Took them off while you were in the bathroom. You can feel they’re still warm. And maybe if you’re good you’ll get a pair at the end of each date.”

Robby swallows hard, breathing picking up a little just at the beginnings of thoughts of what he could do with them at home and how you’ll know he’s doing something with them and how you want him to. He presses his palm against his pocket. They’re still warm like you said. A blush creeps up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He has to close his eyes for a second as he tries to regulate a bit. “You’re gonna kill me, Kid,” Robby breathes out. 

“I’m a doctor, remember? I would never let that happen.” You and Robby exchange soft laughs as he opens the door. “Text me when you get home safely please. Or on your way home.” You grin at him. 

“I will.” Robby nods at you. You lean up and give him a soft and lingering kiss. It’s simple, but the perfect way to end the night. 

“Have a good night, Michael.”

“Have a good night, Kid.”

There’s very little thought to it. Robby just follows the instinct that tells him to run after you. Doesn’t grab his backpack. Doesn’t say another word to Jack. He just turns and runs. 

Robby knows that you’ll be at your place. That you won’t have gone to a bar or something. You’ll just want to be alone. He hates himself for it, hates the thought, can picture you curled up alone and crying or sniffling heavily in your sleep because you finally cried yourself out. 

He books it to your place, comes close to being hit once or twice when making a few unwise crossing decisions. He’s panting hard by the time he gets to your building and fumbles with his key to get in the main door, taking the stairs two at a time as he hauls ass up to the third floor. He’s running on sheer adrenaline. 

He doesn’t take a moment to collect himself when he gets to your door, just starts knocking. When you don’t answer he uses his key to let himself in. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should respect you not wanting to see him and wanting to be alone right now, but he needs to see you and apologize and make everything okay again. 

But your apartment is dark when he steps in. Hot. Like the AC has been off because you’ve been at his the past week. You’d have turned the AC on if you were here. He checks anyway though. But you’re not there. Not in your bed or the shower or on your couch. And so Robby’s left a sweaty and panting mess as he closes your bedroom door and leans back against it. 

He tries to take a moment to calm down, get his breath back, some focus back so he can think about where else you might be. But he can’t. 

Instead, Robby slides down your bedroom door, bringing his knees to his chest and starting to cry again. Just like he did in pedes. It’s more sobbing this time, especially because of how hard it is to breathe, how out of breath he was before he started crying. Some of his tears are for the loss, Adamson and Leah, for his guilt at giving Jake his other ticket and thoughts that it should have been him to get shot and not Leah, for the damage to his relationship with Jake, for Langdon, for breaking down in the middle of an MCI and letting his team down. 

But most of them are for you. The loss of you. The way he’s already grieving you while praying and hoping and wishing that he’ll be able to stop, that you’ll take him back and so he won’t have to keep grieving the loss of you in his life. For accusing you of something horrible like that. For yelling at you. For the way he snapped at you all day. The way that, although you were quick to shut it down most times, he took out a lot of his emotions on you over the entire day. Took out his emotions on you who was only ever there for him whenever he needed it. Who kept him together and in check. Who saw only the best in him and stayed. Who saw the worst in him and stayed. Who was proud of him. Who he needs to survive this. And for the way, he realized on his run over as he replayed the scene in the supply closet over in his mind, your tense changed. You love him to you loved him. Love to loved. An audible breaking of your heart.  

Robby looks over at your kitchen. Maybe it would just be better for you and Jake and everybody if he just disappeared. If he just ceased to exist. He told you he wouldn’t. He promised you he wouldn’t. But maybe you want him to now. He’s tired of feeling. Of hurting. Without you he doesn’t really have anyone. Jake hates him. Jack and Dana will be fine without him. You have sharp enough knives. He knows exactly where to cut.

His phone ringing pulls him out of it for a second. He sniffles and clears his throat as he moves to pull his phone out of his pocket. He knows it’s not you because you’d given yourself a special ringtone and it’s not the one playing.

It’s Jack. If you’re there at the hospital still with Jack then he won’t. He’ll keep his promise and run back. Apologize. Beg. Grovel. Anything. Everything. 

“Did you hear from her?” There’s no greeting. Robby’s straight to the question. 

“Robby, she’s here.” Jack’s voice is strained. He sounds exhausted, but more emotionally than anything. He sounds pained. Like speaking these words is physically and emotionally hurting him. He didn’t sound like that when Robby left. But Robby brushes it all aside.

“Oh fuck, okay thank you.” Robby lets out a sigh of relief and wipes at his face. He sniffles again and lets out a little laugh. Because at least he knows where you are. “Keep her there Jack, please. I don’t care how you do it, lock her in a room or use restraints, just keep her there. I need to talk to her. I need-”

“No, not like that,” Jack tells him, voice clipped, still strained. “Like-” Jack gets interrupted. Robby can hear what sounds like a door opening, muffled movement and beeping of monitors. He can just make out a female voice tell Jack ‘she’s seizing again.’ Jack’s voice is muffled like he’s holding the phone away from him but Robby can hear him say ‘yes’ to what sounded like the shout of a medication order, followed by Jack yelling ‘and where the fuck is neuro?’ 

“Fuck. You need to get here, Michael.” Jack rushes it out but Robby recognizes Jack’s tone clear as day because he’s used it so many times himself. 

It’s the tone they use when stressing to family members that they need to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible because a loved one is about to die. 

Tears start to stream down Robby’s face again because he knows. Robby knows exactly what Jack means when he repeats it. “She’s here.”

I know. 😶🥲😶‍🌫️😭

I've affectionately called this Robby's No Man's Land. It was named the same way too. Obviously there will be a Part 2 unless nobody wants one. 😂 I PROMISE that what happened in NML Part 2 will not be repeated in the Part 2 to this.

I hope it was okay and that you were able to enjoy! Again, I really love hearing your thoughts and comments, they give me serotonin and motivation and inspiration!! Liking, replies and reblogging are always so so appreciated! My inbox and DMs are always open for thoughts, comments, and general screaming (or (lovingly) screaming at me I suppose)! 🙂

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[luna-azzurra]

When a character keeps picking the hardest path because they think they deserve to suffer...

✦ They self-sabotage without realizing it. As soon as something starts going well (a relationship, a goal, a good day) they do something to wreck it. They don’t know why, but deep down, it’s because they don’t believe it’s allowed to last.

✦ They always take the harder route, even when an easier option is right there. They’ll pick the path with more resistance, more pressure, more risk, not because they want to prove something, but because struggle feels honest in a way peace doesn’t.

✦ They don’t ask for help, not even a little, not even when they’re clearly drowning. Not because they don’t need it, but because needing anything feels weak, and they’d rather fall apart quietly than be seen falling.

✦ They downplay every win, even when they’ve worked themselves to the bone, they’ll say, “It wasn’t that hard.” They never want to take up too much space, never want to be too proud, so they shrink their joy before anyone else can.

✦ They flinch at softness. Compliments make them tense, affection feels suspicious, kindness makes them feel like they’re waiting for the catch, like, “What do you really want from me?”

✦ They believe happiness has to be earned. Like they need to suffer first, prove they’ve paid the price and somehow, they always decide they haven’t done enough yet. That they need to work harder, be better, hurt longer...

✦ They don’t hate themselves, but they don’t love themselves enough to think they deserve anything good, either. They survive, but thriving? being happy? That feels like a story meant for someone else.

[juliettrulyyours]

Human Fangirl Turned Demon Manager

Human Fangirl Turned Demon Manager (Part 3)

HFTDM Masterlist

synopsis: you’re a low-level paperwork clerk demon who somehow ended up hired (threatened) by a smug, too-pretty demon named Jinu to become the manager of the demon realm’s first-ever demon boy band. all because he accidentally found your boy band concept sketches.

warning: cursing, teasing (its giving that one boy who annoys you relentlessly bcs he likes your attention)

happy 100 followers i guess?? i was planning to post again next week but then i saw i already hit 1k notes, 50 reblogs, and 100+ followers in under 48 hours so i was like… what the hell, sure

“I swear, if I see those dumbasses, I’m gonna—” You start doing mock punching movements, like you’re fighting someone, imagining it’s those Saja Boys who told you to go wait here and that they’d be back “in a bit.”

In a bit? You’ve been waiting here since last night!

This all started because Jinu decided that all of you should head on early to the human realm, so you could practice the dance and not have any problems later during the performance. So, like the responsible manager you are, you got here a couple hours earlier than the boys’ actual performance time. However, just as everyone got here and was finally supposed to start dancing—

“Wait, where’s Mystery?” you asked, looking around for the mop-looking demon.

“He’s not here? I was sure he was just behind me,” Romance replied as he casually fixed his hair to stay in its perfect, dramatic shape while looking at a mirror.

“Well, we can’t start without him. We’ll go back,” Abby said.

You nodded and stood up, getting ready to go with them, when suddenly Jinu threw his arm out in front of you like a stop sign.

“Stop.” Jinu said, his palm basically in your face. “You. Stay here.”

You stared at him, completely confused. “What? Why?”

“Everyone doesn’t need to come. It’ll be fast,” Jinu explained. “Besides, you’re too heavy when teleporting. I get REALLY exhausted.” He added, dramatically placing a hand on his heart like he can’t breathe properly.

“Excuse me?” you said, slightly offended.

“Well… maybe you’re just having a hard time teleporting because…” you tried to find the words. “Your… butt is so big!”

As soon as that left your mouth, the entire space fell into silence.

Jinu looked at you with one brow raised.

“Manager… are you a butt gal?” Romance asked out of nowhere, his attention now fully on you. The mirror in his hand was completely forgotten.

“You know… it makes sense, because I’ve noticed every time we practice, she’s never in front,” Abby added. “Always looking at our backs.” He nodded sagely, then crossed his arms.

“Manager is totally objectioning us,” Baby chimed in, a slur in his voice as he said totally.

You furrowed your brows at Baby. Did he mean objectifying?

Suddenly, Jinu opened his mouth. “Wow, I mean, I already know you like me, but… I’m not really comfortable with you checking out my body,” he said seriously—though the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

You narrowed your eyes, glaring hard at him. Then, without thinking, you lunged forward in his direction.

But before you could even touch him, Jinu snapped his fingers—vanishing instantly into thin air, along with the other boys.

Your punch met nothing but air. And worse—your balance tipped forward and you tripped straight onto the pavement, face-first.

There was a long pause as you lay there, planted on the cold, hard stone floor.

“Stupid, stupid demon boys.”

—

You’re now handing out the Saja Boys posters that that stupid Jinu forgot to distribute between them, even though you specifically told him to when all of you were still in the demon realm.

Honestly, the guy has been so much more annoying ever since that day. 

What’s his problem?

“Hi! Please check out the performance of Saja Boys later here today. I’m their manager and it’s their first performance. We would really appreciate your presence and support!” you tell another passerby, smiling while handing them the poster.

In your head, you’re stabbing Jinu with your pen, while the other guys get cooked in Gwi Ma’s fire.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city is HUNTR/X getting out from the clinic through the back door. Rumi is holding a box of tonics for her voice, while Zoey and Mira are beside her.

“We got the tonics! We got the tonics! Whoo~” Zoey hums like a song, as she holds onto Rumi’s side. Mira is on the other side of Rumi.

Zoey then says, “We can finally get back to the important stuff… like the fans!”

Rumi smiles at her enthusiasm as they all walk through the hidden alleyway.

But then, as they’re walking, they see four shadows from the left side walking towards where they are.

Zoey gasps in shock. “Fans!”

Which causes Rumi and Mira to panic as well.

“We can’t let them see us. Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

All three of them panic. Suddenly hiding behind Rumi—who’s wearing a big hoodie—then they pull Rumi’s hoodie over her and she crouches like a turtle with the box hiding her face.

As they try to walk normally, the four shadows finally turn—and it’s revealed to be the four boys you’ve been cursing for the past few hours for being so late. Mira and Zoey both peek their heads out to look at them. It’s like everything slows down.

“Huh…” they both sigh.

The four boys are revealed to be Baby, Romance, Abby, and Mystery, who are all talking with each other and laughing at whatever dumb joke was just said.

“Woah…” Zoey and Mira exclaim while staring.

Abby then starts stretching, which makes his top ride up. Zoey gasps at the sight of his abs. He stretches more and more until the button of his top flies off. Zoey internally screams, her brain now lagging.

“So… hot…” Mira breathes, suddenly munching popcorn out of nowhere while still staring at them.

Rumi side-eyes them in disgust. “You guys are so gro—”

She trails off as she notices another figure walking behind them.

Trailing a few steps behind is none other than Jinu, who’s looking down before slowly glancing upward. Rumi’s jaw drops as her eyes widen slightly. A strange light flares as Jinu tilts his head slightly, and a random gust of wind blows her hoodie right off her head.

As she continues looking at him, she doesn’t even notice that they’re about to bump shoulders—causing her to suddenly lose her balance as the box flies out of her hands along with the tonics. Jinu slowly turns around in her direction just as she’s falling down in what feels like slow motion.

When she finally hits the ground—along with the scattered tonics—she glances up slightly and notices the stranger extending a hand. She slowly reaches for it, thinking he’s going to help her up.

That is, until his face scrunches in disgust and the hand moves… to brush off his shoulder where she accidentally bumped into him.

Rumi stares in confusion, still looking up at him. But he just keeps brushing off his shoulder like she left dirt on it.

“Ugh. Watch yourself,” he mutters, turning around as the other guys—who had all briefly stopped to look—go right back to their conversation as if nothing happened.

“I just know she’s furious~” Romance hums, glancing sideways at Mystery.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be so mad at you, Mystery,” Baby teases, sticking out his tongue while Mystery now crouches slightly, already pouty at the idea that you’re mad at him.

HUNTR/X hears the banter, but as the boys walk farther away, their voices fade into the distance.

As the Saja Boys finally got out of the alleyway, they all glanced toward where they left you.

You’re fixing the speakers that are going to play the music for their performance any moment now. They walk towards where you are seated. You glance up as you feel eyes on you and see the boys you’ve been mentally murdering since yesterday.

“You!” You get up from where you’re sitting, the speaker now abandoned. You march toward them in anger. Some of the passersby are watching now, probably from how loud your voice was.

“Do you have ANY idea how long I’ve been waiting?!” you say loudly, pointing a finger at all of them.

“Seventeen hours! Seventeen long hours, where I’ve already set up the technicals, gave out the posters, set up a guest appearance for all of you with the most popular variety sho—”

You’re then interrupted by Mystery, who steps in front of the boys so that he’s facing you first—making you halt mid-step.

You look at him before saying, “And you! Where were you? We said we were leaving at—”

He then reaches out and offers something between the two of you, which makes you glance at his hand.

It’s a Soda Pop.

“I… didn’t have any stock,” he mumbles slowly, eyes still on you.

He adds, “And I had to wait for the delivery guy…”

What he said makes you stop and just stare at him as his words simmer in your head.

Oh.

“It’s…” you start, “fine or whatever. Just don’t do that again! We worked so hard for this day and… we need everyone here on time.”

You say it, trying to keep your voice stern.

Holy shit?! Is this your main character moment?! You feel like one of those leads in those dramas.

In your head, you’re spiraling—but in your face, you’re trying not to react.

Mystery just nods, and you try to move away from him because he shouldn’t know he’s got you fangirling.

As you look at the other boys, you notice Abby’s shirt.

“Where did your buttons go?” you ask. Then, before he can say anything, you walk towards him and try to fix his shirt.

“Well… I don’t have any buttons, but I have a bobby pin that could… probably do the same thing,” you say as you start fiddling with his shirt.

Ugh, did he just get more buff?

You’re trying to fix his shirt while he stays completely silent, just letting you. You don’t even realize how close the two of you are.

Jinu, who’s nearby, looks at the scene between you and Abby. He snaps his fingers, and an unexpected poof of pink-ish smoke appears right in front of your face, causing you to cough.

As the smoke disappears, Abby’s shirt is now perfectly fixed—like the buttons were never missing.

“Oh! Nice, Abby!” you say with a thumbs up, momentarily forgetting they even had demon magic.

You then walk away to the other guys, not noticing Abby’s confused expression—but he just shrugs and follows you.

You then gather them all into formation and tell them immediately to get in place. After giving out instructions and reminding them not to act so tense—and definitely not to suddenly start floating out of nowhere—you return to double-checking the speaker, the sunlight angle, and your newly borrowed (stolen) phone where you’re contacting the team for that variety show later.

Yeah, you’re almost done. Just a few more seconds and—

“Manager, I’m scared…”

You hear a voice. You glance towards the direction it came from and see Romance.

“Huh?” you say, confused.

Romance ignores the expression on your face and continues, “I have social anxiety…” He sniffs dramatically, like he’s trying to fake-cry.

“What are you—” you begin. “You really expect me to believe that?”

His hands, which are covering his face, slightly part so he can peek at your unimpressed look. Then he quickly covers his face again. “Yes,” he insists, and starts “shivering” with fake stage fright. You don’t even have a stage!

You just stare at him and roll your eyes. You glance at the rest of the members, then at the time.

You can do this… just give him what he wants.

“What should we do then?” you ask, forcing a smile as you bite back a snarl.

He peeks through his hands again before saying—still hiding his face—

“Wish me luck.”

“No.”

He pulls his hands away and leans in toward you. “Aww, come on! You do wanna see me perform, right?” Romance says, getting just slightly too close for comfort.

You stare at him, before taking a deep breath and exhaling through your nose. It’s fine. Just imagine he’s your ultimate bias and not some pink-haired demon who will most likely eat your non-existent soul.

You then say, a little too excitedly, “Good luck out there, Romance-oppa! Fighting!” You finish it off with your fists raised near your chest.

He just stares at you. 

Okay, yeah… maybe that was kind of cringe, now that you think about it. Before you can say anything to save yourself—

“Of course! This performance of mine will be dedicated to you, my number one fan!” Romance declares. His earlier “social anxiety” completely vanishes as he winks at you and jogs back to the other guys, now finally in position.

Number one fan? You didn’t even say that.

Romance waves at you one last time, and you just give him a nod in return.

You turn to the cue button and start the countdown.

Okay.

Start in three… two… one.

—

“Jinu, don’t forget to announce that you and the boys will be on the variety show Play Games with Us tonight,” you say, holding the earpiece that’s connected to the boys’ in-ears.

You watch them closely, and finally, when they strike their final pose, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Jinu brushing off his shoulder was… new, but honestly? You weren’t mad at it.

He then starts announcing their guest appearance on the variety show, his voice loud and confident over the screaming crowd.

“Saja Boys, love you!”

And as if perfectly timed to the last beat of the song—"My Little Soda Pop!"—they vanish in that signature pink-ish smoke.

You exhale another sigh of relief. They did it! The debut performance was a success! You’re practically giddy now, smiling wide. Maybe you wouldn’t be turned into demon soup after all.

As you start counting the leftover posters you hadn’t managed to hand out to the crowd, a realization hits you.

Those assholes left you again!

next part

—

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taglist is closed! (as of jun 29, 2025)

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐜 || 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Jinu left behind the woman he was supposed to marry, centuries later, he finds her again, learning that she was cursed to reincarnate until she was able to find real love (+ she was helping the demon hunters)

warnings_ cursed!reader, canon divergence, lovers to enemies to lovers, magical realism, fluff, angst, tension, reader implied to be foreigner but not actual descriptions, perhaps cringe, lengthy fic, no proofread (editing later)

notes_this is the second time i fall for an animated character, first time was miguel o’hara and i still love him very much, im 21 and not ashamed to write about this lol

♫ ♪ jinu playlist

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

The wind was blowing so hard that your hair was a mess, flowing freely and getting tangled.

With a big smile on your face, you could only feel the adrenaline of running towards the end of the village, where the wild meadows awaited. And so did your lover too.

Men were going home after spending the whole day fishing, and women were carrying baskets of freshly made silk and linen too. Children were already gone, probably taking a bath in a big warm pot.

Women your age were already in bed but you couldn’t wait.

Not when Jinu was waiting for you at the meadows, even less when you had news to share with him.

Two weeks ago, your lover asked your father for your hand in marriage. At first, your old man said Jinu had nothing to offer you, that it wouldn’t work out. But the more you convinced him of how much you loved him, that you didn’t need to live in a palace to be happy, he started thinking differently.

And that night, as you ignored your quiet grandmother’s scary eyes, your father approved and allowed you to marry Jinu.

Your father’s mother was a mystery, she couldn’t speak, she was quite intimidating and you swore you could hear her sing in the middle of the night. Even your own mother seemed displeased by her presence, but didn’t say anything.

It was at the beginning of the meadows, when your running pace quickened. The beating in your heart mixed with joy and anticipation to get to Jinu.

When your head turned to look at the undergrowth nearby, your heart nearly stopped.

There was your grandmother, with her long grey hair and a beige gown. The sight was like a ghostly encounter, it sent shivers down your spine. It felt like a bad omen. Your stomach turned but you only ran faster. Thinking it was your mind playing tricks with you, you only kept running. Only that filled with fear.

Until you spotted a tall figure, you knew it was your home. Upon hearing the crack of branches, Jinu turned to look at you, and when he saw the many scratches in your face and arms, he grew worried.

“What happened to you?” He asked while inspecting your face.

“I guess I shouldn’t run like that again…” you answered with an attempted chuckle, opting to ignore the encounter with your grandmother.

His warm hands traced every scratch and while it burned, you would never move away from his touch.

“I have wonderful news, Jinu…” With a big sigh, you collapsed in his arms before speaking again. “My father said yes. We can marry now…”

You couldn’t see, but his face dropped, he remained quiet and when you felt he wasn’t hugging you back, you knew something was wrong.

“Jinu?…” you asked letting him go.

He stared at you in silence. You could see his perfect skin shining under the moonlight, his soft black hair that always smelled like tea, and the clothes you offered to wash for him and his family every week at the river nearby.

He was the only person you could imagine sharing the rest of your life with. But…

“We are not going to marry…” the words sounded unsure, even scared to say them out loud.

You stood there speechless, in shock. Suddenly the moonlight and Jinu himself weren’t enough, you started feeling the cool air hit against your body, making you shiver.

“Why?”

“I- Look… I found a better opportunity at…” you looked down at his hands and you saw a golden bracelet in his hand. Your face turns into one of disgust. Only people allowed into the palace wore that bracelet.

“Why would you do this to me?” Your hand dropped to your stomach, feeling the anxious feeling creeping all over. You couldn’t feel worse. And when Jinu remained still, in silence, your eyes grew teary.

“So you don’t love your family enough?” You asked and he looked down, ashamed.

“You don’t love me enough to marry me and find a better opportunity together?” When he still didn’t look up, you grew mad.

“Look at me when I’m speaking!” In a rush, you grabbed his chin and pushed it between your thumb and index finger, forcing Jinu to look at you.

“I’m sorry…” he attempted to say.

For the first time, you couldn’t feel the peace and comfort through his eyes. You could only see greed.

He gave up on you to pursue a better life; alone.

“You’re not sorry. You’re selfish and a bad man…” you spit out, letting go of his chin with anger. “Just know that every pain we cause comes with some karma to pay...”

You turned to run away, hearing Jinu calling your name, but you didn’t look back. You came back home running just as you left. Only that tears came as well.

Quietly, you opened the door of your humble home. There wasn’t a single candle illuminating the place, meaning that it was very late.

“That boy made a deal with a demon…” you nearly jump and died right there after hearing that voice.

When you turned to the corner of the chimney, there was your grandmother in her rocking chair.

Suddenly she could speak.

“You’re a witch?” You asked with terror when she stood up.

Her grey hair and almond eyes matched the aura of a witch who kidnapped children and made unimaginable things.

“I was disappointed when I gave birth to a man instead of a woman…” she revealed, making you feel beyond uneasy. “Imagine my surprise when I had a granddaughter who grew up with a fiery need to find love instead of keeping the lineage she comes from”

“I am not a witch” you firmly stated.

“No, you should’ve trained to be a huntress and that’s your biggest mistake” the more the old woman stepped closer, the more you wanted to run away. It was already enough pain to have Jinu’s words in your head repeating over and over.

“That boy preferred to follow a demon so his wishes could be granted, excluding you”

“Enough!” Your parents could be awake at any moment, and that would be worse, but you couldn’t hide your anger towards your said grandmother.

“May your soul be doomed until your heart beats with blood again” she started repeating in slow whispers, making you cry and yell back at her to stop.

“I said enough!”

Your left arm started burning, you cried in pain, until you ended up on your knees.

When you urgently inspected the skin, a trail of symbols appeared like magic ink. And when you looked up, the old woman was gone.

Nobody heard you, and nobody questioned your tattoo the following morning. When you knocked at Jinu’s mother's house, she told you through tears that he had actually left for the palace. That day your grandmother was found dead and within days, you and your parents were gone, back to the occident to finish your first life.

[Actually centuries later…]

A summer opportunity turned into an undefined job. When you left home to go to Korea and be a makeup brand creative director, you weren’t prepared to be gone for more than a month. But as the weeks passed, you found yourself accustomed to a new life. You started getting into the entertainment industry, with K-pop idols to be more specific.

Until you got the chance to make a collaboration between the makeup brand you were directing and Huntr/x or Huntrix. You had just met them and the three girls were nice, friendly, and were curious about the concept you were offering to them.

“And this is a cyber glam concept for the photo shoot…” you said while passing the three girls a bundle of pictures and collages.

“I love this, I think it’ll fit us perfectly” Rumi replied with a wide smile.

“Yep, agreed. This might be the one” Mira added, winking an eye at you.

“What do you say Zoey?” You finally asked the black haired girl who looked with detail at the concept.

“l-o-v-e it!” She yelled with excitement, hugging the papers against her chest.

“Sounds like we have a deal then…” the girls nodded at you and you excused yourself to have a little break.

After they picked the theme for the campaign and the break, the girls would have to try on costumes and pick the makeup for each one of them. But in the meantime, you would eat.

Outside the building, there was a little park with benches and lots of trees. You spotted an empty picnic table and you decided to have your salad and chicken katsu there.

It was nearly empty, not even the sound of the hatred city could be heard. Perfect place to feel pure peacefulness.

You ate in silence, a man in a business suit passed by and you heard the click of his formal shoes. He was hot, perhaps early thirties but very good looking.

And you remembered it had been so long since you had a boyfriend, the last relationship you had was back at home during middle school. It lasted years and took away a lot of the joy you were supposed to experience as a teenager.

When would you find real love?

An online palm reader said that it seemed hard for you to find a partner and that you were cursed. You asked if you could have your sixty dollars back but she blocked you.

You wanted a man who could be your best friend. To have a thing where souls seemed to be connected.

Distant sounds made you snap out of your delusions. Awkwardly, you stood up, looking around to find the source of the sounds.

Stepping into the bushes, you heard a growl. You froze.

A demon was taking the soul of the businessman you saw earlier.

Your loud gasp made the creature jump and try to attack you, tackling your body.

You tried to push the demon away, its touch hot and burning your skin, claws digging into your forearms, and saliva sliding down your neck.

You had always seen demons since you were a kid, but never interacted with them.

“Y/N!” Far away you saw Mira running towards you with Rumi and Zoey behind, carrying weapons. “Catch this!”

The woman threw you a fan and even in the middle of chaos, you sent Mira a displeased look.

“That’s all I had!” She yelled coming closer.

You tried to open the fan and noticed it was a regular item, not enough to kill a demon. With the demon trying to get your soul, you tried to set free the arm grabbing the fan.

Somehow, you managed to push the demon and before it could literally destroy your face, you felt your hand sliding the fan against the throat of the creature. And in a second, the creature vanished, leaving sparkles behind.

You frowned and gasped in horror.

“You’re a demon huntress like us!” Zoey yelled once the girls made it to your side.

“What?” You asked in confusion. “I’m a normal human being. I’m not-“

“Yes, you are! Look at the fan Mira gave you!”

But you weren’t exactly normal. Normal human beings couldn’t see demons so often, and they didn’t feel the constant sensation of déjà vu. At that moment you wondered if the palm reader was right. Were you cursed?

Mira and Rumi helped you to stand up.

When the four of you looked at the fan, it didn’t look the same, it looked like… a weapon. Similar to the ones the girls carried

“This is so weird” you whispered while shaking your head.

Rumi came closer and touched your shoulder with comfort.

“It’s okay, you might be confused but we can help” she said with a little smile.

“In fact, we’d actually also need you as well” Mira added with crossed arms while Zoey picked up the fan.

You sighed. Was there any other option?

“I don’t have much of many options… Right?”

“Nope” said the three girls with mischievous smiles.

…

Everything changed so drastically in a week. You moved into the same place with the Huntr/x girls and started moving away from the makeup brand creative director and more to be the biggest girl band creative director.

You designed their newest costumes and you couldn’t stop listening to their newest release “Golden”. In terms of demon hunting, you had assimilated the situation and you started helping them. The more you heard them talk about the hideous Gwi-Ma and types of demons, you got to be able to see the world as they did. With blue, but with growing red spots.

In your room, you've got to write and ramble as you used to do before. Only that you forgot to lock the door, even to close it.

“Are you singing ‘Golden’?” Startled, you looked at Rumi in horror.

“Yes, I told you I loved the song…”

“You can sing!”

“No I don’t” you say with a little smile.

“YES, YOU CAN!” Mira and Zoey screamed from the living room.

Rumi and you burst into laughter and you shrugged.

“I like singing. But.. I don’t know…”

“You could be an idol one day” Rumi said with enthusiasm.

“God no!”

“Yes! You can sing, we know you can dance and you have tons of creativity to do something cool”

“I don’t know, Rumi…”

Through the door frame, Mira appeared, looking uninterested in her phone.

“The doctor said he’s having us look at Rumi” she said.

Both of you nodded and when Mira disappeared, Rumi grabbed your arm before you could stand up from the bed.

“You can count on me that I won’t tell them about your patterns” you assure her after seeing her worried face.

You had seen her arms by accident. And you weren’t scared, but confused and curious.

“Thank you, y/n” she said with a smile.

“Sure. But you have to tell them…”

Rumi nodded, as she watched you changing into a jumpsuit.

…

The Huntr/x girls forgot about one extra box of medicines for Rumi. You went back inside the clinic and when you got out, you could hear a crowd and music. And then you spot your friends at the end of the hallway.

Confused and irritated by the sudden change of plans, you jog towards the girls who decided to walk closer, getting lost in the crowd.

“What is going on?” You asked.

“We bumped into some hot guys and turns out they are a new boy band” Zoey turns to tell you with fake disgust.

“Yeah and these two were drooling for the one with abs” Rumi joked, making fun of them.

“We were not drooling” Mira said while rolling her eyes, trying to convince you. You only chuckled.

“Look at them, they dance perfectly in sync” Zoey commented.

Saja Boys; sure what the hell.

♫ ♪ You’re all I can think of

Every drop I drink up

You’re my soda pop

My little soda pop ♫ ♪

What a lame and silly song; you thought.

And then you found yourself mumbling at the melody. So you were finally able to see the group of apparently perfect men. It was such a catchy song; you then thought.

Pastel hairs, colorful clothes, cute faces, and… That face.

As if you had entered into a noise-canceling bubble. You locked your eyes with the leader and an indescribable sensation started covering all of yourself.

He was tall, with perfect skin, perfect features, black hair and… he seemed so familiar.

“Look at me when I’m speaking!”

“I’m sorry…”

“You’re not sorry. You’re selfish and a bad man…”

Voices started to fill your head. Then images, of you in an ancient village, coming from the occident with your family. Meeting a man who became your best friend. He asked your father to marry you. And then… he left you.

Jinu…

Then the woman who cursed you.

“May your soul be doomed until your heart beats with blood again”

You nearly fainted when you heard the music again.

“Are you alright?” Mira asked and you started shaking your head.

“I want to leave” you managed to say with a broken voice.

And then you felt it, his eyes on you.

“What?” Rumi asked once she looked at you so distressed and anxious.

“Don’t ask, just help me take her out of this!” Mira told her.

The girls hurried to move through the crowds and when the Saja Boys' music started to sound distant, you sighed in relief.

The worst part? You knew he had seen you.

…

The smell of herbs filled the wide living room. At the table in the middle rested your smelly cup of tea. Rumi, Zoey, and Mira looked at you with wide eyes and expectant faces at your marked arm.

That night you four had followed the Saja Boys and tried to fight them. You helped Rumi to slip away from Jinu and you seemed to be his weakness, since he let go of your friend easily before you two disappeared from his sight.

“So you are cursed to reincarnate until you find love?” Zoey asked.

“I guess so… Things can’t stop getting weirder” you admitted in a low voice.

The trio of girls exchanged looks.

“And Jinu was the man you were going to marry?” Rumi asks politely, then you nod.

“We were poor, and I never wanted more but he… disposed me. Like we never meant anything…”

You bent to grab your cup of tea under the curious look of the girls.

“My paternal grandmother hated me for pursuing love instead of listening to her to become a witch, sorceress… Now I think she was a demon huntress. So she was pissed at me for not continuing the linage. And she cursed me…”

“Wow, this is… A lot of info” Zoey commented, throwing herself on the couch.

“Huntrix is strong and will manage just fine. But… I don’t think I can kill him” you admitted with a slight blush appearing in your cheeks.

“I can’t believe what I’m gonna say but… Maybe Juno didn’t mean to hurt you and his family” Mira said, earning shocked faces from everyone. “What? I mean, the whole story sounds like a folktale but it’s real. They must be soulmates”

Soulmates… Jinu was a demon. And you hadn’t talked to him in 400 years.

“I promise I will try my best to focus on the Honmoon and not on him” you add before drinking the tea in one single shot. “Now, this tea will make my memories a little blurry for some days. So… let’s not talk about this again, okay?”

The girls looked at you with a little bit of pity. But they nodded back at you.

…

The effects lasted two days. You spent locked in your room writing a few songs for Huntr/x, as well as making a collage for their upcoming performance at the Idol Awards.

Soft music played as you went in and out of your balcony. The heat was starting to become unbearable and you decided to work outside since the mosquitoes didn’t reach the height of your home.

You sang fully relaxed as you moved across the room. Printed images of ideas of the graphics and everything are scattered and a sudden blow of wind made a slight mess of the work you had already done.

“Oh no…” you whisper, kneeling to collect all of the images.

One was missing and you couldn’t find it until a hand offered it. You jumped right there, literally crawling backwards.

When you looked up, there you had it.

The reason why you were cursed and recently developed mixed feelings for.

Jinu was eyeing you with attention.

Both of you stared for what felt like an hour. Your palms were sweating and still holding the images as if they depended on your life.

“You remember me” he stated, the sound of his voice only confirming every flashback you had, every feeling you felt. It was real… You actually loved that man centuries ago.

“The moment I saw you I remembered everything…” you knew he started eyeing you up and down the moment you looked away from his eyes. Just like he used to do when he watched and got all wet when you washed clothes in the river. You blushed, just like you used to do as well.

“How?” He seemed to not be able to believe it. That he had his great love right upon his eyes. You looked the same but… so different. Your soul had changed, from a bright blue, it was shining in green. Meaning that your soul had been overworked. And then, you showed him your arm with the odd symbols.

“When you left, my grandmother cursed me for choosing you above the lineage of my family” you revealed while accommodating the pictures like you had them before the wind came.

“I reincarnate. I can’t remember how many times I’ve lived, but I’m pretty sure I always die young. And I will continue to do so until I find real love”

Jinu kneels across you, the images and papers being the only barrier between you two. You looked up to meet his gorgeous gaze again only to find him looking at you in awe.

“What we had was real love” he placed his hand on top of yours and it left you speechless for a second. A strong feeling of nostalgia hit you. His touch was cold now, but even there you felt the warmth you used to feel.

But you could also see his faint patterns, making you remember he was a demon. And you, an unofficial demon huntress.

“You treated me like I was nothing” you spat out with anger.

He sighed, looking at his fingers with yours before you could move your hand away.

“Yes, and the moment I tasted the luxuries of the palace I regretted it. I couldn’t leave anymore, I made a deal with Gwi-Ma and I was forced to face the consequences of my acts” he says with desperation and a hint of pain. “I wanted to give you and my family the world. And when I knew you weren’t included, I was still selfish. And for four hundred years, I’ve been consumed by the guilt”

“Good, because you deserve it. You’re a demon and that’s the least you could feel as such a thing” you said with lots of venom as you yanked from his hand.

“And now you’re a demon huntress…”

“I just help my friends…”

“I never meant to hurt you. I’ve spent all this time lounging to have you right in front of me and tell you how much I’m sorry. That I need you and I don’t think I’ll ever want someone as bad as I want you”

You stood up, turning around, doing your best to ignore the pang in your heart and the pulsing of your arm, right where the tattoo was.

Was it rightfully fair to be mean? Maybe not… but you were scared after all. Having Zoey, Rumi, and Mira right at the other side of the door, and a demon with you wasn’t ideal.

And you started remembering how much you loved him. And how happy he made you.

“If you truly want it. I can help you break the curse. I’d do anything for you, y/n…”

You stared at the wall in silence, feeling the wind come again. And when you turned around, Jinu was gone.

…

You should’ve known it was a trap orchestrated by Rumi and Jinu. When Rumi convinced you to go on a mission to a random rooftop to help her rehearse, you had no problems. Until you spotted him at said rooftop already.

“It’s none of my business but I think it’s quite worth it to make you two talk…” Rumi said with a nervous smile as the Derpy tiger and bird in a hat followed your friend away.

You sighed loudly, throwing your head back and putting your hands on your hips.

“I- I don’t know why Rumi is doing this. It’s dangerous…” you admitted out loud.

Jinu steps closer, eyeing you up and down, this time, catching his gaze on you.

“What are you looking at?” You asked suddenly feeling nervous.

“Your body, face, every mole and birthmark you had are in the same place…” you didn’t think he would remember. But he was proving you wrong.

And his comment affected you so much that you didn’t notice the moment he stepped beyond your personal space. You tried to step back, but he grabbed your waist with his big hands and the gesture made your legs feel wobbly. Slowly, you started to remember the exact shade of his eyes, the pink of his lips, and the size of his hands.

“You really missed me that much?…” you dared to ask with a sultry tone of voice.

Jinu blushed. His cheeks turned pink and his lips formed a nervous line, which made you chuckle.

Unable to resist the proximity, you placed both of your palms on his chest and immediately transported both of you to those summer nights at the village. Midnight sighs and soft touches, eager to wait till marriage but unable to ignore the curiosity hidden under the robes.

“I don’t even know why you’re here. What do you intend to do. But-“

“I feel it too…” Jinu finished for you.

Even when you knew that under that perfect skin, eyes, and lips you used to kiss every day, there was a demon. But deep down, you knew you’d love him despite all.

You stepped closer, hands pressing tightly against him. He leaned forward, holding your hips and you closed your eyes already knowing you’d be able to taste his lips again.

“We gotta go… Zoey and Mira are wondering where we are” Rumi said appearing in the middle of the scene, shocked to see you and Jinu tangled together. “OH! Uh- I’m sorry…”

“It’s not what you think so!” You hurry to tell your friend.

“It is what you are thinking but uh- yeah…” Jinu awkwardly said.

Shame invaded you and you don’t even look back at Jinu. You caressed the cat’s head and the tip of the bird’s hat before smiling to yourself as you started following Rumi.

“What was that?’ She asked while teasing.

“Nothing” you say, your smile growing bigger.

…

“No, no, no. Don’t wake up…” you heard a distant voice, but you eventually woke up.

In your bed was Derpy and the bird were sleeping. When you looked to the right, at the edge of the bed, there was Jinu. In pajama-striped pants and a hoodie.

“I didn’t want to wake you up…” he admitted with shyness.

“You just wanted to stare at me sleeping like a creep?” You asked with sarcasm, rolling onto your side and yawning.

“What? No! I just-, I wanted to see you…” Jinu said, combing his hair, a sign of nervousness.

“Where is your gang?”

“Sleeping… As we should, I guess”

“Are they your friends or did you just recruited them?”

“A little bit of both” Jinu confessed with a smile.

“If things were different. I’d ask you if I could meet them, I don’t know why but I’m curious…”

“Fair point, half of the world is too” you knew he wanted to hold your hand. So you just moved it closer to him.

“So you’re now an idol? Singing you’re my little soda pop?” Your question filled with teasing made him blush and it earned you a playful punch on your hip.

“It’s catchy…” Jinu attempted to defend himself and the band.

“It is… I’ve started singing it with Zoey”

He held your hand and it made your stomach flip. Then traced invisible patterns across your face.

“This is how I remember your skin. But I also really like how you look with makeup…” slowly, you smiled at his words.

“The modern look also fits you well. You look hot…” it was his time to blush, and it made you cackle.

Jinu loved making you laugh, he loved everything that involved you but being able to make you laugh again, made him feel less demonic and more… human.

“I’m gonna miss it” he said gently tapping at your cheek.

“What thing?” You asked in confusion.

“Everything about you…” he admitted. “That was the deal with Gwi-Ma, I stop Huntr/x and I get all my memories erased”

You frowned.

“But I don’t want you to forget me…”

His heart stopped. His throat tightened and he had to hold your hand more firmly.

“Sleep, beautiful” he said as he started to brush your hair with the tip of his fingers.

In seconds, the gesture made you go back to sleep.

…

Jinu was going insane.

You almost kissed him, and he appeared in your bed to tell you that he wanted to forget everything. Only for you to tell him that you didn’t want him to forget you. It nearly made him cry.

You asked him about the things that made him happy and you told him you wished things were different.

Then the Idol Awards happened. And you yelled at him when he and the rest of the Saja Boys ruined the Huntr/x performance. Zoey and Mira grew mad at you for helping Rumi keep her patterns secret. And as Jinu used his voice to attract people, he realized how unfair he was being to you once again.

The woman he loved was cursed because of him. And he couldn’t actually help you. Or so he thought.

You still loved him, he knew.

Jinu didn’t think twice before jumping from the stage to help you when he saw a demon scratching your face.

He saw you using your fan but it only attracted more creatures.

It was still a mystery to him to know how you learned to fight and for how long you trained. There were a lot of unanswered questions. Immediately forgotten when he got rid of the demons and offered you a hand to stand up.

He could at least try to save you. To stop you from reincarnating once again and living a memorable life.

“I love you!” he screamed.

“What?” You screamed back.

“I love you! And I will always do” Jinu said and you couldn’t help but fear and grab his arm. “We’ll meet again, my dear…”

“What are you doing?” He sighed and gave you a smile filled with joy and sadness at the same time.

You looked back at Rumi, fighting against Gwi-Ma himself on the stage and you understood Jinu’s plan.

“Jinu, don’t you dare…”

“It’s the only way to end this!”

“No, don’t leave me alone again!” It broke his heart. Seeing you with tears in your eyes and begging him.

He kissed you and this time you couldn’t do anything but focus on the way his lips moved against yours, carefully trying to remember every detail. Promising to remember that kiss for the rest of your life.

You looked at his real form. His demon glowy eyes, the lilac skin, and darker patterns covering him. His fangs and pointed fingers. You couldn’t give a fuck.

“I love you” he repeated making you accept that he had made up his mind.

“I love you too” you admitted between sobs.

Even when he started running back towards the stage, you tried to pull him back, to keep him with you. But he went ahead. The only thing you did was to pull a rusty bracelet from him, the gold bracelet he got to get into the palace back then. You sobbed harder, getting rid of demons that still attempted to get your soul. And as you watched Gwi-Ma disappear as every demon and Saja Boy, the bracelet turned into ashes. Your tattooed arm pulsated and when you looked at the skin, you gasped in shock. The symbols had disappeared, and the skin was free from any mark.

…

For the whole world, it was the biggest performance in the history of K-pop, to Huntr/x and you, more than just a performance.

Your friendship with the girls only strengthened and they convinced you to do he craziest thing you’d done so far. Debuting as a soloist…

Using Y2K and sequined themes, you built a concept and soon, with Zoey’s help, you were able to create songs. Mira trained you to be a great dancer and Rumi vocalized with you every night. Even before your first song was released, you already had many fans. At the same time, haters disliked you for allegedly using Huntr/x to gain fame of your own but most of the people seemed to be loving you and your debut song “Karmic”.

And of course, it was related to him. The song being about shining despite being bound to face karma for trying to get back a man you loved and who was gone.

It had been two months to be exact. Your debut happening only three weeks later after everything happened. It was your only escape to not focusing on the scar his departure left.

Maybe you were free from the curse. Your skin free from any proof of said curse. But completely scarred by Jinu’s memory.

In a dream, everything was darkness. And the only thing you were able to see, was that old lady who centuries ago was your grandmother, the woman who cursed you.

“Curse begone, make a wish…” she said.

You froze, then she showed you the rusty bracelet you pulled off from Jinu.

“I want him back. I want him to be happy and have everything that made him happy. I want him by my side and to be happy for the rest of my life with him” you yelled with tears in your eyes.

And then you woke up, tears actually came and you wiped them away.

It was the day of your debut album and first mini-concert. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey literally threw open your door and came to sit by the feet of your bed.

“Are you ready for today?” Zoey asked.

“Yeah, I think so…” the three girls smiled at you and started rambling about the busy schedule you had for the day.

“We’ll be by your side the whole day, don’t worry” Rumi assured you.

“Thanks, Rumi”

You stood up to look at your balcony and the sky was full of small clouds that made it look so dreamy. The skyscrapers shone with the sun’s reflection and a Saja Boys comeback giant poster was hanging from one of them.

A SAJA BOYS COMEBACK GIANT POSTER WAS HANGING FROM ONE OF THE SKYSCRAPERS!!!!!!!!!

“Uh… girls, Are you looking at the same thing as me?” They stood by your side and gasped in shock.

“No way” Rumi whispered.

“No. It might be a song they recorded before and the people who managed them are desperate to keep making some money” you assured them, also assuring yourself.

“Yeah, y/n is right” Mira agreed with you, arm around your shoulders.

You looked at Jinu, smiling in the poster.

How badly I miss you, my love; you thought.

“Are you okay with seeing… him?” Mira asked.

You nodded, smiling. Unable to feel sad, because that day was all about you.

“Yeah, let’s go to have some breakfast” you replied, hugging the girls.

“Bobby is here” Mira revealed.

“BOBBY!” He became your manager as well and you liked the man. He was a great guy and even a friend.

You had so many questions about the upcoming concert and presentations.

But you were excited, so you decided to enjoy the day with your friends as well.

…

If the public could describe you in two words, that would be: sultry and cutting-edge.

Half of your songs being dance/club hymns and the other half being crude, strong lyrics with unusual sounds that created an artistic sense.

Singing full songs glued to a microphone covered in rhinestones and then dancing while singing was a little bit more ingenious than you thought. But you were having so much fun. Changing into different attires in less than a minute and having sips of water in between was exciting.

Mira was cheering, satisfied with how good you danced.

“Look at the piece of art I created” she joked with Zoey and Rumi.

“I love that part of the choreography” Rumi added as they watched you.

“Yeah but let’s calm Bobby. He’s on the verge of collapse after seeing how sensual the song and dance are” the trio of girls started cackling, looking at their manager who looked nervous at the public and sponsors.

But everything was in order.

Until you got to the after party. A club a few blocks away from your place with the girls. A lot of magazines and artists wanted to be at your party. As unbelievable as it sounded, you were officially a celebrity and idol. Far from being tired, you danced with Mira all night, and couldn’t stop laughing along with Zoey and Rumi.

But you needed to take a break. To savor happiness alone for a moment. You stepped out to the empty terrace of the place and the distant music was the only sound. The sky was almost completely dark and you sighed in disbelief. You turned around, leaning backwards against the railing, and saw a man approaching.

You thought it was Bobby. But no…

You stopped breathing and for a second you thought you had died.

How was it possible that Jinu was standing, looking like a human and very much alive in front of you?

You threw yourself into his arms, and he was actually there. Tears prickled in your eyes and you heard him chuckling as he hugged you back.

“Is this real? I’m not drunk and making all of this in my head?”

“No, you actually brought me back…” he whispered in your ear, then kissing your temple over and over again. “You smell a lot like alcohol actually. But it’s real…”

He was joking, Jinu was joking. But there you had the love of your many lives in your arms.

“You re-appear after I saw you dying and you decide to joke right now?”

So the dream was real…

“I woke up and I was here. My mom and sister live, and the Saja Boys too. A call from our manager telling us that our comeback was scheduled woke me up” he said. “I thought I was dreaming but no. Then my mom asked me if I wanted to have breakfast and there was my sister looking at you in the tv. You were singing a song and… I just knew it was real”

“I had a wish in a dream and I begged to have you back” you revealed. “So your soul. Is finally yours again?”

“I got trapped in Rumi’s sword. But your wish set me free… thank you” Jinu grabbed your cheeks and smiled fondly at you.

“For the man that I’ve been in love with for centuries? Everything….”

“Even after all the pain I caused you, you save me and willingly keep loving me?” you shrugged with a smile.

“You’re worth it. You were since the moment I met you, Jinu” you accepted, placing his hands on your waist and pushing him down to kiss him.

His cheeks felt hot under your palms and you knew he was blushing once again.

Amidst the kiss, you smiled. And he felt that pure joy again. He could finally live with you just like it was ment to be the first time. He could be a man his age and breathe knowing he would age and fill his purpose along you.

“We both are idols now” he commented with a little smirk.

“Are you ready for all the scandal we’ll cause when our fans learn that we’re together?” You asked him, still in his arms, not daring to move away as Jinu chuckled.

“The sooner the better. I didn’t like many of the looks people would throw at you at the concert…” he revealed with a disgusted face and your eyes went wide.

“You saw me?”

“Of course I did… And I have to admit I’m quite surprised” his teasing tone made you laugh nervously but also nudge him playfully.

“Why? Did you like my outfits? And the way I danced?” Making him nervous, you cackled.

“I’m not used to this modern you yet” he said.

“Well, buckle up, honey. Cause I’m hardly letting you slip off of me and I’m not changing” you threatened before kissing him again.

“Good for me” he assured you while gasping for air and returning to passionately kiss you.

In the modern times you were leaving, Jinu and you didn’t have to wait till marriage. And thank goodness, because you wouldn’t have to explain much to Mira, Rumi, and Zoey the following morning as to why Jinu was in your bed and why the rest of the Saja Boys rested with a hangover at your place with them.

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Taglist: @nina-from-317 @gloriousqueen101 @birbtweettweet @akariis4snowball @nekee-lilac02 @yourtypicalhuman09 @ffcfffr @ilovemuhusbandnanami @foxxbee-2963 @hara23 @akeaaan @kaorisakamotofan @kyuki07 @siasoup @vvidka @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee @oreeowe @anakinsrilgirlfriend @thecordelialetters @vixyvlo @iviorienne @loonalockley @bre99 @ateezswonderland @crescent-z @gina239 @aerrz3 @theblackestbitch

♫ ♪ reader’s inspired debut setlist:

•Karmic is similar to Zen from JENNIE in my mind

1. Spark - WINTER AESPA solo

2. Me Against The Music - Britney Spears, Madonna

3. Lifestyle - LISA

4. So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek

5. earthquake- JISOO

6. Sober II (Melodrama) - Lorde

7. THAT’S A NO NO - ITZY

8. Fetish - Selena Gomez, Gucci Mane

[the-shedevil-writes]

Dog-Fight (Bob Floyd x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: You thought it was just a party. But you soon find out that it was a 'Dogfight'—a cruel contest where the men compete to bring the “ugliest” date they can find. And you were part of the joke. Humiliated and blindsided, you walk out, finding yourself at The Hard Deck. But there you find Bob Floyd. Quiet, kind, and nothing like the man who brought you there. WORD COUNT: 3.6k WARNINGS: Inspired by the movie Dogfight (1991). Emotional hurt/comfort. Reader owns a book store. Fluff! Asking out! Angst with a happy ending. Sorry Marines. NOTES: If ya'll like it, I'll write a part 2- cause I think Bob could confront the marine hehe MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

It was all her fault. She shouldn’t have believed a single word coming from that Marine’s mouth. She should’ve figured. When a tall, handsome brunette came into her bookstore, she should’ve sensed the trouble. But instead, she was swept up in the idea that maybe her storybook ending was finally beginning.  

He had talked so smoothly. “Well, a fine lady like you oughta be at a party on a fine Saturday night like this. Not kept up in this stuffy old store.”

She had tried to put up a fight. Say that the store needed to be properly closed… But next thing she knew, she was running upstairs to throw on one of her dresses. She didn’t have many. So she settled for a springtime floral dress and some light makeup.

Well, now she walked down the sidewalk with that light makeup stained down her face. Her floral dress felt like a kid's uniform. The ‘party’ had turned out to be something the Marines call a ‘dogfight’. The man with the ugliest date was to be crowned the victor and win from a collected pool of money. But she didn’t stick around to find out if her date had won or not. Because when she overheard some of the other girls discovering the events' nature in the bathroom, she felt sick to her stomach. 

With a prompt slap to her date, she stormed out of the party and was now walking aimlessly down a beach. She just needed to get away from it all. The ocean waves shushed her thoughts that rattled her head like a shaken box of bees. Was she really that hideous? Did her date win? How could she be naive? 

Even though the night tides had a calming effect, she couldn’t help but get the compact mirror from her purse and check her makeup. Her mascara had run all down her cheeks, and her blush suddenly felt like too much. She combed through her hair with her fingers. It had gotten messy from all the dancing, because honestly, she was having a fun time before being awoken from her blissful ignorance.

Looking up, she noticed warm lights in the near distance. Acoustic guitar played from inside what looked like a beach bar. The sight of it felt like seeing an oasis in the middle of the desert. She wasn’t a heavy drinker in the slightest. But god damn it, after the night she had?

She stumbled through the sand in her heels toward the bar. Looking inside the open doors, it was cozy. There weren’t many patrons since it was getting a little late, and this seemed like the type of place older folks would attend. But even with that, she decided to duck into the bathroom first.

Once she got into the bathroom, she ran to the sink and splashed water on her face. She rubbed her makeup off, a difficult task without makeup wipes or remover. So her fingers instead rubbed her skin raw with nothing but water. She’d rather have a sad red face than look like a rodeo clown. 

Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt this feeling of patheticness bubble up in her gut. Tears brimmed her already swollen eyes. She hiccuped and wiped them away as best as she could. But as she wiped away old tears, new ones formed. She couldn’t bear to look at herself anymore. 

She ran out of the restroom, hiding her face by looking down at the tile floor. But as she came out into the small hallway, she accidentally bumped into someone with a surprised ‘OH!’

“I-I’m sorry-” She stammered out, not even looking at who she bumped into.

“It’s okay.” A gentle male voice said with just the subtlest hint of a midwestern accent.

But before she could look at who owned that pretty voice, she booked it down the hallway and towards the bar. It felt like the whole world was staring holes into her. Even though rationally, nobody was, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Like the walls were suffocating her.

The bartop felt like a checkpoint, and luckily, nobody else was sitting in any of the stools. She practically collapsed into a seat. Catching her breath, she looked up to find an older woman behind the bar. With dark hair and pitying eyes, the bartender made her way over to her. 

“Hey, pretty girl. Rough night?” The bartender said affectionately, like a mother would. The nickname felt incredibly ironic. 

She nodded and hiccuped. “Y-yeah.” 

The bartender took in her disheveled appearance. She came in closer and put her hand on the bar. “Do I need to call for help?” Her eyes widened. “No. No. I’m okay. Just… I’m never letting a Marine take me out ever again.” 

The bartender laughed with bitter relief. 

“Well, they don’t typically come here, lucky for you. Just some Navy pilots since we’re right by Top Gun.” The bartender explained, pouring a rum and Coke, then a glass of water. She slid it over to her. “On the house. Name’s Penny. Holler at me if you need anything else.”

She looked up and nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.” She took a big sip. 

Penny walked away to organize some of the crates under the bar. Leaving her to drink and sulk in peace. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with an exhale. Luckily, the conversation with Penny seemed to distract her just slightly. But her heart still felt heavy. She took another hefty swig. Hopefully, if she made it through this drink fast enough, it would all slam into her fast and lift her spirits.

But then suddenly, from behind her, 

“Are you okay?” That same gentle voice from the hallway.

She swiveled in the stool and turned to connect a face to the voice. A handsome face at that. With wide cobalt blue eyes behind a pair of wire-framed glasses, he looked at her with a sense of genuine concern.

But then she looked down and saw his khaki uniform. Military. Unsure of what. But military. And she had experienced enough humiliation for the night. Fool her once…

“I’m fine.” She turned back around and sipped her drink.

“I saw you in the hallway, and you were crying. So I just wanted to check up on you.” 

“Sorry, you’re barking up the wrong tree, bud.” Woah Jesus, maybe she shouldn’t have chugged that drink so fast.

Penny looked up from the other side of the bar, and her gaze drifted past her shoulders. Towards the man. 

“I-I’m not trying to imply anything-” He stammered, looking between both women, and now she felt a bit of guilt. 

She looked back at him and took in his looks. He was cute, and he held himself surely, but a nervous look covered his face. He didn’t look like the Marine from earlier. He had been sharp and with the face of a movie star. This guy looked like he was from planet Earth, with gentle features. He had the type of face you couldn’t possibly stay mad at.

“I’m sorry-” She choked out, “I’ve just had a rough night.”

“Well, you can talk to me about it if you’d like.” He said, and after a moment he added, “I’m Bob.”

She glared at him skeptically before returning to her drink and seeing Penny not so subtly watching the interaction. The bartender nodded with a comforting smile. Okay, he had Penny’s approval. 

“Y/n.” She said, pulling out the seat next to her.

So-called Bob nodded and sat down in the seat. “I’m sorry you’ve had a bad night.”

She stirred the straw in her water, still hesitant. “Yeah, just… God. I don’t even know where to start.” Closing her eyes, she sighed, unsure of what to admit. 

“Well, what made you start crying?” His voice was so soft compared to the 80s rock music playing on the jukebox and the distant laughter and conversation of the bar. 

Just rip off the band-aid. She needed to admit what happened to somebody before she exploded.

She laughed bitterly, “I was part of a dogfight!”

Tears brewed again in her eyes. But Bob just looked at her with confused furrowed brows. She shook her head at him.

“Come on, you have to know what that is. I’m sure you and your little buddies do it all the time.” She added angrily, “I didn’t know what it was before tonight, but I guess it’s a stupid common ritual.”

There was tense silence as he nodded, trying to follow along, but it was clear he was incredibly confused.

“Dogfight like… like in a jet?” He asked innocently

“What? No? Why would I be in a jet?” 

His brows raised, “Because you… do that in a jet?”

She turned to him now. Maybe he actually didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. But before she could say anything, he added,

“Could you explain to me what you mean?” He asked politely.

God, why’d he have to be so sweet? It kept taking her off guard.

“I got asked out to a party by this Marine tonight, and it turned out to be a competition for… who could bring the ugliest date.” It’d be less embarrassing if someone put a ‘kick me’ sign on her back.

Bob’s face revealed this shocked expression. His eyes grew all wide and his mouth dropped slightly. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what all your buddies are doing tonight, sailor.” She hissed, grabbing her drink and taking a bigger swig. Usually, she’d finish drinks relatively slow, but tonight she had finished a glass in record speed.

“I’m not a Marine. Well, I mean- we’re both Navy. But I’m a Naval Aviator.” He clarified, “I don’t think any of our guys have done something like that… Though it’s not like I get invited to many parties.” 

That made her want to smile, but she refused to let one out. He didn’t seem like the type of guy who would take part in that sort of thing. But it was hard to trust anything coming out of a man’s mouth at the moment. 

“And I don’t know why he’d bring you.” Bob added, “I-I don’t mean to sound like I’m coming on to ya, but you’re pretty.” 

She scoffed. “You don’t gotta lie. Apparently, I’m a dog.”

“No, no-” He shook his head with a little crooked smile, “I mean it. I can’t lie to save my life, and I think you’re pretty.” 

Thank god her face was already red from crying to prevent him from seeing the blush that overcame her. But unfortunately, it didn’t stop him from seeing the tears in her eyes overflowing. She shook her head back at him.

“All the girls there were prettier than me.” She explained, “If that’s the case, then how could I be?” Her voice cracked.

Bob tilted his head with a soft smile, and he leaned forward.

“Because I can guarantee you that none of the girls there were ‘ugly’.” He said, “The only ugly people there were the fellas that I bet have a face only a mother could love.”

That made her laugh through her tears. It was true. The guys there really had the nerve to judge while looking how some of them did. 

“You’re even prettier when you smile,” Bob suddenly said.

Somehow, someway, it didn’t feel like he was trying to get her in bed with him. There was a sense of genuineness behind his tone. 

“And I like your dress.” He added.

She shook her head again, but this time with a small smile. “At least all the other girls wore dresses that didn’t look like they were for Easter mass. I look like a toddler.” 

“No, you don’t. I-I like the flower design.” 

It was clear he didn’t really know how to explain why he liked the dress, and that just made her blush and laugh again. 

“How’d you end up here?” He asked curiously.

She exhaled with a shrug. “I heard some of the girls in the bathroom as they realized what was going on. I… I slapped my date in the face and stormed out. Walked all the way from Third Street to the beach, just a hot mess.”

He pushed her water over to her at that. “That’s a far walk. I’m glad you slapped him.”

The drink buzzed in her head. She sipped her water at the reminder. “I’d be stupid not to.” She sighed.

At that, a few other people dressed in the identical khaki uniform approached him. A man with a moustache patted his back.

“Hey, man. We’re all heading home.” The man said, though it was clear that he and his other friends were looking over at who had stolen Bob’s attention. “Hi.”

“Hi,” She said, awkwardly looking down, not wanting her face to be seen. 

“Guys, this is Y/n.” Bob said surely, “Y/n, this is Rooster. Then these guys are Hangman and Phoenix. They’re my co-workers.”  

It was surprising that Bob was so sure in introducing her. He almost seemed proud to be talking to her, and that made her ears burn hot. The three other aviators said their hellos.

“We’ll see you Monday, man. Get home safe.” Rooster, the mustached one, said, squeezing his shoulder. He sent Bob a wink before leaving. 

Watching them leave, Bob suddenly realized something. “Do you have a way home?” 

Shit. Her eyes widened at the same realization. 

“I-I can drive you. But if you don’t feel comfortable, that’s understandable.” He offered.

She looked at him, then to Penny, unsure. She knocked on the bartop to get her attention. “Does he come here often?” 

“Every Friday with those other guys.” Penny nodded.

“Can I trust him?” 

Penny laughed with an easy grin. “He’s the most trustworthy one. He doesn’t drink. He ain’t stupid. And he keeps to himself for the most part.” 

Bob smiled a little at the praise until she added,

“That’s a threat, Floyd. Don’t break your rep.”

His smile dropped, and he nodded. “I’d never.” 

His nervous voice just made her trust him more. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer, if that’s okay.” She said softly

Walking out to the parking lot, he led her to a baby blue truck. It was rustic and old-fashioned, and it felt reflective of who he was. She was a little confused on why he walked to the passenger side until he opened the door for her.

“Letting me drive?” She joked.

“Absolutely not,” Bob replied wittily.

She giggled and got into his passenger seat. When he shut the door for her, her nerves ran rampant again. Please, god, don’t be a murderer. Please, god, don’t be a murderer. Please god-

He opened the door and got into the driver's side. “Where are you located?”

That had to be a good sign, right? That he was asking?

“The bookstore on Elmer. I live right above it.” She explained

“Got it.” He said before backing out of the parking space. 

As he began to drive, there was a small silence. It felt slightly awkward now as they were virtually strangers in this quiet nighttime drive together. Fortunately, her store wasn’t too far, so if it was a suffocatingly awkward drive, it would be quick.

“You own that store?” Bob asked curiously, breaking the silence.

She nodded. “Yeah. It was my parents, but I took it over so they could retire.”

A little smile took his face as he was lit by the backsplash of the headlights and the traffic lights. He was a pretty man. 

“That’s nice.” He said softly. His voice was so naturally soft. She wondered what he’d sound like if he were angry. He didn’t seem like the type to do that often. “Is that what you wanted to do? Take over the store?”

She nodded again. “It’s great. I get to spend my whole day organizing books, and I get access to the new releases early. People are pretty nice, too. It’s not like food service.” She looked over at him. “Is being a… what’s it called? Naval aviator, what you wanted to do?”

Bob continued to drive as he pursed his lips and nodded. “Yup. Pretty much wanted to fly ever since I was a kid. So I spent my whole life studying, determined to do it somehow, someway.”

He started pulling up to her street, but she wanted to learn more. She wanted to hear more about his job and what exactly he did. Because god knows she knew absolutely nothing about the Navy. 

Her store was hard to miss, considering it was painted a bright purple. The color of the apartment from Friends. A big sign saying KINGS BOOKSHOP was posted on the front. 

“This it?” He asked.

“Yup. Good guess.” 

He laughed and pulled aside to the curb. She sat there for what felt like a moment too long. There was almost no sound except for the soft blow of the air conditioner and the chirping of crickets from outside. 

They both turned to look at each other, and when their eyes met, they looked away quickly with shared nervous chuckles. She undid her seatbelt, forcing herself to get up.

“Thank you. Uh- for everything. Listening to me and taking me home.” She said 

“No problem. I-I hope your night gets better.” He nodded, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

She opened the door and stepped out. “Bye, Bob.” 

“Night, Y/n.” 

She shut the door and walked up to the store doors. Part of her was gnawing to get that man’s number. To ask him to see him again. And when she looked back, she saw his forehead to the wheel… Maybe he’s contemplating the same thing. 

Against her own judgement, she opened the door and went inside.

It was the next day, and she was doing her best to forget about the sweet Navy man who had cheered her up the night before. But she found herself lost in thought. Accidentally misplacing books in the wrong sections. Leading people to the wrong aisles. Forgetting what she was doing in the middle of a task. It was like she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The horrific start to the night before was practically ancient history. She would’ve been miserable, playing the night over and over, if it weren’t for the electric memories with Bob.

She was on the rolling ladder, placing some romance books on the top shelf, when the bell chimed. A customer. She stood on her tiptoes to reach the shelf.

“Welcome in!” She called out. 

Finally getting the book in its place, she climbed down the ladder and looked over to see the man who had been occupying her head the whole day. Bob stood studying the display tables through his glasses. She practically almost gasped at the sight of him wandering in his khaki uniform. Suppressing it, she couldn’t resist the grin that overtook her face.

“Hi.” She bubbled out. 

He looked up and saw her. “Hi.”

They stood at what felt like a standoff, his fingers frozen on the cover of one of the books. She walked over and looked at which display table he had been looking over. Unable to restrain herself from giggling, she looked between him and the group of books.

“Didn’t peg you to be a monster romance guy.” She teased.

He looked at her, confused, then looked down at the table to find some strange-looking covers. Lots of shipwrecked women and werewolves. His eyes widened as he broke out of his daze. 

“Oh, uh- don’t know if that’s my thing.”

“The history books are in the back corner.” She read him… like a book.

He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks.” A blush overcame him as she went back to taking books off a cart. She hoped he didn’t notice how her hands had a slight shake to them. Trying to play it cool was proving to be more difficult than she anticipated. 

“I actually just-” Bob started, leading to her head picking up.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask you to lunch. Or-or dinner. Whenever you’re available.” He stammered in his typical bashful tone.

She couldn’t hide the redness in her cheeks and the way her lips curved into a smile. There was no way to play it cool here.

“Like a date?” She asked, holding onto a stack of books.

He nodded eagerly, as if he didn’t clarify, it would never happen. “Yes. Yes, a date. I was killing myself last night for not asking you, but I didn’t want to come onto you during a time where you just needed a friendly face.”

“I-I’d love to.” She choked out, “The shop closes at six if you wanna go out for dinner? Maybe get a few drinks at that bar last night?”

His face lit up at her response. A small, shocked exhale came out of him.

“Yeah, that works.” He nodded. The rapidly approaching silence between them was filled with electricity. He suddenly grabbed a random book. “I wanna buy this too.” 

“You really don’t have to-”

“No, no, I want to! I want to read-” He insisted, then looked at the cover, “Wrecked By Cthulu…” His voice trailed off.

She laughed so hard she could barely breathe. “How about I show you some books you might actually like, then we can go from there?” 

He was too sweet. If that wasn’t apparent already by his behavior the night before. 

“Yes, please.” He nodded.

She beckoned him to follow her, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. It felt entirely strange to be thankful for the horrific night before. If it weren’t for a man making her feel so ugly, she wouldn’t be feeling as pretty as she did with Bob’s eyes following her every move.

[neellscapsule]

My Heart — Part Six

summary | your family realizes how much they have missed. the problem is that you are a grown up by now, and terrible hurt by their neglect.

pairing | platonic yandere batfam x batsis!neglected!reader. conner kent x reader.

warnings / tags | angst, hurt/little comfort, y/n is mentioned as a female, trauma, family issues, mostly trust and daddy issues. they all love each other (PLATONICALLY) they just don't know how to feel it and express it correctly. it gets darker

angsty chapter and reader is NOT happy. it is not implicated in the text but the tea is ADULTERED totally drugged.

word count | 4.6k

authors note | hi there!! english is not my first languaje so there might be some mistakes, or not, it can depend :) please vote <3 dick is 28. jason is 23. reader will be 22 in a few months. cass is 21. tim is 20. duke is 18. damian is 13. conner looks 22 as well.

taglist | @cebrospudipudi @jjoppees @corvoqueen @nirvanaxx1942 @lilyalone @aixaingela @lettucel0ver @time-shardz @pix-stuff @galaxypurplerose @cupid73 @theproblemisthattimnotfictional @vanessa-boo @timebomb1101 @chemicalwindexbottle @chiizuluvr @ihavenomuse @mat5u0 @thismessyshe @lovebug-apple @myjumper @angwlart @esposadomd @nisarelle @mrmacwaffles @mazixxss @ememgl @naomi-xxi @bbmgirll @ash0-0ley @rowan-no-rizzz @hearts4mica @sillyheartmoonnyx @crumbs-and-covers @nininehaaa @ironsaladwitch @c4xcocoa @keyllsbk @welpthisisboring @redkarmakai @yuyuzi-ling @91-kya @mat5u0 @nymphzy0 @jeshomie @keysmashstuff @imsomniaccorner @rowan-no-rizzz @xoxoangellll @oliviaewl

previous. next.

It’s only been a few hours. Not even dinner yet. And your things — your life — are already bleeding back into the Manor like they never left.

Boxes stacked neatly by the stairs. Suitcases rolling in. Steph and Duke arguing softly over where to drop your art stuff. Cass ghosting through the hall, carrying your sketch portfolios like they weigh nothing. Tim? You don’t even know where he is, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he already hacked the Royal Resort, changed your room access code, and sent a digital notice of your “check out” to their front desk. Smug little bastard.

You aren’t even going to try fighting it. No one here listens to “no.”

Because the Waynes, God help you, never really ask for things. They consume them. They fold you back into the sharp jaws of their family, biting down until you realize that escape was never really an option.

You tend to forget you are a Wayne as well.

You stand in the middle of it all, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching them pull your belongings through the front doors like this is normal. Like they didn’t spend four years letting you stay gone.

“Annoyed?” Jason’s voice is far too entertained, standing beside you with a box balanced on one palm.

“Beyond,” you mutter, glaring as one of your easels is carried toward the stairs.

“You knew it was coming.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Jason smirks but lets it drop, wandering off with the box. You sigh, shoulders slumping, and turn toward the wing where your room still waits. Untouched. Too familiar.

And it is… different. Familiar in the bones of it, but stripped of its soul. The walls are bare where posters and paintings used to hang. The shelves mostly empty, save for a few stubborn relics that Alfred clearly refused to toss — old books, a cracked snow globe, a tiny bronze bust of Athena from your first Gotham art exhibit.

Damian’s already there. Of course he is. Smaller than the others, but somehow taking up more space than all of them combined, hovering at your side like a shadow that refuses to detach itself.

The kid hovers near your bed, arms crossed behind his back like a tiny, overly proper soldier on duty. His green eyes flick to you, guarded but… softer than usual. Like he hasn’t quite figured out how to stop being angry at the world when it comes to you.

“Need help unpacking?” he asks, tone clipped, but there’s hope there. The kind that coils tight in your chest.

You hesitate, torn between instinct and guilt, then nod, stepping inside.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Sure.”

He follows, eager despite his mask of disinterest, helping you tug open bags, sort clothes, stack books. For a while, it’s… weirdly peaceful. The steady rustle of fabric. The faint creak of the floorboards. Damian brushing past you without biting words, his fingers tracing over your old framed photos on the shelves — ones you left behind because they hurt too much to take.

You catch him pausing at the piano music sheets tucked beside your nightstand. His brows furrow.

“You still play?”

“Not often.” You shrug. “More painting now.”

Damian hums, thoughtful, gaze lingering. “You should’ve stayed.”

You freeze, the words hanging in the air like smoke. You glance up, meeting his eyes — so green, so much like Bruce’s it physically aches. But they’re not cold, not like your father’s can be. They’re… fractured. Full of sharp edges and careful walls, yes, but under that?

Longing.

Guilt gnaws at your ribs.

“Didn’t know you existed yet,” you say softly, fingers curling around the strap of an old bag. “Not really.”

His mouth presses thin. “That doesn’t change it.”

You exhale, standing, brushing invisible dust from your jeans. “I left the Manor, Dami. I didn’t just… leave you.”

“You left me,” he says, blunt, young enough to say it like a wound, like a scar carved too deep. “You all did. But you… You weren’t supposed to.”

God, you hate how your throat tightens.

The bitter ache behind your ribs.

You hadn’t been prepared for him — for this — when you came back.

Your fingers reach for another box, peeling it open just to avoid his stare, but it doesn’t help. His presence is overwhelming. Silent and sharp like his mother’s. Possessive like his father’s.

“I didn’t even know you,” you murmur, voice rough. “I knew… of you. Little headlines. Files. Cass tried to tell me. But I—” You pause, eyes shutting briefly. “I was so angry. I couldn’t even… I couldn’t come back.”

“Because of him,” Damian says. It isn’t a question.

You nod.

Bruce Wayne. The great Dark Knight. The man you once idolized, once bled beside as Huntress, as his partner. The same man who never quite looked at you the way he looked at the others. Not the way you needed. Never the way you begged for as a kid with bruised knuckles and desperate, reaching hands.

“Because of a lot of things,” you correct gently, placing your sketchbook aside, the worn leather cover heavy with memories. “But yeah… mostly him.”

Damian’s jaw clenches, the muscle ticking. His arms uncross, falling at his sides. He looks…

Small.

Despite the bravado, the stiff lines, the name of the Demon Head running through his blood… He’s thirteen.

Your baby brother. One of your younger siblings. The one you abandoned before you even truly met him.

You weren’t there for the first bruises on his knuckles. You weren’t there for the first nights he slipped into patrol. You weren’t there for his first real battle, the first time he realized that Gotham’s love is sharp-edged and cruel.

You weren’t there. You left.

And it’s starting to suffocate you— the realization that this boy, this brother, had spent years carving out his place in the family you abandoned, while you disappeared into the art galleries and the high-rise studios of New York.

You curse under your breath, stepping forward before you can overthink it, cupping the back of his neck gently, tilting his head toward you.

“You shouldn’t want me here,” you whisper, honest, broken. “I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

His eyes glisten for a second, the weight of his walls faltering. But only for a moment. His hands lift, fisting in your shirt, his brow pressing against your shoulder in a rare, vulnerable gesture he’d never admit to.

“You’re my sister,” he mutters, the words muffled but steel-strong. “I don’t care how long it takes. You belong here. You were the only one who was mine. Blood. Sister. Everyone else is just… attached.”

You swallow thickly.

Damian, for all his sharp edges and biting remarks, was still just a boy looking for someone who belonged to him in the same undeniable way that blood does. He wasn’t just a Wayne. He was yours.

“I’m here now,” you promise, voice soft, fragile. “For as long as I can stand it.”

He gives a sharp little nod, like that’s acceptable.

But you both know the truth.

It’s then, when you pull another box from beneath the bed, that you find it — old, dusty, edges worn, but unmistakable.

The Box.

The one that started this whole spiral, even if you don't know it. You pop the lid, heart stumbling when you see your old notebooks stacked inside. Your sketch journals. Poetry. Music sheets. Little scraps of yourself you never let them see.

Damian watches, sharp-eyed. “You wrote a lot.”

You smile faintly, fingers ghosting over the familiar covers. “Started around your age. Couldn’t… couldn’t really talk to anyone. So, I wrote.”

For a second, there’s something bitter in your throat. The weight of all those words that never reached the right ears.

“I saw that box,” Damian says, breaking your thoughts. His lips press thin, voice low. “Grayson and Father had it.”

Your head jerks up.

“What?”

He nods, glancing toward the door like they’ll appear at any second. “They read your letters. The invitations. That’s why some of those are missing.”

You frown, rifling through the papers. Sure enough… gaps. Missing slips of faded cardstock, soft with time. The ones with their names.

You straighten abruptly, box in hand.

“I’ll be back,” you say tightly, already halfway out the door.

Damian follows to the threshold, but wisely stays behind.

You stalk down the halls, passing portraits and shelves that mock you with their polished familiarity. Your boots echo over the marble. Your heart pounds heavier. The box is tight in your arms, fingers curled so hard around the edges your knuckles burn white. You don’t even hesitate when you reach your father’s study. You shove the door open without knocking, the hinges groaning under the force.

Bruce looks up from behind his desk, the same goddamn desk that’s always separated him from you. His eyes lift slowly, unreadable behind that ever-present mask of indifference.

“Y/N,” he greets simply, setting down a pen.

You march in, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling with the weight of it all, and slam the box down onto the dark wood of his desk.

“They’re mine,” you snap, teeth bared around every syllable. “The invitations. The letters. The pieces of me you ignored for years. Give them back.”

His gaze drops to the box, lids lowering slightly. Calm. Too calm. Always calm when you’re coming undone.

“You left them here,” he says quietly, like that’s supposed to be some kind of explanation.

“That doesn’t mean you get to—” your voice cracks— “to keep them. To— to read them like you suddenly give a damn.”

“I’ve always cared.”

The words are so simple. So detached.

It’s laughable.

You laugh— bitter, sharp, ugly.

“Yeah? You cared while I was bleeding under that Huntress mask? You cared when I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen— when I was killing myself trying to be enough for you? I was practically breaking my ribs to breathe in this house, Bruce—”

You use his name like a blade.

And for the first time, his expression shifts. The faintest flicker of hurt behind those unreadable eyes.

“Don’t—” he starts, but you’re already unraveling.

“No, I’m talking,” you hiss, voice cracking with the sheer force of holding it together for too long. “I begged for your attention. I broke myself for your pride. I learned to throw knives before I learned to drive, I broke bones before I got my period, and the only thing I ever wanted—” your throat tightens, eyes burning— “was for my dad to fucking look at me like I mattered.”

His mouth parts— an interruption, maybe. You don’t let him.

“You looked at Dick,” you spit, pacing now, heat climbing under your skin, nails digging crescent moons into your palms. “At Jason. At Tim. Hell, you adopted half the city because they were broken and brave and you saw them. But me?” Your voice cracks, and it slices through the room. “I was standing right here. Your kid. Your first daughter. And you never— you never looked.”

“I saw you.”

The words fall from his mouth like they should mean something.

You stare at him, chest heaving, that dangerous, shaking, bitter-laced laugh creeping out of your throat.

“You saw me when it was convenient. At galas. On patrol. When I played the part. But you didn’t see me when I cried myself to sleep in this house. When I begged Alfred to remind me why I even existed in this family.”

“Y/N—”

“No!” Your fist slams onto the desk, rattling the box, the notebooks inside shuddering under the force. Your shoulders curl forward, that trembling, raw ache choking every syllable. “You read my words, Bruce. You read every pathetic, desperate thing I wrote to get your attention, and you didn’t say a damn thing. You just kept them. Like— like souvenirs of how badly you failed me.”

He stands now, slow, careful, like he’s trying not to spook a wounded animal.

“I kept them because they mattered.”

You flinch. Because that— that doesn’t make it better. That makes it worse.

“Then why didn’t I?” you whisper, voice cracking so thin it’s barely audible.

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. And for once, Batman looks speechless.

The lump in your throat crawls higher, the weight of everything clawing through your ribs until you can’t stand it. Your vision blurs with unshed tears, the room suffocating, the walls pressing in—

Jason’s voice cuts through the static, smooth but laced with warning, not to you.

“Hey— hey, sweetheart—” His hand catches your elbow, tugging you gently away from the desk, away from the storm brewing in your chest. His eyes flick to Bruce, sharp, protective. “That’s enough.”

Your father doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t argue.

“Later,” he murmurs, tugging you. “Let’s not explode the whole house on your first day back, yeah?”

You let him guide you, too raw, too frayed at the edges to resist, the box clutched to your chest like it holds your last shred of pride.

He doesn’t take you far. Just out, through the side door, past the old stone threshold that still smells faintly of ivy and rainwater. The gardens stretch ahead of you, green and alive, overgrown in some parts, perfectly manicured in others. Like everything in this family — halfway wild, halfway curated.

The cold air bites when the door to the garden swings open. The scent of wet grass and the sweetness of the last lingering roses hit you like a ghost. The gardens haven’t changed. You could close your eyes and walk these paths blind, could still find the cracked stone where you used to sit, where you used to hide.

It shouldn’t affect you the way it does. But it’s been years. Years since your boots walked these cobbled paths. Since you brushed your fingers along the rosebushes, memorized the stone statues of long-dead Waynes, listened to the wind thread through the hedges and wondered if maybe, just maybe, you belonged here.

You stop by the little wrought-iron bench. The one you used to curl up on with a book or sketchpad when Alfred scolded you for pacing the halls like a restless cat. Your knees threaten to buckle.

Jason’s still beside you. Silent for a beat, his blue eyes scanning your face like he’s cataloging every fracture in your armor.

“You good to sit?” he asks finally, voice stripped of its usual cocky charm, softer, older, gentler.

You nod, throat tight, and collapse onto the bench. The box lands beside you, your arms falling limp at your sides as exhaustion crawls under your skin like a sickness.

Jason leans against the backrest, arms crossed, one leg kicked out lazily in front of him. But his gaze never leaves you.

“I thought you’d punch him,” he says after a moment, like it’s some normal conversation.

“I thought so too,” you rasp, voice barely holding steady. Your fingers twitch, nails biting into your palms.

Silence settles between you, heavy and humming with unsaid things. The garden is quiet, save for the rustle of leaves in the warm Gotham breeze and the faint chirp of birds that have somehow not abandoned this cursed place.

You bite your cheek, hard, tasting iron at the back of your tongue. The weight in your chest grows unbearable.

“He had no right to keep them,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “Those letters—those words were mine, Jay.”

Jason nods, slow, his eyes dark with understanding. He tilts his head, letting the silence stretch, giving you room.

It cracks something in you. Your walls cave in on themselves, and the words spill out, raw and broken.

“You’re my family,” you breathe, voice cracking on the confession. “And I love you. I love all of you. But you’re— you’re terrible.” You swallow around the knot in your throat, eyes burning, vision swimming with tears you’ve tried so hard to swallow. “You’re all terrible.”

Jason’s brows pull together, faint lines creasing between them, but he doesn’t interrupt. He exhales slowly, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah. We are.”

“It’s not fair,” you choke, the sob clawing its way up your throat, unstoppable now. Your hands cover your face, shoulders shaking, breath hitching as it pours out of you, ugly and too real. “It’s not fair— I was here. I was here and I tried— I tried so damn hard to make him proud. And he— he just—”

You can’t finish the sentence. It shatters in your chest before it reaches your lips.

Jason exhales softly, the sound rough at the edges. Then, gently, he shifts, his hand reaching to curl around the back of your neck, tugging you toward him.

You resist for half a second, pride prickling. But you’re exhausted. Hollow. And there’s something in Jason’s touch — that stubborn, protective, reckless love he’s always carried for you — that breaks you down completely.

Your forehead bumps against his shoulder. You curl into him, tears spilling freely now, staining the worn fabric of his jacket. His hand stays at your nape, grounding you, his other arm curling protectively around your frame.

“I know,” he murmurs, chin resting against your temple. “I know, Birdie.”

“It’s not fair,” you croak, rubbing your palms over your eyes, as if that can stop the burning. “It’s not fair that I spent years begging for you all to see me, to just—just be there. And now you’re all here like you never left. Like you didn’t forget me.”

Jason tilts his head toward the sky, his lips twisting like he wants to argue, but he can’t.

You don’t let him. The flood’s coming now, and you can’t hold it back.

“You died, Jason.” Your voice sharpens, cuts through the garden like glass underfoot. “You died, and it ruined me.”

His head snaps down to you, breath caught in his throat.

“I was fourteen. I was fourteen and you were dead and no one—no one even noticed that it broke me.” You glare at him through the blur, the tears slipping, unwanted and hot. “And then you came back, and you—you didn’t come to me. You stayed away. You built walls. You left me behind again.”

Jason’s throat bobs. “I didn’t know how to come back to you.”

You shove your hands into your hair, tugging hard at the roots like it can ground you, like it can make you stop shaking. “I waited for you.”

“I know.”

“You were my favourite person,” you choke, the words ragged and small. “You were my brother and you were my best friend and you just—just left.”

His breath trembles out of him like a cracked apology.

“I didn’t mean to leave you,” he says, and his voice sounds like it’s breaking. “I didn’t mean to die on you.”

“But you did. I needed you,” you whisper, voice fraying apart at the edges. “I needed you and you— you just disappeared.”

Jason’s hand tightens slightly at the back of your neck.

“I know,” he says again, pained and low. “I’m sorry.”

You stay like that for a while. Your breathing slows, the storm inside your chest quieting to a simmer, though the ache never fully leaves. Jason lets you cry, lets you shake, doesn’t rush you to pull yourself together like the others always do.

hated myself for staying away from you when I came back. I thought—I thought you’d hate me for what I became. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

Your breath shudders out, a laugh cracked in half by grief. “I’ve always seen you. Always.”

He finally, finally looks at you, really looks, his eyes raw, his walls caved in.

“You were the only one who ever really saw me,” he admits, a little too late, a little too soft.

Your ribs collapse under the weight of it. “And you left me anyway.”

Eventually, you straighten, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your sweater, sniffling quietly. Your throat is raw, your eyes glassy.

Jason watches you, patient, still.

“Not exactly the grand return I wanted,” you mutter bitterly, half a laugh, half a sob.

Jason snorts softly. “No one expected you to waltz in all sunshine and rainbows, Birdie. You’re still a Wayne.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch faintly, the first ghost of a smile threatening to break through the grief.

Jason taps the box at your side. “You keeping those?”

“Yeah.” You brush your fingers along the worn cardboard, the ache settling in your chest like an old friend. “They’re mine.”

“Good.” He pushes off the bench, offering his hand. “C’mon. You’ve caused enough drama for one morning.”

You hesitate, eyes flitting to the Manor behind him. The looming walls, the endless expectations, the memories stitched into every corner.

Jason squeezes your hand gently.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promises, eyes steady, blue and familiar. “I’ve got you.”

“. . . You’re not allowed to leave me again,” you mumble, voice raw.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

You kick at his boot, just enough to make him huff a little more. “Promise.”

His gaze flicks down to you, and there’s something fierce, something broken in the way he answers. “Promise.”

And you believe him. You have to.

Even if it’s not fair. Even if you still want to scream. Even if the ache never quite leaves.

You love them.

They’re terrible.

But they’re yours.

You don’t eat dinner with the rest. You don’t have the energy to push yourself into another room where their eyes would watch you like you’re some fragile puzzle they’re trying to solve. You don’t want to play at the table, pretend you belong there just yet.

The library is quiet, save for the low, steady crackle of the fire devouring its own weight in the hearth. Shadows climb the walls, curling over the spines of leather-bound books, tracing old portraits, creeping across the floorboards like they know this house better than anyone ever could. You don’t bother to look up when you hear the door open. You already know who it is.

The sketchbook rests on your lap, half-finished lines scrawled across the page—limbs bent in motion, a face tilted in anguish, the sharp angles of a cathedral stitched into human skin. You’ve been working on it for hours, your pencil dancing through the strokes like your hands know grief better than your head does.

Lines bleed from your fingers, chaotic and gentle all at once, spinning a face you can’t quite hold in your head, features that slip just as you start to form them. Maybe it’s Jason’s nose. Maybe it’s Bruce’s jaw. Maybe it’s no one.

Bruce says nothing as he crosses the room. His footsteps are quieter now than they were when you were a child. Lighter. Older. Worn thin by years of carrying everything and everyone but you.

You still don’t look up.

The cushion beside you shifts when he sits, the same space on the same old couch where he used to read to you, back when things were simpler. Back when you thought love came in the shape of bedtime stories and scraped knees bandaged with rough, clumsy hands.

A porcelain cup clicks gently against the coffee table. You glance at it, finally, the faintest twitch in your brow when you notice the color of the tea, the faint aroma curling toward you.

“Raspberry,” Bruce says quietly, settling back into his seat, eyes fixed on the fire. “Three sugar cubes.”

You stare at the cup, steam curling like ghosts into the dim light, and then at him. His jaw is sharp in the flicker of flames, his mouth set in that unreadable line. You don’t thank him.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence settles, heavy and familiar, stitched together with old tension and years of too much and not enough.

You sip the tea anyway. It’s perfect. Just how you’ve always taken it. It only makes you angrier.

Bruce leans his elbows onto his knees, watching the fire like it holds all the answers he never found in you. “You used to climb onto the piano bench before you could even walk properly,” he says, voice low, rough with memory. “Alfred was terrified you’d fall. But you never did.”

You don’t interrupt, fingers tightening around the sketchbook, pencil still clutched between them like a weapon.

“You’d sit there,” he continues, “banging on the keys with your little hands. No sense of melody. Just noise. But God, you looked… happy.”

Your jaw locks. You keep your eyes on the flames. Let him speak.

He exhales slowly, shoulders heavier than you remember them. “You always found ways to make your presence known.”

You laugh once, quiet and bitter. “Didn’t seem to work very well.”

You can feel his eyes on you, waiting, holding, but you keep your gaze fixed on the flame. You don’t want to see his face. You don’t want to see the weight he carries, because it’s the same one suffocating you.

“I do not forgive you,” you murmur, voice soft but sharp enough to draw blood. The fire crackles, swallowing the quiet like kindling.

His eyes don’t flinch. His mouth doesn’t twist. He just nods, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. “I know.”

The admission sits heavy between you, thick as the smoke curling from the hearth.

For a long time, the only sound is the breathing of the house itself. Old beams creaking. The pop of burning wood. The distant hum of the world outside, too far removed from this broken little moment.

Bruce’s voice, when it comes again, is quieter. Almost lost to the flame. “Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?”

You blink, startled by the words. His eyes drift back to the fire. “Alfred said that,” he adds, lips curving faintly at the memory. “When you were a baby. You’d cry in my arms and quiet the second I’d hold you close. Clung to me like you never planned to let go.” His throat works. “I didn’t know then how much I’d… ruin that.”

You stare at the flames, but your mind drifts elsewhere—to the old halls of this house, to the forgotten rooms and creaking stairwells, to the years spent watching the people you love blaze bright for the world while you flickered, silent, unseen.

The halls, the rooms, the garden paths—they carry your shape, your scent, the laughter you left behind. But it’s not you who haunts them. It’s them who haunt you, the people, the memories, the versions of yourself that used to dream inside these walls.

You are not a house haunted by a ghost. You are a ghost haunted by a house.

Every corner of this place still echoes with pieces of you. The forgotten toys buried in the attic. The old recital photos tucked between bookshelves. The faint scratch on the bannister from your first Huntress grappling hook, never sanded out, never fixed.

And yet, it was never your home the same way it was theirs.

You breathe in deep, the warmth of the tea settling in your hands, doing little to thaw the cold buried deep in your chest.

“I’m tired,” you say at last, the words stripped bare of all the fight. “I’m so tired, Bruce.”

His eyes soften. His posture shifts, the wall of Batman faltering, the edges cracking just enough to let the father show through.

“You don’t have to stay,” he tells you quietly. “Not if it hurts you.”

You snort under your breath, shaking your head. “You all made that decision for me already.”

His jaw clenches. You don’t let him argue.

The fire burns, and the house breathes, and for a little while, you both just sit there, surrounded by everything unsaid.

“He was right,” Bruce adds, voice low, fractured at the edges. “Nothing in my life has… undone me the way you have.”

Your chest twists, breath catching, vision blurring faintly at the corners. But your expression doesn’t break. Not in front of him.

You sip your tea again, letting the warmth sting your throat, drowning the lump rising there.

The room stretches long with silence. The fire burns. The shadows breathe. The ghosts stay quiet, for now.

Neither of you apologize. Neither of you move. But for the first time in years, you sit in the same room, quiet together. And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

For now, you let the halls remember you again.

For now, you let the ghost haunt its house.

You blink once, twice, before your lids drop against your cheeks — exhaustion pushing you into silence, into sleep, into the soft surrender of someone who trusted again.

In the flicker of the firelight, you drift. Eyelids flutter as you realize you’re curled on the sofa — the sketchbook clutched loosely, the fire dimming, the tea unmoved. Bruce’s silhouette stands guard in the shadows, and you breathe — finally — like you’re safe.

[ssahotchnerr]

Begging and pleading for reader hosting a dinner for the team since they just finished a rough case. No one knows her and Hotch are together, but start getting suspicious when he just?? Knows where everything is in the apartment?? Like he’s been there before??

right at home

i loveee a classic the-team-is-finding-out 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, established relationship, mentions of food and drinking, fluff <3 wc; 1k

Sometimes, a little team bonding was the only thing needed to recover from a tough week.

After a brutal case that left everyone with a bad taste in their mouth, you jumped at the opportunity to host a gathering at your apartment. It was clear no one wanted to go home just yet; the darkness of the case hung over your heads and made the idea of being alone so soon unbearably daunting.

It wasn't anything extravagant, coming straight from the jet; ordering delivery from a local cafe - a slight, healthier alternative to  the usual takeout consumed on cases. Forgoing formal seating at your kitchen table and instead crowding on the carpet around your coffee table, a movie playing in the background, offered a casual and comfy atmosphere.

Sitting next to Aaron, you wished you could lean over and rest your head against his shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough to breathe out some of the weight clinging to your ribs. You were glad the team was comforted by being together, but all you needed was Aaron. Only him and then you would be able to put this case in the past.

Plus, it's been a few days since you’d been physically affectionate. Long days in the precinct and out in the field made finding a private moment impossible, and with the team unaware of your relationship, it was impractical to do so much as hold his hand without being behind a closed door.

Little did they know, his overnight bag lay discreetly in your bedroom.

As if he could hear your thoughts, his eyes found yours, a gentleness to them as he silently checked in. Your own eyes briefly softened, relaying that you were fine.

"I'm so happy you all made it home to me unharmed and all in one piece." Penelope commented, her eyes flashing with relief. "Thank good gracious that's over."

"You and us both baby girl," Derek answered, dipping a veggie in some dressing. But as condiments with a thin consistency often did, it dripped off his piece of celery and onto the carpet before he could bring it to his mouth.

He grimaced, an apology in his eyes as they shot to yours. "Shit, I'm sorry mamas."

You waved it off, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them. "No worries. Nothing a bit of carpet cleaner can't fix."

"I got it." Aaron didn't hesitate, scrambling up and heading to your hall closet.

The quiet hum of conversation continued on. But after a moment, JJ’s expression shifted; a flash of confusion appearing so abruptly, it was impossible to miss.

How did Hotch know where you kept your cleaning supplies?

"JJ?" Emily asked, her wine glass pausing at her lips. "Something wrong?"

"No." She tentatively shook her head, but her eyes stayed on you, searching your face as if trying to read the things you weren’t saying.

And you weren't saying much. Oblivious to JJ's stare, you weren't acting out of the ordinary at all - taking a sip of your drink, eyes flickering back and forth amongst the conversation. But as Aaron re-entered the room, your face lit up the smallest amount. He handed the carpet scrubber to Morgan, and reclaimed his spot next to you.

You looked relaxed, happy.

Aaron did as well. Too relaxed and too happy, as if he felt at home.

JJ did, however, nudge Emily with an elbow. One that read: start paying attention.

"Morgan, make sure you-"

"I know how to clean a carpet, Hotch." Derek bantered quickly, causing a smile to tug on the ends of Aaron's lips, cheekily looking in your direction as a laugh escaped you. Satisfaction pulled onto his face.

Emily's eyebrows rose. Oh.

The next instance that brought questioning, you all had congregated to the kitchen - another round of drinks for some. As Emily distributed the wine, Aaron took it upon himself to help you rinse off dishes and put them away. Handling it in advance, and saving the two of you time later.

As far as the rest of the team was aware, this was the first time you’d had any of them over. Usually, everybody would meet at Dave's house (mansion, he would correct) or eat out at one of the many establishments populating DC.

But Aaron acted with practiced ease. He didn't ask you where something belonged, no lost expressions filled his face as he tried to determine where something maybe belonged. He just knew.

Spencer's eyes followed him, weighing all the variables. Sure, your dishes were in the closest cupboard to your sink; logically that made sense. Rather convenient, a quick and easy unload, especially given at your height. Was it common sense, or prior knowledge?

But what did he know? Genius or not, he’d never been good at reading subtle cues like those.

Aaron's hand even brushed the small of your back as he passed - something that could've easily been dismissed as a casual, friendly gesture - the kind people make when squeezing by. But there was a quiet familiarity to it, a natural ease, as if he'd done it countless times before.

-

"Are you heading out too?" Dave asked Aaron, his eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. It had gotten late, and everyone had begun streaming out - grabbing coats and tossing goodbyes left and right.

Meanwhile, Aaron lingered quietly in the background, his shoulder pressed lazily against the wall with his arms loosely folded. There was no urgency in his posture - just a calm stillness, as if he had all the time in the world and nowhere in particular to be.

"Why wouldn't I?" Aaron feigned confusion, suddenly debating putting his shoes on to make it more believable.

But he was soon distracted by you - giggling wildly as Penelope refused to release you from her tipsy embrace. Your laughter echoed through the room, unbothered and bright, as JJ - her ride home - attempted to unlatch her from you. Aaron's lips lifted in an almost-there smile.

"Mhm." That answered that. Dave smirked, a wise and knowing glint in his eyes. "Hope you two have a good night."

[linxnnalyn]

Dating Rumi HCs

࣪𖤐.ᐟ note -> GOD I LOVEEEE RUMI !!! She is one of my f/o’s now hehehehe

࣪𖤐.ᐟ warnings -> none.

࣪𖤐.ᐟ content includes -> fluff, secret relationship (from the public), you’re her biggest fan, civilian! reader, shows, rehearsals, cuddling, kissing, kissing her marks, pre and post movie.

۫ ꣑ৎ Being in a relationship with THE Rumi from HUNTR/X can be quite difficult. The two of you have to make sure to keep your relationship a secret from the public because of the fans and as to keep you safe knowing that there are certain types of fans that wouldn’t like the fact that Rumi is in a relationship. The only people that do know about yours and Rumi's relationship are Bobby, Mira and Zoey. Not even Celine knows about you.

۫ ꣑ৎ She does not want you to know about her, Mira and Zoey being hunters. It is also another reason as to why your relationship is hidden, as for the demons not to find out about how important you are to her and even her friends. Rumi feels horrible whenever she accidentally misses your dates and uses the excuse that she was busy with idol work when in reality she was killing demons.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi adores how close you are to Mira and Zoey. They are her family, her best friends, so seeing you being so close to Mira and Zoey makes her happy. Though admittedly sometimes she gets a bit jealous, she knows that Mira and Zoey would never try to make a move on you and she trusts you completely, but Rumi just can’t help but sometimes be jealous.

۫ ꣑ৎ She loves it when you come by for HUNTR/X’s rehearsals. Rumi already tries very hard, but when you are there, watching as she and the girls practice? Rumi gives more than her all. Once the rehearsal is over Rumi is a bit hesitant to hug you because she is sweaty but will gladly kiss you if you want to, asking if you liked the new song and choreography.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi loves having those rare lazy days with you. She loves spending time with you in her room, cuddling up to you as the two of you watch a random movie. Rumi gets so whiney and pathetic when you try to pull away it honestly surprises you how this popular, confident idol turns into a wet kitty when you simply try to pull away from her cuddles

۫ ꣑ৎ She has so much money she doesn’t even know what to do with it anymore, so Rumi casually gives you a black card so you could buy whatever you want with her money. Hell she personally buys you a lot of things she just knows you will love for anniversaries, special days and even apologises when she has to cancel on your plans at the last minute. Rumi always puts a lot of thought in your gifts.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi was horrified when you too started stanning the Saja Boys. She knows that it isn’t your fault, after all they are literal demons that hypnotize their fans, but that doesn't mean that it didn’t hurt any less. Of course you were still her number one fan, but as the Saja Boys influence grew stronger it started to affect you even more.

۫ ꣑ৎ Once the Saja Boys and Gwi-Ma were defeated and the Honmoon had been repaired, Rumi knew she had a lot of explaining to do to you. Mira and Zoey offered to be there for Rumi and help her explain everything but Rumi refused, knowing she was the one who had to tell you the whole truth. She is just hoping you wouldn’t see her any differently.

۫ ꣑ৎ Rumi was very self conscious when you first saw her marks. She didn’t know how you would react to them, especially after learning the truth. She was surprised when you accepted her and her being a half-demon, something that genuinely made Rumi cry knowing that the person she loves the most accepts the part of her she has been taught to hide her whole life.

۫ ꣑ৎ The poor woman always gets flustered when you suddenly start kissing her demon marks when you two are cuddling. Rumi can’t help but be on the verge of tears whenever you compliment her marks and call them beautiful. She was taught that no one will understand her and accept her because of her marks, so knowing that you love and accept them means the world to Rumi.

[bunni-v1]

I just saw the teasing, but shy / brat taming story. Can I request kinda similar but kinda opposite, MC who is shy and likes to tease but is actually a good girl? 🧡

I personally like to tease, I love seeing them start to lose it because they start to get so turned on but they know they can't do anything about it. (Not in an angry way tho, if that makes sense?) But I'm also very much a good girl, while I very slightly might test boundaries, I live to please. I don't see many stories for us good girls, (also pillow princess stories are quite rare) so if you feel comfortable, I would love to see this version also. 😄

Such a Good Girl~

Necessary marc tag: @cilomarc

🍓I saw this and IMMEDIATELY started brainstorming. Other than when I was writing Cookie Run, this is the fastest I've gotten to a request. Now, It might've taken me a little longer than I wanted to get it done... but shut up. Now I'm not sure how loyal I was to the prompt, I kinda just... got lost while writing. Still, I do hope that it's what you were looking for my love <3

TW: Brat tamer Zayne & Sylus; Mean Xavier; Oral Receiving (Rafayel) & Giving (Caleb); Use of "Good Girl"; BLATANT Caleb favoritism; Grammar Errors

Info: NSFW; Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader (separate); Short drabbles

Total Word Count: 6.2k words (individual count listed with character)

MDNI

ZAYNE (1.2k Words)

You don't even remember what you did to get yourself in the position in the first place. Well, you do, but you felt too lightheaded to think about it now. Zayne had you pressed close to his chest, head resting on his shoulder, and dick nice and snug inside your tight little hole. There was a pressure deep in your stomach that couldn't be relieved without movement, but he refused you the option, hands stilling your hips when they wiggled even a fraction.

Maybe, coming into Zayne's office during work hours in his favorite skirt wasn't the greatest idea you'd had. He was only so patient, especially when it came to you and your teasing. He let you play dumb for a little while, because it made you happy, and it's not like he didn't enjoy seeing the soft curve of your ass in the tight fabric as you waltzed around. It was almost cute the way you played dumb, like you didn't notice the way his eyes trailed after you and his pen stilled occasionally to observe you.

It was only meant to be a cute little game between the two of you, one you didn't expect to yield the results it did. But when he beckoned you over, pulling you between his legs by your hips, your fate was sealed. He had his usual calm expression, but his eyes were alight with need, drinking you in with each rove over your curves. The hands on your hips slid down to your thighs, then back up again, feeling the expanse of soft flesh as if it were his personal comfort.

His eyes find yours when he finally speaks, "Is there a reason you chose this skirt today?"

A little smile crawls up your face, almost shyly, "I thought you might like it."

His eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, lifting his chin just slightly in affirmation. His fingers pull you closer by the backs of your thighs, drumming up and up until they rest atop your butt. It's not a science to tell that he's very pleased with your answer, no need for a rigorous degree to read him, he spells it out for you without needing to be asked.

"I do," he hums, kneading your cheeks in his hands, "Were you hoping for a reward?"

Direct and to the point as always, you couldn't hide from him. There was no attempt with the way you flustered, eyes flitting around nervously while you nodded your answer. Far too cute, if you asked him. He tapped your bottom, and like a trained dog, you looked back at him with fluttering lashes.

"If you can be nice and patient, I'll give you what you want," he hums, tilting his head so the light catches in his eyes just so, "You can do that for me, can't you?"

And that's how you'd ended up throwing your legs on either side of him and curling into his neck like a lifeline. You'd cock warmed him before, it wasn't a challenge to sit still and let him work. The stagnant pleasure was something you had come to enjoy, an intimacy that set butterflies free in your stomach every time he offered for you to do it. What was difficult to deal with, though, was the tension in built in your head.

You knew how your night would end, obviously. The issue lay in not knowing when Zayne believed the reward awaiting you was earned. You were always his good girl; you knew you were so well behaved, he told you all the time. There was simply no measure that could properly count when you had behaved well enough for your treat. That was up to Zayne to decide, and it could span from minutes to hours of waiting. That was the fun of it, though.

He would tap his fingers along your sides when the time was getting closer. Physical affection and comfort pick up, as a little warning. You think it's mostly subconscious, more for himself than it was for you. Fingers slide up and down your spine, kisses pressed to the side of your face in reassurance, or arms pulling you just a little closer.

Your nerves jitter in excitement when he sets his pen down, the soft shuffle of papers being moved out of the way, the most exciting sound in the world. Gentle hands pull your face into view, stroking over your warm cheeks as an apology for making you wait so long. You smile at him, leaning into his hands, craving that skin-to-skin contact more than you'd realized.

"You want to move, don't you?" He asks, though it comes out as more of a statement.

Adamantly, your head bobs up and down, "Yes, Sir."

He hums, copying your nodding, "Go ahead then, you've earned it."

Not needing to be told twice, you use his shoulders as leverage to bounce yourself up and down in his lap. Slow and steady motions to start, dragging his length along your walls, taking in each inch of pleasure with delight. All the while, he watches you, making sure you behave like you're meant to. Both of you know you will, you'd never do anything to purposely upset him, but the thought of him watching for little slip-ups gets the heat boiling beneath your skin.

His hands rest on your hips, not helping, just resting patiently. Just in case. You try not to think too hard about it, focusing in on the task you were given. Taking in the comforting feeling of him buried deep inside you, dragging along your walls like he was made to be there. The pleasant squelching sounds filling up his normally quiet office, encouraging you to keep going even though your legs start to burn.

His head leans back, getting more comfortable in his chair, content just watching you use him. His hands squeeze in patterned intervals to further encourage you to chase your high. Quiet, watchful, and entirely taken with you. The flush on his cheeks was more than enough to signal that you were performing exactly as he wanted; there was no need to vocally pronounce it when he made it so obvious to you. Heated gaze committing every little shift in expression to memory, utterly obsessed with the way you fall apart so obediently.

And fall apart you do, movements quickly becoming sloppy. It's too difficult to raise your hips in the same motion over and over, so you've taken to rolling them instead. Your orgasm is quickly building, coiling up your spine and fuzzing up your brain deliciously. You can't cum without permission, though. You don't want to misbehave and face punishment. Luckily, Zayne knows you too well, sensing your need from the way your hips seem to stutter and how you clench in uneven patterns now.

One hand cradles your chin between loving fingers, tilting your face toward his. Those sinful green eyes glimmer with knowing, looking over your flushed face like reading a report. The smallest smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, head tilting to the side in a teasing motion.

"You want to cum?" He hums expectantly, and when you nod he continues, "Go on then, be good, cum for me."

And like magic, like your body has been trained to listen, that coil springs and snaps pleasure through your body. Your orgasm draws a long, low moan from your lips, your body falling forward against his shoulder. Despite the way it tingles from the intensity of the pleasure curling along every nerve, you feel the unmistakable gentle rub of practiced hands along your spine. Coaxing your body to relax into him, easing the heat encasing you just enough to keep you lucid.

Your reward for being so good for him.

XAVIER (1.2k Words)

Xavier loves the way you like to play with him - it's cute how you tentatively poke at him, then hide away the second he questions you. It's a little game he likes to play with you: play dumb and see how far you'll let yourself get before you self-correct your behavior. He doesn't even have to do anything; you give yourself up for him every single time with a flutter of your lashes and a pout.

Just like today, you were testing your limits again, and he was happily playing oblivious. It started with some poking to his cheek and his side, annoying, but nothing he wasn't used to. The way you lit up when he hummed in acknowledgement set a chill down his spine. You didn't stop there, eventually letting your cute little innocent poking evolve into firm grasps. Nowhere too risqué, on his arms or holding his waist as though that was where your hands belonged.

He'd slid his hand over yours at that point, quietly warning you that he was on to you. Not to negate, just to tell, a reminder of who was in charge of whom. You took it as an invitation and worked yourself up to more teasing touches. Featherlight as your hand grazed over his chest and above his thighs, still too good to push further than that. Your intention was clear without needing to go further, though, and it brought Xavier great excitement to see how you shrank back from giving in to your wants.

You didn't have to worry about it, and you knew that fact. Xavier was ready to hand it over to you on a silver platter, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It came when your fingers strayed just a little too high up his thigh, not intentionally, but the perfect excuse to grab them firmly. Bringing the hand to his lips, kissing their tips with such devotion, you nearly forget that he'd caught you in the act. Those pretty blue puppy dog eyes darken slightly when he gazes at you, intent clear as day in their sparkle.

"You've been quite playful today, starlight," He mumbles against your skin, "Are you hoping for something from me?"

You fluster immediately, just like he expected you to, because you're so scared of being bad for him. You hate it when he's mad, so you nod obediently. His other hand tilts your head gently, as if it's a suggestion of movement rather than a command. You listen regardless, moving your face as he likes, swallowing when his thumb grazes over your lip. He watches your tongue dart out after it, like you were trying to get a taste of what he left behind. That makes him more of a mess than he'd be willing to admit, breath shaking with his next exhale.

"Don't worry about telling me," He says, moving forward in a swift motion, pressing you to the couch cushions easily, "I already know what you need, just behave and I'll give it to you, okay?"

Another helpless nod, and he is hovering over you like a predator who'd just caught his prey. Sliding your clothes out of his way, not bothering to take anything off fully, far too preoccupied to care about such a trivial matter now. He only makes sure you're wet enough before he pushes inside your tight heat. It takes all his self-control not to moan out loud, mouth finding your neck to distract his brain with a different task for the moment.

He laves at the skin there, soft tongue sending shivers down your spine as it runs along the sensitive spots he's able to find like second nature. He works his way up to the shell of your ear, nipping and kissing along your jaw, buying time for your world to stop spinning before he sends it out of orbit again. You can feel the satisfied smirk against your ear, whining when the ghost of his teeth nibble along it.

"You're already so wet, you took me with no problem," He whispers, wiggling against you for emphasis, "You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you? How naughty, here I thought you were so well behaved."

You tug at his shirt, letting out an annoyed whine. Insistent, defiant, denying the idea that you had misbehaved. You hadn't, after all, he let you do all of it after all. He smiles, pulling back to look at your angry little pout.

"No?" He hums, and you confirm with a nod, "You think you're a good girl?"

You agree, vigorously nodding your head so hard he worries you might give yourself whiplash. Your angry pout makes him want to kiss you stupid, but he holds back on that. Only good girls get that treatment, and he wasn't so sure you'd earned the title yet. Instead, he presses his face close, just a hair's width away. Refusing to kiss you, but allowing you to desire it enough that he can see the need on your face.

"Why don't you prove it, then," He asks, rolling his hips once, "if you cum for me, maybe I'll reconsider my judgment."

With that, he begins his movements, sending your head spinning yet again with the pace he sets. Never one to waste time when he had you laid out so openly beneath him, he pistons himself into your wet heat at a steady but quick rhythm. Each drag manages to hit each spot against your spongy walls perfectly, getting you dizzy within moments of him starting. Your grip on his shirt tightens, using the fabric as a means of bracing yourself against the warmth spreading across your body.

It doesn't do anything for how quickly he manages to get you babbling, knowing your body better than you do. Those deep blue eyes watching you submit yourself willingly, knowing well that you would before he started. You always behaved so well for him; he just liked making you work for his praise. The angry expressions as you fought his accusations off, making him stupidly hot and bothered. Making the way your face absolutely scrunched up and losing itself to the heat of the moment all the more satisfying.

It doesn't take you long to reach your peak, not with how easily he works your body like this. Knowing exactly how to move his hips for you, like it was instinct to get you to fall apart on him. You cry out his name, fingers balling the fabric of his shirt like it would help you somehow. Cute, cute, cute sings inside his head, over and over, like he was losing his mind. He sees the moment the invisible thread in you snaps, and feels it as you grip around him as though trying to drag him down with you.

Instinctively, he comes down to kiss you, giving you your just rewards for being so good for him. The gentle reprieve he gives you makes it all worth it, though.

Mumbling against your moans his soft praises, "Good girl, keep going, give me all you can."

RAFAYEL (1k Words)

The only thing in the world Rafayel likes more than you is your attention. Knowing you're looking at him, having the awareness that you are encapsulated by him makes him happier than he'd be willing to admit to you. Something about the reassurance that you are there, and that you find him as mesmerizing as he does you, helps to calm his raging heart. Quells the burning fire of his yearning to a low simmer, no longer consuming him whole, but warming him from the cold of memories that still haunt him.

That attention of yours was addicting, and you were simply unaware of the effect you had on him. Which is why he felt as though he'd been going through withdrawals all day, a notable lack of your eyes on him driving him nuts. Yes, you were busy and he was oh so understanding of that... but he could only take so much. It was getting to be unfair at this point.

First, you wouldn't let him pull you back into the sheets, scolding him about 'work' and 'responsibility'. You sounded like Thomas, but he didn't complain too much that time, content to watch you get ready; the show was compensation enough. Then, audaciously, you refused to send him any pictures. Wouldn't even amuse the lighthearted flirting, too busy running around being a hero to pause for him. What made it all worse, when you got home, you were 'too tired' and 'just wanted to eat and nap'.

Fine, okay, whatever. He'll make you a tasty, nutrient-full meal and cuddle you on the couch while you talked about your day. He doesn't bring it up again, wouldn't push you when you seem so genuinely exhausted. He can go without for you, he did it for hundreds of years, what's a day?

It's fine until you start to get restless, wiggling about this way and that and pressing into him very intentionally. It clicks when you glance over your shoulder, pouting expectantly. You'd tortured him on purpose, how mean.

He pulls you back, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a smug satisfaction. The ends of his hair tickle your cheek when he pulls you into a deep and insistent kiss, not allowing you the time to catch up. He goes until you're dizzy, wiping away the string of saliva connecting you with that familiar playful smile of his, then it drops.

Annoyance, and that pout you hate to love stare you down, "Tell me, Cutie, were you intent on torturing both of us today?"

You shake your head, ready to deny him, but it catches in your throat. He nudges your nose admonishingly, almost daring you to say no. You'd played your mean little game, and he obeyed your rules, it was time for his reward; And he would be getting it. No matter what.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, "I didn't think I'd get this far."

He huffs, like he doesn't believe you, tracing your lip with his thumb.

"Talk is useless. Why don't you show me how sorry you are?" He rumbles out, eyes darkening in his desire.

You drop to your knees like you were being mind-controlled, freeing him from the confines of his pants. He stands at attention, proud and aching for your pretty lips to wrap around him. It makes you feel worse for playing hard to get all day, knowing how he must've been so needy this whole time. Those observant eyes watch you with hardly restrained excitement, twinkling down at you encouragingly.

You slide your thumb over the tip, spreading the pearly pre over it. There's an obscene amount of it, proof of how long he'd been keeping himself together, dripping down your hand. Absent-mindedly, you lean down to lick it up from where it slides down your wrist, following it back to the source. Salty and a little bitter, you ignore the taste for the sheer satisfaction of making him feel good.

You lick up what you spread around, popping the tip in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. He curses your name like it were sin itself. Sensitive and desperate. You use it as motivation to take him in, inch by inch, until your throat tickles, then you pull back. Wrapping what you couldn't fit in your mouth with your hand, beginning languid motions back and forth. Sucking, swirling, pleasing him just how you know he likes.

You want to make it up to him, feeling so bad for teasing him the way you did. You really didn't mean any harm, but from how he was throbbing along your tongue, you know you did. Using your mouth to make it up to him was the least you could do. Apologizing with each hum you send along his shaft, sending your sorry directly through his nervous system.

A hand runs through your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly in reward. Not that you've earned it, but he can't be too mean when you're just so good for him. The prettiest sight he's ever seen, lips wrapped around him while you desperately try to keep eye contact between the fluttering of your lashes. All your attention was his now, and he was happy to hog it all unashamedly, just like you were to suck him off for hours.

He thought about letting you, he thinks you may even deserve the way your knees would sting after the fact, but he can't help but be weak for you. Not when he had a lot more he wanted to get done tonight. The gentlest tug is all it takes for you to pop off him, swallowing up air as though you'd been drowning. He smiles, wiping a little bit of spit running down your chin. His messy little masterpiece.

"You can take all of it, can't you?" He asks, and you nod in a daze, licking your lips.

He allows you to take him again, helping you take more and more down your throat until he's settled there like it's where he belongs. You breathe through your nose, face scrunched up in concentration, trying so hard to make it up to him. It's so charming, making his heart race and sending the blood right back to his dick.

It's not enough, though; he needs you to look at him.

"Cutie," he hums, and you look up at him, glassy-eyed and desperate for approval. He smirks, "Such a good, obedient girl for me, I think I can forgive you this once if you keep it up."

SYLUS (1.2k Words)

Sylus was a very busy man, something you knew intimately after being with him for so long. Frequently, he was off somewhere in the N109 Zone doing something that you were safer turning a blind eye to than asking about. You'd spend weeks at a time without seeing him, alone in your apartment as you worry needlessly about his well-being. He always came back in perfect condition, smirking at you as though your worry was some pointless thing, teasing you for how much you care.

Being with him was difficult, but ultimately worth it in the long run. The way he took care of you far outweighed the periods where you could not physically have him with you. Though... sexually... You felt your resolve waver just a bit.

You found yourself very pent up in the weeks that he was gone, and there was only so much your fingers or toys could do to satiate the heat that boiled in your tummy. Pictures and videos of your previous times together helped, but also made it worse at the same time. You just wanted him: his warmth, his touch, his taste. Devastatingly addictive, and you felt strung out without him at your side.

You'd send him pictures and videos, hoping he'd return the favor when he gets the chance. Sometimes he'd call you and talk you through it, cooing at you as though you were an insatiable kitty and not his very needy partner. Naturally, given your human nature, you can only handle so long before you start feeling petty.

Normally, you wouldn't deprive yourself when he comes home to you, whispering syrupy sweet words into your ear. Not this time. No, you wanted him to have a taste of how frustrated you would get. Since he seemed to find it oh so funny when you got all needy, let's see how he liked it.

You forgot how patient he was.

He could reasonably wait several millennia, and you were finding that out the hard way. He was a stone wall of impartialness; nothing could shake him, and within a week, you felt your resolve rapidly crumbling. He knew this, of course, he always knew. Yet, he let you play your game without a peep. It only made you more infuriated, need burning in your stomach every time you looked at him, trapped in a prison of your design.

You give in a week and three days into your little facade, frustrated and pent up, and by Astra needing him to do anything for you. He looks up at you like he was expecting your arrival at his office door. You're not aware of the cute little pout on your face, nor the way you nervously fiddle with the hems of his oversized shirt sleeves. And, goodness, he questions himself on how he could possibly hold out for so long when you're just so radiant.

You stop short of his desk, positioning yourself with arms crossed as you glare at him. He regards you with a tilt of his head, leaning back in his chair like a king on his throne. It's not meant to be intimidating, but it sends a chill up your spine. Fuck he was unfairly sexy, wasn't he? How could you purposely ignore him for some stupid petty pride?

You take a deep breath, sighing out your apology, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" He hums, amusement thickening his voice.

"For avoiding you," you continue, stepping forward like owning up to it, "I was just..."

"Frustrated?" He finishes for you.

In a ridiculously smooth movement, he stands, walks to your side, and gently guides you to his couch. You are lying down across his lap, head propped up by a pillow against the arm, looking up at him with wonder. A large hand rests on your thigh, sliding your skirt to pool around your waist as you prop your knees up. Fingers stop just short of the apex of your thigh, tapping patiently along the soft skin there instead.

"It must be so difficult, being without me for so long," he purrs, "I can only imagine so, since you thought to play such a silly game with me."

You frown, resisting the urge to clench your thighs, "I just wanted you to feel how frustrated I was."

"You think I don't miss you when I'm away?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes like it was an offensive thought.

"Not as much as I miss you," you spit back.

He releases a huff of a laugh, squeezing your thigh, and you realize too late you've fallen into his trap, "Oh really? I suppose not, then. Tell me, though, what exactly do you do when you miss me?"

He knows what you do, of course, and he takes great pleasure in the videos you send. That does not stop him from quickly dipping his fingers into your underwear, finding the wetness pooling there pleasing, "Do you touch yourself like this?"

His fingers, long and slender and precise, swirl over your clit in practiced motions. The movements seem sloppy, but it's far from unintentional. He's mocking you, discarding his usual smoothness for how he imagines your fingers might play with the needy bud.  It's annoyingly accurate, which is why you melt so easily. You missed his touch so badly, unable to move your fingers in the same way he can, far less precise and sure of yourself.

You nod, swallowing hard, "I can't touch myself like you do."

"Poor little kitten," he soothes, mercifully correcting his motions to the tight circles you missed, "Don't worry, I'm here now. I'll touch you as much as you want."

Flimsily, you grab his tie, giving it a gentle tug, "Kiss me, please."

He doesn't waste any time in giving in to your commands, lips finding yours in a slow and passionate kiss that gets you sighing. You had missed him so badly, you were so needy, and now he was kissing you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. Your little game was stupid anyway, the pettiness melting to make way for your desire to please and be pleased.

You moan into his mouth when his fingers dip into your heat, dragging along your walls, reaching far deeper than you could've dreamed. He's skilled with his movements, curling them along the most sensitive spots he'd taken time to memorize. Somehow, knowing your body better than you do. Which is why it's no surprise you cum quickly, orgasm coming without warning and leaving you breathless against his lips.

He's muttering your praises, 'very good', 'that's it', 'perfect', and it only makes you more hazy. How he could be so sweet to you after you were so stupid was beyond you, but you didn't want him to stop. He doesn't, intrinsically knowing what you need without voicing it, and soon you are working through your second consecutive orgasm. Then your third, until you are finally coming down from your high with his steadfast praises ringing through your mind.

"Thank you," you mumble.

"Thank you," He answers, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

CALEB (1.6k Words)

You didn't mean to tease him, honestly. It was innocent. It was always something innocent... until it wasn't. Until you managed to push enough that he decided it wasn't, because there was no way he was rock hard over some harmless little antics of yours. Or, maybe it was the fact that it was so innocent that got him so hot and bothered.

As much as he loathes to admit it, he gets a kick out of defiling you. You call it a kink, he calls it human nature (only for him, though, forbid another man thinks about the things he does.) Regardless, you tease him without meaning to all the time. The comfortableness you feel with each other allows your walls to come down, and unintentionally make something else of his rise. It was a good thing to be so comfortable with your partner, after all, you'd insist. Not realizing what seeing you in nothing but his oversized t-shirt did to his mind.

It drove him wild the way your completely harmless antics managed to 'wake him up' so to speak. He felt like a helpless virgin, which... he sort of was before you, but he figured he'd grow out of that phase eventually. Feels like it only got worse with time, and yet he wouldn't trade it for the world. Content to spend the rest of his days blue balling himself so long as he gets to live that sweet domestic bliss with you.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, working on the breakfast you'd insisted on making for him. Sweet as it was, Caleb was never really one to accept your acts of service without a fight, preferring to be the provider. It was a fight to get him to sit down and relax for once; one of his scarce days off should be spent decompressing, letting you treat him for once. He sat on the couch watching the news for all of ten minutes before he got annoyed and wandered to the kitchen.

He knew better than to get in your space, so he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a glower. It softens when you send a smirk over your shoulder, brushing off his pouting effortlessly as you glide around his kitchen. It was too cute a sight to stay mad, anyway. His old t-shirt - the one he got from his high school honors program that he couldn't fit into anymore - hardly covers your ass, giving him just the smallest glimpse of your panties each time you reached up or shifted just right.

You shift from foot to foot as you work on the pancakes - apple cinnamon, his own recipe, of course. Hair pulled away so he could see the evidence of your late-night activities peek from just beneath the collar of his shirt. If that wasn't enough to send him into a catatonic state of domesticity, you would look at him every few moments, like you were waiting for him to do something. Sultry little pout tossed over your shoulder, gliding over his bare chest, just over the dick print in his grey sweats, then turning around like you weren't being the biggest tease in the world.

Normally, Caleb would let it slide. Normally, he'd roll off your teasing with a bright smile and a halfhearted scolding. Normally, he had somewhere to be in the morning, so he couldn't afford to give in. Today was not a normal day. Today was a rest day, and what better way to rest than indulging in all the desires he'd purposefully pushed off until now?

He cages you between his arms when you look away, moving a fluffy pancake to the plate set next to you. They looked perfect; you'd followed his recipe exactly. Too bad he wasn't craving pancakes right now, and judging from the way you giggle when his lips graze your shoulder, you weren't either.

"Feeling hungry?" You laugh, reaching a hand back to scratch the base of his skull like he was an overgrown mutt.

One of his hands slides to turn off the stove, then wraps around your hip, pressing you back into his crotch. You feel how hungry he is, poking at your buttocks through the minimal layers of clothing both of you are wearing. Open-mouthed kisses across all exposed flesh he could reach further incriminate him, urging you to give in.

"Starving," he groans.

"Well then," you hum, turning to face him - he doesn't leave your skin for a moment, moving with you, "dig in."

He moans, lifting you up to the counter with a swift heft, spreading you out pretty for him. His lips trace down the fabric of his shirt while his fingers inch it up over your hips, humming satisfied when they find skin to ravish again. He makes a fast trail to your clothed entrance, pressing his nose to the wet fabric and taking a deep whiff. Another groan grumbles out of his chest, and in another moment, he's licking along the slick staining the fabric.

You both moan at the sensation, Caleb's muffled by you and you by your hand. He tugs you closer, tossing your legs over his shoulders, surrounding himself with your thighs. No escape, not that he had any intention of leaving. He looks up at you, smiling when he notices how you try to hide, eyes darting around the room like that would help you.

Gently, he takes the hand covering your mouth, settling it firmly on his head. He doesn't let go of your wrist until you weave the soft locks through your fingers, scratching at his scalp just like you had earlier. You get an encouraging little smile for it, a soft kiss pressed to your thigh as a reward. His other hand tucking your panties to the side, revealing your hot sticky cunt to him. You clench reflexively when he licks his lips, amethyst eyes finding yours again as he spreads your lips.

Slowly, deliberately, without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses your clit. Your mouth falls open because that might just be the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. You think you might need a million pictures of the way he looks at you as his lips pucker against the sensitive bud. Unfortunately, you don't get to stare at it for too long, as Caleb is as insatiable as he is in love with you. Eyes falling closed as he brings his tongue across your folds, lapping the juices there up like a thirsty dog.

Your fingers curl tightly into his scalp at the sensation, pressing him closer with a pathetic noise. Somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, addicting to a man like Caleb. His mouth dips down to your entrance, a loud slurping ringing in your ears as he drinks up the juices that leaked out from your needy hole. Tongue working in steady rolls, still not quite experienced, but moving exactly like you needed him to. Your clit does not go neglected, nose nudging against it with his eager movements. His head bobbing excitedly with each shameless slurp, and he really does remind you of a dog like this.

When his tongue plunges as deep as he can get it, you whine out his name, thighs clenching around his head. It slides in far too easily, like it was made to be there, which certainly does something for his ego. You lock your feet behind his back, trying to roll your hips into his uneven rhythm with little success. Not that he needed the help, you were already tumbling over the edge when you lifted your hips the first time. Fucking yourself against his face, elongating your orgasm for as long as he allows you to. And he allows you to for a while, long enough that he's able to force a second one out of you in your frenzy.

Only when you slam your head against the cupboard does he force himself back, concern overpowering his need to eat you out until you can't speak. You whine at him, trying to force him back down, but he isn't having it as he checks you over. He laughs at you when he decides that you're fine, pinching your cheek like you were a petulant child and not his very overstimulated, needy girlfriend.

"You want more? You already came twice, pips." He laughs, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead.

Instead of responding, you press your foot to his hard on, taking great satisfaction at the way he hisses. He catches you by your ankle, tugging your legs open so he can stand between them again. You pull him into a heated kiss, scooting dangerously close to the edge of the counter so you can press into him. You feel his resolve crack instantly, kissing you back like you were the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

"I need you inside, please," you murmur into the desperate dance of lips on lips.

Without argument, he tugs himself out of his sweats, pressing himself against your heat, "Since you've been so good, I think I can be nice, just this once."

You gasp as the tip slides between your folds, lubricating himself up with a few thrusts, then sliding into your desperate hole with little resistance. The stretch is accompanied by low whispers in your ear, cooing and coaxing you, "Goooood girl, that's right, you take it so well," and "Breathe, princess, I've got you."

By the time you're done with each other, the pancakes are freezing cold, and Caleb decides it's time to start lunch instead. He's cooking this time.

[boyfhee]

NO ESCAPEㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗃𝗈𝖻 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝗍.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄 ﹑ 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋⠀⠀(⠀⠀2134⠀⠀)⠀⠀♥︎⠀⠀𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑢𝑛ㅤㅤ천사ㅤㅤfirst time writing bodyguard hoon, hope you like it ◜ᴗ⁠◝

ㅤㅤㅤ𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗦 ♥︎

“once again, miss,” your bodyguard sighs, lowering his hand to load the gun once again. “this is my job,”

lately, you have been insisting on learning how to use a gun. you had asked about it one night on your way back from the gala, a request that he had kindly denied, and now you’re at his training grounds.

“yes, but i should know how to protect myself,” you insist, taking a step forward. it smells like gun powder inside; and his cologne, way too familiar. “you can’t always be there for me,”

sunghoon doesn’t really like the sound of that.

you watch as his fingers swiftly move over the magazine, working through the gun to reload it. your gaze follows his movements, as always, he can feel it too.

it’s a little maddening, always driving him off the focus.

the instructions are clear— he’s supposed to protect you, always staying at an arm distance on the lookout for danger. although, there is someone that keeps gravitating him towards you.

“i will be,” he sighs, hair falling over his face. and your heart almost skips a beat when he runs his hand through his silky locks, exposing the very forehead that you wish to kiss every night. “you don’t have to worry,”

“please?” you’re playing coy. he can hear it in the way you say that word, honeyed and hypnotising, rolling off your tongue so perfectly.

he avoids looking at your face that he sees in his dreams. “no—”

“please, hoonie,”

and it’s annoying. not you, the name, the way his mind stops working for a few seconds when you call him that. he hates how you can practically crack his composure with a few sweet words and a bat of your pretty, doe eyes.

he only takes orders from you but much to his surprise, you always request. pouty lips and glassy eyes that are full of hope, you’re pouring your heart out. you request for a midnight escape and he obliges with a sigh.

sunghoon thinks if you ever requested him to take his own life, he would gladly do it for you.

“okay,” he surrenders to you, as always. “come here,”

he notices how your steps are laced with happiness, the way your eyes gleam at the sight of the firearms— or maybe his arms when he takes off his jacket and slips it over you.

your skin feels like a feather against his finger tips when he fixes your safety glasses. you hold your hair up to tie it in a ponytail and he can hardly think straight at the sight of your nape.

you shuffle through your pocket for a scrunchie and he waits and waits, before finally reaching out to hold your hair. “let me,”

every touch of his fingers against your skin ignites a silver of desire in him, he almost forgets he is on a payroll. he runs his fingers between the strands, getting them in a perfect ponytail before securing it with the spare hair tie that he always wears on his wrist, unbeknownst to you.

he can see how your face is heating up because of shyness, and how you whisper to him so dreamily when he is done. “thanks,”

he takes in the way you pick up the gun, noticing the slight tremor in your hands. first times are always nerve racking. good for you, sunghoon believes in hands on teaching.

with a swift move, he is standing behind you with arms around you to adjust your grip— slow, deliberate.

you’re going to get him fired.

“stand straight,” his hand is on your back, helping you straighten up, and then he ghosts up your waist to tuck your jaw up with the utmost tenderness. “chin up,”

sunghoon doesn’t think you’re half as nervous as he is. one arm distance? that’s long out of the room— he can barely think before his hand supports yours from behind, his handsome face right next to yours.

and you’re bad at hiding, always been, because he can see through you. every shiver, every hitch in your breath, every heart beat— thump, thump, thump— right against his chest.

he wonders if you realise his heart is beating in synchrony with yours.

“finger off the trigger until you’re ready,” he warns softly, helping you align the trajectory with the target. “and don’t fight the recoil,”

and you nod cautiously, afraid that one wrong move and your lips would be in his, although you would hardly complain. “you can let me go,”

“i’d rather not. you’re trembling,” his hold only tightens and you shout internally. as if it isn’t because of you! maybe, you should say it to his face sometime, maybe now, but then he guides your index finger to load the gun, soft, slow, gentle.

he might be writing his own death statement right now.

“focus on the target. if someone points at you, look them in the eye,” a subtle nod, your finger asserts over the trigger, and he whips his head towards you. “not yet, breathe,”

the air gets knocked out of your chest.

it’s what he does— protecting you while killing you slowly, drowning while telling you to swim, getting closer while pushing you away— it’s not his job. it’s simply what he is good at.

his hot breath caresses against your ear and a rush of adrenaline follows. a pause, he mumbles. “go,”

you fire. a miss.

there’s silence after the loud bang. it’s heavy, you can feel it, definitely not from you missing the target. you lower your hand, a step almost away from him, but sunghoon has always been quicker.

he holds you from behind again, supporting your arm. he’s closer, less tense, crazier, devoted. “let me show you again,”

[kaiser1ns]

BUNNY IGLESIAS is casually strolling in the hotel grounds, holding his phone screen with your face shining brightly, even if it was getting late, he would never miss a chance to talk with his angel.

You're saying something, another piece of gossip or drama, teasing him while wearing his jersey again. He doesn't have much to say; he just wanted to see you before you go to sleep, since he's in a different time zone, a few hours behind, due to traveling for a Champions League match.

"They were caught during lunch, in his car, eventually someone took a photo of them…” You were in the middle of telling him about the new drama from work because he's the only one you can talk to about it. Why does he have to be so far away? Not that he won't be back in two days, but that's way too long. "And then his wife came and we were all in shock because she slapped him and it echoed throughout the office—”

“BUNNY~!” The boy flinches like someone smacked him with a boiling-hot seafood paella, shells and all. You freeze on screen, knowing he was outside walking alone, but neither of you expected anyone to talk to him.

“You little gloomy loverboy, what are you doing so late?”

Here comes Lavinho, in all his chaotic glory and full dramatic uncle energy, with arms wide, sunglasses on his head, dancing up the sidewalk like he’s in a music video. He claps a hand on Bunny’s shoulder and beams at his phone screen. “Who’s this? Awww, look at her!” he coos. “Are you the one he called mi vida y mi corazon?”

Bunny looks like he wants to die. “He is lying, I didn’t say that.”

“Sí, sí, he said it. Swear on my career,” Lavinho declares proudly, planting a dramatic hand on his chest. “That reminds me he once asked me for dating advice on how to make a woman happy. So romantic, no?”

You’re absolutely fangirling on the screen, and is it possible to have hearts instead of pupils in your eyes? “Do you really think that about me?” you ask sweetly.

“No,” Bunny refuses to tell you the truth, but also refuses to lie, until Lavinho shouts again, “Bunny said you are the only reason he’s still playing! The little liar pretends he doesn’t care, but he’s so soft. Just like his little cheeks, I pinch them sometimes...”

“Okay, that's enough,” Bunny announces flatly, turning the camera to show him walking, then speeding up to run away, while Lavinho is chasing him in the background as the elder yells after him, “You love her, wanna kiss her, write her name on your boots!”

You’re wheezing, “Baby, I’m screen recording this right now. Didn't know you loved me that much~” Bunny groans as if he’s in his last life, but he secretly enjoys it, not that he would tell you, but you see it in his smile. “I should’ve let my phone die.”

©2025 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[bernardsbendystraws]

. bf .ᐟ chris celebrates pride with you

⚠︎ fluff, mentions of smut, bisexual!reader, motor boating mentions, boners, and goofy shit ✨

“Ya happy?” Chris tuts, licking over his teeth while rolling his eyes. 

You nod cheerfully, adjust the bows in his hair that you had carefully arranged. His grip on your waist tightens a bit. “Mhm, just gotta…” 

The words trail unfinished from your lips. A slight twitch of your nose makes him bite back a smile. He feels as you shift on his lap, your tongue prodding out the corner of your mouth with a look of concentration etched on your face. 

“-are we almost done yet?” he asks. The smile on your face falls for only a second, your lips curling into an unbeatable grin as you see him struggling to contain a laugh. 

Something about this is just perfect. Sure, it’s silly and playful, but you feel supported—you feel reassured of how much your boyfriend really loves you and recognizes your identity. 

Being bisexual in relationships has been tough in the past. Men would often sexualize that part of you or accuse you of constantly cheating. 

That was not Chris at all. Your boyfriend was more than supportive, more than open about how much he loved all of you. 

“I don’t know why you picked me over like…any girl,” he puffs, his eyes wide as he lets his eyes trace up to yours, “-but, I’m very fucking lucky. Oh—and I’m sorry I don’t have tits.” 

You cackle at his apology. There’s a serious undertone to his words, he doesn’t understand how you could pick him over someone who has tits. He’s obsessed with yours. Laying on them, kissing them, massaging them, hell—sometimes he’ll even talk to them like he does with his stuffed bear. 

“It’s okay, at least you have a nice butt.” you reamark. 

Chris’ eyes narrow at your words. You run your hands through his hair as you loosen all the accessories tangled in his brown locks. He sighs from the relief of tension from his scalp, his eyes staring into yours with a certain look that makes your lips vibrate as you laugh. 

“I mean….yeah…touchè.” he reasons, rolling his lips together as he lets his gaze float onto your face, “-I can’t believe I tell you that we can do anything for pride month that you want and you chose to put bows in my hair.” he tuts, shaking his head with disbelief as a slight smile crawls over his features. 

Shrugging, you let out a brief hum. “I’m happy. I don’t see an issue.” 

His eyes wrinkle at the corners. You feel his hands squeeze onto your waist, his tongue darting over his lips swiftly. “I mean, if you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

You massage your fingers against his scalp. Shifting forward to earn a better balance on his lap, you gasp as you feel a familiar bulge. “Very happy apparently.” you huff, laughing as he tugs you impossibly closer. 

“Yeah, well,” he nuzzles his face in between the valley of your breasts through the thin T-shirt, “-can’t help it around you. You’re so…ugh…I just love you.” 

Your brows furrow as he cups the underside of both your tits. Looking down, you see him staring directly at one of them, a goofy smile planted on his face. “-and I love you, and you,” he says, his stare shifting to your other breasts as he gently squeezes both of them in his hands. 

“You’re a dork,” you establish, giggling as he looks up at you with sad puppy eyes. 

“Hey, you can’t say that. You like tits too, you should understand.” he reasons. 

You go to bite back at the logic, but you feel him hug you impossibly close, worshipping you as he breathes in your scent. 

“Okay, fair. I love you too.” 

Chris sighs with contentment. His face is squished between your tits, his breath uneven and muffled as he tries to breathe while basically suffocating himself. 

“Not to ruin the moment, but my dick would look great between your tits.” 

a/n: ty for reading!!! i’m self projecting so like 😌✨ anyhow check my pinned to find more and any interaction is rlly appreciated <333

creds to @mattscoquette for the word bow being used (pls no nachos stab) & @luvs4matt too…

with love and big tits, rose 🫶🏻

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #16

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"I can't let them take everything."

"What is your relationship?"

"I'm not afraid of the future."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"We're in this together."

"You have to let me go."

"I won't let them take you."

"We need to stay focused."

"This isn't just a game."

"We have to stay together."

"I can't do this without you."

"You need to see the bigger picture."

"This changes everything."

"We have to be brave."

"This changes everything."

"We need to find our own path."

"This isn't about us; it's about everyone."

"I'm not afraid to stand alone."

"We need to find the strength within ourselves."

"I don't see this working out for us."

"This is our story, and we're writing it together."

"I can see myself living like this."

"You're living in a dream world."

"The stars are beautiful."

"Can you like not?"

"I didn't even know you exist."

"Call me queen."

"Are you for real?"

"There is no proof for that."

"Do you want to see it?"

"And goodbye!"

"Why do you always make things hard?"

"Really good to see you."

"Don't be so greedy."

"There is probably a very reasonable explanation for that."

"I don't see this working out for us."

"That is a line we shouldn't cross."

"I know you too well for that."

"Why is everyone running?"

"It could be dangerous."

"Loneliness is a disease."

"I'm so proud of myself."

"How do you intend to do this?"

"You can't always win."

"Oh, what a joy."

"Don't be so stupid."

"And here we go again."

"I feel like there is more to come."

"It's a mystery we may never solve."

"Have you seen the monster?"

"I'm freezing and I'm not happy about it."

"That's too much energy."

"Come on, everybody, let's go."

"How do you want to win them back?"

"What is your signature dish?"

"Please come with me to my family event."

"Our communication skills are so bad."

"We were never friends."

"You're a little confused."

"Because this is how I like it."

"Everything is identical."

"Let's see how this plays out."

"That's so inspiring."

"You weren’t supposed to see that."

"I never said it was going to be easy, just that it was worth it."

"What's the price of this?"

"You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know the truth."

"Are you really going to trust them over me?"

"Just because I don’t say much doesn’t mean I don’t notice everything."

"You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for this."

"Tell me, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?"

"You always said you’d never lie to me."

"I knew you would be back. You always come back."

"What would you do if I told you I had one day left to live?"

"And here we go again..."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

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[bullet-prooflove]

Night Thoughts: Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fadeinsol

Summary: You and Pope discuss your fears about becoming a parent.

Companion piece to:

The Professional - Pope meets the love of his life when Smurf hires her to crack a safe.

Ethical Thieving - You introduce Pope to a new skill set.

The Skatepark - Pope reacts badly when you try to share your feelings.

The Octagon - Smurf decides to show you the real Pope Cody.

Two Weeks - Two weeks is too long for Pope to go without you.

Crazy (NSFW) - Pope's always been crazy but now he's also a man in love.

Tomorrow - Pope's family always fuck up the good in his life.

Do Over Day (NSFW) - Pope tries to make up for the day before.

Everything - Pope's family life clashes with your time together.

Positive - Pope didn't expect for it to happen sooner rather than later.

Four Bullets - Smurf finds out about you and Pope, leading to dire consquences.

Misery (feat: Baz Cody) - Baz starts to notice there’s something wrong with Pope.

The Gruffalo - Pope finally lays eyes on you for the first time in months.

Kill The Queen - Pope tries to come to terms with Smurf’s death.

You wake up to the sensation of Pope’s palm smoothing across your stomach, his hand dipping underneath the fabric of that t-shirt of his you’re wearing, his fingertips caressing your bare skin.

“She’s kicking again.” He whispers in the darkness, his voice filled with wonder as he chases the movement. You roll over onto your side, your face inches apart so you can look into his dark eyes. “Does it happen a lot?”

“All the time at night.” You tell him, snuggling back down into your pillow. “It’s something to do with the movement during the day rocking them to sleep.”

“So at night when mommy rests, it becomes an all out party.” He summarises, tickling the space where his daughter nudges against his hand. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping so good?”

Nothing escapes this man, he’s been back in your life for almost forty eight hours and he’s already picking up on all of your shit. It’s kind of nice in a way because you’ve spent the majority of this pregnancy alone up until now.

“Partly.” You say with a sigh, looking down at the baby bump between the two of you. “The baby, she just brings up some thoughts, ones I haven’t figured out how to make peace with just yet.”

“What kinda thoughts?” He asks, propping his head up on his arm so he can give you his full attention.

“The fact I don’t have a parenting blueprint.” You tell him. His eyebrows furrow into a deep frown as he waits for you to explain. “My mom died when I was seven and my father…” You don’t say anything more than that but Pope knows what you’re alluding too. He was not the kind of role model anyone wants for their daughter. “I just don’t want to fuck her up like the way our parents fucked us up.”

“Well we have a roadmap of what not to do.” Pope tells you, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear. “We already have so much love for her, we read the books, you take vitamins, attend doctors’ appointments. That’s already lightyears ahead of our parents. And the parenting classes will get us more prepared, everything else we’ll be able to figure together. The two of us”-he gestures between you- “we’re a team and we’ll support one another through the tough spots.”

The fact he’s here, saying those words, looking towards the future… You can’t express just how reassuring that is to someone who was a single mom this time last week.

“You have so much faith in the both of us.” You say as his thumb chases over the apple of your cheek. You clasp his hand to your face, your lips ghosting over the hollow of his wrist.

“You always tell me I’m not my history.” He reminds you, his whiskey coloured eyes soft as he looks at you. “You aren’t yours either. The two of us are going to break the cycle, raise our daughter to be happy, let her be a kid until she decides to become the president or an astronaut or whatever the fuck she wants. She’s going to have choices and opportunities that we never dreamed of and that’s because of us, because we decided to be better, do better. We made that decision, that’s how I know we’re going to be good parents.”

“Fuck.” You drawl, your forehead coming to rest upon his. “You’re so good at this already Andy.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his arm encircling your waist, drawing you even closer into the shelter of his form.

“Yeah.” You confirm, as his palms smooth over your back, rubbing soothing circles over your sore mucles. “I think you’re going to be an excellent daddy.”

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