#~Amidst the Fallout | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

millers-girl · 3 months ago

Text

fallout

interconnected standalone/sequel-ish to bitter/sweet - a Dr. Jack Abbot (The Pitt) fanfic

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

summary: you and your sister plan to spend the day at Pitt Fest but instead spend the night in the hospital, and Jack is left to pick up the pieces.

warnings/tags: mentions of an active shooter, gun violence, ptsd/trauma response, grief and loss, implied survivor's guilt, slow burn, hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, food as a love language, age gap, mild language

word count: 5.1k

a/n: oops accidentally made this love story my entire personality

Jack rushed through the sliding doors of the ED, the familiar, sharp scent of antiseptic welcoming him back. His eyes were locked onto his phone screen, thumb twitching over the messages he’d already sent.

As soon as he’d heard it on the police scanner—“Active shooter at Pitt Fest. At least two confirmed dead. Unclear how many injured”—a sick, crawling fear had taken hold of him. It was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling, and one he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

He’d been trying to get a hold of you. Calling. Texting. Over and over.

Where are you?

Are you okay?

Please answer.

I’m in the ED. Come straight here if you can.

He forced himself to pocket his phone when Robby started rattling off the hospital’s mass casualty protocol to the group, but he made sure to leave the ringer on – just in case.

When the first wave of patients came in, it was like muscle memory took over. Like he’d slipped back in time, to when he was stationed in Afghanistan, boots hitting blood-streaked dirt.

Assess injury. Slap a colored band on. Treat until stable. Repeat.

A girl, maybe sixteen, sobbed as he wrapped gauze around her bloodied thigh. Her hands were shaking.

A man in his forties was wheeled in, gray from blood loss, gasping.

He sutured a gaping wound left by a gunshot on another boy’s arm.

He couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t let himself stop.

Somewhere, beneath the routine and urgency, he was antsy, just waiting for you to walk through those doors.

And then – you did.

When you were gurneyed through the entrance, the fluorescent lights that usually hummed quietly in the background now felt blinding. Each flicker seemed to stab into your corneas. Your ears rang, your hands trembled, and for a second, it was all white noise. You barely registered Dr. King’s voice asking you questions, her hands checking your vitals.

You weren’t looking at her. You were scanning the frenzied room.

And then your gaze caught his.

Even amidst the chaos––screams, alarms, blood––his eyes found yours. Jack stopped mid-step near the nurse’s station, the world narrowing for him in an instant. The clinical buzz of the ED faded. He beelined toward you like gravity itself had shifted.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking scared me.”

His voice was sharp, but familiar – comfort laced with adrenaline. He shouldered Dr. King aside and immediately began assessing you himself. You tried to push his hands away, your injury the last thing on your mind. His hands swatted yours back, frustration flaring into the way his brow furrowed.

“Jack,” you whispered past trembling lips. He froze, and when his eyes met yours again, they softened. You reached for him without thinking, shaking arms curling around his neck, clinging.

And he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t care who was watching. He wrapped you up, hand cradling the back of your neck, and let out a deep sigh.

You weren’t sure what kind of fight-or-flight response you had that knew being held—feeling safe—would be exactly what you needed then, but you were glad for it.

“Are you okay?” he murmured into your matted hair, voice tight with restrained panic.

You nodded against his skin, though the movement was hesitant, slow.

“I’ve been trying to reach you. Why didn’t you answer?”

“My phone got knocked out of my hand in all the chaos. I didn’t even realize…”

You leaned back, and found worry still clouding his features. You released him enough to let him do his job, finally letting him examine you.

His touch was careful, but you felt how tightly he was wound – how his hands lingered too long on your skin; how he exhaled when he saw the swelling in your ankle.

Dr. King stepped back in, clearing her throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Kinda nauseous… dizzy. I don’t know, the lights are making it hard to concentrate,” you mumbled.

The two doctors shared a look.

“Mild concussion,” Jack said, gently wrapping his fingers around your ankle and rotating it. You winced. “Sprained. Scrapes and bruises on knees, elbows, forearms.”

He slapped a yellow band on your wrist.

“Ow, Jack,” you muttered, tugging your hand back.

Any other time, he would’ve rolled his eyes and teased you – made a quip about how dramatic you were.

But not today.

Today, his fingers immediately rubbed over the spot soothingly, and his voice was soft as he apologized.

When he reached to slip a patient tag onto your wrist, he glanced up again. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s fine,” you said. “Just had a scraped arm, bruised ribs maybe. She went to help Emery in the OR.”

He exhaled quietly, then moved efficiently – pillows under your ankle, ice pack secured, orders rattled off to Dr. King. “Acetaminophen and Zofran in an IV bag. Don’t get it mixed up with ibuprofen – she’s allergic.”

Dr. King brought the requested bags and kindly offered to hook you up to them, wanting to help in some way. Jack ignored her, still locked in his quiet rhythm as he began treating your wounds. Stopping the bleeding. Cleaning the cuts. Dressing them carefully.

You stayed silent during the whole thing.

And it unnerved him.

Normally, you’d be rambling about something––telling a story, cracking a joke, flirting with him––to distract yourself. But now, you just watched him, eyes distant.

He didn’t push.

As he was finishing up, someone called out for him. “Abbot! Need you in the red zone!”

“Coming!” he shouted back, eyes never leaving you until the very last second. “Hey,” he said softly, “I know it’s crazy in here right now, but try to get some rest, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Wasn’t even near the shooter. Just got trampled in the crowd… Others had it worse.” Your gaze flicked to the burgundy splatters on his surgical gown.

Jack cut you a look. “Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “You still got hurt. That matters. And I’m gonna fix it. Okay?”

You nodded, just to keep him from worrying more.

“And keep that ankle elevated,” he ordered. As he turned to leave, you caught his hand in yours.

“Can I borrow your phone? I need to call Eleni.”

He hesitated, then pulled the phone from his pocket. When you reached for it, he tugged it back. “One call, then you rest,” he bargained.

You nodded again, the device cool in your hand as he disappeared down the hall.

Dr. King smiled kindly before saying, “Okay, you should be good for now. I’ll come check up on you in a bit, too. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

“Thanks.”

When she left, you dialed Eleni’s number. It only rang for half a second before she was picking up and frantically asking, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

Relief hit the other end of the line like a wave. You could practically hear her collapsing into relief before relaying the good news to the rest of the team.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Just a little knocked up.”

She paused for a second, then said, “Knocked up? Wow, that Dr. Tall, Dark, and Broody sure works fast.”

You huffed out a weak laugh. It felt forced. Hollow.

Eleni meant well. That was her way of checking if you were really okay. So, for her sake, you tried.

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, looking around the chaotic room.

“Anything.”

“Get the team to make some food for the ED. For the survivors, their families. Staff. Anyone who needs it.”

“Yeah, that’s a really good idea. How much do you need?”

“Everything we’ve got.”

A beat of silence. “Everything…? Is it that bad?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly.

She didn’t hesitate. “We’ll get started right now.”

You thanked her, hung up, and slowly slid further down the gurney, resting Jack’s phone against your cheek like a comfort blanket. It was nice to have a piece of him with you.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. But somehow, your body finally gave out. And, when you woke again, it was to Dr. Mohan’s voice ringing out from a few feet away. “Need help with an airway!”

Your bleary gaze tried to focus, mind swimming through fog as Jack and Robby rushed to help her.

“GSW to the neck with expanding hematoma and distorted anatomy. Can’t intubate him – probably hit the carotid,” she explained.

You blinked heavily, watching Jack attend to the bleeding and shout out orders in that commanding voice of his.

But it was the needle taped to his arm, feeding a blood bag wrapped around his ankle, that really caught your attention. Without lifting your head, your sleepy eyes shifted to it.

“Are you donating?” Dr. Mohan asked.

“O-neg, yeah.” As if he could feel your eyes on him, he glanced your way, one of his eyes dropping in a wink. “Thought I’d be more useful as a two-for-one today.”

“Show off,” you muttered weakly, rolling your eyes.

He grinned, eyes focused on the patient before him as he put a Foley in. As he was working, he called to Perlah, asking her to get you a juice box when she got a chance.

“Can you make sure it’s not apple?” he asked after her. “She hates apple.”

Despite everything, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest at that.

When Perlah brought you a juice box––fruit punch––you sipped it quietly, eyes on the trauma around you. The blood. The screams. The ones who were being saved – and the ones who weren’t.

Jack returned after stabilizing his GSW patient. He didn’t say anything at first, just placed a warm hand on your forehead, thumb brushing lightly at your hairline.

“You want some more juice?” You shook your head. “But you’re good?”

You force a nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t force the truth out of you either. Just made sure to watch you more closely as he continued working around you.

Sometime later, Eleni arrived – along with half the staff from Francesca. They came bearing trays of food: warm bread, hearty pastas, fruit, rice dishes, sandwiches, coffee, cookies.

The smell alone grounded people. Nurses grabbed bites between patients. Survivors’ families cried when offered plates. Even doctors paused to say thank you.

You watched it all from your bed, barely speaking – your throat tightened.

Santos, who stood beside Jack, asked, “Is that the black cod from Francesca?” she asked, oblivious.

Jack’s eyes flicked to the food in the familiar light pink bags, then to you.

It wasn’t the fact that you’d gotten food for the entire floor that caught his attention – it was why you’d even thought to do it. Even banged up, bruised, barely functioning – you’d wanted to look after everyone else.

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, with new eyes. Like maybe, despite your young age and optimism when it came to seeing the best in people, Jack could still learn a thing or two from you. And maybe that was what he admired most.

When he managed to find a minute to be back at your bedside, he didn’t say anything. Just offered you the food on his plate, making sure he saved you that sandwich you raved about so much.

He sat beside you, in quiet solidarity. And, for a moment, in the middle of one of the worst days either of you had lived through, something in the chaos finally felt still.

When Jack left again to attend to more patients, the chaos didn’t remain still. Instead, it slowed – in the worst way.

You finally stopped moving. Stopped reacting. And, just, took it all in.

The crying, the gurgled pain, the rushed footsteps, the overheard codes being called. You can see every little thing – the crimson on someone’s shirt, the way a nurse’s gloved hands shook, the metallic scent in the air.

Someone shouting for gauze. Another for a crash cart. A kid screaming down the corridor, clutching his broken arm, blood smeared along his cheek.

And it was all muffled, happening in slow motion. Dull in your senses, leaving only an ache. In your bones. In your ribs. Behind your eyes.

And then you saw them.

Robby was towering over a gurney, hands pressed tightly to a teenage girl’s chest – desperate, shaking. Her bra was soaked through. A pool of maroon darkened the sheets she was lying on.

She was already still. Limp.

And a teenage boy was sobbing her name. Leah.

You vaguely remembered his face – Jake, Robby’s sort-of adopted son.

He’s just a teenager… meaning Leah is too.

Was too.

You silently watched Jack touch Robby’s shoulder once, gently, but Robby shrugged it off. Muttered something over and over. Continued with chest compressions everyone knew wouldn’t help.

You could see it in the eyes of the practitioners around him. In the way they hesitated before trying to help. In how nobody called to see if an OR was open. Still, they didn’t want to pull him off her. Not yet.

And something about the quiet truth of that moment sliced deep through your gut.

Before you could process it, you were pulling the IVs from your arm and sliding off the gurney. Your knees buckled for half a second, and your sprained ankle throbbed, but you forced yourself upright. Moved down the hall. Didn’t realize where you were going until your hand was on the bathroom door, pushing it open and locking it behind you.

The silence inside felt oddly louder than the overwhelming med bay.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, not recognizing the reflection. Skin smudged with soot and scarlet blood, small cuts along your hairline, a big bruise where you’d fallen and hit your jaw.

You turned the tap on, splashing ice cold water on your face. It did nothing.

The tears came suddenly and in volume, blurring your vision, and causing you to sink. Down to the floor, knees against your chest, arms hugging.

You dropped your head, trying to focus on the sterile scent of disinfectant as it stung your nose. But all you could see was blood. The stillness. The way Robby cradled Leah’s lifeless body like she might wake up at any moment.

You didn’t know how long you sat there like that. Ten minutes, two hours – time had gone strangely elastic.

A knock sounded once. Then, a key card swipe.

You flinched as the door eased open and Jack stepped inside, gait soft-footed. His brows pulled together when he saw you there, folded into yourself.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just closed the door gently behind him and sat down beside you, back resting against the wall. His outstretched knee brushed your good ankle.

You could tell he was itching to say something, to get you out of this funk. But you didn’t speak until you were ready, and he respected that.

A long time passed before you looked up at him, and your chest cracked wide open.

“How come nothing happened to me?” you asked quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“That kid – Robbie’s kid – his girlfriend, she…” you trailed off. Shook your head. “And I… I’m here, right? I’m breathing, and I’m good, and I’m gonna have some really badass scars and a hell of a story – ”

The corners of Jack’s mouth lifted comfortingly. “Did I leave any scars when I sutured up your thumb?” You shook your head. “Then, what makes you think I’m gonna leave any behind for you to remember this by?” he tried, lightheartedly, almost teasing – but your face didn’t soften.

You were somewhere else entirely. A million miles away, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“I don’t want you to remember this forever,” he admitted, correcting himself.

“I think I will,” you whispered. “Even if I don’t have any physical scars to remind me.”

Jack looked at you for a long time. Then, slowly, he pulled you into his lap, pressing you gently into his chest. You didn’t resist. Just leaned in. Let yourself fold into him like you had no bones left.

He felt safe, even if the world didn’t anymore.

His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and his voice came low, almost gravelly.

“Sometimes surviving feels heavier than dying,” he said. “But you’re here, and that counts for something. Even if you don’t know what yet.”

You closed your eyes, let the silence swell between you, thick and full and terrible. His heart beat steadily against your cheek, and yours slowly synched to his.

For the first time all day, you let yourself breathe without holding back the sob.

When your breathing eventually evens out again, your sobs subside into hiccups, but Jack still doesn’t move. Not until your fingers unclenched from the fabric of his scrubs and you shifted slightly in his arms, blinking up at him through lashes sticky with salt.

“Let’s get you back, huh?” he murmured, thumb brushing gently against your cheek, wiping away a tear. “Before King starts paging me panicking because she lost you.”

At that, a genuine single laugh escapes past your lips.

You nodded, letting him help you stand, steadying you with one hand at your elbow while the other rested at your waist.

You weren’t shaking anymore, but your body felt like it had been wrung out, nothing left but raw emotion and a dull, aching tiredness.

Back in the med bay, the gurney felt too open, but you climbed back into it anyway. Jack hooked your IV back in, checked the monitor, adjusted the pillows under your ankle and tucked you in, grabbing extra blankets because he knew how cold you got here.

Every time he passed when moving from patient to patient, he paused. Asked you if you wanted something more to eat, another dose of pain meds, or the chance to change into a fresh set of clothes.

He led you to a new bathroom, helping you change out of your bloody top and jean shorts. As he pulled the hole of an extra t-shirt he kept in his locker over your head, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead, without ever saying a word.

Back in the gurney bed, now in his t-shirt and sweatpants, you felt a little calmer. By now, all the food from Francesca was gone, but he offered you a half-eaten granola bar from his scrub jacket pocket when your stomach growled loudly.

And each time he left the absence of him left behind a cold draft against your skin.

The night dragged on. The chaos outside finally slowed, like a storm passing. Wounds were closed, departments and rooms assigned. The steady beeping of monitors became the background noise of recovery, not disaster.

It was sometime past midnight when Taylor led you into an assigned room not far from the nurse’s station. When you were settled into the room––overhead lights dimmed just how you liked it and a cup of cold water at your bedside––you caught sight of Jack outside your door.

He talked quietly to another nurse for a few minutes, then handed over a clipboard he held before making his way into your room, checking your progress.

“Are you busy right now?” you quietly asked.

He glanced down the hallway, then decided, “I got a minute to spare.”

Yout throat felt dry, the words nearly catching a little as you spoke – even after everything you two had been through in the past few day. “Can you come lie down with me?”

Your voice sounded so small, how could he ever say no?

He blinked once, then shut the door behind him.

The bed was barely wide enough for one person, but he made it work. Shrugged off his stethoscope and climbed up carefully. His body curled beside yours, both of you on your sides, facing each other in the dim glow. He tucked one arm under your head, the other hooking around your waist to pull you closer.

You let out a deep exhale, murmuring against his skin, “Pretty sure there’s a HIPAA violation about doctor-patient contact somewhere here.”

Your voice wasn’t light. You didn’t smile.

But the joke still landed.

“Oh, my God,” he groaned, eyes rolling before they settled back on you. The hand on your waist rose to cup your cheek. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he whispered, before his lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss that reassured you you were going to be okay.

The silence that followed when you pulled away was full of the words neither of you had to say out loud. His hand found yours under the blanket, your fingers tangling naturally.

And, for a little while, the horrors of the day faded into something softer.

The first days back home after the shooting felt different.

Your bedroom felt smaller, like the walls were closing in. But, it also felt comfortable, familiar. Nothing bad had ever happened here, and nothing bad ever would.

Jack drove you home that first day. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. He just kept a steady hand on the steering wheel and his gaze flicked over to you every few minutes. He ended up staying until his next shift, never leaving your side unless he had to.

You trailed him around the house like a shadow – when he brewed tea for you, made you breakfast, shifted through his backpack by the door. You weren’t even sure what you were so afraid of, only that when he was near, it all felt quieter. Bearable.

An hour into being back home, the two of you had settled into the couch with some show playing low in the background. You didn’t remember what it was, only the way Jack’s eyes started to flutter closed. He fought sleep longer than he should’ve.

You tugged gently at his hand, coaxing him into your room. He didn’t protest, just let you lead him, half-asleep. His body sunk into the bed, melting into sheets that smelled like you.

You couldn’t sleep – couldn’t really calm your mind when your ears were suddenly so sensitive to the noises around. Dogs barking. The garbage truck coming to pick up the recycling. A car backfiring.

Each one pulled your body taut with unease.

Instead, you watched Jack sleep. He looked so peaceful, long eyelashes brushing against soft skin. His forehead wasn’t crinkled in worry for once, even though you could tell he was running on empty this last shift.

You reached out to gently run your fingers through his hair and it made him sleepily shift toward you on the bed, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The warmth made your chest ache.

When his alarm went off, he began to stir but you tightened your hold on him. Not ready to let him leave or face a cold, desolate existence without him for the next 12 hours.

Eyes still shut, he gently teased, “Clingy much?” But the softness in his tone showed you he didn’t mind it one bit.

Not when your bare feet padded lightly right behind his as he walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, nor when he got in the shower and you followed in after.

Afterward, wrapped in a towel, you avoided looking in the mirror. You didn’t need to. You could already feel the bruises blooming, their soreness serving as quiet reminders. You stared down at your arms, your collarbone, at the places where the pain still lingered, where the memories came to life – gunshots, screaming, smoke in the air.

You flinched when Jack shut the bathroom door, the sound too loud, too sudden. He didn’t notice… or maybe he did and just didn’t say anything.

When he was packing his camo backpack for work, his movements froze for a second, hesitating. Then, wordlessly, he pulled out your bloodied clothes from Pitt Fest, folded in a ziploc bag. Before you could even process what he was doing, he’d quickly stuffed them into the laundry machine and ran a cycle.

After he had pulled his jacket on, he approached you while you were slowly picking at the sandwich he’d made you for supper. His hands gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“You gonna be okay tonight?” he asked softly.

You nodded, though it felt like a lie. Still, he pulled you into a hug, pressing your head against his chest, and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “Call me if you need anything. Or if you get bored and wanna get your ass kicked in chess.”

That coaxed a real laugh out of you, unexpected and bright. Before the shooting, you two had been engaged in a seriously competitive match over GamePigeon. Jack had accused you of cheating more than once. You missed that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, patting his chest when you leaned back. “Might let you win this time. Keep that fragile ego intact.”

He smirked, leaning down to meet your eyes. “Be good today, okay?”

“Yes, Dad,” you groaned with exaggerated disdain. The wording made his brows raise and sent a shiver down his body.

“That and the age gap… you’re gonna give me a complex,” he groaned, watching the corners of your lips tug upwards before you reached up on the tips of your toes and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll forget all about it when you’re elbows deep, rearranging someone’s guts,” you easily teased, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rather rearrange your guts,” he mumbled against your lips, cupping a hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss.

When you pulled back, you tilted your head.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m rubbing off on you.”

He opened his mouth again, likely to make another suggestive remark about rubbing something else off on you, but you cupped a hand over it before he could.

“Don’t you have lives to save?” you asked, gently shoving him out the door.

You knew the house wouldn’t be empty for long—Jack and your sister had alternated shifts so someone could always be with you—but you still missed him.

Only thirty minutes passed between Jack leaving and your sister coming home. But in those thirty minutes, the washer went off and you thought you could manage the simple task of transferring your clothes to the dryer.

After all, they were just clothes. Just pieces of cotton and thread, no longer cakes in soot and blood. They were fresh as new.

So why couldn’t you touch them? Why did you leave the washer door open and just stare into the tub where they sat, soaked?

By the time your sister walked in, the clothes were long gone – dumped in the trash bin outside. It was the only thing you could bring yourself to do.

You were curled up on the sofa when she found you, TV flickering across your face like nothing had happened. She didn’t ask. She just sat beside you, and that was enough.

That’s how the days passed. Evenings with your sister – watching TV, talking about what happened, processing. Mornings and afternoons with Jack, who brought over puzzles, crossword books, a physical chess set… even a spare toothbrush which now sat happily beside yours in the bathroom. It made your heart ache every time you saw it.

You slept a lot, but even when you were awake, you were tired. Even inside the comfort of your home, you were still hyper-aware of all the noises outside, and any large crowds that passed by, voices raised.

Yet, somehow, those hazel eyes you’d grown to find comfort in had convinced you to step outside, start going on walks. Take in fresh air again.

It wasn’t easy – you barely made it around the block, nails digging into the back of Jack’s hand from how tightly you held it – but it was progress.

In a week’s time, you even returned to the restaurant. You were ready to face the hustle and bustle of Francesca, ready to put your mind to work and focus on something positive for a change.

What you weren’t ready for was running into Jake by the entrance.

“Hey,” he said softly, remembering you from Robby’s stories and also vaguely recalling seeing your face on that unspeakable day.

“Hey,” you echoed, voice just as strained. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom asked me to pick up dinner.”

You nodded silently, sunsure what to say next. “How are you?”

He shrugged. “You know…”

You did know.

“My mom’s got me talking to a trauma specialist,” he said, not sure why he was telling you. “At the hospital.”

“Yeah… Jack – Dr. Abbot – he’s been trying to convince me to go, too.” You hesitated. “Is it… helping?”

Another shrug. “A little, I guess. But.. I don’t know – she wasn’t there. She doesn’t really get it.”

You reached for a napkin on an unoccupied table, finding yourself scribbling your number down before offering it to him.

“You can call me… if you want. I get it.”

He held the napkin between his fingers, staring at the numbers. Then, he tucked it into his pocket with a slow nod. “Thanks.”

You couldn’t let him leave without saying the next words at the tip of your tongue. “Hey… I’m sorry about your girlfriend. She seemed… pretty. I’m sure she was – I’m sure she was really great.” You found a lump forming in your throat.

He paused a minute, then said quietly, “She was.” After a beat, he added, “You know, I told her about you once.”

You were shocked to hear that. “What?”

“I was telling her one of Robby’s stories, about the first time he ever came to visit this place, and he got to brag to the people at the next table about how he knew the head chef. And when they asked you how you came to be there, you said by – ”

“ – by being brave,” you finished for him, feeling tears lining your vision.

Jake nodded. Then, as if he knew you needed to hear it, he said, “Leah would want you to be brave now… about all of it.”

That stayed with you until the restaurant closed, and you drove home, and laid in your bed for the night, getting the first restful sleep – no nightmares – for the first time in a long time.

And when you woke, it was to Jack crawling into bed beside you, rays of sun filtering through the blinds and lighting up his face.

His hand found yours under the covers, like it always did, comforting and warm – and you sighed in contentment.

“I wanna stay like this forever,” you mumbled against his skin. “Can we?”

“Yeah, baby… as long as you want.”

read part 3 here !!

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quickestgold · 3 months ago

Note

1) Love your writing and cant wait to see more!! 2) For the prompt inspiration, what about something along the lines of Jack's girlfriend, that Dana and Robby don't particularly like, shows up seriously injured at the Pitt?

Someone New: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: After witnessing the fallout from Jack's failed marriage, Dana and Robby have been skeptical of his new relationship. But when a freak accident forces them to see the depth of Jack’s feelings, their perspectives shift.

Warnings: Canon-typical depictions of trauma; traffic accident, death, injuries, mentions of a failed marriage, divorce

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: LMFAO guys, most of my requests rn are for injured readers are we okay? Anyway... enjoy xoxo (also, thanks so much for the compliment!! messages/comments like these are super motivating <3)

Mistress. Homewrecker. The Other Woman.

You’ve called yourself worse a thousand times. The guilt over how things started with Jack weighs on you. And though his love feels sweet and pure, it offers little comfort in the face of their judgment.

You wish you’d met under different circumstances. Started things the right way.

But in your heart you know it’s real. Even if they don’t.

The truth is, Jack’s marriage was over long before you came into the picture. They were separated when you met, though the divorce wasn’t final.

So you let others believe that it was your fault. Made little effort to dispel the rumors. To introduce yourself properly.

Maybe you were embarrassed.

Definitely ashamed.

Perhaps they had a point and you destroyed a perfectly good relationship. Or at least got in the way of Jack and his ex trying to salvage what was left.

But it doesn’t matter now. Not anymore. Nothing does.

“Female. 30s. Car vs. pedestrian. In and out of consciousness. Possible head injury. Probable femoral fracture”, the EMT presents.

The cold metal of the gurney beneath you makes you shiver, harsh sterile lights flickering overhead.

“Woah. What happened?” Dana’s voice is laced with concern.

“I’m fine", you murmur, but your voice betrays you, weak and unconvincing. “Just a bit sleepy.”

Why is everything spinning?

“You hit your head?” Robby's voice is sharp and suddenly close, the light of his pen so bright it feels like it’s burning through your skull. He instructs you to follow his finger. You try, but your vision is distorted, like shattered glass. You can barely manage to focus.

“I- I’m not sure”, you confess, struggling to catch your breath, your lungs burning.

“Someone pushed her into oncoming traffic", the EMT continues, calm and clinical, part of his routine. "A bicycle hit her head-on and a car slammed into her hip."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut and your stomach twists with horror.

You can't remember any of it.

You try to move, to sit up, but your body refuses.

Why is your face wet? You beg, pray, it’s just tears. It has to be.

But it’s thick and warm. And the familiar, metallic smell makes your head swim.

“J-Jack… I-“, you plead.

Robby’s movements are faster now. His commands sharp and alert. He gestures to Whittaker, who immediately reacts, moving swiftly, as he rushes out of the room, a quiet urgency in his steps.

Everyone knows about you and Jack. Though it feels like no one approves. Almost no one.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Just keep your eyes open for me, alright?” Collins’ voice is warm, grounding. She takes your hand and squeezes it tightly. You’re thankful. Thankful for her presence. To see a friendly face amidst the chaos.

But you can't shake the quiet fear that maybe... it’s the last one you’ll ever see.

Heather is one of the few who welcomed you, made an effort to get to know you.

You’ve become friends.

You meet up for coffee, chat for hours about the boys. And though her and Robby’s relationship ended, you can tell there is unresolved sadness between them. You wonder if either of them will ever admit it.

“Heather… I-I’m…” Your voice is barely audible now. You're slipping. Slipping fast.

You fight to stay awake. To hold on. Just a little longer. At least until you see Jack.

Until you get to say goodbye.

But your eyes grow heavier by the second, something pulling at you, each blink slower than the last.

You can hear yourself saying something. But it’s far away.

You’re shaking. Why is this hospital so goddamn cold?

Before you can say another word, everything fades to black.

“Male. 20s. Cyclist vs. pedestrian. Unconscious. Blunt force trauma to the head. Multiple fractures", another EMT announces, as they rush the gurney into Trauma Two, the team prepared and ready to work in perfect sync.

Jack's moves are quick, methodical. Driven by one clear, urgent goal: to stabilize the patient first, then assess for further injuries.

“Dr. Abbot?” Whittaker’s voice is tentative, his gaze flicking nervously between Jack and the patient on the table. He hovers just inside the doorframe, not quite sure whether to disturb Jack or not.

Jack glances up briefly, his hands moving over the patient's chest, steady and determined.

Whittaker hesitates, his voice shaky. “We need you in Trauma One.”

“I’m a little busy.” Jack mutters. “Get Robby!” His voice laced with authority. An order, not a suggestion.

He isn’t finished with this patient yet, not ready to be pulled away.

Whittaker hesitates, before he nods and steps back. Jack watches him go, but there's no time to think about what might be waiting in Trauma One.

His focus is here, the young patient's life literally in his hands.

“Abbot?” Robby growls, frustrated at Whittaker’s failed attempt.

Whittaker shakes his head, his expression tense. “He’s treating the cyclist in Trauma Two”, Whittaker answers, almost apologetic.

Robby curses under his breath, his eyes flashing to Dana.

He knows Jack will never forgive them if something happens to you and they didn’t tell him. If Jack doesn't get to you in time.

Dana knows, too. She knows that this isn’t just about the accident. It’s about what they owe Jack and what they owe you.

“Hold compressions.” Jack orders.

Everyone’s eyes are fixated on the monitor, but the flatline continues.

“Okay." Jack’s voice drops. "That’s it.”

“Time of death: 10:35”

Jack takes a minute of silent reflection. He’s been here before. Too many times. But it never gets any easier.

He steps out into the bay, taking a breath. His eyes search the nurse’s station, which is unusually empty.

Javadi almost crashes into him, gripping a blood bag tight to her chest. Jack steps back, putting distance between them.

“Slow down. If you trip and fall you’re no good to anybody.” Always the teacher, calm and collected. “Where’s Robby?”

Javadi stumbles over her words, struggling to catch her breath. “Trauma One, a- a pedestrian got hit.”

“Shit." Jack mutters. "I just called it on the cyclist.” His brows furrow. “Need any help?”

“Not sure… it’s not looking good.” And with that, she rushes back in.

Jack watches her go, making sure she doesn’t run into anyone else. His gaze flicks to the glass doors of Trauma One, catching Robby’s eyes. He's pressing into someone’s chest with practiced ease.

But there’s something else. Panic.

Jack’s alarm bells go off. He moves, quickly.

But before Jack reaches the door, Dana steps into his path. She places her palm against his chest, gently pushing him back.

“Jack”, her voice calm but firm. “You can come in, but we need to do this the right way, honey.” Her eyes soften, full of compassion. “Robby’s doing everything he can.”

In that moment, Jack catches a glimpse of the patient’s face. Your bloodied, gorgeous, beautiful face. The woman he loves.

Multiple hands are on you, your own dangling off the side of the gurney.

His eyes lock on the delicate ring he gave you only a few days ago.

The one that was supposed to be forever.

“What the fuck”, Jack tries to push past Dana, but Langdon and Matteo are already there, hands on his arms, holding him back.

“Dana”, Jack’s voice cracks.

“I know, hon. Take a breath”, she rubs soothing circles on his chest, then steps back. “We’ve got her!”

The sincerity in her voice, comforts him, if only slightly.

The fact that he just called his patient’s death a few minutes ago, tells him everything about the severity of your injuries.

There's a deep ache in Jack’s chest as he follows Dana into the room. He steps to your side, his hand brushing gently over your forehead, the way you like it. The way he’s always calmed you.

“I’m here, baby”, he whispers, his voice raw. “I’m here.”

He watches Robby and the team work, each movement calculated, each second agonizing.

He knows his place. He won’t overstep. His only focus is you.

Like many times before, Jack finds himself on the rooftop. Each inhale of the harsh midnight air a painful reminder of you in that hospital bed, fighting for every breath.

Jack feels someone approaching, doesn’t have to turn around to know who. “Who pushed her?” Jack's voice is low and raw with pain.

“They’re…-" Robby pauses, scratching his neck nervously. "They're still looking.” His tone is soft.

Jack nods, but the corners of his mouth turn downward. “You’ve been too hard on her, man.” He exhales sharply.

“I know, brother.” Robby's words are filled with guilt and regret. He wants to make this right. Needs to.

Jack's gaze hardens. “She was afraid, you know. Felt like you were judging her… more than me.” He huffs out a humorless laugh.

Robby’s remorse is palpable. “We were worried about you. Didn’t want to see you get hurt. We had no idea it was serious between you.”

“Does it matter?” Jack’s voice cracks on the last word.

“I- I suppose not.” Robby shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Jack nods. He doesn’t need Robby’s apology. You do.

“She gets it. She gets me.” Jack's looking straight at Robby now, barely bringing himself to say the words. “I wish you’d had the chance to get to know her. You would've loved her…” He tries to hold in a strangled sob, but it escapes anyway.

Robby steps closer, placing a hand on Jack's back, voice gentle and reassuring. “I still can… If she’ll let me.” He realizes he needs to carry that hope for both of them right now.

Jack isn’t convinced, but Robby’s belief gives him a moment’s peace.

The door to the rooftop suddenly slams open. Jack and Robby both turn instinctively.

Dana stands in the doorway, her pulse racing. “Jack.”

Jack is terrified to hear what she has to say, assuming the worst.

The midnight air suddenly feels suffocating.

“Jack?” Your voice is barely a whisper, fragile and tired, the effort of speaking taking all of your energy.

“Hi, gorgeous.” He moves closer to your bed. “Are you in pain?” The concern in his eyes certainly isn't helping, it hurts to see him like this.

You shake your head, but it’s a lie. You know it and Jack knows it too. He doesn’t hesitate, moving swiftly to the IV to adjust the meds with practiced hands.

Warmth floods you and you exhale slowly. The deep physical ache subsides and your thoughts clear. Only now, you can fully appreciate that you’re alive. That Jack’s here.

“I’m here," he repeats, more to himself than to you and for a second you wonder if you said the words out loud.

Jack's hand is gentle against your skin, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Robby and Dana feel badly about how they’ve treated you.” The words heavy with sorrow.

“They shouldn’t.” You're exhausted, but you mean it. “They don’t even know me.” You give him a smile, weak but genuine.

“Maybe it’s time we change that?” Jack leans in gently stroking your forehead, like he always does. Like he always will.

His other hand traces the space where your ring used to rest. You realize it’s no longer there. It was taken off during the chaos of saving you. But Jack knows where it belongs.

With a tender, deliberate touch, he slides the ring back onto your finger, a symbol of the forever he’s promised.

Hahahah aaall the fluff!! It was needed after so many angsty requests lol Pls comment/share your thoughts below. ♡

#the pitt #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x you #dr abbot x reader #shawn hatosy #the pitt hbo #michael robinavitch #dr robby #jack abbott #jack abbott x reader #dr abbott x reader

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luna-azzurra · 1 year ago

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Some examples of challenging obstacles for characters to face

Personal Tragedy, The sudden loss of a loved one throws the protagonist into a state of grief and despair, forcing them to navigate the complex emotions of mourning while still grappling with their responsibilities and goals.

Betrayal, A trusted friend or ally betrays the protagonist, revealing hidden agendas or turning against them at a critical moment, leaving the protagonist feeling betrayed and alone, and forcing them to reevaluate their relationships and alliances.

Physical Limitations, The protagonist suffers a debilitating injury or illness that threatens to derail their plans and ambitions, leaving them physically weakened and vulnerable, and forcing them to find new ways to adapt and overcome their limitations.

Social Prejudice, The protagonist faces discrimination or prejudice based on their race, gender, sexuality, or social class, making it difficult for them to achieve their goals and forcing them to confront systemic injustice and inequality.

Impossible Choices, The protagonist is faced with a series of impossible choices, each with its own moral or ethical consequences, forcing them to weigh the lesser of two evils and grapple with the fallout of their decisions.

Internal Conflict, The protagonist battles with their own inner demons, such as addiction, trauma, or mental illness, which threaten to sabotage their efforts and undermine their sense of self-worth and purpose.

Rivalry, The protagonist finds themselves locked in a bitter rivalry with a formidable adversary, such as a rival athlete, business competitor, or romantic rival, pushing them to their limits as they strive to outmaneuver and outwit their opponent.

Existential Crisis, The protagonist wrestles with profound existential questions about the meaning of life, the nature of reality, and their place in the universe, confronting their own mortality and searching for purpose and meaning amidst the chaos and uncertainty of existence.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #oc character #writing help #creative writing #writing block #writing advice #writer tumblr #writing prompt

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rosie-posie1313 · 17 days ago

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Dr. Jack Abbot Fic Recs

06/05/2025

Updated: 06/15/2025

⭒Fractured, But Not Broken by @aquaholicsanonymousworld

Her and Jack were no strangers to trauma—what had happened to them still lingered in every quiet moment, in every unspoken word. Though they were together, an invisible wall stood between them, built by grief, guilt, and the inability to let go.

⭒The Other Dr Abbott by @/aquaholicsanonymousworld

⭒ Because Of You: by @bullet-prooflove

⭒ Boston by @/bullet-prooflove

⭒ Snapband by @/bullet-prooflove

Jack’s worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

⭒ Kaleidoscope by @science-hoes

Jack likes to find his peace and quiet on the roof of the hospital, but someone interrupts his morning routine.

⭒ Early Spring Snow by @/science-hoes

The Reader learns some surprising news after taking a fall that lands her back in the Pitt after her shift.

⭒ You Are In Love: Chapter One by @/science-hoes

Jack needs the reader to help him with a VIP patient, but she soon learns about his chosen family.

⭒ Send Me An Angel - Chapter One by @kilojulietsierra

The darkness didn’t just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.

⭒ Send Me An Angel - Chapter Two by @kilojulietsierra

⭒ I Don’t Have A Best Friend by @/kilojulietsierra

The universe put them together in this hell hole and they made the best of it. They are like brothers/best friends… that doesn’t mean they always have to be happy about it. Especially when Jack’s wife decides she needs to set Robby up with a cute nurse friend.

⭒ Back a Ways Part One by @youvebeenlivingfictional

It’s not the first time that someone has made that assumption—thought you and Jack were together, or had a past. But the fact of the matter is, you don’t think that the man’s ever seen you as anything more than his brother-in-arms’ little sister. He’s been around for a long time—since the first time your brother came home for Christmas break from the academy.

⭒ Back a Ways Part Two by @/youvebeenlivingfictional

⭒ Don’t Go where I Can’t Follow Part ½ by @at-this-point-i-dont-even-know

You join Jack at the hospital after waking up alone, and the activities of the day bring up bad memories as the shooter closes in on the hospital

⭒ Don’t Go where I Can’t Follow Part 2/2 by @/at-this-point-i-dont-even-know

⭒ 4th of July by @/at-this-point-i-dont-even-know

⭒ Don’t Make Me Someone You Can’t Have by @abbotjack

The fallout didn’t start the day of Pitt Fest—it started when you told Jack Abbot how you felt and he told you he didn’t want you. A week later, grief, jealousy, and everything unsaid ignite into something impossible to bury.

⭒ The Handoff by @/abbotjack

Jack proposes in the trauma bay. You say yes. Before the wedding, you ask Robby to walk you down the aisle.

⭒ The Camouflage Onesie by @/abbotjack

⭒ Strip Her by @quickestgold

Amidst a mass casualty event, Jack’s medical instincts clash with his personal life when the woman he loves risks her own life to save another. Is he about to watch you die?

⭒ Say It First: by @/quickestgold

Jack has grown used to the emptiness in his heart, a quiet companion that has kept him safe for too long. But when you finally speak your truth, he realizes the hardest battles aren’t fought on the field or in the chaos of the ER, but in the silence between two hearts longing for each other.

⭒ Someone New: by @/quickestgold

After witnessing the fallout from Jack's failed marriage, Dana and Robby have been skeptical of his new relationship. But when a freak accident forces them to see the depth of Jack’s feelings, their perspectives shift.

⭒ Still Alive: by @/quickestgold

Delivery complications during the birth of your son leave Jack caught between grief and hope, life and loss. In the stillness that follows, those who witnessed it begin to confront their own silent trauma, navigating recovery, healing and bonding with a newborn.

⭒ Semper Fi | [1/8] by @asxgard

You’re the ray of sunshine to Jack’s rain cloud. What do they say about opposites attracting?

⭒ Cast by @/asxgard

After an incident at baseball practice, you and your son end up in the ER.

⭒ don’t leave me here without you | one by @lunarcowgirl

dr abbot finds your resume and thinks you are leaving the pitt - absolute disgusting and pathetic behaviour ensues, its all very endearing.

⭒ feelings unfettered | three by @/lunarcowgirl

⭒ who you let in by @eddiesfaerie

Jack has a soft spot. He didn’t expect you to be the one to find it.

⭒ Valkyries and Betting Pools by @nocapesdahling

The staff of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital’s Emergency Department bet on everything. One of the most popular and secret betting pools is focused on what’s going on with you and Dr. Abbot. The bets range from everything under the sun, but who’s going to win?

⭒ bitter/sweet by @millers-girl

when a stubbornly charming chef keeps showing up in his ER, Dr. Jack Abbot finds it harder and harder to ignore the pull toward something—or someone—he didn't plan for…

⭒ Fallout by @/millers-girl

you and your sister plan to spend the day at Pitt Fest but instead spend the night in the hospital, and Jack is left to pick up the pieces.

⭒ Busy Bee by @mercvry-glow

you and your son take a trip to the pitt after an encounter with a bee. unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, your husband’s working.

⭒ love me hard love me soft by @/mercvry-glow

jack abbot isn’t a soft man, but he’ll learn for you.

⭒ All that glitters by @/mercvry-glow

jack isn’t a materialistic man, and you try your best not to be spoiled—but when your man gets flirted with, maybe it’s time to flaunt the rings?

⭒ Hey Lover by @/mercvry-glow

⭒ break in the system by @/mercvry-glow

⭒ Stop making this hurt by @/mercvry-glow

jack knew he didn’t want to go to pitt fest, instead suggesting you take a few of your girl friends on your day off. little does he know that decision leads to you experiencing the worst day of your life without him.

⭒ The Abbot Family - Pittfest Part 1 by @fioreimagines

When he is at work, Dr Abbot keeps his life private, and keeps his head focused on being an attending of the Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center. No one knows what he does at home, until Pittfest happens.

⭒ The Abbot Family - Pittfest Part 2 by @/fioreimagines

⭒ The Abbot Family - Dana by @/fioreimagines

⭒ The Abbot Family - Pittfest Finale by @/fioreimagines

⭒ you and dr. abbot have a lot to discuss, and this is just the beginning. By @spaceyaemonds

you and dr. abbot have a lot to discuss, and this is just the beginning.

⭒ Coffee Swap by @tedmustache

It starts with coffee. Then it becomes something more.

⭒ Adrenaline by @/tedmustache

In the nonstop chaos of The Pitt, two ER doctors find something dangerously steady in each other. Between late shifts, locked doors, and close calls, they navigate a secret that’s as thrilling as it is fragile—because in a place where nothing stays quiet for long, hiding how you feel might be the riskiest move of all.

⭒ Healing Wounds by @/tedmustache

When an attack shakes Dr. Y/N Abbot, Jack helps her heal while she questions her medical career.

⭒ In sync by @/tedmustache

Two doctors work in perfect sync, sparking curiosity among new interns. After shift, subtle truths begin to surface.

⭒ Chocolate Bars and Injuries by @nineteenninety-six

Jack unintentionally bonds with a young patient and then somehow even more unintentionally, falls for his older sister.

⭒ Chocolate Bars and Injuries [3] by @/nineteenninety-six

⭒ i would, for you by @maoricth

"i have a patient coming in for mifepristone later." but it's the reader, jack's girlfriend, and he still goes through with false ultrasound measurements to help her get the abortion she wants.

⭒ you’re gonna be a dad, congrats by @/maoricth

⭒ you’re a superhero by @/maoricth

⭒ whitaker and robby’s reaction to you and jack naming your baby after them by @/maoricth

#jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot #the pitt #jack abbot #jack abbott x reader

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hazbinhotei · 4 months ago

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a little too prideful.

read part two (a semi-standalone comfort fic) here

warnings: blood, mimzy, violence & gore (alastor), injury & gun violence (you), cannabalism (alastor again), light angst w/ a happy ending

word count: 3735

summary: When Mimzy lures a group of vengeful loan sharks to the hotel, you’re left to deal with the fallout—both physically and emotionally—while Alastor is forced to realize that his pride blinded him to the one thing that truly mattered: you. (story takes place during ep. 5)

alastor x f!reader—technically gn!reader minus the ~two instances i use 'her' pronouns for clarity. whoo this one's a doozy. i'm not necessarily sure if i'm proud of how this turned out, especially since a good chunk is just taken from episode 5. i also struggle a lot with multi-character scenes like this, so please let me know if i could improve on anything. nonetheless, though, i hope you all enjoy!

Life at the Hazbin Hotel with Alastor was many things—chaotic, unconventional, but above all, it was yours. The two of you had carved out a comfortable existence amidst the madness, his constant grin and ever dramatic behavior a fixture in your day-to-day life. It was hard not to adore the way he’d hum while cooking, or the way he’d twirl you in the hallway just for the fun of it. You had accepted him despite all his flaws, including his particular flaw of being obsessive over his power. But, hey, they don’t just call it the Pride Ring for no reason.

Tonight was no different. You sat with the rest of the hotel group, half-listening as Lucifer and Alastor bickered back and forth in song, their battle of wits crescendoing in dramatic flair. It was an odd sort of game, something between posturing and genuine irritation, and though you were used to Alastor’s theatrics, the sudden appearance of Lucifer had only seemed to make him more insufferable.

And that's when she arrived.

Mimzy. A name whispered from the past, a figure Alastor knew from his time alive. She waltzed through the doors of the hotel like she owned the place, all charm and nostalgia, completely interrupting Alastor and Lucifer—the goddamned Radio Demon and the very King of Hell. Everyone else seemed bewildered by her unexpected entrance, save for you and Husk. Because unlike the others, you both recognized her. Mimzy wasn’t just another demon Alastor knew: she was perhaps the only one still lingering from his life before Hell. And that was a life he never spoke about to you.

You weren’t jealous. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Petty, even!

Which is why you smiled and offered her a drink when she settled in like she belonged there. Even when Alastor seemed more preoccupied with his initial task of challenging Lucifer, you continued to make polite conversation, keeping Mimzy company like a good host as Alastor waltzed off with Charlie and Vaggie to show Lucifer around the hotel. You even decided not to question why exactly she was there, because you definitely weren’t someone who was even remotely bothered by the way she looked at your lover—your Alastor—like she still knew him better than anyone else in the room. You must simply be paranoid!

Thankfully, Angel Dust and Husk kept you entertained by the bar with their usual banter, sparing you from being the sole communicator with Mimzy. You were actually starting to have a decent conversation with her, listening to her talk about how she used to perform at the jazz club Alastor commonly frequented, finally excited to get a glimpse into Alastor’s life before his fall to damnation. But Mimzy had a way of causing commotion, and she knew it. She, like Al, seemed to share the same sin of pride, which resulted in her slipping a sharp, snide little comment hidden beneath her layers of old-timey charm.

"Oh, sweetheart, I do admire ya dedication. Must be so tiring, trying to keep a man like Alastor entertained. I mean, he does get bored so easily, doesn’t he? I’m even surprised he kept me along for this long!"

The words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. Her comment made Angel Dust’s amused grin falter, his mismatched eyes widening in offense for you. Even Husk paused, ears flicking at the sheer audacity.

But you? You simply smiled.

Because you weren’t petty. You were raised better than to stoop down to her level, knowing just how much she wanted to see the worst in you come out. So all you did was smile, your hand tightening on your glass imperceptibly.

“I like to think I do alright,” you replied, voice saccharine. And before she could get in another jab, you excused yourself, turning on your heel before anyone could see the way your jaw clenched just a little too tight.

You needed to find Alastor.

It took some searching, but you found him shadowing Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer as they walked the halls, his posture perfectly poised, his expression fixed in a grin that was just a little too flawless. Lucifer’s presence was, as expected, a threat to the power balance in the hotel, and Alastor was treating it as such.

Your feet picked up the pace, jogging up to him as you called his name. He didn’t turn.

You tried again, and this time, his head snapped toward you, his entire neck cracking with the speed of it. His smile was still there, but his eyes… they were strained.

“Dearest,” he greeted, the word drawn out with thin patience as he twisted his body to match his inhumanely turned neck. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

You purse your lips sourly, crossing your arms as you replied. “Mimzy said something to me. Something rude. I—”

“Oh, she does that all the time,” Alastor interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t take it so personally, cher.”

Your brows furrowed, impatience rising. “Al, she—”

“Really, must we do this now?” His voice, usually so smooth and lilting, held the barest edge of frustration. His focus was drifting back to Lucifer, and that—that stung more than it should have.

“Alastor,” you pressed, but he cut you off again, his expression flickering with exasperation.

“I’m trying to ensure Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t throw this place into absolute chaos,” he said, his usual theatrics dampened by irritation. “Forgive me if I don’t have time to entertain every little grievance.”

That was the breaking point.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. You weren’t asking him to start a war over this, you just wanted him to listen. But apparently, his pride, his status, his stupid fixation on proving himself compared to Lucifer—that mattered more.

“Fine,” you bit out, voice tight. “Go ahead. Play your little game. I’ll be downstairs.”

And with that, you resisted the urge to bark anything else at him and left, ignoring the way his shadow frowned as you stormed away.

By the time you reached the lobby again, your anger was simmering beneath the surface, hot and unresolved. Angel Dust raised a brow as you rejoined them, Husk grunted in acknowledgment, and Mimzy?

She just smirked.

And that—oh, that just made your blood boil all the more. You bit your cheek harshly, letting the pain distract you from the way you wanted to absolutely tear your claws into her snobby little head.

Just as you were about to say something, the hotel trembled violently, sending dust raining from the ceiling. Your eyes shot open from the interruption, the four of you jolting from the bar in surprise. Angel Dust barely had time to curse before another explosion rocked the walls, and even Sir Pentious and Niffty had rushed out into the lobby to see what was happening. Husk’s ears flicked in irritation, eyes narrowing as he downed the rest of his whiskey in a single gulp.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” Husk grumbled, pushing himself off the counter.

Niffty skittered toward the window, peeking outside. Her single eye widened, smile terrifyingly wide: "Oh, wow! Lots of company! And they don’t look very friendly!"

You pushed yourself up from the bar stool, already seething from your argument with Alastor, only for your frustration to triple when you caught sight of what was happening outside through the windows. Your hotel was under attack.

Explosions continued to pelt the exterior, fire and debris scattering across the pavement. Figures lurked in the smoke, their silhouettes illuminated by the flickering flames. Loan sharks. Armed. Dangerous. And heading straight for the entrance.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you hissed, storming toward the door, ignoring Angel Dust’s warning call.

The moment you stepped outside, the gunfire ceased momentarily as the gangsters caught sight of you. Their expressions twisted into rage, and before you could say a word, one of them barked, “That must be her—Mimzy! Get her!”

You barely had time to register what they meant before pain exploded through your side. A gunshot rang in your ears, the impact knocking you backward as agony tore through you. You hit the pavement, breath wheezing from your lungs as Angel Dust and Husk shouted your name.

“Oh, hell no!” Angel snarled, grabbing you before they could get another shot off. Husk swore under his breath, hauling you back into the hotel as more bullets followed, splintering the doorframe. “What the ever-loving fuck did you do, Mimzy?!”

Inside, you gasped, hand pressing against the wound in your side as black blood seeped through your fingers. The injury wasn’t too damaging and you hardly worried since it wasn’t an angelic bullet, but your vision still swam from the sudden sting. Angel crouched beside you, protective, his face set in grim determination (and annoyance of this entire situation) as Niffty rushed off to grab medical supplies. You were too busy focusing on the teeth-clenching pain to hear Husk arguing with Mimzy over why these loan sharks had said her name, hearing her say she apparently owes them fifty grand. Before you could even respond to her words, Sir Pentious’ shouted at everyone as he dodged a fireball. “Take cover!”

You watched as the hotel descended into chaos. Angel lunged forward, yanking Niffty out of the way before another fireball could flatten her. Husk abandoned Mimzy without a second thought, his wings fluttering as he rushed to your side. He grabbed you gently, hauling you against the bar wall, out of the direct line of fire.

Angel was back in an instant, Niffty dangling from one of his arms. The moment he drops her onto the floor, she tears through the hotel's makeshift first aid kit, muttering curses about bloodstains on her carpets.

(A passing reminder to thank Charlie for creating a first aid kit for the hotel entered your mind, the temporary thought stored in the back of your adrenaline-filled brain as you realized how genius the idea was even if you all had originally found the concept laughable.

Who knew you would need one when fighting and pain was practically a daily guarantee in Hell?)

Charlie, Lucifer, Vaggie, and Alastor descend from the staircase a minute later, their eyes scanning the chaos. But it was Alastor who froze, his entire frame going rigid as his eyes landed on you. You two locked eyes for a moment, his foot hovering mid step as he took in your pained expression.

The ever-present smile on his face faltered, just for a second.

Then his world snapped.

Alastor’s gaze darkened, his static flickering erratically as he shadowed towards you in the blink of an eye. His movements were slow, almost mechanical, as he crouched before you, reaching out to gently touch the black blood on your fingers. When he pulled back, his hand trembled, shadows pooling below his kneeling body exponentially.

You had never seen him look like this before.

Vaggie took a step forward from behind the broken front doors, holding her spear in her hands with a pissed off expression. “All of you, get a safe distance. I’ll take care of this.”

Alastor didn’t even glance at her. His voice came out in a low, sickeningly sweet purr. "No, my dear, leave it to me. It’s time I remind everyone why I am here."

Mimzy, pops up from behind the bar counter, perked up. “Oh, finally! Took ya long enough!”

Alastor didn’t react. His shadow twisted violently beneath him, tendrils stretching, shifting, writhing as an eerie green glow seeped through the cracks of the floorboards.

Outside, the gangsters were reloading their catapult and guns, laughing amongst themselves—until the air grew thick with static. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down on the street, the distant flickering of the hotel’s neon sign the only warning before a massive tendril shot out, smashing the catapult to pieces.

The loan sharks barely had time to scream before more tendrils erupted from the ground, slicing through them like they were nothing but paper dolls.

Alastor’s laughter rang through the chaos, distorted and wrong. His body grew taller, limbs elongating unnaturally as his smile stretched too wide, his antlers curling into jagged points. His form twisted, pulsing with raw, unfiltered eldritch power as his shadow spread across the pavement. You heard Husk curse next to you in horror, your eyes glancing to the terrified bartender as he crouched beside you.

“A reminder to all,” Alastor’s voice boomed, shaking the very ground beneath them, “not to mess with the Radio Demon!”

The remaining demons screamed, scrambling to retreat, their weapons useless against something so vastly beyond them. Alastor stepped forward out of the archway of the once undamaged doors, unforgiving and unrelenting as he grew in size with every step. His eyes turn into two red radio dials floating in dark pools of shadow, his radio staff puny compared to his now gigantic form.

“I will devour each and every one of you,” he broadcasted from his unmoving smile, voice rich with unhinged delight.

You winced as you watched your lover start to swallow the mafia members whole, unleashing his stress from today as distant cries of terror fill the hotel. Unfortunately, the broken windows of the lobby did no justice in shielding any of your eyes from the chaos outside, resulting in you having to grossly look away at the gore happening in front of you.

Angel Dust watches beside you, shaking his head as he’s mesmerized by the scene. “I can’t believe you date this guy.”

Your chest huffs in an attempt to laugh, groaning softly as you hear Charlie and Lucifer arguing in the background. The hotel was filled with the sound of family drama and cannibalism, yet somehow that seemed to be even better than the sound of Mimzy’s grating voice cheering Alastor on.

After a mere few seconds, the battlefield was silent save for the faint crackling of embers and the distant, gurgling groans of the last unlucky gangsters who had met their demise at The Radio Demon’s hands. Alastor, now shrinking back into his usual form, let out a sigh of satisfaction, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves.

“Oh, I missed getting to let off steam!” he chirped, his voice dripping with amusement.

The tension in the air hadn’t yet settled when Mimzy emerged from the hotel, peeking out to ensure the coast was clear before prancing toward Alastor with a delighted grin. “Oh, Alastor! What a fantastic show! Bravo! As always. Thanks for helpin’ lil’ old me out of a tough spot, you're always such a pal!”

Before Alastor could respond, a loud crack split the air above you.

Your head snapped up just in time to see a massive chunk of debris from the ruined floor above give way, plummeting toward you and Angel Dust.

“Move!” Angel yelped, grabbing you as the two of you dove aside. The wreckage slammed into the ground where you had been leaning on the wall just seconds before, sending a gust of dust and gravel into the air.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, adrenaline and pain mingling in your veins as you looked up, meeting Alastor’s gaze. His red eyes flickered between you and Mimzy, and for the first time since the carnage began, his smile began to wane as the static in the air crackled with unease.

You weren’t just glaring—you were seething.

It was a rare sight to see you so angry, your emotions normally hidden well behind your mask of calm, poised indifference. Typically, Alastor would be reveling at the fire blazing within your eyes, delighted to see his darling so full of wrath it made anyone in your line of sight shake in terror. Yet in this instance, as Alastor stared a moment longer, he realized he was technically in your line of sight, along with the blonde flapper next to him who caused this whole mess.

Alastor watched as you narrowed your eyes even more at him, taking a mental picture of your fury to cherish forever. Then, with a slow turn of his head, he set his gaze upon Mimzy, his usually cheerful aura twisting into something cold. He realized Mimzy had been speaking to him, something along the lines of apologizing for the mess—really, he could care less what Mimzy was saying given the full extent of things.

“I think you should go, Mimzy.” His flat voice was devoid of amusement.

Mimzy scoffed, twirling a stray curl of hair between her fingers. “Oh pff, Alastor, you're such a kidder, you! Haha, you are so funny—”

“I mean it.” His voice sharpened, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess. I can’t have that here.”

Mimzy’s smug expression faltered, but she quickly recovered, waving a dismissive hand. “But you love takin’ care of me! What? You don’t actually give a shit about this tacky little place, do ya? Come on. I know you.”

She took a step forward, jabbing a sharp-nailed finger into his chest with every word.

“You heartless son—” poke.

“—of a—” poke.

“—bitch!” poke.

Before she could finish, Alastor caught her wrist in midair, his grip like iron. His smile had all but disappeared.

“I do care about this place.” He let her wrist go, stepping past her to glance where you sat on the ground in the hotel, still nursing your injury. His fingers twitched, desperate to shadow next to you, but he simply clenched his twitching hand into a fist. “And more than that, I care about her.”

Mimzy’s face twisted in disbelief. “What?”

Alastor’s eyes sideglanced at Mimzy, his voice laced with something genuine. “I am madly devoted to her. And I refuse to let anyone—anyone—disrespect her. Especially under my roof.” His eyes flickered with finality as he fully turned back to Mimzy. “So unless you plan on giving a damn well and sincere apology to her, you are no longer welcome here.”

Mimzy stood there, mouth agape, before scoffing dramatically and throwing her arms up. “Well, fine! Who needs ya?! Have fun with ya little sweetheart and ya little hotel. See if I care!”

With one last huff, she stomped off, disappearing into the distance.

The moment she was gone, Alastor turned back to the hotel, his sharp gaze softening with concern as his eyes landed on you. Everyone in the lobby had seen this little fiasco unravel, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Angel all sharing snacks as they hummed in appreciation at the drama. You simply sat on the ground a few feet away as he appeared in front of you, his shadow curling around your ankle as it stared up in worry from the floor. Alastor crouched down, his fingers ghosting over your wound, his usual devil-may-care attitude completely absent.

“You should have listened to me,” you muttered, still glaring, though your voice had lost some of its edge.

Alastor winced, his breath hitching at the exhaustion laced in your voice. His fingers twitched against yours, his usual bravado faltering for just a moment. He averted his gaze, as if the sight of your pain was too much even for him, before forcing himself to meet your eyes again.

"Yes… I see that now." His hand finally rested over yours, pressing lightly against the wound as if to assure himself that you were still there. “I was wrong. I should have listened to you from the start. I was too… preoccupied.”

You raised a skeptical brow. “Too prideful.”

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “That, too.”

A moment of silence stretched between you before Alastor finally sighed, something deeply regretful in his expression. “I’m… truly, truly sorry, mon cœur. I should have protected you. I will make this up to you.” His voice lowered, his fingers gently lacing with yours. “Just… tell me how. Anything you ask for is yours, even though it was already yours before this whole incident occured today.”

You sighed, the tension in your body slowly easing, though not entirely. A part of you still wanted to stay angry, to let him sweat a little longer, but exhaustion tugged at your limbs. The ache in your side throbbed as if reminding you that you had bigger things to worry about. Still, you weren’t ready to let him off the hook so easily, exhaling deeply once more as you spoke. “You owe me, Al.”

His grin returned, softer this time—devoid of its usual mischief, holding only sincerity. “Then I shall spend every waking moment treating you the way you deserve. Like royalty, my love.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Damn right you will.”

Alastor chuckled, finally helping you to your feet as you rejoined the group. His grip was firm, steadying you a little too carefully, his fingers lingering at your waist even after you were standing upright. His usual boundless energy seemed restrained, his eyes flickering over your wounds before he forced his smile to remain in place. You could tell—he was still shaken, even if he’d never admit it.

You watched as Niffty scurried around the hotel, eager to clean up the damage. It seemed like Charlie and Lucifer had made up, your anger at today’s events lessening ever so slightly as you watched the two. Even Husk, Angel Dust, and Sir Pentious had seemed to be helping clean up, even if Vaggie was yelling at them to do it.

As Alastor wrapped a careful arm around you, leading you toward a more comfortable place to rest on one of the less damaged couches, he leaned down, whispering just for you to hear.

“I do love you, you know.”

Your heart fluttered, but you played it cool, nudging him in the ribs. “You better.”

His smile widened, his head lowering to give you a hidden kiss behind your ear as he paused for a moment. “I’m sorry you got hurt… because of me.”

You hum slightly at his display of vulnerability, your own mouth morphing into a soft smile. “You’re an idiot, but,” You pause, closing the distance between you as you rub his head with yours, “I love you as well.”

And despite the pain, despite the chaos, despite everything—you knew he would spend the rest of his afterlife making sure he never let his pride come before you again.

#this was supposed to be angstier #and it did not satiate my angst crave #so buckle up for the next angst fic everybody #there might be a part two comfort fic to this #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x reader #oneshot

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randomness-is-my-order · 2 months ago

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since weak hero class 2 is gonna come out very soon (finally!), i had to do some navel gazing with regards to season one and even after multiple watches of the show, i’ll always find the relationship between beomseok and sieun the most tragic fucking bond ever because amidst the massive fallout and very much foreground animosity that rose between beomseok and suho, sieun was the figure providing the most grace to beomseok, till the very end. sieun was the one who was sensitive and empathetic towards beomseok when his bullies targetted him again, when beomseok was undergoing a change of character, when beomseok revealed his home situation. as much as i love suho, the show made it a point to show his callousness towards beomseok’s bullying situation—in part because suho has never been at the bottom of the barrel due his strength and general personality; he does not understand because he has never been the weakest in the chain, but sieun knows, he understands. he’s aware of how bullies work, how they target any perceived weakness, how sometimes the one being bullied can’t do anything short of sacrificing their entire dignity and value system to make it stop (which isn’t always a guarantee anyway). how the one being bullied did not do anything “wrong” to provoke a reaction from the bullies, aside from existing.

the tragedy of season one is just how avoidable the final conflict was, if beomseok just tried to accept the concerned voice that was trying to help him, if he allowed himself to accept sieun’s care to soothe his insecurities over suho. it’s not that suho didn’t reach out—it’s that beomseok and suho were not speaking the same language. what beomseok did is inexcusable and i hope we never see him again and he gains no forgiveness or redemption but it fucking sucks that beomseok blamed suho for not understanding him but then ignored the one who was going the extra mile to meet him halfway, to offer help and empathy. till the last moment, sieun couldn’t bring himself to be violent towards beomseok (which was honestly the biggest metaphorical slap in the face the guy could receive) because how could he ever outdo and avenge the kind of rotten, sickening violence beomseok chose to employ towards his own friend? (and also because hitting him then would mean scores were being settled but what suho suffered through was in suspension and it did not deserve to have a definite resolution and also, beomseok’s too used to being hit for any mistakes/faults/flaws of his, when it is both deserved and underserved and sieun was, once again, being graceful in a painfully ironic manner by leaving beomseok unscathed but with a lesson that should rightfully scar his soul. he held back).

#weak hero class one just makes me sob everytime i think about it #also sieun my beloved he’s such a beautifull resilient character and his sensitivity is a huge part of him #he’s a badass fighter who uses his brains and is socially awkward but his ability to empathise and be kind is IMMENSE #even after beaten with a metal rod for god knows how long he chose to shield beomseok because he truly cared for him SO much #now he’s lost both his friends—and by one of them leading to the other’s coma —like i’d not wish this fucked up situation on anyone #here’s my prayer to see sieun smiling again in season two with his new gang of besties 🕯️#weak hero class one #weak hero class 1 #yeon sieun #oh beomseok #ahn suho #weak hero class 2 #park jihoon

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tobeafangirl · 11 days ago

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all this time

Words: 2,115 Rating: P-13 (fluff, language) Type: Harry Styles x Reader A/N: My first request is done! I hope everyone enjoys, it's a cute one. ❀ Masterlist ❀ Requests ❀

It's hard to believe it's been fifteen years since the screaming crowds, since matching outfits and rehearsed dance moves. Fifteen years since she was the "sixth" member of One Direction, the one tucked a bit out of the spotlight but still part of the whirlwind. Her recent divorce was still making headlines, along with the unexpected critical acclaim for her debut solo album. It poured her heartbreak, resilience, and everything in between into song, the visuals made it quite clear too.

Of course, a lot of people asked her all of the time if she missed being in the band. If she missed those boys she used to call family and her answer was always simple, always true. Yes. However, Niall and her, well, they never really stopped. Public eye and all.

Niall called her daily. He was her anchor through all the turbulence. They'd reminisce about tour bus pranks, late-night songwriting sessions, and the sheer madness of their shared history. He always knew how to make her laugh, even when she felt like crumbling. They even did a collaboration together and joked about how they have done that way too much in the past. She loves that guy, her rock.

"Heard your album's topping the charts again," Niall said during one of their calls.He always wanted to talk about music. Nothing had changed there. From new guitars to new songs, Heartbreak Weather just had its fifth year anniversary and they had even gone out to celebrate.

"Thanks, Nialler," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. One thing that is also true about Niall, he was a gossiper. "So, care to tell me who all those love songs are about?" he teased. It’s not that she didn’t want to tell him, because part of her hated hiding things from Niall.

The truth is though, she had been hiding something from Niall, from the world for years. She laughed nervously, thinking of Harry. Yes, that Harry.

For the past three years, away from the prying eyes of the world, Harry and her had been quietly, secretly seeing each other. Their connection was undeniable. They had navigated fame together, felt the weight of the world on their shoulders, and understood each other in a way no one else could.

Another thing?

Rewind to 2015. The air crackled with a different kind of energy then. It was the era of Harry's longer, more bohemian hair, a style that seemed to mirror the free-spirited nature of the time. Amidst the whirlwind of tours, recordings, and public appearances, a private world existed between us.

For nearly eight months, Harry and she shared something incredibly intimate and personal. It wasn't a casual fling; it was a connection that felt deep and significant. They navigated the complexities of their secret relationship carefully, knowing the scrutiny and speculation that could arise. The constant need for discretion, the stolen moments, the hushed conversations – it all became increasingly challenging.

Keeping it under wraps from the rest of the band, who were not just colleagues but close friends, began to feel like an immense burden. The weight of the secret, the careful choreography of our interactions, started to take its toll. When they eventually reached the decision to part ways, it wasn't fueled by anger or resentment. It was a mutual understanding, a shared acknowledgment that the situation had become unsustainable.

It was a bittersweet moment, but there were no hard feelings, no dramatic fallout. The bond they had formed, though now taking a different shape, remained intact. They both respected each other enough to keep the details of their relationship private, a shared secret they carried forward.

So, that was it. No one knew. No one but them. It was hard, not even telling Niall, but Niall sometimes would give her knowing eyes and she had always wondered but never had it in her to ask.

But now, years have passed. Harry has had failed relationships and she had her failed marriage. When they saw each other again, they never thought it would lead to this. She couldn’t even remember who reached out first. Maybe it was Harry, he had found out about the divorce and texted her to let her know he was there for her.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Harry was the guy she spoke with the most when she needed someone to talk to while they were on tour. Yes, Niall was her best friend and she talked with him too but Harry got her on a level that was just different. More intimate, maybe.

So, they agreed to meet for coffee. Harry had just finished his tour, something she was so proud of him for. And her new album was she had been planning was about to take a turn for the better. They laughed, they talked, they kissed. The day just stretched. It turned to night, which turned to her back at his house and old flames rekindled.

It was so much different this time, so much greater. They had grown, become more mature, it had been seven years since they had been that close and from that moment forward, it never really stopped. She had said she wanted to keep this casual, especially right after the divorce, but within eight months she found herself at his house for weeks at a time, spending months in Italy. She even recorded half her album in Berlin just to be closer to Harry.

Next thing she knew they were drinking wine while cuddling on the couch, discussing their plans of living together, her album had come out and it was doing wonders and Harry was starting to support a mustache that she nearly begged him to grow. Harry argued at first and said the fans wouldn’t like it. She argued back and stated she would like it. That got her a smile and now here he was, letting it grow to its full potential, just for her.

“I don’t see how it doesn’t poke you.” Harry had said as it was growing out. “It does.” She cooed. “I like it.” She had said with a giggle, that always seemed to be a good enough answer for Harry. Always. If she liked it, she got it. He spoiled her. If she asked, he just said it was to make up for lost years.

They had talked about that too. Both agreed it was better this way. Soon, they would be coming up on three solid years together. They would’ve never been able to say that ten years ago. They both had a lot of maturing to do back then and they agreed that if they would have tried to make things work then it would’ve ruined them in the end.

No, it was better this way. So much better.

They finally told their families and friends around the two year mark. Anne and Gem were first. They were both excited, Anne said she always felt a connection between them and had secretly hoped they’d end up together. Gemma just gave Harry a knowing smile and Harry blushed. It made her wonder if she already knew something.

Then, it was her family as to which they had the same reaction. It seemed everyone had always wanted this or at least thought about it. It made it feel more genuine. They didn’t just feel it. Other people saw it too.

Niall was absolutely flabbergasted and he nearly passed out at the news. “What do you bloody fucking mean together?! Years?! The two of ya?! What the fuck?!” And a whole lot of other Irish friendlies were thrown at them, but he was happy for them. He made sure to say it a lot there at the end of the call.

That’s it. That’s all that knew. Close friends and family. The rest of the world believed that Harry stayed tucked away in Italy and Y/N always tried to make an appearance somewhere once a month so that no one could put everything together.

It also helped that Harry became a recluse as soon as his tour was over. He deserved it. That man put on a show like no other, she was happy to see him put himself first the past few years. He was the happiest she’s ever seen. She just hoped she was a part of the reason.

They actually had been apart for the past month. Harry was doing some hint dropping PR in Italy while she was doing her own in LA. They both were about to release albums. Both hinting heavily at their relationship all in plans of announcing their relationship a month after releasing. It was something they thought about for a while. But they both agreed that they didn’t want to hide anymore.

Their lives burned too bright and held too much for it not to be shared.

So, for their three year anniversary they decided to meet at a quiet, secluded beach house on the coast of Ireland. Just them, miles away from the noise and the cameras. Y/N loved when they did this. Escaped to somewhere a bit out of their normal, it somehow tended to rekindle a fire that never really burned out.

She arrived, the salty air filling her lungs, and found Harry waiting for her on the porch. He looked at her, that familiar warmth in his eyes, and she felt her heart flutter. It didn’t matter how many times she did it. Every time those eyes met hers, they gave her butterflies.

"It's good to see you," he said, pulling her into a hug. It was a warm and tight embrace, Harry nearly squeezing the life out of her. She chuckled as they pulled away but was quickly silenced by lips, strong hands cupping her face now.

Harry started to pull her inside, leaving her bag out on the porch, Y/N giggled as he lifted her slightly off the ground and continued to hold her close. This was also one of her favorite parts after being away from each other for a little while. The way Harry devoured her like a starved man.

Her bag was left outside until the next morning.

They spent days walking along the cliffs, talking for hours, and simply enjoying each other's company. It was the things they would do at home but with added scenery. They watched the sunset paint the sky in vibrant hues, and she felt a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time.

One evening, as they sat by a bonfire, Harry took her hands. The sky was that pretty purple color that looked like pink had just softly kissed it in a few places. It was truly beautiful, this was definitely one of those picture perfect moments.

"Remember when we first met?" he asked, his voice soft. "We were just kids, thrown into this extraordinary world. And you," he continued, his eyes sparkling, "you made it bearable. You made it fun. You've always been my safe place."

Harry had made sure to always let her know how important she was to him. That no matter what he had always felt he was able to come talk to her about anything. She cherished that. Cherished the trust he had in her. He truly was the sweetest. She opened her mouth to telling him just how much he meant to her but he had other plans.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes darting from the box to him, she knew what it was but it wasn’t connecting, it wasn't clicking in her head. Her mind filled with so many thoughts.

"These past three years with you have been… everything. You've seen me at my best and my worst, and you've always accepted me for who I am. I love you more than words can say," Harry paused, his eyes meeting hers, "Will you marry me?"

Words were lost on her as she stared down at the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. Her heart was pounding out of her chest but there was only one answer in her mind. “Yes!” She exclaimed, a bit breathless.

Tears started to stream down her face as she nodded, laughing softly at how she was reacting. He slipped the ring onto her finger, a simple and delicate and so Y/N.

As the waves crashed against the shore, and the fire crackled softly beside them, she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. With her best friend, and the man she loved, under the vast, starlit Irish sky.

#harry styles #one direction #harry 1d #harry styles fanfiction #fanfic #harry styles fic #1direction #harry styles x reader #niall horan #harry styles story #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #onedirection #one direction fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #att

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sycamorelibrary754 · 6 months ago

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New Year, New Family

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Platonic Reader, Avengers x Platonic Reader

Summary: It’s been a year since Wanda Maximoff joined the Avengers. You and the team gather at the compound to ring in the New Year until the fireworks trigger past trauma for the young redhead.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, flashbacks, and death.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Happy New Year! This story is set after Avengers: Age of Ultron but before Captain America: Civil War.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Peter urged, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

You took a reluctant break from the carefully bandaging his wrist, lifting your gaze to meet his hopeful eyes. “No, Pete. I’m not a New Year’s Eve person, and I certainly can’t picture myself celebrating amidst Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, his persistence unwavering. “You mean your friends?”

“At work, sure, they’re friends,” you clarified, “but at one of Tony’s over-the-top parties, with a guest list longer than the Great Wall of China, they become Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

“But this year is different!” Peter countered, showing you the invitation. “There’s no extravagant bash planned! Ms. Potts convinced Tony that those wild parties were a distraction. It will just be the team, I promise. Please, Y/N?”

With a heavy sigh, you relented, “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Yes!” Peter beamed, his grin contagious. “I’ll let Ms. Potts know you’re coming!” And in an instant, he darted for the door, barely avoiding a collision with your desk as he sprinted out, an unmistakable smile plastered on his face.

*^~^*

"Office hours.” That was the nickname you came up with when the Big Green guy was off on one mission or another, leaving you in charge of his lab. After the chaos with Ultron, Bruce vanished without a trace, slipping entirely off the grid. As a result, office hours have become a permanent feature. You clung to the hope that he would return. Your eyes were glued to a microscope when a familiar voice broke through the moment. “Knock knock.”

You turned to see Wanda framed in the doorway, her fiery red hair glinting in the light and a hand pressed against her left ribcage. “Hey, Wanda, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She stepped inside with a hint of urgency in her voice. “I was wondering if you could look at my side. The last mission was brutal—I took a hard fall, and I think I might have cracked a rib. The Med Bay is packed to the brim, so if you're busy, I totally understand, but…”

“Wanda,” you interjected, concern creeping into your voice. “Just sit down for a moment.”

“FRIDAY, could you check Ms. Maximoff’s vitals and run a full body scan, please?” you requested, you tended to the visible injuries that marked her skin.

“Certainly, Dr. Y/L/N,” FRIDAY responded promptly. “Vitals are strong, with no signs of internal bleeding detected. However, a hairline fracture of the sixth rib is present.”

“Looks like you got lucky, Maximoff,” you smirked.

“How do you figure?” Wanda asked, her Sokovian accent slipping through ever so slightly as she winced.

“You came all the way down here instead of heading to the Med Bay. Luckily, we have that extra Regeneration Cradle that Dr. Banner uses right here. Just thirty minutes in there, and you’ll feel as good as new,” you said, your voice filled with encouragement.

Wanda's eyes lit up with hope. “Are you sure Bruce won’t mind?”

You offered a solemn grin. "I'll handle the fallout when he returns. For now, let’s make sure you’re taken care of."

As Wanda reclined on the cradle bench, you leaned in, determined to distract her from the pain. “So, tell me, are you enjoying being an Avenger? Well, minus this moment, of course,” you added with a playful grin.

She glanced up at you, a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s been a mixed bag,” she admitted. “But honestly, it’s gotten easier over the past year. Being part of this team, being here—it means a lot.”

“Has it been a year already? It feels like time zooms by,” you mused, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It does,” she replied, her expression turning thoughtful. “Still, some things linger… they never truly fade away.”

As you promised, the Cradle worked its magic, and within half an hour, the sharp pain plaguing Wanda completely faded away. Her rib knit back together as if it had never been injured in the first place. She had to remember this thing was down here more often, tucked away as it was in the corner of the lab.

“Feeling better?” you inquired, your voice laced with genuine concern.

“Completely, thank you,” Wanda replied, her smile relieved.

You waved her off with a grin, “Anytime, Maximoff.”

As she slipped her coat back on, a curiosity caught her eye, drawing her attention to Peter's glimmering invitation to the New Year’s Eve celebration carelessly left on your desk. With a flick of her wrist and a flourish of her red magic, the card gracefully soared through the air and landed in her hand.

“Are we going to be graced by the honor of your presence on New Year’s Eve?” Wanda teased, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

You rolled your eyes at her playful banter. “Yes,” you confirmed, your tone light but resigned. “Only because Peter is annoyingly persistent.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun,” Wanda urged as she stepped closer. “I’m not one for big, noisy parties either.”

You couldn’t help but smirk in response. “It’s a far cry from a typical Tony Stark party.”

“Consider it a refreshing change of pace,” she replied, giving your shoulder a friendly pat as she made her way past you, her vibrant energy trailing in her wake.

“See you later, Y/N,” she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing with a playful lilt as she left the lab.

*^~^*

On New Year’s Eve, you quickly stopped at the charming little store on the corner. Your eyes were drawn to a stunning purple orchid. Next to it, a bottle of bubbly champagne caught your attention, the golden label glimmering under the soft store lights.

It felt peculiar to buy a gift for someone who seemed to have everything, yet your mother's words echoed in your mind: Never show up to a party without a host gift. Besides, you knew Pepper would appreciate the thoughtfulness behind your gesture.

As you stepped into the bustling common room of the Avengers Compound, the savory aroma of sizzling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air. Steve was at the helm of the indoor grill, flipping patties and bratwursts. In one corner, Thor animatedly spun tales of wild Asgardian New Year's Eve celebrations, his booming laughter echoing around the room. Nearby, Natasha and Clint were locked in a tense game of pool, their playful banter peppered with competitive jabs.

“Y/N!” Pepper called out, her eyes lighting up as she spotted you across the room, with Tony following closely behind. “What a stunning orchid! Thank you so much,” she exclaimed, graciously taking the plant from your hands.

“Even better, what about this gorgeous bottle of champagne?” Tony chimed in with a playful grin. “Let’s pop it!”

As Vision extended his hand to take your coat and scarf, Peter dashed over, his excitement radiating as he presented a vibrant, multicolored party hat. “See? I told you it would be just the team!” he exclaimed.

Looking down at the hat, you chuckled and asked, “Do I have to wear this?”

“Yes,” Sam declared confidently, while Rhodey firmly asserted, “No,” at the exact moment.

The warm, inviting aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wrapped around you like a cozy blanket as you entered the kitchen. There, in the heart of it all, was Wanda, standing under the soft kitchen lights as she expertly arranged a tray of cookies.

“Hey, Maximoff. Happy New Year’s Eve!” you called out.

“Thank you, Y/N. Would you like to try one?” She held out a cookie, the chocolate chips glistening from the oven's heat. “It’s my special recipe, just baked.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. Snatching one from the tray, you took a hearty bite, the soft, chewy texture melting in your mouth. “Wanda, this is delicious!”

“I know,” she said with a playful smirk.

After indulging in a lavish New Year’s Eve dinner featuring perfectly grilled steak, vibrant roasted vegetables, and creamy garlic mashed potatoes, everyone gathered outside on the Compound dock to watch fireworks.

The night sky over upstate New York twinkled like a jewel-encrusted canvas, each star shining brightly against the deep indigo backdrop. Wrapped snugly in the fluffiest blanket, you nestled closer to Wanda, feeling a warm cocoon of comfort between the chilly air and the soft fabric. Tony pulled up the live stream of Times Square, the bustling energy of the crowd pulsating through the screen. The iconic ball began its descent as you started the countdown.

“3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!” everyone shouted.

In the distance, the night sky erupted with a brilliant fireworks display, each explosion painting the heavens with vibrant red, blue, and gold hues. The dazzling lights flickered and shimmered, casting a mesmerizing reflection on the tranquil surface of the lake below, where the water mirrored the kaleidoscopic bursts in a breathtaking dance of color. The crackling sounds echoed through the air as you and the team took in the spectacle.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Maximoff?” you murmured, gently nudging Wanda with your elbow. But she didn’t respond.

Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, her eyes wide with a distant fear. You could see her breath growing shallow as panic began to creep in.

“Wanda, are you alright?” you asked, concern lacing your voice.

The rest of the team quickly noticed the tension, some exchanging worried glances, unsure how to intervene.

Before you could say another word, Wanda sprang to her feet, urgency radiating from her. “I have to go! It’s not safe here; the bombs are coming!”

“Red, listen to me,” Tony said cautiously, taking a few steps toward her. “You’re alright.”

“No! It’s your fault!” Wanda shouted at Tony, her voice trembling as she retreated, close to stumbling into the lake’s edge. “Where’s Pietro? I have to protect him!”

“Wanda,” Natasha called out gently, her hands up in a placating gesture. “You’re not in Sokovia anymore. You’re at the Avengers Compound.”

“Don’t touch me!” Wanda screamed, her hands igniting with a crimson glow, pulsating with the raw emotion that threatened to overflow.

“Wanda,” you said gently, stepping before your friend, blocking out the storm in her mind. “You’re having a flashback, but you’re safe now.”

As tears streamed down her cheeks, your heart ached for the redhead. You took a slow, steady step closer. “Let’s take some deep breaths together. Just follow my lead.”

With each inhale and exhale, you felt her breathing begin to sync with yours. “You’re doing amazing,” you encouraged, extending your hand toward her. After a moment of hesitation, Wanda took your hand, gripping it tightly as she breathed deeply.

“Can you tell me what you see around you?” you coaxed, keeping your voice calm and steady.

Wanda blinked away her tears and glanced around, her voice barely a whisper. “The lake, the dock… the compound… the trees… you.”

“Perfect,” you reassured her, a small smile breaking through the tension.

"How about we head inside for a bit?" you suggested softly, reassuringly smiling.

"Okay," she replied, her eyes brightening at the idea.

With that, you wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder as you headed for the compound.

“Take your time,” Sam urged, a reassuring smile on his face as the rest of the team nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with understanding.

You led Wanda into the room, gently guiding her to the couch. A hush enveloped the space as you sat beside her—an unspoken agreement to give her the time she needed.

After a heavy silence, she finally broke the stillness. “This has happened before, you know,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Loud noises, bright flashes. I’m ten years old again, curled under the table with Pietro, waiting for Stark’s missile to kill us. Just like it did to my parents.”

You listened with focused attention, every word resonating in the stillness. “Wanda, I’m truly sorry for what you’ve endured. I can't even fathom your pain. But please know this—no matter what your mind is whispering, you’re safe here.”

A tremor of regret laced her voice. “I ruined New Year’s Eve. I feel so broken inside.”

You leaned in closer, determined to comfort her. “Wanda, you haven’t ruined anything, and you’re not broken. What you’re feeling is your mind’s way of shielding you from past hurts,” you said gently. “Have you considered speaking with someone? Sam runs a fantastic group for veterans dealing with PTSD. I know he would welcome you warmly.”

“No group therapy,” Wanda declared with a determined look.

“Understood,” you replied thoughtfully. “But I’m sure Sam would be open to meeting with you one-on-one, or he could help you find someone else. And if you need to talk, I’m just down the hall.”

“Really?” Wanda’s gaze softened as she searched your face for sincerity. You nodded reassuringly. “Thank you, Y/N. Are you sure I wouldn't be a bother?”

“I’m practically all alone in the lab these days, so your company would be a breath of fresh air,” you replied, giving her a friendly smile.

Wanda tilted her head with curiosity. “You miss Bruce?”

“Very much,” you sighed, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “After finishing medical school, I had the privilege of studying under Dr. Banner. I’ve been a part of this band of misfits from the moment Natasha found him in that remote hut in India. My life has felt a bit empty without him around.”

Wanda’s expression softened, and she gently touched your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly, appreciating her empathy. “And just so you know, I mean it when I say you’re always welcome to come and talk to me about anything.”

The redhead wrapped her arms around you in an unexpected embrace, catching you off guard. You instinctively settled your chin on her shoulder, returning the hug with warmth and gratitude.

As moments passed in this intimate bubble, the rest of the team filtered back inside, a rush of cold air swirling around them. You could sense their concern, their eyes darting toward Wanda, eager to check her well-being.

From that day forward, your lab door stood open for Wanda Maximoff—a welcoming space where she could let her guard down and start to heal. You felt a reassuring certainty that everything would be alright as long as she embraced her new family. What you hadn’t yet come to realize, however, was that the Avengers were your family, too—woven into the fabric of your life in ways you had yet to fully understand.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #the avengers #avengers x reader #mcu #fluff

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multific · 7 months ago

Text

His Love

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: You were meant to marry him, thinking he is an unkind man, you kept your distance from him, but soon, you learned the truth.

As the sun cast its golden rays over the bustling streets of ancient Rome, Marcus Acacius, a bold Roman soldier, crossed paths with you, his soon-to-be wife.

At first, your heart held nothing but hate for this man, seeing him as a brute and unkind soul.

However, destiny had a different plan in store for both of you.

In an unexpected turn of events, you discovered that he was nothing like your initial judgment had led you to believe.

Beneath his hardened exterior lay a heart filled with kindness, compassion, and a burning love for you.

You wanted to explore that.

To see where it would lead the two of you.

And so, you began to spend more time together.

You ate together and even went on many walks around the city. Seeing him interact with people made you realise just how kind he was.

Watching him smile spread a warmth inside your heart.

Slowly, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble.

Marcus's gentle words and thoughtful gestures slowly melted away your worries, allowing love to blossom inside you.

In the tender moments shared, he revealed his vulnerability and how deeply he had fallen for you.

One evening, Marcus took your hand and whispered to you.

"My love, I know that our journey together began with animosity, but I promise you, my intentions have always been pure. I am here to protect you, cherish you, and love you with every fibre of my being."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words.

"Marcus, I never imagined that behind your cold facade, there would be such a loving heart. I am grateful for the person you have shown me, and I too must confess, I have fallen deeply in love with you."

From that moment forward, your lives intertwined as you embarked on a journey filled with love, trust, and unwavering devotion.

Your wedding was simple. Your family was there, and you had a great time.

But you were just thankful for the journey ahead of you with a husband so loving, kind and handsome.

In the years that followed, amidst the madness of war and the difficulties of life, Marcus remained your dedicated rock.

His unwavering support and unwavering love carried you through every storm, reminding you of the depth of his commitment.

Of his Love.

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

#x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #Marcus Acacius x Reader #marcus acacius x y/n #general marcus acacius #gladiator marcus #marcus acacius #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x female reader #gladiator marcus acacius x reader #gladiator marcus acacius #gladiator marcus x reader #gladiator marcus acacius x you #gladiator x reader #gladiator ll #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator movie

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quickestgold · 3 months ago

Text

Masterlist | The Pitt ♡

Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Goodbye, My Lover (Four-Part Series)

Inspired by the 'Four Things that Matter Most', this series deals with the unspoken truths of your past and present. Having shared your life with both Jack and Robby at different stages, it's a bittersweet goodbye to the love that once was, but also a hopeful beginning for what might be.

Chapter 1: I Love You

Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

Chapter 3: I Forgive You

Chapter 4: Thank You

After the Dust (Ongoing Series / Backstory to Goodbye, My Lover)

Chapter 1: Darkness

Chapter 2: Light (TBC)

Chapter 3: Peace (TBC)

Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Strip Her: Amidst a mass casualty event, Jack’s medical instincts clash with his personal life when the woman he loves risks her own life to save another. Is he about to watch you die?

Say It First: Jack has grown used to the emptiness in his heart, a quiet companion that has kept him safe for too long. But when you finally speak your truth, he realizes the hardest battles aren’t fought on the field or in the chaos of the ER, but in the silence between two hearts longing for each other.

Someone New: After witnessing the fallout from Jack's failed marriage, Dana and Robby have been skeptical of his new relationship. But when a freak accident forces them to see the depth of Jack’s feelings, their perspectives shift.

Still Life: Jack always expects the unexpected, both as a doctor and a partner. But when your water breaks during a citywide blackout, the pressure to deliver your baby safely grows with each contraction, trapping you, him and Robby in a single, still moment of life and loss.

Still Alive: (Still Life Part 2) Delivery complications during the birth of your son leave Jack caught between grief and hope, life and loss. In the stillness that follows, those who witnessed it begin to confront their own silent trauma, navigating recovery, healing and bonding with a newborn.

Say Something: A decade of falling in and out of love has turned you and Jack from lovers to strangers. But when a difficult case hits too close to home, you might finally be calling time of death on your marriage.

Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

(TBC)

#dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt #jack abbott #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x you #dr abbot x reader #noah wyle #shawn hatosy #dr michael robinavitch #dr robby imagine #michael robinavitch #dr robby #the pitt hbo

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k8fics · 1 year ago

Note

‘Does anyone want a Lucy Maximus throu-“

YES I DO. YES I DO. ME ME ME

Surfaced Hearts

summary: headcanon of lucy, maximus, & surface dweller!reader throuple

rating: R (?) - nsfw, the apocalypse, killing people, just fallout, fem!reader, the use of Y/N, maximus has his armor bc..hehe

- i can think of so many ways you guys could meet

- maybe you're a surface dweller who meets lucy & maximus when they stumble upon your shop

- OR maybe you're childhood friends with lucy, you guys leave the vault together, and then meet maximus later on along the way

- surface dweller!reader tho (*❦ω❦)

The sun hung low in the sky casting long shadows across the broken pavement as Lucy and Maximus approached the dilapidated storefront. Their steps were cautious, hands gripping their weapons, ears perked for any sign of danger in the eerie silence of the wasteland. As they neared the entrance, a sudden cacophony shattered the silence. Raiders faces twisted with malice, emerging from the shadows, brandishing rusted weapons and hungry eyes. Lucy's grip tightened on her pistol, while Maximus aimed his mechanical arm, gears whirring in anticipation. Suddenly, before the raiders could even position themselves for a second attack, a sudden onslaught of gunfire erupted from the shop's interior. Bullets flew through the air with deadly precision, finding their marks in the chest of the unsuspecting raiders. Stunned, all Lucy and Maximus can do is merely watch as the assailants fall one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground. Standing amidst the carnage, a figure emerged from the dust. A surface dweller, standing tall, your weapon still smoking in your hand as you surveyed the aftermath then began rummaging through the dead bodies' belongings. As you do so, you look up at the two standing beside you, "Y'all don't plan on causing any trouble like these asshats right?" Lucy and Maximus stare at each other before looking back at the scavenger, all they can do is nod.

- from that point forward, they want you SO bad

- you have would kill for them

- (and vice versa) you're is just more unhinged aggressive about their devotion

"Phew! That was a close one," Lucy gasped, her chest heaving as she cast a glance toward Maximus, her eye lingering on his rugged features. Maximus nodded, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his face. "Yeah... Hey, where's Y/N?" His gaze flickered between Lucy and the shadows of where the surface dweller once was. A few anxious moments later you emerged, your form silhouetted by the dim light of the land. Lucy and Maximus approach you, their hearts racing with a mixture of relief and concern. "Sweetie, where have you been?" Lucy's voice was soft, tinged with a hint of worry as she touched your arm. Your eyes met Lucy's, and a flicker of something unreadable fades away immediately after making eye contact with her. "And why are you covered in blood?" Maximus's voice was low, his gaze lingering on your disheveled appearance. "They're gone now," you replied cryptically, your voice barely reaching a whisper as you leaned into their touch. As the weight of your words hung in the air between them, Lucy and Maximus exchanged a glance. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they found themselves drawn to the surface dweller in ways they couldn't quite explain.

- babygirl, girlboss, and malewife

- i imagine you're a little rough around the edges considering your predicament

- but lucy and maximus soften you up :D

You've always had a hardened exterior, having learned to rely on keeping your guard up at all times. But when Lucy and Maximus entered your life, you found yourself grappling with the unfamiliar territory of trust and vulnerability. One day, as you guys were traversing the rugged terrain, you encountered Dogmeat. Your instincts kicked in immediately, muscles tensing as your eyes followed the tog warily. "Easy there, Y/N," Lucy said, her voice calm and reassuring as she approached the canine companion with outstretched hands. "He's a friend, not a foe." Maximus, with his gentle demeanor, echoed Lucy's sentiment. "Trust us, Dogmeat is as loyal as they come." You remained skeptical, "Still, I'm not sharing my food with the mutt." You grumbled, Lucy and Maximus exchanged knowing glances. After less than a week, Dogmeat stood by your side as you cooked the meat you had just scavenged, the canine getting pieces here and there from the surface dweller.

- you love gifting them things

like when lucy mentioned that she missed watching old westerns in her vault, you're immediately searching for the best copies and a working television

- maximus's love language is definitely words of affirmation and acts of service

- he's a sucker for verbal expressions of love and appreciation

- but he actually goes weak to the knees (like on the ground, begging, clinging onto you and lucy's legs) when it comes to acts of service

- like helping him repair one of his arms and he's just shaking and blushing

- or scavenging for oysters just to gift it to him, he's purring and surrounds you

- lucy's is so physical touch

- sometimes, when you guys can find clean water, you and maximus take a bath or shower with her and it's her favorite thing ever

- babygirl asf

- imagine lucy teaching you and maximus different self-care practices

Lucy grinned, her expression filled with excitement as she gestured toward the jar in her hand. "We're going to start with something simple: exfoliation." You and Maximus exchanged a puzzled glance before turning their attention back to Lucy, who wasted no time demonstrating the proper techniques. With gentle motions, she applied the scrub to her skin, massaging with care. "And that's how you exfoliate!" Lucy declared, her skin glowing with newfound radiance. While all you could do is stare in horniness amazement with your mouth open, Maximus scratched his head, a look of confusion across his face. "...But why?" he asked, only to be met with a punch on the arm by the surface dweller.

- honestly, i feel like you guys don't even talk about being a couple or anything, it just happened over time

- like a few subtle touches and stolen glances over time turns into staring lovingly into the eyes of each other and .........

tiny nsfw

- "intercourse?"

- just a room full of switches

- you're on top most of the time tho

- maximus is a giver all the way

- bro's mouth is always full

- lucy is a pillow princess and you cannot change my mind

- and very vocal

- maximus likes to watch you and lucy

- the cuck chair lives past the apocalypse!!!

- he's mostly quiet with the occasional praises, telling you to keep going, that you're doing so well, that you make him and/or lucy feel so good

- it's like he's taking notes

- "you wanna make my cock explode now?"

anyways! back to the planned program

- lucy does your hair most of the time

- the first time she suggested it she asked for you to find a hairbrush so that she could "fix up our hair"

- you immediately jumped up to rummage around for that old hairbrush in that one file cabinet

- so now she does your hair most mornings while maximus makes or scavenges for some form of breakfast

- for some reason, i feel like maximus knows how to play cards

- and i just know it would be lucy's favorite pass times

"oh! can we play that card game you taught us, maxie?"

- do you guys think lucy and maximus would have nicknames for each other?

- like lucy calls him 'max' and/or 'maxie' (maxi? maxy?) and maximus calls lucy 'luce' (EEEE)

- you and maximus LOVE the way lucy smells tho

- i know it's weird but imagine always being surrounded by the most putrid stenches and here comes this beautiful, very clean lady comes along

- it can't be helped

"what are you guys doing?" "nothin" "you always smell like roses"

hope you enjoyed! lmk if anyone wants more lucy x max throuple fics, i can make a longer fic going into more depth. thank you!!

#fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout x reader #lucy x reader x maximus #lucy maclean x reader #lucy maclean #maximus #maximus x reader #fallout headcanons

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chewnotchoke · 5 months ago

Text

to let a good thing die - gongfourz

warning: leehan and taesan, bff gongfourz, angst, friendship fallout, they call each other 'donghyun' and 'dongmin' but i'll refer to them with their stage names a/n: i originally wanted to make it a love triangle where hts fell for klh, however, i did not want to add a cliche love triangle anymore where their friendship simply gets ruined by a girl so instead, i just focused on their dynamics as best friends :) wc: 6.7k (my longest fic yet) playlist: bruno major - to let a good thing die // lana del rey - margaret // wave to earth - love // phoebe bridgers - scott street // conan gray - the cut that always bleeds // billie eilish - tv // lorde - ribs // mac demarco - watching him fade away

the one constant in a world that frequently felt chaotic and uncertain was the bond between leehan and taesan. their relationship developed gradually over time rather than being sparked by something significant or profound. they had this unshakable connection, built on an implicit commitment to always stand by each other.

there was something comforting about their relationship, like the warmth of a campfire on a cold night. it was strong, steady, and able to push away even the darkest moments.

leehan is the kind of person who can turn the most mundane moments into something fun, tossing playful jabs or flashing a quick grin that’s as disarming as it is genuine. yet beneath his laid-back demeanor lies a quiet loyalty for his best friend, taesan.

for leehan, caring about taesan isn’t just a passing thought—it’s woven into the fabric of his being, a constant he doesn’t need to say aloud. his way of showing it is subtle: an encouraging word when taesan's fire flickers or a shared laugh to lighten the weight of the world.

taesan, on the other hand, is a force of nature. he’s full of purpose, his mind racing with ideas and plans, always reaching for a horizon only he can see. ambition fuels him like a roaring engine, pushing him forward with relentless determination. but even with his eyes set on the stars, taesan never forgets leehan. he values him as a grounding presence, the person who reminds him to breathe amidst the chaos.

to taesan, leehan isn’t just a friend—he’s a safe harbor, someone he trusts to understand him in ways words can’t always express.

when taesan forgot his lunch in middle school, it was leehan who pushed his tray across the cafeteria table, pretending he wasn’t hungry. when taesan showed up late to cram school, drenched in the rain, leehan wordlessly handed over his spare hoodie. when taesan confessed he’d failed another math test, leehan stayed up all night crafting a cheat sheet—not so taesan could cheat, but so he could study better next time.

the park was washed in gold by the afternoon sun. the rusty swing set, a memory from their shared youth, was occupied by leehan and taesan. with each push, the chains creaked as they swayed gently under their weight.

as they watched a group of children play tag on the grass, their laughter resonating in the cool air, they had been silent for some time. with a heavy voice, leehan breaks the silence.

“do you ever wonder how things might change when we enter college?” kicking at the mud beneath his feet, he asked the question. taesan could only offer him a wry smile as he turned to him, “why? are you worried about drifting apart as we’re finally starting to figure out our lives?”

“something like that.”

it took taesan to give a response. he stared at his friend and finally added, “you know, the world doesn’t have to be perfect for us to have our own piece of it. and honestly...you’re the only piece i’d ever need.” it was all sincerity–raw, and unfiltered, and leehan could feel it from taesan’s voice.

taesan’s grin returned but tinged with something softer, almost fragile. “i know life gets messy, and sometimes it feels like we’re barely holding on, and i know it’s going be harder in our 20’s, but every time i feel like i’m drowning, i think about this, us. and i know i’ll be okay.”

“but i’m kind of worried though,” taesan adds. “you’ve always been there for me and i’m scared of leaning too much on you, and if i am not reciprocating the same care you’ve given me. you’ve always felt like a brother, an older one. you were there when i scraped my knee, trying to learn how to ride a skateboard from you. when i had that silly breakup in high school, when i almost failed my math test. i don’t want to be a burden for you, where you always have to take care of me and make sure i’m okay whenever i mess up.”

leehan chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. "it doesn’t make you weak. and for what it’s worth, you’re the one who reminds me to laugh when i get too serious, who pulls me out of my head when i overthink. you take care of me in your own way, even if you don’t realize it. so i want you to keep leaning on me, just as much as i need you here, too."

leehan’s mind drifted to the time in middle school when he had forgotten to finish his homework. the teacher’s glare had felt like a spotlight, and humiliation burned hot on his cheeks as he was told to stand at the back of the classroom. but just as he began to shuffle toward the wall, taesan had quietly risen from his seat and joined him. “forgot mine too,” taesan had mumbled, even though leehan knew it wasn’t true.

he remembered the warmth of that moment, how the shame of standing alone had melted into something almost bearable because taesan had been there, sharing the weight of it without a second thought.

another memory surfaced, sharper and more vivid: the sound of pounding rain as leehan sprinted through the streets, his heart racing with worry after hearing his mom was sick. he hadn’t even noticed taesan trailing behind him at first, gripping an umbrella in one hand and shouting for him to slow down.

by the time leehan stopped, both of them were drenched, rain dripping from taesan’s hair and soaking his clothes. yet taesan didn’t seem to care; he simply held the umbrella over his friend’s head, his hands trembling slightly from the cold, determined to shield him from the downpour.

taesan, on the other hand, found himself smiling at a memory of his own. he thought about the night he lost his cat—a quiet, aching grief that had made him curl up in his room and refuse to leave. he could still see leehan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed but eyes gentle, waiting patiently. “food’s getting cold,” leehan had said, his voice soft. he hadn’t pried or tried to offer hollow comfort. he had simply waited until taesan finally stepped out, sitting across from him at the table in silence, offering companionship without needing to say a word.

for a brief period, the only sound in the place was the soft hum of the kids playing. then taesan exhaled, a tiny, nearly apologetic smile pulling at his mouth. his shoulders releasing tension, and his heart feeling lighter than ever after hearing such words from leehan.

that day, despite everything, it was just the two of them as best friends. and at that moment, it was more than enough.

until things started to shift in their sophomore year as college students.

taesan began to feel the heavy, unrelenting weight of adulthood pressing down on him. it was nothing like the carefree days of high school, when life was a blend of joys and trivial worries. back then, it was all about laughter, mischief, and the simplicity of being young. now, it felt as though every responsibility, every expectation, was stacking itself on his shoulders, threatening to crush him under its weight.

but what tormented at him most wasn’t just his own struggles—it was the fear of becoming someone else’s. he dreaded the day of himself becoming the burden rather than the bearer, making his chest tighten with unease. especially to leehan.

leehan often found himself waking up to the faint glow of a desk lamp at the dining table in their shared dorm. there taesan would be, hunched over his notes and laptop, dark circles under his eyes betraying yet another sleepless night. the sight had become too familiar.

"dongmin, don’t tell me..." leehan muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the room. his voice carried a mix of concern and exasperation. taesan glanced up, the exhaustion etched into his face undeniable. but instead of answering, he closed his laptop with a soft sigh and rose from his seat. he began gathering his things for the class that awaited him.

"dongmin, you haven’t been sleeping for days," leehan said firmly, stepping closer.

taesan paused, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "i have a really important presentation later," he said, his voice calm but weary. "i can’t screw this up."

leehan frowned, watching his friend push himself yet again. "you need to rest, though. you can’t keep running on empty."

“i’ll be fine," taesan replied with a small, tired smile, brushing off the concern as he always did. "i probably won’t be back for lunch, so don’t wait for me. eat something good, okay? i’ll see you after class." and with that, taesan headed for the door, leaving leehan standing there, worry tugging at his chest. as much as leehan wanted to stop him, he knew taesan’s stubborn determination all too well. all he could do was silently promise to be there, ready to catch him if he fell.

it was just after leehan’s second class when his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. the caller id flashed ‘university clinic,’ and a strange chill ran down his spine as he answered. the nurse’s voice was calm but firm: taesan had fainted after a presentation, and his name was listed as the emergency contact. hearing that sent a wave of emotions crashing over leehan—fear, frustration, and a flicker of something warmer, something he couldn’t quite name. he didn’t even stop to think. his legs moved instinctively as he sprinted toward the infirmary.

when he pushed open the door, he saw taesan lying on the small bed, looking pale, his usual energy drained. his lips curved into a faint smile when he noticed leehan, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “you’re here,” taesan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “why? have you eaten lunch yet?”

leehan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair to calm the anger bubbling inside him. “do you really need to waste what little energy you have worrying about me?”

taesan let out a breathy laugh, though it came out more like a cough. “i’m fine. it’s not that serious. didn’t the doctor say i just need some rest? i’m an adult now, leehan.”

“and yet, you can’t even take care of yourself,” leehan shot back, his tone harsher than he intended. the smile faded from taesan’s face, replaced by a shadow of guilt. “i’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the room’s silence. leehan’s chest tightened as he realized how his words had landed. he reached out, his hand resting gently on taesan’s arm, a gesture meant to reassure.

“hey,” he said softly, his voice gentler now. “i’m not mad. i’m worried. i hate seeing you like this. but you know i’ll always be here, right? whether you think you need me or not.”

taesan’s gaze shifted away, his fingers clutching at the blanket. “that’s what scares me,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “that you always have to take care of me.”

for a moment, the weight of taesan’s words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. leehan tightened his grip on taesan’s arm, his own voice steady and quiet. “you’re not a burden, taesan. not to me. you never will be. so stop trying to do everything on your own.” taesan’s lips quirked into a faint smile again, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. “you’re too good to me, you know that?”

leehan shook his head, his own smile breaking through. “maybe. but you make it worth it.”

the silence that followed was warmer this time, leaving only the steady hum of the infirmary clock marking the passing seconds.

but the following days weren’t as warm.

taesan had been alone in their shared dorm for three days now. leehan had barely been home, only returning long enough to sleep, his presence almost ghostly in its absence. the days passed in a blur, with taesan filling the space with his own thoughts and distractions, but something was missing. every morning, taesan would check his room to find that leehan had already gone—his things left behind, his bed untouched. it was as if leehan had simply faded away.

that morning, as taesan stood in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes he had used for breakfast, he heard the familiar creak of the door opening. his heart jumped in his chest, and for the first time in days, a small spark of relief flickered in his chest. he turned around to see leehan step inside, dragging himself like a ghost from the hallway.

“you’re back!” taesan said, his voice a mix of surprise and relief.

leehan’s response was a strained, half-hearted smile that barely reached his eyes. he walked slowly, his footsteps heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders, his bag hung loosely from one arm.

“are you alright?” taesan asked, his brows furrowing in concern. “you haven’t been answering my calls. how was your test?” leehan didn’t immediately respond. instead, he simply sighed, the sound as hollow as his smile. “sorry,” he muttered, looking away. “let’s not talk about that.”

before taesan could press further, leehan disappeared into his room, the door closing behind him with a finality that felt like a wall between them. taesan stood frozen, his heart heavy with unanswered questions he glanced at the clock. only ten minutes before class. he should go, but something worried him, telling him to wait. so, he did. he waited by the door, listening for any sign that leehan might come out.

when the door finally opened again, it wasn’t the leehan taesan had hoped for. leehan emerged, but this time he was carrying a much larger bag, his clothes different. his movements were mechanical, devoid of the warmth that usually accompanied him.

“i don’t think i’ll be home for the next few days,” leehan said, his voice distant, the words detached as if he were speaking from a far-off place. “take care. i’ll see you soon.”

taesan’s throat tightened, his stomach lurching at the finality in leehan’s tone. “wait, what? donghy—”

but leehan didn’t stop. without another glance, he turned and disappeared out the door, leaving taesan standing in the midst of a room that suddenly felt too empty and quiet. the seconds dragged into minutes, and taesan stood there, numb, watching the door as if hoping leehan might come back.

but he didn’t. the sound of leehan’s departure echoed in his mind, and taesan realized, with an unsettling clarity, that something had shifted. though he didn’t know what it was or how it happened.

taesan had known something was wrong with leehan for days. it had started subtly at first: leehan had been quieter than usual, disappearing more often, his smiles more forced. taesan had brushed it off, telling himself that it was probably just the stress of exams, or maybe leehan was dealing with something personal. but it wasn’t like him to pull away without saying anything, especially not from taesan.

last week, leehan had mentioned that his program had a qualifying test to determine if he could continue to the next semester. it was a big deal, and taesan had noticed how much time leehan was spending with his study group, buried in textbooks and notes. but even so, the silence between them felt different—longer, heavier.

but that night, after finishing his own studies, taesan couldn’t help himself. he opened the messaging app and typed out a message:

"hey, what else have you been up to lately? haven’t heard from you in a while. you good?"

he stared at the words, his thumb hovering over the send button, unsure if it was too much, or too soon. but it was the truth—he was anxious. he didn’t know what leehan had been up to, how he was holding up, or even if he was okay. he sent the message and then sat back, waiting. the minutes turned into an hour. his phone sat on the desk, quiet, undisturbed.

it was only when taesan was about to drift off to sleep, the heft of the day pulling him under, that he finally heard the familiar ping of a new message. he reached for his phone, his eyes still heavy with fatigue, and unlocked the screen.

it was from leehan.

“i’m sorry i haven’t been home lately. and i don’t think i will be for the whole week. i’ll be back once i’m done. make sure you’re eating well.”

the message was short. vague. empty.

taesan stared at the words for a long time. there was something hollow about it, something that left him unsettled. taesan reread the message, wondering if there was more beneath the surface, some hidden meaning that he wasn’t catching. but in the end, the words sat coldly in his chest, unanswered and unyielding.

three more days had slipped by since leehan’s last reply. silence hung heavily in the apartment, with taesan left to his own thoughts in their shared space. despite the suffocating curiosity, taesan resisted the urge to call, respecting the unspoken boundaries. seeing leehan occasionally online on the messaging app was enough to reassure him that nothing dire had occurred.

on his way to campus, taesan crossed paths with sungho, one of leehan’s friends from his program. a spark of hope stirred in his chest as he greeted him. “sungho, have you been with donghyun? how’s he doing?” sungho’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and concern. “donghyun? hasn’t he come back to your place yet?”

“no, i haven’t heard from him lately.”

sungho sighed, glancing away momentarily. “ah, you didn’t know? leehan failed the qualifying exam last week. it was tough—he had to retake it with an additional 80 questions. but he finally passed on the second try. if he had failed again, he wouldn’t have been able to apply for the next semester. and he would have lost his spot in your college dorm. he’s been a wreck since the test, crying a lot. i thought you knew?”

a load settled on taesan’s chest. he hadn’t known any of this. the silence suddenly felt heavier, tinged with guilt and worry. before he could respond, sungho gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “i’ve got to go now. take care, dongmin.” with that, sungho walked away, leaving taesan standing in the middle of the bustling campus, lost in thought.

late at night after class, the dorm was eerily quiet, and there was still no sign of leehan. taesan sat on the couch, his heart weighed down by the conversation he’d had with sungho earlier. the day’s fatigue clung to him as he idly scrolled through instagram, seeking distraction.

his thumb froze when he stumbled upon leehan’s latest instagram story. it was a group selfie with classmates, a table laden with food and alcohol, and the caption, “thank you, guys. it wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

a storm of unspoken emotions swirled within taesan. he placed his phone face down on the table and sighed heavily. moments later, the front door creaked open, and leehan stepped in. his face bore a different expression than the one taesan remembered. something softer, more at ease.

“dongmin, i’m back! i mi—” leehan’s words trailed off when he noticed taesan’s lack of response. concern flickered in his eyes as he gently closed the door. “are you alright?” he asked, lingering in the doorway. “is it true?” taesan’s voice was low, almost a whisper.

“what’s true?” leehan frowned.

“you failed your qualifying exam.”

“oh, that,” leehan shrugged, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “how did you know? but it’s all good now—”

“no, it’s not!” taesan’s voice cracked as he interrupted, his frustration surfacing. leehan blinked, taken aback.

“dongmin, it’s really fine. i passed the second time.”

“but you didn’t tell me,” taesan muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“tell you what?”

“that you were struggling. that you needed support. instead, you celebrated with your college friends. people you’ve known for barely a few semester, while i was left in the dark. if sungho hadn’t told me, i wouldn’t have known anything.”

leehan’s smile faltered. “dongmin, i didn’t want to be a burden. i thought—”

“a burden?” taesan cut him off, his voice trembling. “do you think i’m not scared of being a burden too? but other than that, i’m more terrified of becoming someone you can’t rely on. do i mean so little to you as a friend?” his eyes shimmered, tears threatening to fall. the room was steeped in silence, the pressure of unspoken fears and misunderstandings pressing down on them.

“dongmin, i’m so—”

“was it not possible with me, donghyun? is that why you didn’t tell me?” taesan’s tears streamed freely, his voice trembling with a fragile softness. leehan’s gaze softened, the sight of his best friend in tears pulling at his heart. “that’s not true, dongmin. i didn’t tell you because i didn’t want to add to your stress. when you fainted from exhaustion after your presentation, i knew you weren’t in the right headspace. if i had told you i failed, it would’ve only worried you more. you mean so much to me as a friend—i couldn’t bear the thought of adding more weight to your shoulders.”

“donghyun, i could have helped you study—”

“and that’s exactly what i didn’t want!” leehan interrupted almost shouting, his chest heaving with emotion. “i didn’t want you to see me as someone who couldn’t succeed on his own. it’s not about that! dongmin, i was more afraid of losing what we have here, in this apartment, than losing my own dreams!”

taesan was rendered speechless, overwhelmed by the raw honesty in leehan’s words. he hadn’t expected such vulnerability from his friend, and it struck a chord deep within him. “you always care about academics, and you wouldn’t understand that because you’re full of determination and purpose! you’ll never find yourself in this terrible situation, scared on the edge of losing your spot in what we share.” leehan’s voice echoed in the small living room, his words cutting through the quiet like a blade.

taesan stood there, frozen, the weight of leehan’s remark sinking into his chest. confusion swirled in his mind, mixing with a sharp sting of hurt. his brows furrowed as he tried to process the words, the frustration in leehan’s voice, the unspoken resentment hidden beneath.

“i—” taesan began, his voice faltering. he didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something that felt so out of nowhere, so unfair. “you know what? let’s just stop talking about this,” leehan muttered, his tone weary, almost defeated.

“i’m sorry for making it a big deal.” taesan felt his throat tighten as he answered, the words he wanted to say trapped somewhere between his heart and his mouth. he couldn’t bring himself to argue anymore, not when it felt like every word would only widen the gap between them. so, he turned away. quietly, almost reluctantly, he made his way to his room, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick silence that now filled the space.

for weeks, silence draped over the dorm like a suffocating fog. leehan and taesan were locked in an unspoken calm, neither willing to break the stillness that had stretched into nearly two weeks. it wasn’t pride that kept their words at bay, but the heavy weight of guilt. for leehan, it was the guilt of almost leaving taesan in the dark, of burdening him when he was already struggling. for taesan, it was the guilt of not being there for leehan, of failing to comfort him when he needed it most.

and beneath it all lingered the echo of leehan’s confession, his yearning for permanence in their shared space—a permanence that, for taesan, would always belong to leehan alone.

despite the silence, their care for each other never wavered. leehan would quietly prepare extra portions of food, knowing taesan often pulled all-nighters and might need a late meal, even though leehan himself rarely ate more than a small serving. meanwhile, taesan would tiptoe into leehan’s room after he had fallen asleep, gently turning off the lights and softly closing the door left open.

the semester was winding down, the days slipping by in a blur, and before anyone realized it, summer break was just around the corner. taesan had been singularly focused on preparing for an internship interview slated for the next semester. it was all he had thought about for the past week—a chance to inch closer to his dream, especially since it was with a prestigious company. with his grades qualifying him for the application, he seized the opportunity without hesitation.

amid his preparation, taesan had barely noticed what leehan had been up to. it seemed like his friend was also engrossed in studying for something, though taesan hadn’t had the chance to ask.

as a way to celebrate their hard work this semester, taesan and his classmates decided to unwind with a dinner at a local pub. the thought of sharing a meal and laughter with friends was a welcome break from the intensity of the past weeks. taesan was planning to break the silence with leehan tonight once he got home.

or maybe tonight was a bad time, because leehan was also at the pub.

leehan and taesan sat at opposite ends of the pub, surrounded by their own circles of friends. the air was alive with the buzz of conversation, laughter echoing across the room. taesan, though engaged in a lively discussion with his friend, jaehyun, couldn’t help but glance over at leehan from time to time. his gaze lingering on his best friend. he watched, not out of curiosity, but out of concern, silently willing him to eat more, to take care of himself.

meanwhile, leehan sat at his table, doing his best to ignore the darting glances and hushed whispers that seemed to hang in the air around him. he heard bits and pieces of the murmurs , gossip about his recent failure. he didn’t care. they didn’t understand, and they never would. the success he sought was never meant for them, but for someone else.

but on the other side of the room, things were beginning to escalate. one of taesan’s classmates leaned in, his voice rising just enough for taesan to catch the words. “i don’t understand how dumb someone could get not to pass the test on the first try. yeah, sure, he passed the second one, but that’s just wasting his time, honestly. right, dongmin?”

the words were a blur to leehan, barely registering in his ears, but for taesan, they hit hard. he felt his muscles tighten, his temper beginning to simmer. his grip tightened around his glass of beer, his gaze hardening as the same classmate continued, oblivious to the damage he was causing.

“kind of pathetic, don’t you think?” the classmate sneered.

that was the breaking point. taesan slammed his glass down, rising from his seat with such force that his chair scraped across the floor. his eyes locked on the classmate, anger igniting in his chest. leehan, who had a hint of what was being said, braced himself. his body was tensed, ready for whatever might come next. he wasn’t sure what it was all about, but if it got worse, he wouldn’t stand by idly. taesan walked toward the guy, voice low but seething with anger.

“shut up,” taesan says. “you don’t know a damn thing about donghyun.”

the classmate, ever the instigator, stood up to meet him, unafraid and ready for a fight. the atmosphere in the pub shifted, everyone now watching, tension hanging heavy in the air. “what’s your problem, taesan?” the classmate sneered, not backing down. “you didn’t know a damn thing either. leehan didn’t tell you, did he? didn’t want you to know how pathetic he was for failing that exam.” he scoffs and continued, “after all, some people just aren’t cut out for that level.”

taesan’s patience had worn thin. the words his classmate had spat, the cruel mockery, the way everyone around them had gone silent as if they were waiting for him to do something, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. the burning anger that had been boiling beneath his skin suddenly roared to the surface.

his first instinct was to grab something, anything. but even in his anger, there was a moment of calm. his eyes locked onto the nearest object, the beer mug resting on the table. without thinking, but with controlled precision, he grabbed it and poured the beer over the guy’s head. the beer splashed in a cold wave, soaking his classmate’s hair and dripping down his face, the mug now empty in taesan’s hand.

“hope that helps cool down your overblown ego,” taesan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, a sharp edge of defiance in his tone.

but his classmate’s smug expression remained unchanged. his lips curled into an arrogant smirk, eyes narrowing as if daring taesan to do more. before taesan, could fully process it, the guy’s fist came crashing into taesan's face. the force of the punch sent taesan stumbling backward. the sharp pain in his cheek was almost too much to ignore, but he forced himself to focus.

the instant he regained his balance, his fist swung out in retaliation, landing squarely against his classmate’s jaw. but before taesan could take another step forward, he felt hands pulling him away.

leehan had rushed over, his grip strong on taesan’s arm as he yanked him away from the scene. taesan’s instincts screamed to pull back, to lash out at his classmate once more, but when he saw it was leehan trying to stop him, something inside him shifted. his anger, his adrenaline, all of it, suddenly dulled. his body, tense and ready for a fight just seconds before, relaxed against leehan’s pull.

“taesan, let’s go,” leehan urged, his voice low but firm. taesan didn’t resist as much now.

the anger hadn’t completely subsided, but the sight of his best friend trying to stop him, trying to keep him from making a bigger mess, made him pause. he allowed leehan to guide him toward the door. the moment they stepped outside, the cold air hit him like a slap to the face, bringing him back to reality. taesan stood there for a moment, shivering not from the cold, but from the rush of emotions that still swirled within him—anger, regret, frustration.

he looked at leehan, whose face was a mixture of concern and disappointment. taesan wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat. instead, he just stood there, feeling the weight of everything he hadn’t said and everything he’d done. he was frustrated, almost feeling like he wanted to cry out of anger.

“why…why didn’t you say anything?!” taesan’s voice was rough, raw with emotion. “why aren’t you mad?!” his chest heaved with the force of his frustration, his fists clenching at his sides.

leehan’s eyes softened, but there was an edge to his voice, a slight tremor that betrayed the emotion he was trying to keep in check. “why did you have to get into trouble because of me, dongmin?” his words rose in pitch, more from concern than anger. “this isn’t just about you, donghyun! it’s about respect. he had no right to talk about you like that!” taesan answered, his arm jerked toward the pub, where his classmate’s voice still echoed in his mind.

“i don’t need you to fight my battles, dongmin,” leehan said, his voice cracking with frustration. “i can handle it.”

taesan’s breath hitched, and he exhaled sharply, his eyes softening, the anger that had once burned in them replaced by something darker like hurt, deep and raw.

“do you really see me like that?”

his voice dropped to a whisper. “you always carry my burdens, you always worry when i’m about to break. but when it’s your turn—when it’s you, you don’t need me. you never ask for my help. i thought... i thought you needed me just as much.” he paused, swallowing hard.

“is it so hard to lean on me, donghyun? after everything we’ve been through, after all this time…am i still not the kind of person worth relying on?”

leehan’s heart clenched, the weight of taesan’s words striking him harder than any punch had. his breath caught in his chest. “you are,” leehan said quietly, the words heavy, as if admitting it physically hurt.

“you are… but not when we’re both having a hard time.”

a silence fell between them, thick and suffocating, as if the air itself was too heavy to breathe. the words hung in the space between them, too much to bear.

“maybe we’re just not the friends we used to be, donghyun,” taesan muttered, his voice hollow.

the silence deepened. it was the kind that pressed down on them, crushing, leaving no room for anything else. neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. the weight of the words, of the distance, settled like a stone in both their chests, suffocating the bond they once thought was unbreakable.

a week later, they were both in their dorm. on the surface, it seemed like everything had returned to normal, but beneath the surface, it hadn’t. taesan had just gotten off a call with his professor the day after the incident, who brought up the recent situation at the pub. the news was disheartening—unfortunately, the company taesan had been aiming for didn’t tolerate any involvement in violence, no matter the circumstances. as a result, he lost his spot for the internship interview he had been diligently preparing for the past weeks.

one night, taesan remained on the couch, his head bowed, staring intently at his hands clasped tightly together. leehan noticed the shift in taesan’s demeanor. “what’s wrong?” he asked, placing his cup of water on the table. the weight of the situation pressed down on taesan. it was crushing and disappointing, but somehow, he couldn’t even muster the energy to feel sorrowful about it.

the dim light of the evening filtered through the window of their shared apartment, casting long shadows across the living room. “i heard from the office today,” taesan finally said, breaking the tension. his voice was low, almost emotionless. “they pulled my name from the interview list. the internship’s off the table.” leehan asked if he did not even try to plead and reconsider, but taesan says he didn’t want to do anything of that.

“you’re not seriously going to take the blame for this,” leehan finally said, his voice cutting through the stillness. “why? why didn’t you ask them to reconsider?”

“because if i did, then standing up for you wouldn’t be worth it.”

“you’re throwing your life away for something that wasn’t even your fault,” leehan continued, his tone rising. “you have so much ahead of you, dongmin. why would you—what would you now?” he looks at taesan.

“i’ve thought about it for days. i’ll find a new opportunity, and…”

“and?”

“and a new university.”

leehan remained silent, not because he didn’t want to speak, but because he couldn’t find the words. his emotions overwhelmed him, and soon he was sobbing quietly. the tears weren’t just for taesan transferring schools.

it was the guilt crashing at him, knowing taesan was throwing away everything he had worked so hard for, all because of him. leehan buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to contain the weight of his sorrow.

rather than feeling sad about taesan’s departure, leehan was consumed by self-directed anger. he couldn’t shake the blame, couldn’t ignore the role he played in this unraveling mess.

“dongmin,” leehan choked out, his voice trembling, “your dream was supposed to start here! and now—” he paused, gasping for breath between sobs. “and now it’s all gone because of me. i’m so sorry...”

taesan turned to face him, his expression calm but filled with quiet determination. his voice was soft, yet steady. “donghyun, this is the life and dream i’m willing to set aside for you, but i will never let anyone disrespect you like that. you say i’m full of determination and purpose? donghyun, you’re the only purpose i ever need. and i want you to be happy.”

his lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. leehan shook his head desperately, gripping taesan’s hands tightly, his eyes pleading.

“how can i be happy if it costs me you? how can i stay here and not think about everything i’m losing?”

taesan’s smile faded, his gaze locking onto leehan’s. he studied his best friend, searching for something, perhaps a way to make this easier, or maybe the strength to let go. the silence between them was thick, each word that followed weighted with pain.

leehan continued, his voice breaking with emotion. “it hurts like hell to let you leave, but it feels just as wrong to make you stay. i caused all this mess, and keeping you here won’t change anything. it’ll only hold you back from finding new opportunities. i can’t do this, i’ll go with you.”

taesan sighed, the heaviness of their reality settling in. he knew leehan was right, but that didn’t make it any less painful. the bond they shared was deep, but this was a stage that required them to walk separate paths, no matter how much it hurt.

taesan’s lips tugged into another bittersweet smile. “i’ll be okay. it might take some time, but I’ll get there. i always do.” he reached out, placing a hand on leehan’s shoulder. “this isn’t about me, donghyun. you didn’t ask for this, but now that it’s happened, you can’t just ignore it. don’t throw away something good because you feel guilty. that’s not fair to you.”

leehan’s throat tightened, and he looked away, tears stinging his eyes. “i don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve you.”

taesan’s eyes softened, but there was a glimmer of pain. he let his hand fall away, his gaze lingering on leehan for a moment longer. “we’ll figure it out… just not now.” taesan said, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

leehan could only nod, unable to trust his voice. his heart screamed at him to say more, to fight harder, but he was frozen by the weight of inevitability crushing them. without another word, taesan turned and walked to his bedroom, the sound of it closing behind him echoing through the soon-empty apartment.

months passed, and life took them down different paths. taesan settled into his new university, finding his footing amidst unfamiliar faces and new challenges. he threw himself into his studies, into building a new life, but the cracks in his heart remained, each one bearing donghyun's name.

leehan stayed behind, moving through his days in a haze of routine. the apartment felt emptier without taesan’s presence, the silence now deafening where once it was comfortable. he told himself he was fine, that this distance was necessary, but late at night, when the world quieted, he felt the absence like a wound that refused to heal.

both were consumed by the demands of their new realities, yet neither could shake the haunting presence of what was left unsaid. taesan would catch himself staring at his phone, thumb hovering over leehan’s name, wanting to reach out but knowing it wouldn’t change anything. leehan, too, found himself staring at old photos, the smiles frozen in time a painful reminder of what they’d lost.

in the end, it wasn’t a dramatic falling out that separated them but the slow, inevitable drift of two people caught in the relentless current of life and guilt. they had once promised to figure it out, but the truth was, some things couldn’t be fixed.

sometimes, even the deepest bonds can be undone by the pressure of guilt, and sometimes, the kindest thing you can do is let go.

perhaps they were meant to be each other's anchor in their youth, a steady presence during the roughness of growing up. but as their lives evolved, it became clear that their paths, once intertwined, were now running parallel but separate. maybe they were never meant to follow each other into their dreams. instead, they had been each other's solace in the past years, a constant in a world that often felt anything but.

and though the distance grew, the echoes of their friendship lingered.

a silent reminder of what they had, and perhaps, what they were forced to leave behind.

reblogs are highly appreciated! if you reached here, thank you for taking your time to read <3 | @yuzuksi @leesolbeesol @candycane-lemonade @lionhanie @taylorluvation

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