#wanting someone physically must feel... even more wrong

[anyarose011]

Born Too Late III: "It Ain't Me, Babe"

Pairing: DBF!Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

Summary: You're not out of the woods even after your roommate's crazy ex-boyfriend beat you to a pulp. Over a series of setbacks pushing you to the brink of several panic attacks (or is it just one really long one?), you still manage to find refuge in a few, safe people. But, in the words of Doechii "And just when it couldn't get worse", the worst possible person finds out about you and Robby...

Part 3 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past Physical Assault, Blood, Inevitable Medical Inacuracies, Allusion/Mention of Sexual Assault, ANGST, Trent and Kimi, Reader has valid crashout(s), Healing of Daddy Issues?, Rant about a Real Criminology Concept, and a Realistic but Open-Ending.

I do have to say that this was one of my favorite stories to write on here. Not even for the purpose of Robby x Reader, I just loved the dynamics of all the characters and plot overall. I truly hope that the ending doesn't seem like a cop out; my intention was to write it as real as possible, especially since this all took place in one day. I'm tempted to write a prequel to this, showing all of the "missing scenes" alluded to throughout the story with Robby. We'll see how I feel lol. Thank you guys for ALL your interest, and hope you enjoy the ending! Sorry not sorry about the length, I yap 😭

Word Count: 9.2k

There were people you knew who had resting bitch faces. Dennis Whitaker was the first person you met to have a resting scared face.

That, and it was also because he asked you if you were okay, and you didn’t say anything.

He called your name. “Are you okay?”

Your mouth trembled as you tried to find the words. What left your lips must have been from the depths of your subconscious.

“Where-where’s my dad?”

You were outside of your body, but you couldn’t even see yourself. Hell, you didn’t feel like yourself.

Whitaker furrowed his brow. “Your…your dad?”

All you could do was nod.

“I’m not sure.” He responded gently. “Can I take your hand?”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. You wanted to cry, but you didn’t know why you couldn’t. Whitaker took your hand, leading you alongside him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a bit; I know things have been crazy.” He smiled reassuringly.

“It’s okay.” You whispered.

“Have you eaten anything besides chocolate today?”

You shook your head. “Have you?”

“No.” He laughed. “We can go get something from one of the vending machines in the break room.”

“I want to go home.”

God, could you sound even more like a sniveling child?

Whitaker stopped just a few feet away from the elevator and so did you. He got a better look at you; either that, or he was finally saying everything he first noticed when he ran into you.

 “What happened to your nose?” He asked gently. “It’s kinda swollen.”

“I don’t know.”

Why did you say that so swiftly?

He frowned. “Were you crying just now? I think some of your mascara got onto your cheeks.”

Instinctively, you wiped your face with your free hand as if you would find any residue. You shook your head.

“It’s nothing.”

Whitaker took a deep breath, lowering his voice and saying your name. “I’m going to be honest, I think you should get checked out by someone here. It doesn’t have to be me, but I think something bad happened to you. You don’t have to tell me-.”

“-I’m fine.”

“But please, let me help you.”

It felt wrong, how he wanted to. No, it was his job to do that; there’s no way someone could see right through you when you were actually not doing well. You had relationships (friendships and romantic) where you had to earn the privilege of people caring for you.

You’d gotten used to it. Mainly with Kimi but also others who you thought were safe.

It felt like your skin was burning, and it was only then you realized you were still holding his hand. So, you dropped it.

“Thank you,” you felt like a puppet on strings as your mouth moved. “but really I’m fine.”

“Did you drive here?”

He wasn’t giving up.

“Yes.” You sighed. “I know what you’re doing, I can-.”

“-One of the guys on the night shift got here early and discharged me.” He interrupted, yet somehow, you weren’t annoyed. “We can go get your stuff and then get dinner. Anywhere you want, my treat. I mean, as long as it’s not like over a hundred bucks or something.”

You wondered if he was smiling out of nerves or trying to cheer you up. In your experience, it was usually both.

“I’ll drive.” You stated.

He thinned his lips. “You had a rough day; I can do it.”

You snorted. “So, if you’re driving my car, how are you getting home?”

“I’ll call an Uber.”

Usually, you would’ve made a joke about his male privilege and being so carefree about taking an Uber home late at night, but circumstances didn’t allow you to. Still, as if it hadn’t been one of the worst days of your life, a watery smile pulled onto your lips.

The ‘ding!’ of the elevator beside you made your head turn, and the doors slid open. Standing there, was Trent, seething. Blood coursed down from his nose to his chin, and where you once saw nothing behind his eyes, they were now filled with the rage you knew all too well.

You met his gaze the same time your soul left your body.

“You fucking bitch!” He charged you.

It happened all so fast.

Trent was just a hair away from you one moment, the next, Whitaker flung you behind him. You landed onto the ground, and when you looked up, you saw Whitaker go face first onto the floor beside you.

Crying in horror, you grabbed onto a nearby cart and pulled yourself onto your feet. Everything playing in your ears was simply noise; people were yelling and screaming, but you couldn’t make out a word they were saying.

It was only your eyes you could trust.

If they did not deceive you, you watched Jack Abbott tackle Trent to the ground; the first one to do so…When did he get there?

And, it was then that your vision began to blur as tears clouded your sight, that part of your hearing returned. As you stood there, with Jack holding Trent down, for verbatim, you heard.

“Did you get off my little girl when she told you to?!”

Someone wrapped their arm around your shoulders, turning you away, but something in your body told you that they were safe. You could barely see anything as you were led through the ER; only hazy objects and blaring lights. Someone was talking in your ear too, but again, it was just all noise upon the noise coming from the catastrophe behind you.

 You hadn’t even realized you were clinging to the person like a buoy in an ocean you were stranded in until you heard a door slide shut behind you. Like a miracle, your vision started clearing up, and air entered through your nose and into your lungs.

Then, the taste of blood on your tongue.

You touched your nose, pulling your hands away to see them coated in red.

Melissa King gently called your name, placing her hand on your back.

“You should sit down.” She moved away from you to dim the lights, and your eyes caught sight of one Heather Collins in the room as well, prepping one of the beds.

Somehow, just at the sight of a medical bed, did you finally realize how much everything hurt.

Yet, you couldn’t rest.

The little girl, practically a baby, the one who got stung by a bee, you had to make sure she was okay, you had to-!

Collins rested her hands on your shoulders, stopping you. “It’s okay. Robby checked on her a minute ago, she’s fine. You need to sit down.”

Did you say all of that aloud? Could she read your mind? Oh God, if she could, then does she know-?!

“-Holy fucking shit!” Santos opened the door, and you never knew her face could morph into such fear. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head. “Is Dennis okay?!”

He threw himself in front of you and was fucking pummeled to the floor!

Santos looked out the door before looking back. “I’m gonna be honest, his nose kinda looks messed up. But hey, you’re twinning.”

“Santos!” Collins scolded.

“Right, you’re right.” She nodded. “I’m so sorry I-.”

“-I heard you had a spinal tap to do.” Collins interrupted.

“I’ll go.” Santos gave one last look to you. “I’ll talk to you later, I swear.”

And then she left. It wasn’t the strangest, nor the quickest, interaction you had with someone…but fucking hell, this day.

Mel said your name again, but this time, strained. You looked at her and saw her gaze downwards at your pants. Following it, you saw blood seeping through the fabric around your groin.

Your jaw trembled as you looked back up at both her and Collins. As professionals, you knew they had seen worse than this. As women, you could see that familiar look of horror on their faces.

“He didn’t do anything.” Were your first words. “Not like that.”

“Baby…” Collins uttered.

“No, no,” You resisted. “I’m on my period! I-I-Mel, you gave me a pad this morning. I got him off me and-and I got it out and put it in his face so he’d stay off. I-I-I mean he bragged about pulling a girl’s tampon out of his mouth one time, so I didn’t think he’d overreact.”

What were you even saying?!

“I’ve had sex before! I-I would know, I would know if that bastard did something to me and-and-!” You hiccupped, feeling more blood seep through your nose and into your mouth.

“It’s okay,” Collins soothed. “we believe you. Can you sit down so I can assess you?”

What other choice did you have?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you tried to catch the blood still gushing out of your nose before it could get on more of your clothes. Too late for that.

Mel went to one of the drawers nearby as Collins held up her finger. “Follow it.”

You did; passed with flying colors.

“EOM is intact.” She told herself, then took a mini flashlight from her pocket, shining it in your eyes. “Pupils are reactive. Do you have a headache?”

“Kinda.”

“Does it hurt to breathe through your nose?”

“Weird, but doesn’t hurt.”

Mel came beside you with a handful of tissues and a nasal tampon. “I’m going to clean up the area around your nose, and this should pack the bleeding.”

You hummed. “You got one for me to put between my legs?”

She shook her head.

“Extra pants?”

Collins slipped off her sweatshirt, draping it over your legs. “I got some in my locker, plus a pad.”

You nodded, getting choked up. “Thank you.”

“Mel,” she looked at her. “could you finish up?”

She affirmed. “Of course.”

“I’ll grab some icepacks.”

Collins left, leaving you alone with Mel. It felt strange; both your body and the entire day. Still, Mel wasn’t one to dwell on it, unlike you.

She brought the tissues up to your nose. “Your gonna feel some pressure.”

You grunted as she placed the Kleenex onto your nostrils. The white tissues turned red, and she carefully slid the tampon into your left nostril. Apparently, that was the only one bleeding.

Mel placed her thumbs on your face. “Tell me when you feel pressure.”

They traveled up around the area of your nose, and it was only when she touched the septum did you hiss in pain. Mel walked back over to the drawer, then taking out a few wet wipes.

“Well,” she hunched over, cleaning the blood off of you as gently as she could. “it’s not misshapen, so that’s good. It’s not broken either. Swollen and bruised, but all you really need are icepacks and I could get you some pain medication.”

“Could you take pictures?” You asked out of the blue.

 “I’m sorry?”

“Police usually take pictures of injuries for evidence, but could you?” You explained. “I just want to get it out of the way.”

Mel nodded. “Yeah, of course. Is it just your nose?”

You sighed. “No. It might be my head, I don’t know. He kicked me in the ribs…I think…yes, he did.”

“If you feel comfortable, would you want me to take pictures of those too?”

“Yes.” You said with certainty.

She backed up enough to give you space, taking out her phone. You decided to start with your ribs. They were tender, but thankfully, it wasn’t impossible to pull your shirt up. After Mel took a picture, you pulled it back down and she took a few photos of your nose and head.

“This is the worst photoshoot I’ve ever been in.” You joked.

“I’ve never been in one.” She stated.

“Let’s change that when the weather’s better.”

“Alright.” She put her phone away. “Now-.”

The door slid open, and in came Kimi like a bat out of hell.

“-What the hell did he do to you?!” She approached you.

Mel placed her hand on her shoulder. “You can’t be in here-.”

“-Fuck you, she’s my roommate.” She kneeled in front of you. “Baby, what happened?”

You hadn’t realized there was a long list of people you didn’t want to see at that moment, and she was near the top. You looked away, scowling and slipping the tampon out of your nose. Luckily, the blood finally stopped.

She didn’t take that as you being angry with her. She huffed. “Motherfucker. What’d you say to him?”

You finally looked at her. “What?”

“I’m just asking.” She explained. “He’s never done this before when I was a bitch, so you probably pissed him off-.”

You laughed. “-You’re an idiot.”

Kimi’s eyes shifted. At first, she was confused, then it quickly seeped into appalment. “What do you mean?”

You fell into a fit of giggles like Alice did down the rabbit hole. “I have told you hundreds, thousands, of times that whenever Trent hit something near you or me, then he actually wanted to hit one of us!”

Standing up, you weren’t laughing now. “And my God, I have never met someone who hates themselves so much, they bring a baby into the world for validation. But no, no, no, they’re not expecting to get it from the kid, they’re so fucking stupid they still think they’ll get it from the dad!”

The door slid open gently, and Collins came back in, carrying the pants, a single pad, and an ice pack. She said nothing.

Kimi didn’t lash out, and that’s what terrified you. Tears flew down her cheeks as you yelled at her, but she took a deep breath once you were finished.

“So, what should I do? Fuck my fifty-year-old boss?” She huffed. “How’s that working out for you?”

She marched out of the room, past Collins.

A part of you wished that Trent had killed you in the bathroom; you couldn’t feel shame if you were dead.

If not that, then you wished he somehow blinded you; just so that you wouldn’t have to see the way Heather Collins’s face dropped at the revelation.

Those two seconds in that room were brutal after Kimi left. Just where your gaze could only fall to the floor, and you didn’t even want to imagine the looks Mel and Collins were giving each other; or you.

“She has whiplash.” Collins said. “She can’t leave alone unless she signs an AMA.”

Just like that, you felt Mel hover her hand over your shoulder before retracting it and rushing out of the room. You stood there like a child who had just been yelled at, and didn’t dare to even breathe.

“How about we put these on?”

And Heather spoke to you like you were still one, but not with any hint of disdain in her voice. Hesitantly, you looked up and saw her holding the pants out to you. With shaking hands, you took them in yours.

She picked up her sweatshirt from the floor. “I’ll cover you. You can turn around if that makes you more comfortable.”

You nodded, and she draped the sweatshirt in front of you, giving you privacy from any peering eyes outside. Slowly, after getting your pants down to your knees, you slipped your underwear down; your ribs aching with every move. You managed to secure the pad, and as you tried to pull your pants all the way down, the sharpness in your side forced a hiss out of you.

“You need help?” She asked.

You shook your head immediately but seethed and clutched your ribs when you tried again. Collins set her sweatshirt aside, placing a comforting hand on your back and dropping down.

“I got it.”

She helped you out of your bloodied pants, and you placed your hands on her shoulders as you put one leg into each hole of the pants she got for you. Your eyes watered at the familiar feeling; how old were you the last time you did this? Seven? It’s so strange to remember such a small thing as your mother dressing you, not knowing when it would be the last time.

“There we go.” Collins smiled, standing back up, then guiding you to sit back down on the bed.

“I’m sorry.” You finally managed to say, even if it was barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, handing you an ice pack. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

She hates you. You told yourself.

You saw Kiara come to the door, and your heart leapt into your chest. She waited as Collins cracked it open, and they talked in hushed tones. In the end, Kiara came in and she sat at your side.

You had to cross your arms to keep yourself from throwing them around her. You doubt she would’ve cared, but it was strange; at that moment, you wanted to be held, but still would’ve felt like you were suffocating.

“Hey.” She greeted gently.

“Where is he?” You asked.

 “Well,” she began, not knowing exactly who you were asking for. “Whittaker’s being checked on, and he won’t stop asking if you’re alright. Trent was secured in a room, but the police just arrived so he’s in custody now. They want to talk to you, is that okay?”

You nodded. “If it’s a fucking man, I’m leaving.”

“There’s a woman.” She comforted. “She already volunteered to speak with you. At any point, if you want to stop-.”

“-I won’t.”

She said your name, warning but not to scare you. “I know you want justice; we all do. Still, you have to do what is best for you in the moment. You have every right to react the way you need to. Do you want Dr. Collins to be in here?”

You shook your head.

“Alright.” Kiara looked at her. “Could you send in officer Moreno, please?”

Collins nodded. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

Before you could say that her shift was over, she left. There you sat with Kiara, staring at an empty corner of the room. Without thinking, you laid your head on her shoulder. She said nothing; just ran her hand up and down your back as the officer came in.

It was different being the one to tell the police what happened to you. You were either in the cop’s position asking questions, or Kiara’s, just being a support for the other person.

Officer Moreno was nice enough. She never pushed you, but she wasn’t exactly comforting either. You understood she just wanted everything to write a report for, but you knew this wouldn’t be the last person you’d have to talk to.

The more you spoke about what happened to you in the last fifteen minutes (fuck…was that all it’d been?), the heavier your body became. You didn’t even feel a hint of fear or sadness within you; just the aching in your nose, and the exhaustion that swept over you.

Officer Moreno asked to take photos of your injuries, and you told her you’d taken them already, saying you’d give them to her.

“You’re efficient.” She complimented.

I have to be; you wouldn’t do anything if I wasn’t. You said in your head, but aloud you uttered. “Thanks.”

She left you with a phone number to send pictures to the police, a case number if you “remember anything else”, and a “Goodnight.”

That left you and Kiara together.

“Where’s Kimi?” You asked.

“She was calling her mom to pick her up last time I checked.” She answered. “Do you need a ride home?”

You shook your head. “I’ll get my dad to.”

“Dr. Abbott’s on call right now.”

Of course she knows.

“I can do it.” She offered.

“Kiara.” You said. “I’ll call a friend from my building.”

“I just want you to get home safe.”

“I will.” You smiled. “You’ve been here longer today. Go home.”

She sighed, standing. “You’re not coming in tomorrow. I’ll get Zidan to escort you out if you do.”

You forgot who that was for a moment, until you remembered him as the security guard. You were going to have to make him cookies or something; he probably had to deal with not just Trent, but a million other people.

Kiara said goodbye, giving you one last look before leaving. Just as you stood up to escape, Collins came back inside, carrying your purse and lunchbox.

“I’m sorry, I got the code from Jack.” She set them down. “How’re you feeling?”

You don’t know why, you had been asked that damn question countless times that day, but Collins asking it was the final nail in the coffin. Hours of repressed tears finally escaped your eyes, and you covered your mouth.

She immediately placed her hands on your arms, looking over you. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m sorry.” You hiccupped, rubbing your eyes.

“There’s nothing to-.”

“-Yes, there is!” You sobbed, and everything came out like a confession in a Catholic church. “I-I didn’t know you and Robby were together. I-I didn’t even know that he’d be a supervisor, or-or that I’d work with him, or even-or even that…”

Collins wrapped her arms around you, and you hid your head in her shoulder. She shushed. “I’m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No,” she pulled away, still holding onto you. “I’m not.”

You searched her face. You couldn’t find a hint of anger, but you knew she had to have felt something towards you. “Weren’t-weren’t you together…?”

“Not for a long time.” She shook her head.

You rubbed your face with your sleeve; you had cried all of your mascara off. Sighing, you picked up your belongings.

“I’ll wash your pants. Thanks.”

She laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Just wait a little bit.”

“You’re done with your shift, I’m done with mine.” You shrugged her off. “I’ll call a friend, I won’t drive.”

Except you would.

Collins said your name, and you only wished her goodnight, walking out the door. It was a miracle no one was instantly surrounding you, asking for answers to questions you had no energy to even listen to. You were making your way to the door to Chairs when-.

Your name left your stepfather’s mouth. You glanced to the side and saw him making a beeline towards you from across the room. Without any uncertainty, you turned around and walked back where you came from.

Like a demon in the night, you felt panic fester within you once again, just when you thought it was all over. You weren’t running, but your legs began to burn alongside your chest as you tried to find the nearest exit.

You pushed your way outside and found yourself in the ambulance bay. Still, despite there being only two paramedics and one security guard, there were still too many people. Your vision blurred once again, and you limped against the wall until you found the small opening to the alleyway.

Collapsing against the brick wall, you dropped everything you were holding and hid your eyes in your hands.

And you cried; really, truly cried.

Then crying turned into sobbing, then to weeping, then into you having to cover your mouth as you started wailing. You didn’t know when the walls of the alleyway started closing in on you, and neither did you know if it was your own shame or the walls crushing you to the point where it hurt to breathe.

You couldn’t even think. Every time you panicked, the weight of the world and all of your actions came into your head like a horrible flicker. Not now; no, there was nothing but white, hot pain.

“Put your head between your legs.”

They were just words. You couldn’t recognize the voice, but you listened. Knees bent, you bowed your head.

“Breathe.” The voice said, and it sounded deeper. “In and out. In and out.”

You did. The countless times you had to coach someone through an anxiety attack coming back to you.

It must’ve been another minute before you could feel your heart slow down and hear the ordinary sounds of the night; a pleasant mix of the bugs on the ground beside you, and a near-distant ringing of an ambulance.

“Rough day?”

It was Robby. That was the voice who had guided you through the second panic attack that day…or was it your third? Or had you just been in one that lasted a full half-hour?

You laughed upon looking at him, shaking your head and drying your eyes.

He offered a pitiful smile. “That bad?”

“Yeah.” You heaved. “Does this mean I’m doing a good job at coping if I’m laughing?”

Robby shrugged. “If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.”

“I’ve done too much of that today.”

He nodded, not saying anything. You rested your head against the brick wall. Maybe it was better that you saw him after all the shit that hit you in such a short amount of time. In the end, tears and all, the whole day was just ridiculous.

“Do you want me to tell you what happened?” You asked.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He looked at you.

Sighing, you realized that, yes, you actually did.

“I wasn’t sexually assaulted.” You said it so easily. “It just…hurt, what he did. Nothing’s broken but I still feel like shit and it’s…it’s funny. I apologized. I was so unprofessional towards him, and I apologized, but he still did this. I did everything right and he still did this!”

Robby shook his head. “Don’t go down that road. Nothing you did to him could ever justify what he did to you.”

“No,” you didn’t even listen, tone laced with sarcasm. “I did so many things wrong now that I think about it. ‘Christie’s Ideal Victim, 1986’; there are five things that make the perfect victim. ‘She, always a she, is physically weaker than the attacker’; gold mine if she’s a kid or a grandma, so I did that wrong. ‘The victim is doing a respectable task when the attack happens’: I was having a mental breakdown, so debatable. ‘Next, the attack happens in a place she could not be blamed for being in’; I was in a sketchy as fuck bathroom in the basement, so yeah, my fault. ‘The offender is physically stronger’; holy shit, he was, so I did that one right! ‘Finally, the victim has no prior relationship to the offender; he is a stranger.’ Well shit, I failed the perfect victim test.”

He sighed, saying your name.

“I’m not done.” You said, voice shaking. “Now I added my own qualifications to this obviously bullshit concept we were taught for ‘educational purposes despite how out of date it is’. What did I add, you’re asking? Only pretty girls, only nice girls, only virgin girls, and only white girls. Those are the only girls that apparently are the perfect victims to a lot of people. It’s been almost forty years, and there are still people who believe it.”

Robby’s gaze never left you, even when you looked away from him, talking to the actual brick wall in front of you. Yet…he listened. He was quiet after you finished, but only to let you breathe.

“I didn’t know any of that.” He finally said. “It’s horrible.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry, that teaching just always stuck with me and…”

“It came out tonight?” He asked.

“Yeah…” You brought your knees to your chest. “I’m gonna have to see Trent and Kimi again. Court, I think.”

“If you ever need-.”

“-I need a cigarette,” you tried to diffuse the pain, despite bringing it up. “that’s what I need.”

He scoffed. “Should’ve asked me five years ago. Anything else I could get for you?”

“Is there a Jewish prayer that kills someone?”

“You smoke and you’re religious?” He feigned shock, but you could still see inklings of it on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many secrets.”

“Answer the question, Robinavitch.”

“No.” He huffed. “Not that I know of, at least.”

“I’m not really religious either.” You sighed. “After the day I had though…”

He nodded. “I’ve been there.”

“You’ve been a girl lost in her twenties before?”

“I’m a son-of-a-bitch in my fifties, and I’m still lost.”

As if you shared a mind, you both laughed. It wasn’t loud or even jubilant; more so just an acknowledgement of how weird the whole situation was. There was a sense of familiarity with how you were talking to him.

How you and Michael joked around but also were capable of serious conversations, whether it was about personal struggles or just current events.

Now though? As you sat in an alleyway just outside of the place you discovered who Robby really was? There was more of an honesty; a shameless one.

“Makes sense,” you wheezed. “we fucked each other.”

Although he was getting over his laughter, he still asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Your smile began to fall, but somehow, you couldn’t lose it fully. Call it insanity, or call it nerves, you still spoke with it.

“I mean…I actually liked you.” You admitted, and instead of feeling horrible, it felt better to finally say it. “I slept with you because you were nice, and you made me feel safe, not just because I had an itch or something. I knew we wouldn’t date or anything, but…I just really liked you.”

Robby had a horrible poker face when it came to women; he told you that when you first caught him smiling in a way you’d never seen a man smile at you before. Now, he was looking at you, face fallen into…not exactly pity, but something alike to it.

He took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to hurt you; it was never my intention.”

“…You kissed my forehead the next morning, then left. I saw the note saying I could stay but…I felt stupid just waiting for you, so I went home. You didn’t leave me your number or anything else, then I didn’t see you again.” You sounded more confused than wounded. “I know I was stupid. You probably just wanted to feel younger and-.”

“-It mattered to me.” He stopped you. “Yes, there’s no way we can keep this up; I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. Don’t think that I regretted it, or that it didn’t mean anything to me. I liked you too.”

You genuinely didn’t expect him to be so vocal about it. It would’ve been easier for him to just nod and agree that it was nothing more than a primal feeling; no emotions on his side. Still, there he was, openly admitting it all.

You breathed in through your nose, despite how strange it felt. “I wish I was born the same year you were.”

Robby kept his eyes on your form, and when you glanced over at him, you wondered if his response would be ‘Me too.’

But it wasn’t.

“I wouldn’t have been good for you.” He confessed.

“Why not?”

He said your name, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallowed, knowing that he meant it. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s…” He sighed heavily. “You’re going to find the right person one day, and they’ll be your age-.”

A laugh left your mouth. Except, it wasn’t a spiteful or doubtful one, even Robby could tell. It was the most genuine and honest one you felt that day.

“I fucking knew it!” You bragged.

He snorted. “What?”

“You had to have had that line in the holster or something.”

“Maybe I’ve just seen too many movies.” He laughed with you.

The both of you just sat there in the peculiar change of emotions. Of course it wasn’t the strangest thing to happen to you that day. To add to it, you said.

“I’m wearing your ex-girlfriend’s pants. She and Dr. King know, by the way.” He snapped his gaze at you, and you thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest. You shrugged. “Collins she…it’s probably just because I got the shit beaten out of me, but she acted like she didn’t care.”

Robby looked back at the brick wall, taking it all in. After a while he said. “That’s why she looked like she was gonna kill me a second ago.”

You snorted. “When?”

“Before you ran out here.” He clarified. “Jack saw you, I told him I’d talk to you because he was technically on duty, Heather comes out guns blazing saying something like ‘Don’t say a word to her,’. She tried to go after you, but I managed to get her to go home.”

You pursed your lips, surprised at Collins’ protectiveness. “Wanna divide and conquer? I talk to King, you talk to Collins?”

He nodded. “Sounds good. You uh…you gonna be alright? Going home?”

Looking down at your shoes, you took a bit to think. You didn’t really want to go back to your apartment, and maybe Kimi would stay home with her mom…but you were immature, you had just been beaten to a pulp, and you didn’t want to talk to her on the small chance she was at your apartment.

“Yeah, I mean…” It was second nature to avoid the conflict, but you caught yourself. “I know Trent won’t be there, hopefully never again, but I don’t know how I feel around Kimi. I was a piece of shit for what I said, but I don’t know how safe I’ve felt around her for a while. I told her how I felt about her boyfriend, she saw how he treated both of us, and I feel horrible she’s with him, but I won’t be collateral damage again.”

Robby nodded, taking a deep breath. “I might be overstepping, and I get if it’s a last resort, but if you ever feel unsafe at your apartment, you’re welcome to sleep at mine.”

You furrowed your brow, scoffing. “Is that really professional?”

“Just be respectful; and unless you’re dying, you’re on the couch.”

You both chuckled, the overall day only becoming more ludicrous by the second. You decided to add onto it.

“So, save for Collins and King,” you held your pinky up. “swear to never tell anyone about us?”

He snickered. “Really?”

“Yeah, mutually assured destruction. Whoever tells, has their pinky broken.”

 “Makes perfect sense.” He locked his pinky with yours. “Do we have to swear on anything or-?”

“-Nope.” You let go. “Pinky sworn.”

It felt natural after that, how you moved to hug him with no hesitance. He responded in kind, enveloping you into his arms. It felt…different. When you thought of it, the only times you really embraced were in moments of desperation, passion, even.

Now, it was quiet. For the first time that day, you felt at peace; both in your body, and inside his arms.

When he pressed his lips to your cheek just for a second, while it brought back memories, it was simply innocent.

He pulled away first from you, and you rubbed your eyes. “Thanks. Sorry about everything.”

“Don’t be.” He said. “‘Let everything happen to you, beauty and terror. Just keep going, no feeling is final.’”

“Oh hell yeah,” you smiled. “Jojo Rabbit.”

He furrowed his brow, not hiding his amusement. “Rainer Maria Rilke.”

“Yeah, it was in Jojo Rabbit.”

“Really? Haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, you’d love it. It’s about a little German boy in the 1940s who has an imaginary friend, and you’ll never guess who it is!”

“I don’t think I want to know who it is.” He chuckled.

You hummed, feeling just a little better. You looked around the alleyway, feeling as if you weren’t outside of an ER. “No wonder this is Jack’s favorite place to have a mental breakdown.”

“I would’ve thought the roof?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you saw that he wanted to take them back.

You blinked. “The…what?”

Well, there was something you had to talk to Jack about. It certainly wouldn’t be that night; too much to unpack.

“You didn’t hear it from me.” Was all Robby said, standing up and holding his hand out to you.

Sighing, you took it. “Think he’ll say more to me, or to you?”

“Whenever I find him up there,” he pulled you up. “I just guilt trip him into not jumping because that’s a horrible way to start a shift.”

“On parr with finding out you screwed the new hire?”

“Don’t push it.”

You snickered. “I’ll leave you alone. Have a good night.”

He wished you one as well, watching you go back into the ER, carrying all of your belongings. It seemed about as chaotic as you had known the night shift to be; although, it wasn’t even seven-thirty. There was one more person you wanted to see before you left.

Turns out though, there were two more who needed to speak with you.

“We’re not gonna ask if you’re okay because you’ll probably have an aneurysm.” Trinity Santos came up to you with Dennis Whitaker at her side. Her hair was down.

 “Okay?” You snickered, then looked at Whitaker. “Hey…thanks. I’m sorry your nose is fucked.”

He shook his head, offering a shy smile. “Don’t be. My brothers have hit me harder.”

“Aw, he’s just being modest.” Santos draped her arm around his shoulder. “He’s a regular ol’ Superman.”

“More like Clark Kent.” He corrected.

“Same person, Huckleberry.” She counter corrected. “Okay, so medically speaking, how are you doing?”

You pursed your lips. “Medically, my nose isn’t broken but always needs an icepack, I kinda have a headache, and my ribs hurt. Emotionally…everything.”

Santos nodded, a forlorn feeling upon her face; but somehow, you didn’t feel like she was pitying you. “I was about to beat the shit out of that guy if I didn’t have a baby coming in at the same time for a spinal tap. But we-Dennis has a proposition for you.”

All eyes fell on the poor boy whose nose bore a similar, semi-swollen resemblance to yours. He stumbled a little until he found the right words.

“We sometimes get together after a shift and watch a movie to decompress. We get food, and the person who had the worst day gets to choose the movie. We uh…we kinda appointed you, if you want to come. It wouldn’t be anything huge, just the three of us. That might be too much, and maybe you’re exhausted-.”

“-Oh,” you interrupted, crossing your arms. “so the only reason you’re inviting me to this secret movie club is because I got the shit beaten out of me?”

“No!” Whitaker gasped. “I-we just thought it’d be good to help overall after a stressful shift-.”

“Huckleberry,” Santos snickered. “she’s just fucking with you.”

He paused. “Oh…”

You smiled. “I’d love to. I uh…I technically shouldn’t be driving but my car’s here-.”

“-Do you mind stopping at Target to get some snacks?” Santos asked.

Pleasantly surprised by her question, you chuckled. “Um, no?”

“No sorry,” she laughed at herself. “I mean that I’ll drive your car, but is it okay if we get snacks on the way back to my place?”

“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.”

“Great!” She slipped her keys out of her pocket, holding them out to Whitaker. “You remember how to drive something other than a tractor, right?”

He made a face. “I’ve never driven a tractor before.”

“Bullshit, you told me you did.”

He shrugged. “Nebraska doesn’t even exist, why would I know how to drive a tractor?”

The conversation from earlier that day came to mind, and you saw in his eyes that he had it in mind as well. You smiled, turning your face down to hide it from the world. It had been a while since you had an inside joke with someone.

Whitaker took the keys. “I’m just kidding. Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there.”

“See you soon.” You wished him goodbye. Santos gave him a nod before he left. She turned to you, a shit eating grin on her face. You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged. “Ready to go?”

“Actually, I need to talk to someone first.”

“Who?”

Ah fuck it, You decided.

“My stepdad.” You answered. “He works the nightshift.”

“Damn! Who?”

You smirked. “You’re welcome to follow me at a distance to see.”

She made a face as if debating it. “Nah, I’ll give you privacy.”

Smiling, you nodded. “I’ll see you out front?”

“See you.”

She left through the doors into Chairs. Sighing, you began your search for Jack. On the way, you said a quick ‘hello’ to Ellis and went to check up on the little girl who had a bee sting. She was still there, speaking with the same police officer you had.

Your name cut through the air, and you looked to your right, seeing Jack approaching you. He wore the same look on his face you’d only seen on parents who had just lost their child in a supermarket only to soon find them.

“Hey.” He greeted once he stood in front of you.

“Hi…” You said. “Uh…is it okay to talk? I don’t know if you’re busy-.”

“-Unless Death himself comes into the ER, we’re gonna talk.”

Jack Abbott had technically only been a father for a few years (who knows if you can even count all of them considering you barely were at home after high school?), but he somehow managed to perfectly blend his strict tone into one of reassurance.

So, the two of you walked into the breakroom, and he spoke first.

“How was the shift?”

You smiled, sitting at the table. “Aside from getting the shit beaten out of me by my roommate’s boyfriend? Pretty okay.”

He sat beside you. “That’s a win in my book.”

That was the thing you and Jack had in common the second your mom introduced you to him: dark humor. You never hated him, but you never exactly got close with him. Maybe it was time to change that?

“Are you still in any pain?” He asked.

“Nose is getting a little better but is still sore, and so are my ribs.”

Jack nodded. “You got a ride home tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m actually gonna go hang out with Santos and Whitaker at their place, and then…” You couldn’t finish it. What were you going to do? You didn’t have the strength anymore to lie, saying you’d drive back to your apartment where Kimi might be.

You refused to stay with Robby, maybe Santos and Whitaker would take pity on you?

“I don’t know.” You choked on your words. “I said some horrible things to Kimi, but she also blamed me for what Trent did, and I…I don’t wanna go back to the apartment.”

Jack’s eyes softened. “You still got a key to the house?”

“Yours? Yeah.”

 “If you want to, your room’s still the same.”

You hadn’t slept in it since your mother died. You’d sometimes drive home from college and sleep over, so both your mom and Jack left it alone.

“You didn’t change it?” You couldn’t believe it.

He shrugged. “It’d take more effort to turn it into something else. I mean, it’s probably dusty as hell, but your bed’s still there, all your weird little trinkets and stuff from high school too.”

You scoffed. “It’s only weird to you, grandpa.”

“Sure, Jan.”

Both of you snickered, falling back into a rhythm you hadn’t known you lost. As it died down, Jack asked.

“But, you’re doing okay, kiddo? If you want to talk about it-.”

“-Not tonight.” You interrupted. “It’s just a lot but…you’ve probably seen worse.”

Jack looked like he wanted to say more, but he held back. It would’ve led down a farther hole of trauma, which you both knew you could not deal with. Instead, he asked. “You do anything I taught you?”

You grinned. “Yeah. Kicked his knee in and got creative with what I had around me.”

“Your pad, I heard.”

“It was his own fault he dabbled in fuckery!”

“Certainly was.”

“What…happened to him?”

Jack’s face grew sullen. Breathing through his nose, he said. “I got to him first and Robby had to pry me off. Bastard’s lucky he didn’t get a taste of my right foot.”

Damn…he was serious.

“Police took him away; I didn’t even get a slap on the wrist because he assaulted both you and a student doctor.”

You nodded. “Thank you...”

“Don’t mention it.”

You both fell into a tender yet awkward silence. There was so much but also nothing to say. It was actually Jack who tried to end the conversation.

“Well,” he stood. “I don’t wanna keep you from your new friends-.”

“-Would you wanna get breakfast sometime?”

It just fell from your mind and out of your mouth. You were hungrier than you thought and also wanted to spend time with him.

Despite working several shifts with Jack, and knowing him for years, you never saw him so surprised. Still, his face soon relaxed into one of mild glee.

“I’d love to, kiddo. How does tomorrow after my shift sound?”

Your eyes grew. “Really? You wouldn’t want to sleep in or something?”

“There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”

You weren’t going to cry, you had decided. Your stepfather, and essentially everyone else who had comforted you that night, were making it incredibly difficult.

“Do you need a hug?” He asked upon seeing your face; and most likely your attempt at repressing tears.

You shook your head. “I’ll bawl my eyes out again, and I gotta be somewhere after this.”

He hummed. “Wouldn’t want to embarrass you now, would I?”

“Well…” You placed your hand on his shoulder, attempting to still have physical affection without being overly vulnerable.

The awkward act, alongside a beat of silence, caused a fit of giggles to erupt between both of you. You must’ve laughed this hard with him at some point, but you couldn’t remember.

“I have therapy tomorrow at ten-thirty anyway.” He said, recovering.

“How’s it been?” You asked.

“Fine, nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded. “I’m really proud of you for going. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

He shifted in his seat but smiled. “Honestly, with what you’d been studying, it helped convince me. It sounds like the bare minimum for everyone if they’re able to go.”

Smiling, you teased. “You’re doing great; you’re raising my standards for men.”

“That a fact?”

You hummed. “If you didn’t start going to therapy, I would’ve married the first military man who asked, even if I only met him three weeks ago.”

“Hell no,” he played along. “eight weeks, I told you that.”

“Would you have proposed to my mom that quickly if you met her before you were deployed?”

“I would’ve married your mother sooner because I loved her.”

“Did you think that while you were dating her?”

“Of course I did.” He leaned forward, saying your name. “There are some people in this world who know in an instant who they want to spend the rest of their life with.”

You pursed your lips, thinking back to Robby, and everyone else you had ever dated in your life. “I don’t think I’m one of them.”

“And that’s okay.”

Sighing, you looked down at your watch and immediately stood with your belongings. “I should go. Hey…thanks for everything.”

Jack got up with you. “Don’t mention it. You got a ride?”

“Yeah, Santos. She’s driving my car.”

“Are you gonna sleep at the house tonight?”

“Uh huh.” You walked out of the breakroom, and he followed. “I’ll pick you up after your shift and we can get breakfast.”

“Are you okay to drive home?”

You turned to face him in the hall as you approached the door to Chairs. “I’ll be fine. If anything bad happens, I’ll call Ellis because you don’t have your phone on you, and she can tell you. Okay?”

Jack sighed. “Just doing my job, kiddo. Have you figured out which shift you want to do?”

That was the question. You’d done a week’s worth of the night shift, and only one day shift. You enjoyed people on both, and had personal history with both of the attendings…

“I think the day mostly.” You said. “I can’t come back in tomorrow, but I will after that. I think I like the vibe more. But, I’d also like to do at least one night shift a month; maybe two.”

Independence, but also not ignoring your stepfather’s existence.

Jack smiled. “I think that sounds reasonable. Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Jack.”

You’d work your way up to ‘dad’, and even the casual ‘I love you’. Still, it was more than apparent both of you were wholeheartedly fine with where you were at. Progress, that was what was being done.

Finally, you made your way out to the front of the hospital, and there was Santos, leaning against a streetlamp. She smiled, approaching you.

“How’s your daddy?”

You snorted. “He’s doing fine. How was your shift?”

She began walking to the parking lot with you beside her. “Not bad. I mean, kinda boring until your roommate and her batshit insane boyfriend came.”

“Glad they could entertain you.”

“I don’t mean it like-.”

“-No, I know.” You eased. “Do you have Mel’s number?”

She took out her phone. “Yeah, why?”

“I had her take pictures of my injuries, and I have to send them to the police.”

Santos glanced up at you. “How’d it go talking with them?”

“Eh.” You shrugged.

She chuckled, showing you her phone with Mel’s number on the screen. You created a new contact in your phone, then texted Mel as you and Santos walked.

“Hey, it’s your fellow member of the ‘Dead Moms and Unknown Dads’ club.”

Just as you typed it, you deleted it. Apparently, you still had the mental power to overthink things.

“Hey it’s,” you typed your name. “Could you please send me the pictures you took so I can give them to the police?”

It was then you decided to send another message. One completely different.

“I still owe you dinner, or lunch if you prefer. If you have any questions about what Kimi said after I blew up at her, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m okay with talking about it. Just could you not bring it up to anyone else, please?”

You had a feeling she wouldn’t text back that night. Maybe she’d talk about it tomorrow, or maybe she never wanted to hear about it? Still, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“All good?” Santos asked.

You smiled, putting your phone back in your pocket. “Good.”

“If you ever need help with legal shit, I’ve kinda been around the block with it.” She reassured. “But I know you’re probably smart enough to handle it if you want.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you walked in silence, apparently you had parked in Kansas, your car was so far away. To fill the space, Santos said.

“Whitaker likes you.”

You looked over at her, a funny look on your face. You knew what she meant but tried to deflect. “Yeah, I like him too. He got decked in the face so I wouldn’t.”

“No.” She shook her head, chuckling. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I think he wants to ask you out.”

There it was. Even with all the shit that happened to you that day, there were good things. You reconnected with your stepfather, you somehow managed to have the most mature “breakup” with a guy twice your age, his ex-girlfriend took care of you despite knowing about all the shit you had done, and you made new friends for the first time in a while.

Still…it was all so much.

“I don’t think I’m ready to date anyone right now.” You admitted. “I’ve got a lot going on.”

“No, of course.” She said. “I just wanted to give you a heads up, just in case if you weren’t feeling that way towards him, or if you were-.”

“-Trinity,” you stopped her, smiling. “I’m good.”

She nodded. “Right.”

Even with an abrupt ending, there was not a hint of discomfort. After finally finding your car, you thought it would’ve all been over when.

“Hey, doctor Robby.” Santos greeted.

You drew your head up at his name and saw him approaching the car beside yours. This whole time…he had parked beside you and hadn’t even known. He rose his brow as if he had the same thought process as you.

“Hey, how’re you two?” He asked.

She shrugged. “We’re just dying down for the night, you?”

“Same. I have a date with my bed.” He chuckled, then looked right at you. “Are you doing alright? I can only guess how many times you’ve been asked that.”

You smiled. “Several, but I’m doing better now.”

“That’s good. Are you okay to drive?”

Santos jumped in before you could answer. “Nah, I’m driving little miss Starshine.”

“Starshine?” He asked, trying to hold back his amusement.

You hid your face in your hands. “Oh god.”

“How’d you get that from Dr. Santos’ extensive list of nicknames?” He questioned.

Santos took that as her cue. “She had too much caffeine one night shift, and both Whitaker and I were greeted by her.”

“It’s not that funny.” You rolled your eyes.

Robby disagreed. “I for one think it’s hilarious.”

Santos jumped in. “Please say you’re in tomorrow. I was gonna rely on her to be entertaining, but Kiara ordered her to stay home.”

He clicked his tongue. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’s my day off.”

She sighed. “At least tell me you’re gonna do something useful.”

“I was thinking of going to a coffee shop, maybe.”

“Where?” You asked, curiosity bettering you.

Robby pursed his lips. “I heard Big Dog is good. Ever been?”

You tilted your head, managing to hide how perplexed you were. “Yeah, a few times. It’s alright.”

“I might try that one.”

All you could do was smile, not knowing his intentions. It could have been bait for a reconnection, it could have been a way of saying goodbye to a fantasy, or it could have just been him making conversation.

You tossed the keys to Santos. “Let’s go before Target closes.”

She smirked, unlocking the door. “You think I drive slow?”

“Maybe.”

Robby stepped in. “Please don’t get either of yourselves killed.”

“Yes sir, Dr. Robinavitch sir.” Santos snorted, getting into the car. “Come on, Starshine.”

You gave Robby one last smile before ducking into the passenger seat. After buckling up, Santos plugged her phone into the aux chord.

“Don’t play trash.” she said, starting the car and putting it into reverse.

Snickering, you put on your favorite song. As Santos pulled out of the parking spot, you made eye contact with Robby. Not knowing what else to do, you waved to him.

He waved back.

While Santos drove, you couldn’t help but ponder the day. It was one of the worst, there was no doubt about that, and it ended with more questions than answers. Yet, where that would leave you in a deep storm of turmoil, you decided to weather it.

If all of that happened in a day, who’s to say what would happen in a year?

Maybe you’d still be in Pittsburgh, maybe you’d be in a different continent.

Maybe you’d still be single, maybe you’d be married.

Maybe you’d still be roommates with Kimi, maybe you’d never talk to her again.

Maybe you’d still work the day shift, maybe you'd switch back to the night.

The best part?

You didn’t have to know right away.

[astroxrion]

How to Heal from Heartbreak Trauma ❤️‍🩹🔱❤️‍🩹🔱

Aries Moon

Heartbreak feels like losing momentum. It bruises your pride and leaves you restless. You must stop pretending it did not affect you. Let yourself admit it hurt. But do not stay still. Start something new. Physical action is how you release pain. Movement helps you process and rebuild. You heal when you stop waiting for closure and give it to yourself by living again.

Taurus Moon

Heartbreak hits your sense of safety. It disrupts the life you imagined and the comfort you built around someone. You must stop replaying the past. Start by creating a new routine that does not include them. Nourish your senses. Touch texture. Make a warm meal. Ground your emotions in your physical space. You heal by proving to yourself that you can feel stable again without them.

Gemini Moon

Heartbreak sends your thoughts in a loop. You try to talk your way out of the pain or distract yourself with new ideas. But the feeling sits under the noise. You must slow down and let the emotion speak. Name exactly what hurt. Write the truth of what you lost. You heal when you stop explaining and start accepting what cannot be fixed with logic.

Cancer Moon

Heartbreak for you feels like abandonment. You gave more than you had and now it feels like a piece of you is missing. But you are still here. You must take all the energy you once gave to them and redirect it back into yourself. Cook for yourself. Write your younger self a letter. You heal when you stop waiting to be held and start holding yourself with care.

Leo Moon

Heartbreak wounds your sense of being valued. You start to question if you were ever truly seen. But you cannot tie your worth to someone else’s inability to keep loving you. Take pride in how deeply you cared. Dress for yourself. Create without an audience. You heal when you realize you were never rejected. You were rerouted back to the center of your own light.

Virgo Moon

Heartbreak makes you search for where you went wrong. You look for small mistakes to blame. But love does not fail because of a missed signal. You must stop dissecting the past and start tending to what is real now. Clean your space. Care for your health. You heal when you stop needing a reason and give yourself permission to move forward imperfectly.

Libra Moon

Heartbreak feels like imbalance. You miss the connection even if it was not healthy. You want closure that may never come. You must stop waiting for peace from them. Sit with yourself. Ask what you need now. You do not need someone to complete you. You heal when you stop searching for reflection in others and build wholeness within.

Scorpio Moon

Heartbreak does not just hurt. It shakes your trust in everything. You feel betrayed by how deeply you let yourself feel. But love is not weakness. You must stop holding onto the pain as proof. Let it rise. Let it burn out. You heal when you let go of needing control over how it ended and accept that grief is part of your power not the end of it

Sagittarius Moon

Heartbreak makes you question your optimism. It challenges your belief that things will always work out. You want to move on fast but the lesson stays behind. Do not rush. Let yourself sit in the discomfort. Travel inward. Ask what this pain is teaching you. You heal when you stop trying to escape it and instead choose to grow from it honestly.

Capricorn Moon

Heartbreak makes you feel like you failed. You take the end personally and carry the weight alone. But love is not something you earn through effort. It either flows or it doesn’t. You must stop measuring your value by how long it lasted. Focus on what you are building now. You heal when you stop performing strength and allow yourself to feel without judgment.

Aquarius Moon

Heartbreak makes you emotionally distant. You analyze it from above instead of feeling it. But pushing it aside creates isolation. You must stop pretending it was not that deep. Let yourself feel strange and human. Cry without needing a reason. Talk to someone who sees you. You heal when you let the emotion be as real as the thought.

Pisces Moon

Heartbreak makes you want to dissolve. You idealize what you had and escape into memory. But fantasy cannot bring closure. You must stop romanticizing what was not fully real. Ground yourself through art music or water. Let your heart ache without needing to explain. You heal when you choose to stay here and love yourself through the process.

[dreadark]

that ivan loves till is the most obvious thing about them

but. does ivan know that…?

the ivan that regards his own feelings as shallow, the ivan that learned how emotions are expressed only from copying others… does he even know that the love he’s felt for so long is love? probably not. and part of the reason is the one he loves himself

because the easiest example he has of love is till's feelings to mizi. till outright calls it love, and ivan watches him so much he has to be aware of this and till’s love to mizi is totally unselfish, right. he doesn’t seem to actually want much from her—just that she's still there and still "mizi"

but ivan can't be satisfied with just watching he… wants. ivan wants till’s attention, till’s affection—

surely this selfish wanting can’t be love

...no wonder he was never able to express his feelings straightforwardly when he belittles them so much but he can’t stand not having anything either, so he does… whatever he does instead to get any scraps of attention he can, from someone he's convinced doesn't care about him at all only showing affection when till can't see it, right until he knows he's going to die

but ivan's feelings for till are all he still has of himself... to think of them as shallow...

I've seen this translated as "I should've been kinder" to him (till) or to her (sua)

but really, the one he should've been kinder to was himself

[numberonetribble]

Hello! Update from me!

In order to not get burnt out on drawing, I like to work on whatever I feel like each day. However, I REALLY want to work on part 2 of the Earthspark comic, BUT it has alot of moving parts and I want to do it right the first time.

So while yes I'm working on it lowkey in the background, there shall be more fun things/non-Piston things in the meantime. Example: I got something going live tomorrow stay tuned!

I'm going to LA TFCon in March and my outfit isn't done yet so I have to work on that as well! It was going to be more elaborate, but, Piston. (If you see me say hello! I'll post what my bag looks like and also I'll have Piston with me)

Also I would like to be emotionally vulnerable for a moment, I never thought people would like Piston so much and it makes me tear up a little bit. No really! Thank you so much, I genuinely mean it! The first time I drew Piston I didn't like it at all and was going to quit but then I drew this on their reference sheet and it changed everything:

I hadn't drawn in years and always wanted to and this little bug got rid of my artist block. So I pursue! Yet, sometimes, I get nervous bc I have some serious not fun story related things planned with them and I don't want tomatoes thrown at my head. Plain to say, no matter what continuation, The Last Mile Marker, Earthspark or TF One, my goofy lamb gets hit with a hammer and has to recover from it, somehow. Piston is my pride and joy and I love them with all my heart, they too shall pursue to stay goofy!

To see such a kind and welcoming embrace from the Transformers community makes me so happy! I love each and every one of you thank you for being so nice!

Here is a teaser of the first page of part 2. I stretched out the canvas to fit one of the sketches. Yes I misspelled peace! Right now I'm working with a friend to figure out the perspective on the last page, safe to say, images that go hard I'm cooking i love colors etc etc. I don't know when it will be done, but it will be!

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ CAPITANO: husband headcanons ♡

pairing: capitano x afab!reader/you warnings: reader is addressed as 'wife', canon and modern!au cho's note: the kinich one did rlly good, so now lets try it with our big boi hehe. happy reads everyone! lmk if u guys want an nsfw ver. of either/both characters ;3

this man is the definition of YEARNING.

he wasnt comfortable with the label of him being your boyfriend. with all his eternal affection and love for you? to just be a mere boyfriend? absolutely not. he just HAD to be your husband. proposed the moment he realized he loved you.

definitely proposed with a big stone :p

wears his ring 24/7 and kisses it whenever your not around and he misses you dearly.

he abuses the power of his mask and never misses the chance to stare and just admire your beauty. underneath his mask his eyes are full of love and admiration for you.

discreetly clingy. if your going out somewhere he wants to go with you 'to keep you safe' or he 'needed to pass by that area later anyway'.

hates taking off his helmet, but never stops you from sliding it off of his head to shower him with praise.

his nicknames for you are my love, dear, darling, prince/princess

his love language for you is physical touch, and words of affirmation

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your forehead, lips, the palm of your hands and your knuckles.

engraved your initials into his sword, and because of that he makes sure he takes good care of it always.

his kisses are always slow and intimate.

he is a quick-kisses or pecks HATER. he has to kiss you for atleast 10 seconds. he doesn't care if hes late, if theres someone right infront of you— he kisses you like its the last time, everytime.

more of a listener than a speaker

he likes to go on dates or do activities with you where you both have to talk to eachother a lot. like fine dining dates, late night walks or driving!

very touchy in private. he likes to snake his arm around your waist, pull your hair to the side and kiss the back of your neck.. hes just addicted to praising and carressing your body.

ever since he married you, he absolutely despises overtime. he gets bossier and meaner to his subordinates when he realizes he might have to stay a little later to supervise them. sometimes he even leaves his job or his expeditions early just to get home to you.

frequently brings you gifts. a bouquet of rare flowers, a jewelry set with special ore customized just for you, lavish wine.. you name it.

never wants to argue with you. the second you tell him he's wrong, he just immediately agrees with you, spewing "yes ma'am." "your absolutely right. i didn't think of it properly.. apologies my love."

ever since he married you, he likes to subtly flex he has you as his wife.

"Sorry, i must end this conversation early. My wife is waiting on my presence." and you can just HEAR how cocky he is to say that.

writes you longgggg letters when he has to get away from business for awhile.

regarding his letters, he made you scribble/draw a design which he got custom made to become his wax seal for said letters :) a very keen man

got you a coat matching his own!

when your crying, he likes to hug you in silence, just letting you soak him in your tears. when you've calmed down, he tells you hes there to listen if you want to talk about your feelings, and theres no problem of yours hes not willing to help you solve. in his mind, your pain is his own, and he'll always be there to support you through any troubles.

very possessive. he wants people to know your his, and hes yours.

princess treatment on TOP. carries you easily when your tired of walking, idly massages your hands or feet when your both lounging together, regularly brings you flowers

during misunderstandings, he likes to take a minute of silence to compose himself and his thoughts to make sure he doesnt say anything he doesnt mean

likes to properly sit down with you to talk out problems between the both of you, and keeps an open mind. he doesnt rush you or cut you off when your talking about your feelings, and lets you know hes present and he cares about how you feel

takes extra time and effort after an argument to remind you he loves you.

overall, capitano is a very romantic lover despite his cold resolve, and honors your wishes with his life.

[starmaidengarden]

Hello !!

May i request a fic with Jade, Leona, and Floyd where the reader is scared of them and often hides behind someone else when meeting them? Totally not bc i was scared of them back then lmao

Thank you, have a nice day!

—Jade : Leona : Floyd x gn!reader. no cw/tw. dividers: uzmacchiato.

note: sorry this took so long!! but I hope you like it!!

Jade Leech ༉⋆｡˚

At first, Jade finds your fear of him amusing in that quiet, unnerving way he does everything. You hide behind Ace or Deuce every time he appears, and he never misses the chance to smile just a little too pleasantly and say, “Oh? Hiding again? How cruel—I was simply going to say hello.”

He doesn’t get offended. In fact, he’s curious—what was it that made you fear him so much? His gaze? The rumors? His eel nature? He never directly asks, but you get the sense that he already knows.

He starts appearing more often in places you frequent, acting completely harmless, but always with an aura of something off—like he’s trying to prove you right and wrong at the same time.

Over time, he begins to soften his demeanor—his smile becomes a little warmer, his words a bit less cryptic. He’ll still tease, but in smaller, lighter doses. Eventually, if you begin to peek out from behind your “shield” when he’s around, he’ll notice immediately. One day, when you don’t hide fast enough, he’ll gently lean down and whisper with a soft smirk, “I must be doing something right.”

If you start talking to him on your own, expect him to treat it like a delicate animal approaching for the first time. “You’re growing used to my presence. I’m honored.”

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

Leona’s used to people fearing him, but it irritates him when it’s you. He doesn’t understand why you flinch when he walks in or physically hides behind someone else.

At first, he glares and says things like, “Tch. What, I look like I’m gonna bite?” He’s gruff and dismissive, not realizing that his aggression is part of why you’re scared.

Ruggie ends up being your main shield, standing between you and Leona. He always mutters about it—“Babysitting now, Ruggie?”

Eventually, Leona grows restless. Your fear gnaws at his pride. He doesn’t want to be liked, necessarily, but being feared by someone like you—a harmless little mouse who flinches at his voice—annoys him more than he wants to admit.

So he changes tactics. Instead of barking or intimidating, he tries ignoring you completely, hoping you’ll calm down if he acts indifferent. It works better than he expects. You stop hiding as fast. You relax a little when he’s around.

Eventually, one day he catches you not hiding behind anyone. He makes eye contact, raises an eyebrow, and says dryly, “Look at that. Thought you’d pass out if I looked at you too long. You’re getting bolder.”

Floyd Leech ༉⋆｡˚

You hiding from Floyd is like putting gasoline on fire. He finds your reactions hilarious and entertaining from day one.

“Shrimpyyyyy~ why are you hiding again? That’s so boring! C’mon, come out! I wanna squeeze you!” Cue you burying yourself behind anyone nearby.

Floyd’s unpredictable behavior makes it worse. Sometimes he’s giggling. Sometimes he’s staring blankly with wide eyes. Sometimes he drops his voice and gets way too close to your ear just to make you yelp and run.

But beneath the chaos, Floyd’s not trying to be cruel. He’s trying to get a reaction—he thinks your fear is exciting, and in a weird way, it makes you memorable to him.

The more you hide, the more he’s like a cat stalking a laser pointer. But over time, if he sees you genuinely trembling or distressed, the fun drops from his face. “...Not fun when you’re actually scared.”

He starts adjusting. He’ll approach more casually, sometimes even dragging Jade along so you feel “safer” by comparison. He'll offer little things in an oddly sweet way—like a trinket he found or food you like. “For Shrimpy. Don’t scream.”

If you ever thank him, grins wide, and says, “Awww, you’re warming up to me! This is so much better~”

Floyd doesn’t really know how to tone himself down properly, but when you begin to open up just a little, he becomes more affectionate and playful rather than scary. He’ll guard you from others who freak you out—even if it’s something minor. “Only I get to scare Shrimpy.”

[supernova2205]

The Silence Of The Mole

Poly 141 x Medic Reader

Summary: A field medic and lover to the 141 is caught in a web of suspicion and betrayal after a mission goes wrong. Accused of being a mole, the reader faces harsh interrogations from the squad, leading to deep emotional scars. As the truth comes out, trust is shattered, and the reader must decide whether they can ever forgive the team, especially those they were closest to.

Warning: ⚠️ Ghost being extra mean ⚠️

The mission had gone to hell in seconds. You crouched behind cover in the wreckage of what was once a safehouse, blood staining your gloves as you worked frantically to save an injured operative. Shouts and gunfire echoed around you, the air thick with the stench of smoke and burnt flesh. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

The intel had been airtight, or so everyone believed. You’d moved in with precision, confidence, and a plan. But the ambush hit hard and fast, your every move countered like they were reading from the same playbook.

You didn’t have time to think about how it had gone wrong. You were too busy pulling Soap out of the line of fire, throwing yourself between Gaz and the sniper that had him pinned, dragging Ghost back when shrapnel ripped through his shoulder. The fight was chaos, but somehow, you all made it out alive—just barely.

When you finally made it back to base, everything was eerily silent. No one spoke as you filed into the debriefing room, the weight of the failed mission pressing down on all of you. Price stood at the head of the table, his face like stone, and you could feel the tension in the room simmering beneath the surface.

“This wasn’t bad luck,” Price said finally, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Someone sold us out.”

The words hit like a physical blow. You looked around the room, seeing the same shock and disbelief mirrored in everyone���s faces. A mole. Someone had betrayed the team.

The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, until Ghost spoke. “We need to find out who.”

It wasn’t long before the rumors started.

It began as whispers, quiet and insidious.

“She always knows where everyone is.”

“I heard she was asking a lot of questions before the mission.”

“She’s close with all of them—maybe too close.”

At first, you ignored it. You told yourself it was just paranoia, that people were looking for someone to blame. But then the stares started. The sidelong glances in the hallways, the conversations that stopped when you walked into the room.

You tried to push it aside, focusing on your work in the med bay. But the tension followed you everywhere, growing louder and more hostile with every passing day.

The breaking point came when Price called you into the debriefing room.

The room felt colder than usual, the air thick with tension. Price sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Ghost was next to him, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture radiating controlled fury. Soap and Gaz sat farther back, their expressions uneasy.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you asked, your voice steady despite the sinking feeling in your stomach.

“Take a seat,” Price said.

You hesitated, glancing at the others, but eventually sat down. The silence stretched on, oppressive and uncomfortable, until Price finally spoke.

“There’s been a development,” he said. “Rumors are going around that you’re the mole.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

“It’s not just rumors,” Ghost said, his voice low and biting. “We have to investigate.”

Your stomach twisted. “You think I did this?”

“No one’s saying that—” Soap started, but Ghost cut him off.

“We’re saying we can’t rule you out,” he said.

Your breath caught in your throat. “I’ve been with this team for years. I’ve saved your lives more times than I can count. How can you even think—”

“Enough,” Price interrupted, his tone sharp. “We’re not accusing you. But we need answers.”

Your chest tightened, anger and disbelief warring with the hurt that clawed at your throat. “So, what? You’re interrogating me now?”

No one answered, but the tension in the room was answer enough.

The interrogation started that night.

Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz all took turns questioning you, their voices sharp and relentless as they picked apart every detail of your actions before and during the mission.

“Where were you two hours before deployment?” Price asked, his voice calm but cold.

“In the med bay, prepping supplies,” you answered, your hands clenched into fists beneath the table.

“Alone?” Ghost pressed, his tone unreadable, though the accusation was clear.

You nodded. “Yes. I always prep alone; you know that.”

“That’s convenient,” Ghost said, his eyes narrowing.

Your jaw tightened. “What are you implying?”

“Just stating the facts,” he replied, his voice clipped.

Soap shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your gaze. Gaz leaned forward, his brow furrowed in conflict, but he didn’t speak up. It felt like they were watching you drown, unsure whether to save you or let you sink.

The questioning dragged on for hours, each question more pointed than the last. They dissected your every move, twisting your words until even you started doubting yourself.

“Did you access the mission brief before it was officially released?” Price asked.

“I didn’t,” you said firmly.

“We’ve got logs showing someone accessed it from a med bay terminal,” Ghost said, his voice hard. “You’re the only one who uses that terminal.”

Your stomach dropped. “I didn’t touch it. I swear.”

“Then who did?” Price asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“I don’t know!” you snapped, your voice cracking under the pressure. “But it wasn’t me.”

Your words hung in the air, but the doubt in their eyes didn’t waver.

The interrogations became a daily occurrence. They pulled you into that cold, sterile room every night, questioning you until your voice was hoarse and your body ached from the tension. The physical toll started to show—dark circles under your eyes, a tremor in your hands that you couldn’t hide.

But the worst part wasn’t the exhaustion or the relentless questions. It was the way they looked at you.

Price, the man who had been your anchor in countless storms, now looked at you like a stranger. Ghost, your silent protector, treated you like an enemy. Even Soap and Gaz, the ones who always comforted you and usually had your back no matter what, kept their distance, their expressions torn between doubt and guilt.

It wasn’t long before the interrogations escalated.

One night, after yet another grueling session, Ghost stood and loomed over you, his towering presence casting a shadow over the room.

“You’re not telling us everything,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

“Lies,” he said simply.

Before you could respond, Ghost’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist in an ironclad hold. You gasped as he pulled you to your feet, his grip bruising.

“Ghost,” Soap said sharply, stepping forward. “That’s enough.”

But Ghost didn’t let go. “People died because of that ambush,” he said, his voice cold and venomous. “Our people. You think you’re walking out of here without giving us answers?”

“I didn’t do it!” you shouted, your voice breaking.

Ghost’s grip tightened, and panic surged in your chest. You tried to pull away, but he was too strong.

“That’s enough,” Price said, his voice sharp as a blade.

Ghost hesitated, then released you, shoving you back into the chair. You stumbled, clutching your wrist as tears blurred your vision.

The room was silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.

The physical strain from the interrogations started to show. Your body ached from being yanked and shoved, your wrists bruised from Ghost’s rough grip. Your hands, once steady and skilled, trembled constantly, making it harder to do your job in the med bay.

It wasn’t just the physical toll. The emotional weight was unbearable. The 141—your lovers, your partners, your family—looked at you like you were a stranger. No matter how much you pleaded, no matter how many times you swore your innocence, they refused to believe you.

Only Gaz and Soap seemed to falter. They still looked at you with doubt, but there were moments when you caught glimpses of something else—guilt, hesitation, maybe even regret. But they didn’t say anything, and their silence hurt almost as much as the accusations.

A week later, the truth finally came out.

You were in the med bay, stitching up a soldier’s wound with trembling hands, when Price walked in. The look on his face was unreadable, but there was something heavy in his eyes.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been in days.

You nodded, though your chest tightened with apprehension.

Price led you to the debriefing room, where Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were already waiting. The tension in the room was palpable, but this time, it felt different.

“We know the truth,” Price said, his voice low.

Your heart stopped.

“It wasn’t you,” he continued. “The intel breach came from someone else. A jealous operative spread the rumors to cover their tracks.”

You stared at him, the words not fully sinking in. “What?”

“They’ve been discharged,” Ghost said, his tone clipped.

You looked between them, your anger and disbelief bubbling to the surface. “So that’s it? You spent a week tearing me apart, treating me like a traitor, and now you expect me to just move on?”

No one answered.

“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” you demanded, your voice shaking. “What you did to me?”

“Lass, we—” Soap started, but you cut him off.

“Don’t,” you said sharply, tears streaming down your face. “Don’t you dare try to justify it.”

They tried to apologize, but the damage was done. The betrayal cut too deep, and no amount of words could erase the memories of their accusations—the way they’d looked at you, interrogated you, hurt you. It had shattered something fundamental between you and the people you once trusted with your life.

You stopped sharing quarters with them, opting instead to sleep in the med bay. It wasn’t ideal—your back ached from the stiff cot, and the sterile smell of antiseptic filled your dreams—but at least it gave you space. You couldn’t bear to wake up beside them, to feel their hands on you, knowing what they’d done.

The med bay became your haven. You threw yourself into your work, tending to wounded soldiers and drowning yourself in the steady routine of bandages, stitches, and medications. You thought if you stayed busy enough, you wouldn’t have to think about the past week—or the aching void in your chest where their love used to be.

Soap and Gaz tried the hardest to make amends.

“Lass, let me help you with that,” Soap said one evening, stepping into the med bay as you struggled to move a heavy supply crate.

“I don’t need your help,” you said coldly, refusing to look at him.

“Please,” he said, his voice quiet. “I just… I want to help.”

You hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, letting him carry the crate to the storage room. He lingered after, standing awkwardly by the door as if waiting for you to say something.

“Is there something else you need?” you asked, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice.

Soap flinched but shook his head. “No. Just… sorry.”

You turned away, refusing to let him see the tears welling in your eyes.

Gaz was more subtle, his attempts to bridge the gap quieter but no less earnest. He stayed late in the med bay, helping you clean up or organize supplies without saying a word. He brought you coffee in the mornings, setting it down on your desk before slipping away.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me,” he said one night as you worked side by side. “And I don’t blame you. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. For all of it.”

You didn’t respond, keeping your focus on the sutures in your hands. But when he left, you found yourself staring at the door long after it closed, wondering if maybe—just maybe—he meant it.

Ghost and Price, on the other hand, kept their distance.

You saw them in passing—Ghost’s hulking figure lingering in the shadows, Price’s steady presence in the command room—but they didn’t approach you. They didn’t try to explain themselves, didn’t offer apologies or excuses. At first, you were relieved. You didn’t think you could handle hearing their voices without breaking all over again.

But as the days stretched on, their silence began to weigh on you. It felt like they were avoiding you, like they’d given up on even trying to make things right. And maybe they had.

One night, as you sat alone in the med bay, the door creaked open. You looked up to see Price standing in the doorway, his hat in his hands.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Where else would I be?” you replied, your tone sharper than you intended.

He stepped inside, hesitating for a moment before sitting down across from you. The weight of his presence filled the room, the silence stretching unbearably between you.

“I owe you an apology,” he said finally.

You stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I let my judgment get clouded,” he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I should’ve trusted you. I didn’t. And that’s on me.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? What you all put me through?”

Price looked up, and for the first time, you saw the guilt etched into his features. “I can’t take it back,” he said. “But I want to make it right.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t make it right, Price. Not after this.”

Ghost came to you a few days later.

You were organizing supplies when you felt his presence behind you, a familiar weight that sent a shiver down your spine.

“What do you want, Ghost?” you asked, not turning around.

“I wanted to talk,” he said, his voice unusually hesitant.

You laughed bitterly. “You? Talk? That’s a first.”

There was a pause, and when you finally turned to face him, you saw something you had only seen when he showed you his face: vulnerability.

“I was wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong about you. And I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, the words hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you almost believed him. But then you remembered the way he’d looked at you during the interrogations—the cold, unyielding fury in his eyes—and the anger surged back.

“You think ‘sorry’ is enough?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You didn’t just accuse me, Ghost. You hurt me. Physically, emotionally—you broke me.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

“Good,” you said, your eyes blazing with tears. “Because I don’t think I can forgive you either.”

Soap and Gaz were the only ones you started to let back in. It was slow—painfully slow—but their earnest efforts began to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself.

Soap made you laugh again, his humor cautious but genuine. Gaz stayed by your side during the long, quiet nights in the med bay, his steady presence a comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

Price and Ghost, though—they remained on the outside. No matter how much they apologized, no matter how many times they tried to reach out, you couldn’t bring yourself to let them in. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

And yet, despite everything, a part of you still longed for the family you’d lost. Whether that longing would ever outweigh the pain they’d caused, though, was a question you weren’t ready to answer. Not yet.

Authors note: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this week’s fic! It was definitely a rollercoaster for me to write my heart was all over the place! I’d love to hear your thoughts on it, so please let me know what you liked and if there’s anything else you’d like me to explore. Looking forward to your feedback and what you’d like to see next 🫶🏼

[sapphiccup]

Lovely silence… with Sevika

You laid ontop of her, as she rubbed your back, soothing you by her touch. Her calloused fingers pressing just right into your shoulder blades, reaching down your spine, sometimes near your rib cage, then right back at the start. You’d sigh, longingly with a puff of air, calmed. Feeling safe in her arms. She knew how much you adored physical touch, and today was one of those days that you just needed to be on top of her. To just relax on her as warmth cuddled you in a lovely tune of sweet carameled tending. Kissing your temple every now and then, silence not being your enemy, instead your friend to the both of you. It was quite meditative with how you both would turn off every noise adding object off, lighting a few candles, wrapped between each other's limbs, in the bliss of needing to be close, yet to be hushed, a hush that was completely welcoming. You used to be so scared when it was silent between the both of you, thinking you did something wrong, or she must hate your voice, or maybe even that she wanted to break up. Instead you both talked about this ongoing conundrum that had you driving yourself into the corners of your mind that halted the experience of a relationship. Your relationship.

You both guided each other in this tiny issue, and it blossomed to being more than whispers of anxieties for the both of you. It was almost as if talking, communicating, the why’s, and the how’s melted those inkling thoughts away. Now you share a time of the week where you both get to be silent, you getting comforting kisses, rubs, and all sorts of love, and she the same. Sometimes you’d shift your body upwards to kiss her ear, or the scars on her cheek. Not exchanging any words, just a squeeze of her arms embracing you more, and the curve of her lips, making your eyes dilate. Pupils that could stare at her for hours, tracing every perfect feature of her face. She stared right back into those dark pupils that were full of lifetimes experience that she was or was not there right back, and could tell, you were smitten with her. She’d hide her face in your shoulder by bringing you closer to her. You’d beam from her retreat, already reassured by a kiss to your shoulder. Even though— you've been together for a while she still gets surprised with how much love someone could give just by simply sharing long gazes at her. She felt as though she wasn’t just being stared at, she was being looked through, so deeply, so enamored, so kind, your eyes had a love language of their own. A language that she doesn’t mind as long as it’s you silently speaking it.

An.) Guys I wrote this so late without proof reading it, I was so sleepy.. 🤣 Some words or sentences are probably janky!

[r0-boat]

Whb 7 Kings react to sick!reader

WHB x Fem!reader

Sfw but suggestive thanks to several demons.

This post is a gift for @notquitebunnie

But all can read!

To anyone who is sick and finds this rest well! Make sure to eat and drink plenty of water! :)

This is a Headcannon formatted like a storyline! All devil and their parts written will be out of order to fit the plot!! Please enjoy~

Intro:

Did you think just because you were in hell you were safe from the cons of human mortality... Well maybe you did. Until you where woken up by the churning nausea You felt in your stomach the metallic taste on your tongue as your mouth screams for water. But as you turned to get up you crushing feeling of weakness and a searing migraine hits you like a train.

Your nose was stuffy, and it hurt to swallow, Your body ached and you somehow felt cold. You wish you never woke up as you tossed the sheets back over your body cocooning yourself.

But that sweet, sweet relief of peace didn't last long, as your bedroom door slammed open. The lock on your door snapped under the pressure of being forced open, and the loud noise made your head throb. Oh God, how could you forget where you are and who you surround yourself with?

Satan

The human who usually comes for the breakfast and tea Sitri prepares every morning has not even shown up. Sitri was way more pressed about it than Satan who just told Sitri to fuck off. He knew what it's like The sleep inn. Sometimes, your body just doesn't feel ready to get up yet. "Eh fuck off. You're worrying too much... Being 10 minutes late ain't going to kill you..." But then Sitri replied. " When I press my ear to the door that's Solomon usually keeps locked her heartbeat was about 30% faster than it usually is!"

Satan cussed under his breath. This is a human we're talking about—a human the angels are gnashing their teeth to kill. A faster heart rate is a good sign of stress, and if the daughter of Solomon is stressed, there must be a reason. Maybe checking in on her wouldn't hurt.

Caring little for the new lock she installed on her door, he practically beat the door off its hinges as he stormed into the room with Sitri in tow. "HEY! WAKEY WAKEY WOMAN!"

Satan yells as he marches over to your bed carelessly grabbing the sheets and tossing it off. As soon as he saw your body curled up wincing in pain trying to hide your eyes from the bright light he immediately sensed something was wrong. Immediately his harsh tone softens But on the inside his boiling hot rage only increased, seeing her like this made his blood boil. "Is everything all right?!" He hissed through his teeth as his hands quick and urgently checked for any wounds. "You're not physically hurt... What the fuck?"

With a pissed off grow your weak voice managed to tremble out "get out Satan! Trying to fucking sleep I don't feel good..."

Getting yelled at by you was always a treat as he felt his heart flutter, but there were more concerning matters at play. "Fuck no I'm not getting the fuck out. What's wrong with you? Why do you not feel good?!"

You knew screaming at him would just encourage his behavior so you just stayed silent putting the pillow over your head trying your best to ignore him.

Despite you telling him to leave you alone Satan stayed in your room all day on his knees his chin resting on the mattress He looks like a kicked puppy waiting for its master has he pestered you with all kinds of questions that you couldn't nor cared little to answer. "Did you eat something bad?"

"no."

"Is it poison?"

"no."

"are you sure you didn't get stabbed or shot or-"

"No!"

...

... "Is your pussy shedding?"

*irritated sighs*

Mammon

Satan didn't want to do this but he had no choice. if it had something to do with Solomon wants to send it it was a national hell-wide issue. But to not cause complete chaos he couldn't just release it to the public that's something was wrong with Solomon's daughter. So for now he told someone who's he's the closest to.

And he regretted it instantly.

Satan: I think our human is broken.

SilverSpoonBitch: ???

Satan: *sends a picture of a sick human lying face down on the bed.*

SilverSpoonBitch: Maybe she is finally tired of being around poor people.

Satan: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS I BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU FOR FUCKING HELP CAN'T YOU JUST COME OVER WITH YOUR FANCY LITTLE GADGETS AND SHIT AND TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IF SHE DIES I'M KILLING YOU.

Mammon came as quickly as he could his helicopter landing right in front of Satan's palace. Instead of a warm welcome he was instead screamed at by a tiny flee.

"CAN YOU FUCKING TRAVEL HERE NORMALLY?!" Satan snarled the way his hair was standing on end and his back was arched to reminded Mammon of an angry kitten.

"Relax my tiny terror. The helicopter is here for a reason. How else am I going to get here with all these things... You told me to bring whatever I could to see what's wrong with her, did you not?" Say no only answered with a growl as Bimet steps out the other side of the helicopter. "Also your majesty Satan. Could you provide us with extra hands? "

...

Great, more noise—that's exactly what you needed. You heard whispered voices coming down the hall. You fake sobbed to yourself as you pressed harder into the pillow. The door that you spent precious time and energy on and also risked the tea you had for breakfast propping up just tipped back and slammed onto the marble floor. You heard Bimet's voice first. "I've seen her look bad wearing hobo rags but never like this... "

Mammon hummed putting a hand to his chin "indeed She looks like she's in pain? Are you sure you checked for wounds?"

"I TOLD YOU FOR THE LAST TIME I DID SHE'S IN PAIN BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK THE WOUND IS I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THERE IS ONE!?"

Fuck you Satan and you're loud ass voice.

Mammon then chuckles. "Oh you innocent little thing... Have you ever thought about internal bleeding?!" Sitri and Satan's eyes widen as they never thought about that before.

Bimet chimes in with a proud smile "His Majesty Mammon and just blessed you with his wealthy knowledge! Your majesty, you are truly a gift to this world!"

Mammon gets closer You felt his big hands on you, normally you would be more than okay with this but today all you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and never be seen again as you felt his strong hand stroking all over your body trying to find where you might have damaged something inside you. When his fingers pressed on your stomach your eyes shut open. You felt it. The churning in your stomach finally winning you over the devil's watched with wide eyes and shock as you sprint to the bathroom attached to your bedroom life your life depended on it. You didn't even care closing the door as everything you tried eating and have drank goes down the drain. You've never seen such a look on Mammon as he scoops you up off the bathroom floor cleaning your mouth with his own clothes. You putting you back in bed.

"This is serious..." Mammon growls. "I didn't feel any internal bleeding... But when I pressed over her stomach that's what she did. I know very little about stomachs and food... Buuut we know someone who might..."

Beelzebub

Beelzebub Who is leaning against the door just called out to the devil's in front of him "You called?" He said with a sly smile as Mammon and Satan turned around to face him. "The hell did you come from?" Satan asked.

"I mean I was just wondering around but it was hard to miss the giant golden helicopter flying above me. " Beelzebub said his finger twirling to mimic a helicopter.

"So what's happening here?" He asked walking over to your bed sitting on the mattress next to you gently rubbing your side.

"We don't know. I found the daughter of Solomon like this. I thought someone was hurting her. There's something wrong, but we don't know what it is." Satan explained as Mammon continued. " I thought it might have been internal bleeding since Satan found no wounds. So I checked her body for it, but when I pressed on her stomach, she threw up. " Beelzebub's eyebrows furrowed immediately. "Has she eaten anything?" He asked, and Sitri shook his head. " No, Solomon didn't come down for breakfast. It looks like she drank some of the tea I left for her. But It doesn't matter now since She threw it all up. "

"could you prepare something to eat please? Of course she would probably feel pain in her stomach if she doesn't have any food in it. And she probably feels weak because of it as well. "

Satan and Mammon ordered their second in command-to prepare something. The devil Kings continued to discuss and fill in each other today. All this chatter was seriously not helping, as every now and then you would grumble and turn as much as Beelzebub's constant stroking on your back felt good. It was getting old pretty fast. The way she was tossing and turning her eyes glute shut The three kings decided to add another into their mission as Beel pulled out his phone to text an old friend. "You think he'll respond?" Mammon asks leaning over to look at the text message between Beel and Beleth.

"ya, I know Beleth Will respond but... Belphegor. Ehh It will be a while till he gets here."

Sitri comes in with hearty meats from barbecued pulled pork to premium steak then some lambs do with chopped and stewed potatoes. Bimet comes in with stressed rice dishes and grilled fish. Cooked and even plated to perfection Even some smoked salmon and caviar.

You are not hungry in fact the opposite just smelling the food in the room was making You want a hurdle

"Solomon's not eating..." Says a worried Sitri as they watched you for a while only for you to do nothing.

"obviously she's too weak She's gone too long without food we're going to have to feed her."

That sentence from the king of gluttony made you wince without your blanket of protection you just weekly tried to fight back as all you wanted to do was sleep. "Please can I please just go to sleep!"

"Solomon you can't not until you eat something!" Sitri spoke softly trying to spoon feed you a piece of steak but being careful and not being too forceful.

"our methods aren't working... And we don't want to hurt her." Satan hissed.

"I know just the guy that will make her eat." Beel chirped.

Leviathan

When he heard that something was happening to her. They made it sound like she was dying and at first they thought they were just exaggerating until he saw the state she was in.

He wanted to kill and maim everyone in the goddamn room as soon as he saw her. She looked like a disaster She looked like she was already one foot in the grave. "How could you fucking leave her like this?!" "How long was she like this!!"

They tried calming Leviathan down and explaining the situation.

Levi's and stomped over to your bed sliced a piece of something grabbed your face forcefully and tried to force your mouth open.

"You will eat this goddamn food and you will like it!!!" You are screaming back at Leviathan as the two of you start fighting. Every last bit of your strength you could muster from this hellish morning trying to fight off the one bastard you did not want to see today. You look toward the five other devils in the room, screaming for help. Only for them to look to the side, ignoring your cries for help.

"It's for your own good Solomon" Sitri muttered.

When you finally ate some by courtesy and help from your dear Leviathan.❤️

You laid down on the ground catching your breath. For a moment the king's watched you finally thinking they could arrest before you launched up running to the bathroom once more.

"This may take a while..." Beelzebub sighs

"if her body isn't cooperating then we're going to have to force it" Leviathan hissed getting a dark look in his eye that made you shudder as Mammon princess carried you back to your bed.

Belphegor

Belphegor finally arrived on Beleth's back; when he finally entered the room, he woke up with a yawn and a stretch. Beleth set him down on a nearby chair before walking up to Beel. "Sup, your majesty," He says, giving him a handshake. "Aye! I'm all right. Have you tried the stuff I sent you?" As the two talked, Belphegor scooted his chair closer to your bed. " Hm? Sooo... What's goin on?" He leaned to the side, his elbow into the mattress, resting his head on his hand, occasionally closing his eyes for a power nap as they explained. "So the girl just needs sleep eh? Why'd ya call me then? Just close ya eyes, ain't hard. "

"You think she hasn't tried that already we would watch her go to sleep and then wake up. Plus it's hard to sleep when she's rushing to the bathroom every hour."

"did ya feed her?" He asked.

"yep, the finest foods from Tartaros. Didn't matter. She wouldn't keep it down" Mammon answered.

"Well, shit... Anythin puts me to sleep so I ain't sure how to deal with this." Belphegor muttered studying your face You look lethargic but not sleepy

"tsk! Can you be any more useless??? Can't you just use your power to put her to sleep?" Levi's and said his arms crossed his foot tapping.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Majesty Leviathan." Beleth piped up Make it his way to the other side of the bed His hand running through your hair as he pet you. "if we try that she might not wake up for years maybe even decades."

"Okay so that's out, So What the fuck are we going to do sing her lullabies?!" Satan growled

Belphegor did smile and chuckle at the joke but turned to Beleth "This thinking is hard, You got any ideas?"

Beleth Who was petting your head rolled his hand over your forehead His eyebrows creased as they pressed harder taking your temperature. "Your Maj, She's hot..."

"okay no shit?" Belphegor responded His eyebrow raised.

"No your Maj, I mean her temperature. Kind of reminds me of that Christmas cold she got a while back; remember, When she was hotter than a desert in a summer drought."

At this revelation Satan snarled clutching his fists. "So she's holding back her desires again?!"

He stomped forward tearing his white top clean off already but Mammon stopped him "Your eagerness is welcomed but She might already be too far gone, She can't even keep food down I've never seen a Christmas cold do that but can't be good."

"IT'S WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO TO STAND THERE WHILE SHE FUCKING DIES?!" Satan screamed this time grabbing Mammon by the collar.

Belphegor already nodding off mumbles "Eh, Maybe you just need someone so lustful that it could cure her even like this."

Someone so lustful...

They all knew who he meant by that but none of the kings wanted to acknowledge him. But it had to be done... For your safety...

Asmodeus

Devils from Gehenna either coward in fear or immediately presented themselves in front of the king of the last as he made his way toward the room where he was called to do his 'work.' This was hardly the time of year to even catch the Christmas call, but who is he to complain? The six Kings, the six th buffoons, called upon him to do a task he possibly cannot refuse! So, despite women and men alike throwing their naked bodies at him, it pained him, but he had to refuse, for someone far greater waited for him.

He was already ready when he entered the room, wearing a red bathrobe and a leather case containing God knows what. The Kings stepped out of their way as he walked forward, literally in the middle of loosening his robes before getting a look at you. His eager smile disappears and is replaced by a concerned and confused look. Despite how hard he was, and believe me, he was fucking rigid. You can't expect them not to be, getting a call from the 6th most handsome devil in all of hell offering him to fuck the one woman you desire and all the world while they watch. A dream come true. But... What he was saying was not the symptoms of a Christmas cold...

"Um... excuse me, but could you mind filling me in on what happened today?" The devils were just as confused as he was, so they relented. They told him everything: the weakness in his body, the refusal to eat, the constant puking, the agitated mood, the heavy breathing, the sweaty body, everything.

And Asmodeus was staring at them eyes wide in silence.

The slut was too stunned to speak.

He stood there in silence until it finally broke but with a wheeze

And then laughter.

Not just laughter.

He was dying.

He laughed so hard that he was trying not to cough. He held his stomach, trying to keep his composure so he would not be on the floor.

He had tears in his eyes as the six kings watched as the king of lust laughed his ass off for 5 minutes before finally regaining composure and wiping the tears from his face. He tied up his robe, grabbed the blanket that had been discarded on the floor this whole time, and sat on the bed with a softened look, tucking you in.

"Are you truly this foolish? Or Is your knowledge of humans this lacking?" He asked as he looked back at the six, trying to hide the anger and embarrassment of how hard he laughed. Before Satan was about to yell Asmodeus continued. "This is no Christmas cold, nor is it a curse; she's not hurt from the inside and the outside, well, not physically... I think she's just sick. Plain and simple. "

The room was silent. And Belphegor was sleeping (possibly wanting to be woken up after the sex is over.)

"I've seen plenty of devils get sick before none of them act like this?" Leviathan questioned pointing to all of you in a slight condescending tone.

"well that's the thing my pretty princess, It's that humans immune systems are not as strong as a devil's. We are sick for hours rarely a day but when humans get sick they They can be sick for possibly days..."

He explains while his gentle hands look over at the barely eaten food keep picked up a small empty bowl getting a spoon scooping up some white rice and some miso soup to mix it together. Something light and good for the stomach.

"Here, my dear,, these animals won't bother you anymore. " He spoke in a soft tone. At first, you were frightened upon seeing him, but seeing his softened gaze and his kind, almost nurturing smile as he held what looked like something you could actually handle, You got up and started eating the miso plus white rice concoction. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't entirely good either, but to your sick mind it was the best thing you've ever had to eat all day.

Asmodeus then picks up the empty cup of tea taking up the tea bag taking out the hot tea bag and the dry tea leaves as he poured a cup of now lukewarm water. "Drink this to, It's water it's not much but you're probably thirsty."

You barely mouth a thank you before taking the cup.

Now, the devils were too stunned to speak as someone they thought would be the most useless ended up helping you. Leviathan was beyond pissed. His face was contorted with pure envy as if that was the same food he tried to force you to eat. Asmodeus got you to eat with little effort and a smile.

And honestly Satan was relieved. At this point anything would have helped, well he was angry at mostly himself for pretty much failing you and just making whatever what's wrong with you worse. Beelzebub was nodding along He didn't take an account that certain foods just won't settle well. "I understand though,"Asmodeus hummed as with his gentle hands eased you back to bed.

"I remember being just like all of you when my late wife pregnant with our first of many good morning sickness. Hehe~I thought I was about to lose her and my child." He reminisced to no one in particular. Before turning back to the group of devils

"I would advise you get a doctor as well. It's not serious. But a medical professional is always handy. "

"call Lucifer!" Leviathan barked a Satan was already on his phone. "Okay okay! God damn!"

Lucifer

Lucifer was pinching the bridges of his nose. Hearing the entire story if they thought it was a Christmas cold why didn't they call him before? He asked but he probably already knew the answer to that.

He didn't normally do personal visits but this was different. With a bag he got out some tools It wasn't much but it was enough for a diagnosis.

"looks like the flu. A common human virus. Mutates every year so humans try to get flu shots every year." He said.

"I would recommend going to the human world and getting this." With a piece of paper and a pen he writes down certain kinds of over the counter medicine and drugs. "If they have it in hell don't give it to her. Those kinds of drugs probably wouldn't be suitable for the human body. Oh and also-"

As he talks to himself he writes down the kinds of food she could eat and what else she could do.

"Her symptoms should last 5 to 7 days, I believe. If they last any longer, don't hesitate to call me." He says. He looks over at your face, and now you are breathing calmly. You finally have drifted off to sleep. A flicker of a smile graces his lips as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

Epilogue:

And with that, the great hell crisis was over... Well almost... You still wouldn't be able to get your beloved peace and quiet as you got many visits from many devils of the 72 over those seven days, some bringing care baskets while others home-cooked meals. Even those from Abbaddon who cannot leave their cells mailed you sweet treats and very saucy letters.

As much as it heavily irritated you about how horrible it was to wake up with seven loud and screaming adult men. But you knew it was out of a place of care.

Silly devils; never change.

[shitpostingkats]

An Asexual's love letter to Good Omens 2

There's an infamous quote by Neil Gaiman going around, regarding the general vibe of season 2, and many people (I believe humorously) yelling that it could not be further from the truth. Particularly in the last episode, where that happens.

I disagree.

The final episode of season 2 was deeply, deeply comforting to me. 

I am asexual. Have been my whole life. Even before I had the words to describe what that was, child-me had this feeling in their gut of being an outlier, that everyone was exaggerating, or in on some joke, that I wasn’t privy to. Because I was bombarded on all sides by shows and movies and books, telling the same story of love, again, and again, and AGAIN. It’s drilled into our brains with the same fervor as the days of the week, or the quadratic formula. Meet-cute -> misunderstanding ->declaration of feelings ->kiss. More or less steps can be added to account for runtime or complexity of narrative, but that’s the basic structure that a relationship follows. It MUST be, because that’s the formula every character who's ever been in a story goes through, often times when it even feels like an add-on, like it’s only there because this is a story, there HAS to be a romance. And it has to follow the steps.

For a long time, I felt love wasn’t for me, because if there’s only one way to be in love, I sure as hell wasn’t feeling it. 

Instead, the relationship I ended up in looked a lot like what Beezlebub and Gabriel go through. Meeting someone routinely until it starts to feel comfortable. Getting to know them and slowly growing more attached. Eating chips and listening to music.

We like to joke whenever someone asks us how long we’ve been together, because the answer is we just sort of slowly fell into it, and we honestly don’t know when the line got blurred between ‘friends’ and ‘partners’. And, at least for me, a good deal of that confusion, that hesitancy to label, came from the fact that what I was feeling, what we were, couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be romantic. 

We were just quiet and gentle.

And that wasn’t love.

Because it was slow, because it wasn’t physical, because there was no structure aside from consistency and companionship. Because it didn’t follow the Rules.

Then I found myself in stories, and it felt like a revelation.

Beelzebub and Gabriel aren’t the first time I’ve seen a love like I feel represented in a narrative, but it never stops feeling special. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop celebrating it.

Throughout the sequence in the pub, I kept expecting them to “confirm” Gabriel and Beelzebub. A dramatic line, a kiss, a whatever. That’s what I’ve been taught to expect, after all, that’s the only way a relationship is “real”. Of course, this doesn't mean Crowley and Aziraphale sharing a dramatic kiss is wrong, or that I can’t see why it resonated with so many people, but for me. Those moments in the pub are worth so much more.The last scene might have been literally showstopping, but those handful of moments between the duke of hell and an archangel were the beating heart of the season for me. A simple love story in four scenes. No kisses. No ‘I love you’s. Not even any definition of what. The love Gabriel and Beelzebub have is strong enough for them to both want to shatter their worlds and flee their lives and it's just. 

It's just that. 

Two people in a pub, playing the other's favorite song, giving a little gift, buying a packet of crisps. 

That sequence means far more to me than any kiss ever could.

Love isn’t only real when it's hot and sudden and ephemeral, it can also be

Quiet.

And gentle.

And still romantic.

Still real.

[bubbleggum444]

—❝LITTLE MIƧƧ ACTIVIST!❞

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 damian wayne x fem!reader, new hero!reader au, fluff + angst (n comfort), 3k+ wc.

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 he knows all too well what it is like to feel like you don't fit it.

This felt so... wrong. Everything and everyone around ___ was just so frustrating, so difficult to deal with.

She had been an activist for as long as she could remember, fighting for what she believed in. But everything changed when she became a hero.

For better or worse? She wasn’t sure. No—oh great, Starfire just burned another tree down. Just perfect. Yeah, definitely worse.

Time and time again, this path hurt. It pulled at her, tore at her, like two different people were fighting for control inside her body.

One part of her—the old her—was someone who spent hours protesting, climbing trees to protect them, boycotting inhumane brands, and helping the vulnerable.

The other—the hero—was someone who saw, day in and day out, just how much destruction heroes left behind in their wake.

She knew her thoughts must have been tiring to others. Maybe even annoying. But she didn’t care. They weren’t her, and she wasn’t them. No one had the right to tell her how to feel about this.

Still, she could only bite her tongue for so long.

During a mission, Beast Boy casually tossed a used water bottle onto the street.

She hesitated, not wanting to sound like a nag. So instead, she simply picked it up, intending to throw it in a trash can.

Then she heard Garfield chuckle.

"Are you our new teammate or the trashman, newbie?"

Ouch.

Even the other Titans fell silent at the remark.

Her fingers clenched around the plastic, her vision burning. She didn’t dare look at any of them. She was too close to breaking.

So she walked away.

She hadn’t planned to. It was an impulsive decision, but that was who she was—rash, reactive. Always ready to act against injustice, even before becoming a hero.

She kept walking until she reached a park bench and collapsed onto it. The moment she was alone, the tears came. She hated this—hated feeling weak, hated that everything was finally catching up to her. The pressure of expectations, the weight of two halves of herself pulling in opposite directions.

It felt suffocating.

Like the disappointment she had seen in her parents’ eyes when she struggled to balance school and activism. The kind of disappointment that didn’t hurt physically but cut so much deeper.

A shiver ran down her spine as something cold wrapped around her from behind.

Whack!

On instinct, she swung back, landing a solid smack on whoever had just grabbed her.

"Damian?!" Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God, I’m so—"

"No, I deserved that," he admitted, rubbing his arm. "I came after you... I just didn’t know how to approach you."

Her chest tightened.

She hadn’t expected anyone to follow her. Least of all Damian.

She couldn’t stop the fresh wave of tears that spilled over, but this time, he was ready. He pulled her into another hug, and she let herself sink into it, gripping onto him like she might fall apart otherwise.

"There’s nothing wrong with being someone who picks up trash," she mumbled, voice still thick with emotion.

"That’s a decent, respectable job."

Damian huffed a small laugh.

"That’s not funny—"

"I know."

He tilted her chin up, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. His green eyes searched hers, steady and unreadable.

"I’ve noticed how much you’ve been pushing yourself, ___," he murmured.

"Stepping out of your comfort zone. Going against things you once believed in."

His hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.She held his gaze, her breath catching.

"It’s admirable," he continued, voice softer now. "And... I understand more than you think."

She swallowed hard.

She barely knew Damian. Out of all the Titans, he was the most closed off.

Yet here he was. In a park. In the middle of the night. Holding her. Comforting her.

Was it always this warm at this time of year?

Her voice wavered slightly when she spoke. "Meaning...?"

He exhaled, thumb brushing over her cheek like he was afraid she might break.

"Meaning I’ve been where you are," he admitted. "I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider. To think that no matter what you do, you’ll never truly fit in."

His voice dipped lower, carrying something raw beneath it.

"And it hurt deeply. I rejected those who tried to help me because they were different, yet I embraced the pain from others simply because they were my familiars."

The air between them felt heavy—not with awkwardness, but with something deeper. It was as if their hearts had silently intertwined, speaking in a language beyond words. The weight of unspoken emotions filled the space between them, their rapid beats echoing a conversation only they could understand.

She felt it. The way her heartbeat stumbled, the way something in her chest tightened painfully.

And she could feel his too. Beating, racing—just like hers.

The silence between them was fragile, delicate, like the moment might shatter if either of them spoke.

With one arm dropping to his side, the other wraps itself around her shoulder in a gentle side hug.

"Let’s go get some dumplings," he murmured. "There’s a Chinatown nearby. The vendors stay open late."

Slowly, she let herself relax against him, nodding.

"Okay," she whispered. "Let’s get some pho."

As they walked along the cobblestone streets, ___ let out a quiet giggle.

His cheeks kind of look like dumplings…

She bit her lip to suppress her laughter, but Damian caught it anyway.

His gaze flickered toward her. "What’s so funny?"

She shook her head, smiling to herself.

"Nothing," she said softly. "I’m just really excited for the food."

Damian narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. But he let it go, walking just a little closer to her as they made their way down the dimly lit street.

And for the first time in a long time, ___ felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t so alone after all.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

𝑏𝑢𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑢𝑚444©

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 <𝟑

alsooo BB would NEVA be like this. I just needed a "bad guy" for the story :)👌🏻

[yua0ra]

𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐬 𝐐𝐮𝐨

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

WARNINGS: stalker!mattheo x slytherin!fem!reader, creepy mattheo, stealing, invasion of space, slightly dark, obsessed mattheo, SFW, not proofread, english is not my first language. miscellaneous ☆

SUMMARY: Mattheo just can’t help it… he aches for you, he feels for you, he wants you. However, the only way to be able to tame those feelings is by getting a hold of you, whether thats physically or mentally, he doesn’t care.

WC: 3.1K AN: I would love to turn this into a series, what do you think?

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It’s wrong. So wrong. He knows it deep down, but his obsession overrides his logic. He wants to know everything about you—what makes you laugh, what keeps you up at night, what scents you love most.

The moment his fingers graze the cool, worn wood of your dormitory door, his heart pounds so loudly he swears someone must hear it. He pauses, forehead resting against the door for a brief second, his chest heaving as he struggles to calm his racing breath. That faint trace of your scent lingers in the air—soft, warm, and unmistakably you—and it pulls him in, headfirst, deeper than ever.

He tells himself, like he does every time, that this is the last time. Mattheo convinces himself that he’ll walk away, forget the weight of your presence, the pull of his obsession. But the darkness inside him whispers otherwise. His fingers tighten around the handle, and before he can stop himself, the door clicks open.

Stepping inside, Mattheo freezes, letting the stillness of your private room settle over him like a cloak. It’s quiet here, safe, untouched by the chaos of the castle beyond. Everything about this space is yours.

Intoxicating.

His eyes scan the room, drinking in every detail.

Your desk catches his attention first, a small chaotic corner that somehow still feels meticulously yours. A half-written essay sits beneath an open inkpot, surrounded by scattered quills and parchment. Books, their spines cracked from use, are piled carelessly to the side. He steps closer, his fingers trailing along the edge of the desk. The faint scent of parchment and ink mingles with the soft, citric notes of your perfume, and his breath increases uncontrollably, letting it settle inside him like a drug.

He stands, his jaw tight as he clenches his fists to stop himself from doing something even worse than curiously examine—something he couldn’t come back from. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t even think like this. But your existence has thrown him into chaos, and he’s never been one to walk away from destruction.

I mean, he’s crossing boundaries that would shatter any trust you had in him if you found out. But he’s far past the point of caring.

Your wardrobe catches his attention next. He hesitates, his hand hovering over the handle as his breath quickens. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this is a line he can’t uncross, but the temptation is suffocating. Slowly, he pulls it open.

Inside, your clothes hang neatly in a row, each piece carrying your personality. His eyes roam over them, lingering too long. His fingers ghost over the fabric of your favorite jumper, the one he’s seen you wear on lazy mornings in the common room. He takes it off the hanger, holds it to his face, and inhales deeply, his jaw clenching as the scent overwhelms him. It’s intoxicating, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, letting himself imagine you wearing it, imagine you here, just inches away.

Moving to the drawers his hands make it over the more delicate tops. The ones you wear strictly with straight-leg jeans. The ones that you wear without a bra, because it makes you uncomfortable. The ones where every time he looks at you, he feels dizzy and restless, wishing you would wear them only for him.

A glint of something on your nightstand catches his eye, pulling him out of the haze. He sets the tops down carefully, almost reverently, and crosses the room. There, resting beside a half-finished book, is a small vial of your perfume. His fingers wrap around it, and he brings it to his nose, pressing the glass against his lips before admiring the delicate bottle. He feels like a thief, stealing pieces of you, but the thrill of it—the wrongness of it—makes his pulse race.

Mattheo gives up on the compulsion.

His fingers trail over the smooth surface, brushing against a stray quill and a crumpled scrap of parchment. The parchment bears faint traces of your delicate strokes, loops and lines that seem as intimate as a whisper. He picks it up and smooths it between his fingers, turning it over as if it will reveal some hidden secret about you. It doesn’t—it’s just a small sketch of a thestral, but that doesn’t stop him from folding it neatly and slipping it into the pocket of his blazer.

He turns to your bed, the final corner of your private sanctuary. The sheets are slightly rumpled, as if you’d been curled up there not long ago, and the thought sends a jolt of something crazy through him. He kneels beside the bed, his breathing shallow, as his fingers trail over the edge of the blanket, feeling the softness.

The air around the bed feels heavier somehow, like it holds the lingering warmth of you. His hand tightens on the fabric as he imagines you here—how you must curl up, how your head must rest against the pillow, the way you must look when you drift off to sleep, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind right now.

Mattheo leans forward, his forehead nearly brushing the mattress, his dark curls falling into his eyes. The faintest trace of you clings to the fabric, subtle but unmistakable. It’s enough to make his pulse quicken, his chest rising and falling with shallow, unsteady breaths. He can’t stop himself from pressing his face into the blanket, letting the scent fill his senses. It’s maddeningly intimate, a glimpse into a world he knows he shouldn’t have access to, and yet here he is.

He stays like that for a moment, his hands clutching the blanket, his body rigid with the weight of his obsession. The logical part of him—the part that knows this is crossing every line imaginable—is drowned out by the darker part, the part that craves this closeness.

Sitting back on his heels, Mattheo’s eyes drift to the pillow, slightly indented where your head must have rested. His throat tightens, and before he knows it, he reaches out, his fingers brushing the edge of the pillowcase. It feels like touching a piece of you, a physical connection to the person who consumes his every waking thought.

Then he feels it.

The small leather-bound book lies partially hidden beneath loose parchment and messy sheets as if you’d meant to keep it safe but couldn’t bring yourself to tuck it too far away. Mattheo stops breathing for a moment, his gaze locked on it. He knows what it is. He’s seen you writing in it before, your brow furrowed in concentration, your quill moving furiously as though the words were spilling out faster than you could capture them.

Your poetry book.

Mattheo swallows hard, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches for it. His fingers brush against the cover, the leather soft and worn beneath his touch. He knows this is wrong—this is the most personal thing you own, a piece of your soul laid bare on paper—but the thought only fuels the fire burning inside him. He can’t stop himself.

Sliding the book out from under the parchment, he sinks further into your bed, cradling it in his hands. The cover creaks softly as he opens it, his eyes scanning the first page. Your handwriting is familiar—messy, rushed in places, but beautiful. The words feel alive, raw, like they’ve been ripped straight from your heart.

The first poem stops him in his tracks. It’s about longing—aching for something you can’t have, feeling isolated in a world that doesn’t quite fit. It’s so vulnerable, so real, that it makes his chest tighten painfully. His thumb grazes the corner of the page as he reads it again, slower this time, savoring every word.

Mattheo’s breathing is shallow now, his mind spinning as he turns to the next page, then the next. Every poem is a window into your soul, revealing pieces of you no one else gets to see. He feels like a thief, but that darker part of him—the part that craves you so desperately—feels something else entirely. Possession.

This is more than just words on a page. This is you. Your dreams, your fears, your quiet moments of joy and despair. Every line draws him deeper into your world, and he knows he’s crossing a line he can never come back from.

He forces himself to stop, his fingers tightening around the edges of the book. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t even be here. But the thought of leaving it behind, of walking away from this piece of you, is unbearable.

Standing abruptly, Mattheo clutches the book to his chest, his jaw clenched as he makes his decision. He can’t leave it. Not now. Not after this.

For a moment, he wonders what you’d do if you walked in right now. Would you scream? Would you demand answers? Would you even begin to understand the depths of his need for you? The thought makes him shiver, a twisted combination of fear and desire coursing through him.

He pushes himself up from the welcoming mattress, the room spinning slightly as he forces himself to step back from the bed. His gaze lingers on it for a moment longer, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It’s too much. This room, this space, this proximity to you—it’s all too much.

But as he glances down at the poetry book clutched in his hand, he feels the smallest flicker of satisfaction. He has this. He has a piece of you. And as he slips out of your room, the blanket’s softness and your scent still imprinted in his mind, he knows he’ll return.

He always does.

Mattheo’s heart pounds as he walks down the quiet corridors, each step feeling heavier than the last. His mind races with the memory of your room, can’t wait to get to his own.

When he reaches his dorm, he pauses at the door, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He’s alone now—completely alone, save for the things he’s brought with him.

The door creaks open slowly, and Mattheo steps inside. The room is dimly lit, shadows curling in the corners. His gaze falls on the small desk by the window, cluttered with papers and books.

His hands tremble as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the scrap of parchment you’d drawn on. He unfolds it slowly, as though it’s fragile, precious, a window into your world that he can’t let go of. His eyes scan the animal, though e meaning is incomprehensible to him now—he’s too caught up in the sensation of touching something that’s been close to you.

He sits at the edge of the bed, staring down at the bottle once again, his fingers dancing over it as if it’s a lifeline. He lifts it, unscrewing the cap carefully, and holds it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Your scent wraps around him, pulls him deeper into the haze.

His body feels too hot, too tight, like he’s on the edge of something he can’t undo. He pulls a curl of hair to his lips, thinking, feeling the strange thrill of it all—of possessing something that isn’t his. He thinks of what it would be like to see you walk into this very room, to watch you notice the way the room feels different, like it’s already been touched by you, even if you haven’t stepped foot inside. He shudders at the thought, his mind unraveling as he pictures your face, the way you would look at him if you knew what he was doing.

His hand grips the bottle tighter, his breath shallow. The craving gnaws at him, an ache he can’t soothe. With a shaking hand, he presses the nozzle and sprays your scent across his bed. A mist of it settles over the sheets, sinking into the fabric, clinging to his pillows. He moves to his blanket, his motions erratic but deliberate, until the air around him is saturated with you.

The scent invades his senses, filling the room, wrapping around him like an invisible tether. It isn’t enough, though. It never is. He sprays more, this time over his pajamas, soaking the thin fabric until he’s enveloped in the faint, exiting trace of you.

Mattheo lowers the bottle, his chest heaving as he takes it all in. His room feels different now, transformed. It’s no longer just his space—it’s yours, or at least, a warped imitation of it. He falls onto the bed, burying his face in the silky pillow. His hands clutch at the sheets, his fingers curling into the fabric as though they’re grasping for something tangible, something real.

He closes his eyes, his mind painting vivid images of you. He imagines you lying here instead of him, the scent wrapping around you as naturally as it clings to him now. He imagines how your hair would splay across the pillow, how your breathing would slow as you drifted to sleep. The image is so vivid it almost feels real, but the emptiness beside him quickly shatters the illusion.

The need claws at him, relentless and unyielding. He presses his face deeper into the pillow, inhaling again, the scent triggering that dark, possessive part of him. It soothes him and drives him mad all at once, fueling his obsession.

“I need you,” he whispers into the stillness, his voice raw, barely audible. The words hang in the air, unanswered.

Mattheo lies there for hours, unable to move, unwilling to let go of this fragile, stolen piece of you. The scent is fading now, sinking into the room, becoming part of it, part of him. And though he knows this moment won’t last, he clings to it, desperate to keep this connection alive, no matter how twisted it may be.

- ★、

Meanwhile, you make your way back to your dorm, all you can think about is sinking into your bed and letting the quiet of your private space wash over you. The familiar creak of the stairs under your feet is oddly comforting, a reminder that you’re almost there.

When you reach your door, you pause, hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, an inexplicable unease settles over you, like a faint whisper brushing the back of your mind. You glance around the corridor, but it’s empty—just as it always is this time of day. Shaking off the strange feeling, you twist the handle and step inside.

The room greets you like it always does, with the same quiet stillness you’ve come to cherish. Your desk is cluttered but familiar, your bed slightly unmade, your books and trinkets scattered in the way only you understand. Everything seems… normal.

And yet, something feels off.

You stand there for a moment, your bag still slung over your shoulder, scanning the room without really knowing why. The air feels heavier, thicker somehow, as if the walls themselves are holding their breath. You brush the thought aside and step further in, dropping your bag onto the chair by the desk.

The scent of your perfume lingers faintly in the air, but it’s stronger than usual, as if you’d just sprayed it moments ago. You chalk it up to your imagination, or maybe you’d applied a bit too much this morning. Either way, it’s not enough to hold your attention for long.

Still, as you move through the room, that strange unease lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You shake your head, trying to laugh it off. “Relax babe… you’re just tired,” you mutter to yourself, the sound of your voice oddly reassuring in the quiet space.

You quickly change into your pijamas sinking onto your bed, letting out a sigh as you get comfortable. But as you lay back, staring up at the ceiling, a strange thought crosses your mind, unbidden and unsettling.

It feels like someone’s been here.

You try to dismiss it, closing your eyes and letting out a slow breath. It’s just the exhaustion talking, you tell yourself. Just your mind playing tricks on you after a long day.

And then—something catches your eye.

Your nightstand. It’s just across the room, simple and familiar, the little lamp on top casting soft shadows across the wood. But now, something feels different about it. The surface seems emptier than it should be.

You blink, leaning forward slightly. Your bottle of perfume—the one you’ve had for months, the expensive one, the one you treat like a small treasure—isn’t there.

The realization hits you in a jolt. You sit up quickly, a cold shiver running down your spine as you stare at the empty spot where the bottle should be. No, you didn’t misplace it. You remember exactly where you left it, right there, beside your lamp, the last thing you’d seen before heading out this morning.

Your mind races, a swirl of disbelief and confusion. Did I move it? No. You’re certain you didn’t.

You get up, your legs feeling heavy as you approach the nightstand, your pulse quickening. You touch the spot where the bottle used to sit, half-expecting to feel the familiar glass beneath your fingers, but there’s nothing. It’s as if it vanished into thin air.

The more you think about it, the more impossible it seems. The perfume isn’t just any bottle—it was a gift, something ridiculously expensive that you’d saved up for months to buy. It’s not the kind of thing you’d lose or forget. And yet, there it is—gone.

A cold lump forms in your throat as the unease from earlier comes flooding back, stronger now, twisting into something darker, more pressing. Your heart beats faster as your gaze flits to the rest of the room. The sense that something is out of place, something you can’t quite put your finger on, tightens around you like a vice.

You stand there, frozen, unsure of what to do. The silence of the room feels suffocating now, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Every part of you wants to believe you’re just imagining things, that it’s all in your head. But the missing perfume—that’s real.

Suddenly, a thought strikes you like a punch to the gut. Did someone take it?

The thought is absurd, impossible, but the longer you stand there, the more real it feels. Someone’s been in your room. Someone’s touched your things. And the creeping feeling that something—someone—is watching you tightens its grip.

You step back, the weight of the room closing in on you. You don’t know who or why, but one thing is clear: this isn’t just a weird feeling anymore. Something’s happening. Something that makes you feel, for the first time, truly unsafe in your own space.

Your eyes flick to the door, but it feels miles away. Every nerve in your body screams at you to do something—to search, to leave, to figure out what’s happening. But you stand there, rooted to the spot, as the unsettling truth sinks in: someone has been here, and it’s not just the perfume they’ve taken.

It’s you. Your privacy. Your space. Your peace. And now, it’s all slipping through your fingers.

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

sukuna skipping gym to sleep in and later on does his workout in their living room, using her as a weight when doing push ups, may turn heated hehe

college Sukuna's masterlist

turned this into a college!sukuna drabble lmao sorry!! no smut this time, i wanted to elaborate a bit on sukuna's protectivness toward yuuji :)

You're humming a song from your studying playlist when you hear someone knocking at your door. You look at the clock you keep on your desk near a plant Yuuji gifted you last week. On the terracotta vase there's a scribbled note in the obvious handwriting of a child.

To: baby peach, but no more annoying screams when we play, please!

You smile. He always chooses to be baby mario when you play Mario Kart together because he doesn't want you to feel alone in case you're the only baby character. He's such a cute kid, you're lucky to have him as one of your almost-roommates.

You get up (it's still pretty early anyway) and stretch your back, hearing it pop. You open the door, and standing in front of it is the same kid you were thinking about.

"Hey," you wave at him, a happy tilt to your voice. You look at him shuffling and avoiding your gaze.

"Is everything okay, Yuuji?" you start getting worried. He mumbles something you don't hear clearly, so you make him repeat himself. He juts his lip out, then looks straight at your face.

"Can you take me to school please?"

You raise your eyebrows. Usually, this is a big brother kind of duty: where is Sukuna? Yuuji takes your silence as rejection and starts backtracking.

"Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you, I can just go alone-"

"Sure, let me grab my purse and we can go," you stop him, changing your expression to one of calmness, ruffling his pink, unruly hair.

"Are you sure it's not a bother?" he asks you hesitantly. "Big bro closed his door and I can't seem to be able to wake him up... and I'm supposed to be accompanied by an adult..."

"It's not a big deal, Yuuji. I'll take you in my passenger seat, okay? We'll be there shortly," you reassure him, nodding.

"Thanks," he says, blushing, giving you one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen him do. Your heart melts a little, and he looks at you like you've physically hung up the sun shining outside.

When you get back home, you're not even able to get to your room when you find yourself being squished between the nearest wall and a hot, rapidly rising and falling chest.

"Where the fuck is my brother?" Sukuna grits out his teeth, breathing down your neck. You wince. He's controlling his strength, but he's still a mountain compared to you, and your ribcage is starting to hurt.

"Get off of me right now or I'm calling the police, Itadori."

He notices he must have been too rough and takes a step back, mumbling an apology while still looking at you menacingly. You pat your clothes, making sure there are no wrinkles before answering him.

"I took him to school. He told me he was being neglected by his own caretaker, so I had to intervene," you shrug.

"He did not say that. He doesn't even know the word neglect," he says, sighing. His shoulders drop and he takes on a more relaxed appearance.

"What's wrong with you? You've never gotten up later than 6 am," you ask him, trying to sound nonchalant, walking toward your fridge to make yourself a toast. The truth is, you're starting to get attached to him. In the last couple of months, you've created some sort of bond, and it's probably also thanks to Yuuji and his stubbornness in making you do things like you're a family. Just last night, he forced you both to make cookies with him because apparently his friend Megumi was coming to play this afternoon and "he wanted to make a good impression".

Sukuna, on the other hand, can be a lot. The majority of the time he nudges you to get you to move out of his way (he just does it to see your annoyed face, but he's not going to tell you that), huffs in your face when you say he hasn't cleaned his dishes from the night before, and flips you off whenever you try to have a civil conversation about who's turn it is to choose the film on Friday night. But he's also pretty attentive. It's not like he makes you notice it, but he does feel bad for you when you get out of your room after an all nighter because of your studies. He thinks you're annoying because you're always trying to pry into his private life, but when you're not home Yuuji always asks of your whereabouts. Yeah, that's definitely why he can't stop thinking about you laughing with the boy he literally raised. The boy whose disappearance was driving him insane this morning.

Because sure, Sukuna tells Yuuji he's a brat 95% of the time, and the kid yaps way too much for his taste. He also manhandles the kid badly, telling him he's way too weak to be called his brother, and more often than not Sukuna tells him he's adopted and that he'll kick him out as soon as he can. But you've seen the way he prepared soup every night when his little brother caught the flu in December—he's just full of shit. He'll never admit how hard it was to raise a brother he didn't want at 13, alone and broke. But he'll make sure the child never doubts of having someone to fall back into like Sukuna did since he was much younger than Yuuji is now.

"Didn't sleep well and I missed the gym," he responds, munching on an apple. You hum in acknowledgment, not turning around from the stove.

"You know that pilates class you suggested to me last week? I found their videos on YouTube. I was thinking of starting them today," you quickly change the topic. You know you won't get more than that; him admitting he didn't sleep well was already a win.

"Wanna start them with me, chipmunk?" he asks you. You turn around to slap his arm slightly.

"I told you to stop calling me that," you say rolling your eyes.

"No."

You whine. "Yes, by the way. I want to see you suffer like the men I see on TikTok."

"Come be my weight and I'll do pilates with you today," he suddenly says. You're biting your toast and you're so caught off guard that you start coughing up crumbles. He hands you a glass of water while telling you you're too fucking dramatic.

"What does it mean to be your weight?" you tentatively ask him when you can breathe properly again.

That's how you find yourself sitting crisscrossed on his back, gripping his shirt as hard as you can, while he does pushups and tries not to laugh every time you scream about him moving too much and almost making you fall.

[sheeezu]

.Shift by channeling.

Go to your DRs by channeling, again, step to step guide.

This can be used as a separate method, or you could use this when you need a final push.

This isn't the spiritual type of channeling, nor do you need to use AI or something, nor do you get possessed.

Step 1:

Before attempting to shift, choose a person from your DR. It could be your S/O, you can choose to channel multiple people, if you have a friend group or something, but i recommend picking someone whom you have a close connection with in your DR.

Have a voice claim ready, take some times to look at the person's pictures, remember their physical attributes, focus on their personality.

(You can listen to songs which remind you of your relationship with that person)

Step 2:

Lay down, when you're prepared to shift. You're going to start off saying affirmations like it's a normal shifting method.

If you can visualize, i recommend you think of visual affirmations which relate to your DR.

Its a method to affirm, where you go around your DR, whether it's your DR house, room, or a memorable or nostalgic place in your DR, and see your normal shifting affs, carved, written around, for example, your affs formed by clouds, carved into pillars and tables, written on your clothes, finding papers or letter which say your affirmations (so Affirmations ∝ Your DR)

You should try to be hype fixated, so if you are fidgeting, can't stay still, you're too engrossed in what's going on inside your mind to notice your body itching or twitching.

Do this until your symptoms intensifies or reach a peak, everyone feels differently, for some it's more physical (seeing light flashes, tingles, floating) for some it's mental (having a gut feeling, feeling euphoric) so don't get discouraged.

You aren't doing anything wrong.

Step 3:

This is where we come across our special person. While you're seeing your affs, make yourself meet them. Now, if you're confused and going to say this isn't channeling, then just stop. You're creating this reality and undoubtedly every moment you're experiencing, so when you're in a deeply concentrated phase, the only thing that could possibly stop you from having a very real and authentic meeting with your SP is your own self-doubt (anyways, if you're having self doubt then say an aff or two to combat them)

Your SP is standing right in front of you, let yourself loose at this point. No need to force anything scripted, but if you want then you can.

Have a conversation with your SP, whether it's initiated by you or your SP.

Maybe even invite them to drink tea, sit outside, take them to a secret spot.

Now you're having a conversation with them, starting off with your conscious thoughts doing the talking from your part, whatever your SP says is your subconsciousness speaking, or you're directly channeling them (both of which are the same thing, i hate being repetitive, you're creating reality if you believe you're being channeled by your SP, then that's what's happening)

Start off with a normal conversation, like how'd you talk to someone, someone you love and know very well.

Right now, you're going to say a very specific affirmation:

"(your SP's name) is just about to ask me what i was doing in my OR/void reality."

Then let the conversation take a natural turn. That question will eventually be asked, your loved one is just very curious about why you were away from them.

Now, what you will answer back will be the way how to shift.

"Oh, must be a fever dream, i had never had a dream so real, i was touching everything, each and everything felt legit." (best for permashifters, don't be afraid of using this if you intend to come back)

"I guess it was out of responsibility, but don't worry, i'm here now."

"I don't know myself, all i know i didn't like being there."

"I was curious, that's all; you know i like exploring new things, and come on, it was a whole new universe, but now i want to rest at home."

Whatever your SP says in response, whether they're asking you to come join them, or how they're glad you're back, just nod back.

Step 4:

Go to sleep in your DR, if you recall, you're in your home. Go towards your bed, crash down, close your eyes.

From this point onwards, you're going to embody your DR self and fall asleep acting normal, completely abandon the fact that you were shifting, or that you have shifted to your DR, act like a person (your DR self) living in any other world (your DR)

I described this in details in the third phase of my pinned post, you're supposed to do all that.

You'll wake up in your DR.

Why is this method supposed to work?

Connection to your DR environment ✔

Logically explains your involvement with your previous reality, why you were there for so long ✔

Reminds your consciousness that you've successfully shifted ✔

Connection to your loved ones in your DR ✔

Most importantly, connection to your DR self ✔

...

That's the method, you can also shift in between the method as well. There really isn't any reason for you to wake back in your CR, listen to some subliminals to remove intrusive thoughts, then you're good.

You could also make it so your SP had more control over your shift, like they brought you back, you can modify the method according to your wishes.

It's a short and sweet method, believe in your abilities and you'll be out of here faster than lightning.

...

This method is heavily focused on visualizing, if you have aphantasia then your DR SP can just speak to you, when you eventually cross over to your DR self's state of mind (if they can visualize) you'll get the ability to visualize like them, or get flashes of images.

...

Also thanks for everyone who gave me compliments in my inbox I have no clue how to receive them, but I am very grateful (:

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a card :What do people say about you at back of you ?

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

I also offer paid readings you can book one as it'll help me a lot and don't forget to check the free readings offer ✨

Masterlist \pick a cards feedbacks piggy bank

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

This reading has been in my drafts since Feb 3 NGL this pac sucked whole energy out of me :)

Pile 1

Ace of swords reverse Six of pentacles King of swords Three of cups reverse King of cups reverse

Right off you give they ate and left no crumbs energy to people. You can be the most sarcastic person ever but plus point is that you've calm personality lol . You are person who likes to be private and not put your nose into other's matters . You don't like to have cloudy thinking for yourself and because of others . You may even think that what's the point of giving off my energy to others when it doesn't even matter to them . You're not type of person who cries or gets for their lover after breakup . You give yourself solace and say that happened for my and their best , for better things coming towards us and to become the better versions of ourselves. You're big on LESSONS LEARNT AND MOVE ON ENERGY. You take the rest and nurture needed while prepping for your next hit . You're also always in constantly moving energy . You don't like static-ness in your life .

I'll say you have this giving energy to you but you don't like it to give to wrong persons . You only give your kindness , help to those which are indeed in need like you can't be easily get scammed by people for your kindness . You know how is real and who is faking the cry for help. You also own this aura to yourself which attracts people to you . You come off as open minded person and someone who has a great sense of discernment too . Annd if somebody has won your heart not saying romantically but in generally probably like a cute kid smiled at you you will just want to shower that kid with all the love you have and with everything their parents allow you to haha . You're genuinely kind but don't wanna take advantage of it that's why you put this cold demeanor to you through your outfits and facial expressions . Sometimes you may also do partiality with people and don't think about end results that much .

People say that deep down you may feel bad for others and cry silently about it when noone is watching you . You've this lover energy to you which makes you want to be close with other's but then you remember ohh you're meant to be alone and cold . Cancel this plan of being with someone I must enjoy my loneliness. People also say that you live and love a life with structure. You can't function with life's flow . You need strategic planning beforehand . My advice is to loosen up a bit and leave the diploma in micromanagement. I get your desired to be at top in everything but then again doesn't it feel too lonely up there ? Ofc if you like it then strive for it but if you find someone in midway your goals don't shove them off . Take them with you and you both will make the path your goals more wonderful than it ever was . People also love your striking confidence I don't care if you fake it or if it's real . The tea is that people are in awe with your confidence. And they also love your walk and talks of confidence.

A homebody reading this pile ? Hello 👋🏻 from another homebody . People also talk about how you not socialise very much and keep it limited and only to your closed ones but that's too limited too . You just don't like noises and the word PARTY . You may have grown without anybody around you whether emotionally or physically but it's the reason you don't like to connect with others and makes you least socialistic. People say you're typa person who is prolly journalling at home with a wine or champagne glass alone in their bed with some coloured lights dimmed off . People also talk about how you also don't have many photos or like being lowkey if you're out somewhere. My celebrity pile 1 connect and enjoy with people!! They all love your vibes and you as a person too .

People definitely want to socialise with you . You literally have high reputation among all of them. I get your tactics pile 1 , acting mysterious to get more attention and catching people's curiousity about what you're always upto . Pile 1 can have water and air elements dominance in their charts. People also love and talk about how you're always educating yourself on new topics, knowing it all and enlightening others . You all always hold the best convos out there cuz you always have so much you know to talk and share about . Your body language definitely oozes out very welcoming aura to others . You have great control over speech too you know when and what to speak . Every move of yours is CALCULATIVE! You always got plan B for every situation lol . That's all pile 1 I hope you loved the reading .

Do like and reblog it all means world to me . Consider tipping or booking a 1:1 session with me I'm saving up money to buy my 1st ever laptop 💞

Previous reading

Pile 2

4 o pentacles 9 o cups reverse Page o pentacles reverse 5 o wands 10 o cups reverse Knight o pentacles

People talk about how you don't rely over money and how materialistic things can't make you happy . You don't even care about positions in your career if something is paying you enough to let you live off your daily needs . You don't chase over things . You either detach or attract them towards yourself. You believe in inner security and don't like to show off infront of others . You always look calm infront of others . You may also like to hold close on your loved ones and things you own , wanting to keep them infront of your eyes always .

People talk about how you went through so much emotional turmoil they may have held on your original potential of what you could have achieved. This pile seems so much mature to me . So many people have turned their back upon you , you faced so many closed doors and sadness but what people say is that it only made you strong minded and willed . You may have also learnt how to protect yourself physically too . People talk about your opposite personality a lot . You haven't showed you 'REAL SELF ' to them so they have lots of opinions and rumors on what you come off to them. Some think you're lucky person too and how you always get things easily because that's how you decided to appear infront of them .

They talk about how you don't interact with others . You all give off heavy melancholic vibes . Okayyy so people on street may talk about your fashion pile 2 y'all have such a perfect dressing sense . Show off your wardrobe to everyone . You give off polar bear vibe to everyone . Icy , resilient, strong , independent, a minimalist who don't like heaps of people or things , a person who like cleanliness , calm and collected . Not everyone can survive on poles but you did and do ! I'll say you're quite competitive with others and to yourself too . You don't like your old self you're always evolving into something new . You don't want to stuck in same old places forever and you're okay with moving on alone if that benefitting you. For thriving you want to have healthy competition that's what keeps you going in life and not loose the interest.

People think that you see your family , friends and relatives as distraction. You are actually so soft pile 2 and you don't wanna break off that shell you built for long time and get in comfort zone just to get uncomfortable back again . I also feel most of you reading this pile can be highschoolers , ,in college or trying to land a job interview. You've this mindset 'its okay to be uncomfortable but not being comfortable to get uncomfortable again ' 😭😭 and I relate to it way too much.

You're actually very loyal and if you ever make connections with someone you intend to make it last forever not just keep it superficial. You believe in quality instead of quantity. And you're the ride and die friend. People believe that your story have a good ending and it's not always will be melancholic for you . You feel like park hyung sik from burried hearts who risked his life to get where he wanted to and even gave up on his lover . He had enough money but didn't had the support and emotional bonding with others which he longed for but didn't had time to do so . That's all pile 2 I hope you enjoyed the reading .

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Pile 3

The emperor 3 o wands 5 o wands reverse King o swords reverse Ace o pentacles

Okay pile 3 , you're everyone's inspiration , you come off as rich person to everyone doesn't need to be materialistic one but it can be like your are very secure in yourself and don't need anyone to compare yourself with . Wherever you're in your life you're pretty much satisfied with it . You're the go with life's flow person. You are also very structured person too . You need routines in your daily life to keep going on . People talk about how strong minded person you are and how you can do anything you out your mind on . You don't care about time too because it feels limiting to you . You want to live off limits which makes you comfortable with doing whatever you want to do and your only goal is to reach there you don't wanna be worried with this superficial human made time . You're also very passionate and I'll say your mind is iron like strong noone can change it if you put your mind on to something. People say that you have said many goodbyes probably your friends and family keep moving out and you never got a permanent house too which you could call a home so I'll say that you're pretty adaptable and you are good at making connections too , such a good talker you're . Your talks are always in controlled manner , have good control over speech , feels like your speech is full of richness and maturity your tone makes it feel like that .

People may also come to you for taking gardening tips you can have your little garden at your home which means so much to you and the care you pour into it is always talked about among the people like how you manage water level , manure ,etc when you're away from your house . You're seen as compassionate , someone who focuses of themselves only and don't usually care about people around them 'self focused ' your back is also something to talk about haha you may have sleek back or prolly venus dimples too that when people see they goo crazyy. Your back is like a whole scenery people feel happy after watching it . Since we're on physical trait that people talk about I'd like to add another one that is your sweaty face and hairs . It's so sexyyy y'all 🎀 people may even cum because of that 😭 y'all are way too photogenic too !!! People love taking photos with you as if you're a celebrity your poses are always unique. You may have Aquarius placements.

People also talk about how clear your decisions always are and how you don't get confused with many options . You know it is for you if it catches your eye and rest other options don't matter at all then . You may like to play a lot with words . You're literal 'pen is mighter than sword ' version of human . Your actions are subtle everything action you take there's always something behind it that people may usually not know . You're the looks like cinamon roll but will ki*l you and that's so hawwwt . Your connections at work or in general is something to be talked about you may have many friends which are in different different fields and which basically opens path for you in many places . You like to have people who are career oriented cuz they help you grow and level up too . Your network matters to you a lot and people like your innovative ideas because they're most of the times commissionable . Thank you for reading pile 3 . I hope you enjoyed the reading.

Do like and reblog it all means world to me . Consider tipping or booking a 1:1 session with me I'm saving up money to buy my 1st ever laptop 💞

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I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day

Loads of love , jam

[hughiecampbelle]

Thunderbolts Preference: Being Selectively Mute

A/N: I'm 24 and just now realizing being selectively mute has dictated most of my life. I feel kinda stupid for not realizing lol but I kinda thought it was normal? Or like a symptom of being shy? No one really noticed. I brought it up to my therapist after I read this book about a main character who is selectively mute and how familiar those thoughts/emotions/panic were and she was like "girl 🤨" so yeah lol just more proof ya gurl is dumb!! 🖤

THUNDERBOLTS REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Bucky would worry there's something physically wrong. He finds you with the rest of the misfits, tied up because you're evidence of Valentinas crimes. While the others are more than eager to get the last word in, you're silent, watching all of them with big eyes and something on your mind. Since none of them know who you are, he fears the worst. Did Valentina, or someone, cut out your tongue? The added attention increases your stress, making it even harder to form words. You know what you want to say. You want to defend yourself, explain about Bob, tell everyone to get off your back and leave you alone, but you can't. Bucky comes over to you while the others fight among themselves and ask if you're okay. All you can do is nod, defeated. Eventually, when it's just the two of you, you explain sometimes it's hard to talk. Bucky relaxes, fearing the worst, assuring you it's no big deal, that he just wants you to be okay.

Alexei can be insensitive. Unlike John , it's not out of malice or annoyance, he genuinely can't understand why you're not talking. He tries to get to know all of his daughters friends. Do you not speak English? He asks again in Russian, but you still don't answer. Can you not hear him? He turns towards you, flailing his arms, trying to get the point across, but Yelena orders him to watch the road before he kills you all. Not knowing what's wrong, the others try to move on. It's not that difficult: they fight like cats and dogs. You're grateful for the attention to be taken off you, but you watch Alexei watch you in the rear view mirror. When things have calmed down and you feel safer, less stressed, you explain to him in simple terms why you freeze up like that. He has a lot of questions, and you try to answer them the best you can. After that, he's pretty vocal about you being selectively mute. He defends you against Valentina when she gets annoyed or creeped out, yelling at her, sort of making the situation worse, but you know he means well.

Yelena thinks it's a little suspicious, but she knew a lot of girls who went mute because of the Red Room. She doesn't realize right away. Truthfully, she just thought you were quiet. But then, after John gets in your face, angry for not being responded to, she realizes there must be something more. In a moment just the two of you, she slides her phone over, a note written at the top "are you okay?". You write back that it freaked you out, John getting so close, being so angry, and she nods, calling him an asshole. That gets you to smile just a little, easing up, nodding in agreement. After everything that happens, she adopts you like she does with Bob. She never pushes you to speak, always offering her phone or a scrap piece of paper. Eventually you loosen up around her and begin to talk. She doesn't make a big deal out of it or invite everyone to hear. She's just grateful you have trust in someone enough to be able to speak.

Ava doesn't really think about it. She just assumes you're quiet, or that you don't like them, or both. You don't make a sound as you and the rest of the group shimmy up the vent. It's almost welcomed, the silence, since everyone else is so loud and moody. After John pulls you up a little too hard, making you wince, she asks if you're okay. You nod, more panic setting in, but she doesn't push. She doesn't make a big deal about it. Truthfully, the situation is too dire to worry about someone not making a fuss. Eventually, when the panic has lessened and it's just you and her, you thank her for checking in with you. Eventually you explain why you got mute sometimes and Ava completely understands. Unlike John, she'd never pick on you or think differently. She jokes that the quiet is welcome on a team like this. If anyone makes fun of you, a teammate or civilian or Valentina, she's the first to jump to your aid and defend you.

John finds your silence kind of creepy. He doesn't mean to be rude or insensitive. He doesn't mean to lose his cool or get in your face, he truly doesn't understand. The first time you meet in the furnace with the rest of Valentinas assassins, you find yourself mute. The others fight and bicker, but that familiar panic sets in and though your mind is screaming at you to just speak! Say anything! Defend yourself against this asshole! You can't. You point your weapon at him and will him to shut up before you kill him. He's not afraid though, stepping up and getting in your face. He says you're a freak, a weirdo, that whoever you are, you're way over your head. Once you're all out and in Alexei's limo, that's when you can find your voice again and tell him to fuck off. Eventually, he learns why you couldn't speak up and apologizes, though it's one of those John Walker apologies that don't feel genuine. It takes some getting used to for you not to respond sometimes, instead writing it down. He becomes a little protective over you when others act the way he did when you first met.

Bob, being so wrapped up in his own situation, doesn't really notice until you're in the Void together. You break through your memories into his. He's sitting on the floor, watching his parents fight. He tries to talk over them, assuring you it's okay, assuring himself, too. Because of your own memories and triggers, you've gone mute. He doesn't seem to notice, at least not making a big deal out of it, instead asking if you're okay. You shrug and he understands, inviting you to sit with him. When you're all safe, Bob asks again if you're okay and that's when you're able to find your voice again, speaking quietly, explaining sometimes it's hard to talk. He doesn't fully get it, but he doesn't have to. He says it's okay, that you've all got something to deal with. When you feel that way, you just write on your phone or a piece of paper. He can't understand why some people make such a big deal out of it. He wishes it didn't happen, but he'd never make fun of you for it.