I'm a writer of fanfiction and original fiction. Currently you can find me writing for the following fandoms:
Jujutsu Kaisen
The Pitt
Just a head’s up, there is no set posting schedule for my fics. I write whatever I want whenever I want. If you’re looking for someone who works on only one project at a time and updates weekly I’m not your girl. You’ll get what you get when you get it.
Likes and follows come from my main blog @roriannesmoon.
Be sure to also check out my very talented internet wife bestie @wisps-writes-fic (who also writes for The Pitt!).
Thanks for stopping by! 🩵
AO3 ⎯ Rori_is_Writing [ locked to guest users ]
Main Blog ⎯ @roriannesmoon
A warning to minors: I am an adult. I write about adult things. This means you are more than likely going to see explicit fics on this blog which can include triggering or problematic content. All fics are rated and tagged appropriately so if I see anyone complaining about what they see on this blog I will know you didn't read those warnings and you will be blocked.
Tropes you are likely to find on this blog:
Age Gap | Daddy Kink | Dark Romance | Dub-Con/Non-Con | Omegaverse
If you feel uncomfortable with any of those tropes then I urge you to hit that back button and find a different blog to enjoy. This is your only warning.
Open to asks, DMs, and fic requests but before dropping the latter into my asks please see my rules for doing so below. Scammers will be blocked and deleted.
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THE PITT Masterlist
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Drabbles ⎯ Less than 500 words [Coming Soon!]
One-Shots & Short Stories ⎯ 500 words or more [Coming Soon!]
Novels ⎯ 50,000 words or more [Coming Soon!]
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Tag Directory: answered asks | just writer things | writing memes
Every time I discover another one of my favorite fics was deleted I thank my past self for downloading like three different copies of it across multiple devices and cloud services.
Remember kids, always download your favorite fics and tag them in your AO3 bookmarks with the title and author so you can still look them up once they’re gone.
Was getting back into writing some new chapters when the universe dropped a tornado in my area. I’m fine but a lot of people I know are homeless now. Writing might be going back on hold now. :(
Just wanted to pop in and say that your soulmate AU with Robby is so delectable!! Although I love how stubborn y/n is. Robby is so smitten and their bickering is so fucking hot!! Thank you for sharing it with the internet! I hope you have a great day!
Ahhhh thank you so much! That’s so sweet of you to say! 🥰
It’s definitely a self-indulgent fic for me because it has a bunch of my favorite tropes and romcom vibes so I’m happy to see it getting so much love from everyone.
A reminder that not all Reader Self-Insert fics are for everyone. And that's okay.
While I believe that all Reader fics should be very ambiguous when it comes to the appearance of a character (unless tagged otherwise of course) things can get very tricky when it comes to things like character personality, choices, and back story.
Listen, unless you want to self-insert into the most bland character ever written who never makes a real decision or talks to anyone (because god forbid a self-insert character say something that you personally wouldn't say) you've just got to accept that not every Reader fic is going to be a perfect fit. There are going to be fics where the self-insert character has a different job from you or has a different family makeup from you (maybe they have sisters when you only have ever had brothers) or says or does something that you can't imagine yourself ever doing.
And you know what? That's okay. Not every fic is written for every person out there. Not every fic is going to perfectly adhere to your specific life choices, kinks, and personality traits. All you can do is acknowledge that maybe something wasn't written with you in mind and just hit that back button and find something that is.
Lord knows there's plenty of Reader fics out there. If one doesn't work for you a different one probably will.
A lot of my own fics exist because I wanted to read a specific kind of story and couldn’t find it anywhere else. And you know what they say: be the change you want to see in the world.
And before everyone starts insisting that they’re not a good writer, nobody is a good writer in the beginning. That’s how you get better: by writing stuff. Nobody is magically good at something overnight. Writing is a honed skill like anything else. It takes practice and patience.
So get out there and practice by writing the fic you want to read.
Seeing a bunch of writing posts lately like “it’s okay if you only wrote a couple hundred words today :))”
As someone with a full time job, diverse hobbies, and a commitment to proper rest/self care, I would amend that. It’s okay if you don’t write anything at all on MOST DAYS OF YOUR LIFE. You’re still a writer if you’re passionate about creating stories and putting words on paper when time allows. Life is busy and full of possibility, and that’s beautiful, actually. Kill the hypercapitalist productivity demon in your head.
Once Oscar Wilde, coming down to lunch, was asked how he had spent his morning. "I was hard at work," he said.
"Oh?" he was asked. "Did you accomplish much?"
"Yes indeed," said Wilde. "I inserted a comma."
At dinner, he was asked how he had spent his afternoon. "More work," he said.
"Inserted another comma?" was the rather sardonic question.
"No, said Wilde, unperturbed. "I removed the one I had inserted in the morning."
A reminder that not all Reader Self-Insert fics are for everyone. And that's okay.
While I believe that all Reader fics should be very ambiguous when it comes to the appearance of a character (unless tagged otherwise of course) things can get very tricky when it comes to things like character personality, choices, and back story.
Listen, unless you want to self-insert into the most bland character ever written who never makes a real decision or talks to anyone (because god forbid a self-insert character say something that you personally wouldn't say) you've just got to accept that not every Reader fic is going to be a perfect fit. There are going to be fics where the self-insert character has a different job from you or has a different family makeup from you (maybe they have sisters when you only have ever had brothers) or says or does something that you can't imagine yourself ever doing.
And you know what? That's okay. Not every fic is written for every person out there. Not every fic is going to perfectly adhere to your specific life choices, kinks, and personality traits. All you can do is acknowledge that maybe something wasn't written with you in mind and just hit that back button and find something that is.
Lord knows there's plenty of Reader fics out there. If one doesn't work for you a different one probably will.
as a writer you will have a specific deck of vocab words you like using a lot and when you read other peoples' work you will see a very clear spread of different vocab words on their end. this is why you need to read, to collect other writers' words like it's a card game
need to know more about what you’re thinking re: abbot life line spin off??? age gap? 👀 do they also meet in a life threatening way? 👀 is it a friend of robby’s girl? 👀
Those are great questions!
Honestly some of these I’m still mulling over and trying to figure out. I do like the idea of the new Reader being someone our current Reader knows though. The jury is still out on if their meeting will be overly dramatic and involve near-death experiences or not. As for the age gap trope? I mean, would it even be a Rori fic if there wasn’t a large age gap? 😂
new life line chapter I’m UP!!!!! i love the angst, i can’t wait for more :3 and robby being the one that’s softening and being more openly affectionate is one of my fav things happening in the fic!!!
The way I giggled when I saw this in my inbox.
I’ll be real: I love angst. I love reading it and I love writing it. And I knew these two were far too awkward and emotionally constipated to admit their feelings anytime this decade so I decided they needed a little shove in the right direction. Nothing brings people closer together than a little strategically placed angst and danger. 😌
Multi-Chapter | Explicit | Dr. Robby x Fem!Reader | 3,338 words
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Summary: You had always wondered what it would be like to meet your soulmate...Yet, of all the scenarios you had dreamt up over the years, meeting your soulmate in the ER as your lifeblood poured out onto the floor was not one of them.
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Tags: Age Gap (20+ years), Brief mentions of near-death experience/shooting trauma, Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Soulmates, Stalking
Read on AO3 | Life Line Masterlist
[ A/N: Time for some capital 'A' Angst and Plot. Please check out the new tags before reading. Love you, mwah. 💙 ]
You’ve been back at work for a week when it happens.
“He’s staring at you again.”
You startle, momentarily distracted from the check you were printing off for one of your tables to frown at your coworker, Monica.
“Hmm?”
“Table ten,” she said, jerking her head towards the table in question.
Immediately, you know who she’s referring to. The man who has been sitting at your table, nursing the same coffee for the past three hours. Even without looking you can see him in your mind’s eye. Average looks—brown hair, brown eyes, about your age. A little socially awkward. He’s a regular who likes to come in at least twice a week to sit around and monopolize your attention even during the busy lunch and dinner rushes. But because he tips well you’ve learned to indulge his neediness.
All in all, he’s relatively harmless as far as regulars go.
And yet…you can’t help but feel a certain discomfort every time you’re forced to attend to him. A discomfort that Monica has clearly picked up on even though you’ve never voiced your concern aloud.
(After all, withstanding the interest, and even vitriol, of strangers was just a part of the job description when it came to the service industry.)
“Is he?” You muse aloud with forced disinterest. “Probably just wondering when he can get the check.”
“That man ain’t looking for a check.” She states firmly. You look at her, taking in the intense look in her eyes as she stares back at the man openly.
It was a little weird to see her like this. Monica was usually such a hard-ass. The sort of woman who had survived three decades of single motherhood and bitter disappointment in the world around her and finally arrived at that most holy, most vaunted place that all women secretly looked forward to…not giving a fuck. It was exactly why most male diners hated her but most of the female waitstaff grudgingly respected the hell out of her. If she had a problem with you, you’d know it.
And, clearly, today she had a problem with Mr. One-Cup-of-Coffee.
“You want me to take him?” She asked, an unusually soft note to her voice.
“Oh,” you say, glancing back at the man quickly. She was right. He was still looking at you. “Umm, that’s okay. I need the money.”
Technically you didn’t. For possibly the first time in your life your bank account was still in the quadruple digits even after paying all of your bills, thanks to your stubborn soulmate and his overly generous check—that he had, in fact, gone with you to the bank to watch you deposit into your account. Then again, admitting all of this to your fiercely independent and judgmental middle-aged coworker would just inspire a whole slew of questions you didn’t really feel like answering right now.
“You sure? I can shoo him off for you,” Monica offered. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I appreciate it though.”
At the back of your mind you hear a little part of you whisper to take her up on her offer. Hadn’t you learned from your time being babied by Michael to just let others help you every now and then? But another part of you, the bigger and louder part, rankled at the idea of you relying on anyone for anything. Especially something this small. What were you, a toddler who couldn’t be expected to talk to strangers? You would be fine. This was your job.
It would be fine. You were fine.
Squaring your shoulders like someone bracing for battle you make your way over to table ten and paste your best customer service smile on your face.
“Need a refill?” You ask with false cheer, eyeing up the man’s cup which was still half-full. “Or maybe something to eat? The check?” You say that last part as off-handedly as you can.
He stares at you for a little too long, the silence stretching into uncomfortable territory, before finally responding.
“No thank you,” he says, perfectly polite. “Sooo…how much longer are you stuck here? You’ve been here a while right?”
It’s an innocuous comment. The sort of small talk anyone would indulge in to fill the quiet. But there’s something about it that sets you on edge. Why does he wants to know your schedule? Immediately, alarm bells start ringing in your head.
“Long enough!” You chuckle uncomfortably, not actually answering his question. “Well, just holler if you need something!”
You catch the annoyance flash in his eyes before you turn and flee to check on another of your tables.
Perhaps letting Monica take over his table for the rest of his stay wouldn’t be the worst idea after all…
“You heading home?”
You startle. It’s him again. Hadn’t he left an hour ago? Why was he still here? Reflexively, you clutch the keys in your hand so hard you can feel the bite of the metal against your palm. You lean back against the driver’s door of your car, instinctively trying to put as much distance between you and the man who had now stepped several paces too far into your personal space bubble.
“Uh, yeah,” you smile weakly even as you feel your stomach twist with anxiety.
Too close! Your mind screeched. Abort! You turn back to your car but then feel a sudden heat at your back as a hand grips your shoulder.
“Hey, you wanna come hang out with me?”
No! You scream on the inside. Absolutely not!
Instead you turn around, back to your driver door, and give him another smile over your shoulder in a desperate attempt to set him at ease. “Sorry. I can’t. I’m really tired and just want to go to bed now.” And get the hell away from you.
“You could take a nap at my place. I don’t mind.”
Danger! Your brain says. Escape!
“Oh,” You say, feeling the rabbit quick beat of your heart against your ribs. “That’s very nice of you but I think I’d rather sleep in my own bed.”
His eyes go flinty. “Why are you in such a hurry? You got a boyfriend or something?”
Yes! You want to scream. A soulmate! And he’d be really upset if he could see how close you’re getting right now! You knew this without a shadow of a doubt. The same way you knew the sky was blue and the grass was green you also knew in your heart of hearts that Michael would be absolutely furious if he saw you cornered like a frightened animal.
“Yeah, kinda,” you say instead, shrinking down further against the side of your car.
He makes a face. “You don’t sound sure. Do you even like him?”
I like him a hell of a lot more than you!
“Listen,” you mumble, fumbling for the door handle behind you. “Maybe we can talk about this some other time but I really need to get home now…”
A hand curls around your other wrist. Hard. “Hey, where are you going?”
“Please let me go,” you whisper, trying not to panic.
“You were so nice in there, what happened? Why are you trying to leave?” The man said, somehow having the audacity to sound hurt. “I thought you liked me.”
Yeah, it’s called doing my job!
“Please let me go.” You repeat.
He scowled. “Hey, you’re making me sound like the bad guy here! I just want your phone number!”
His grip tightened painfully and you can’t help letting out a gasp. Somehow, the sound only made him angrier.
“Stop it! You’re just trying to make me feel bad! You girls are always the same!”
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out across the parking lot.
“Hey, what’re you doing?” Monica called out. In surprise, the man’s grip loosened and that was all it took for you to wrench yourself free and bolt across the pavement.
“Hey!”
You ignore his cry and keep running. Across the parking lot, down the sidewalk, past several honking cars as you rudely bolted through traffic to the other side of the street. You run and run and run until your lungs protest and your abdomen cramps and still you keep running.
It isn’t until you finally stop to lean against the brick wall of an old building that you realized you had made it several blocks into the heart of downtown. You glance back, terrified that you’ll see your stalker—because that’s what he is, you realize, your stalker—running up in hot pursuit but all you find is a few bewildered looking bystanders giving you looks that range anywhere from concerned to annoyed that you were ruining their peaceful afternoon walk.
Now what?
Just because he wasn’t in your field of vision didn’t mean he wasn’t still coming for you. And going back to your car didn’t really seem like a feasible option at the moment either. What if he was still waiting there for you? What then? The thought alone made your whole body break out into a cold sweat.
Okay. Yeah. No car then.
As you quietly ponder your options you rub absentmindedly at your belly. There’s a burning sensation in your abdomen that you try to ignore. You wonder if you’ve pulled something. Not that it matters right now. Whatever it is, it can wait. Shelter and safety first. Investigate mysterious stomach pain later.
Across the street you spy a sign. One with a bright blue ‘H’ on it.
Hospital.
Oh. Right. Michael’s hospital was around here.
Soulmate. Your lizard brain whispers to you. Safety. You feel a tugging in your chest then, as if your heart is turning in your ribcage to point the way towards its mate.
You don’t even really think about the decision before you’re already making to cross the street.
Yes, you think. Michael will know what to do.
He always knows what to do.
He feels it long before he sees you.
A spike of terror that nearly has Robby dropping his scalpel in shock.
“Dr. Robby?” One of the nurses asks, a note of concern in her voice.
His hands are shaking he notes with detachment. Why are his hands shaking?
“I…” He starts, and then realizes with a jolt that everyone is waiting for an explanation. And he doesn’t have one. All he knows is that his heart is racing a mile a minute and fear is clawing at his nerves like a cat with a scratching post. “Dr. Mohan could you take this one over for me? I need to go check on something.”
He stays long enough to hear her bewildered, “Yeah, of course,” before he’s stumbling out into the hall and making a b-line for the stairwell. He just needs a moment. Just a second to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him so he can get a fucking grip.
Is it a panic attack? He wonders. It doesn’t feel like a panic attack. Not really. It just feels like…fear. Terror. Like he was currently facing down an angry bear with nothing but his hopes and dreams.
He feels like an idiot just standing there in the empty stairwell, clearly shaken up over…something…but he decides to wait it out. He waits there far longer than he should—two minutes, five, ten—letting his heart rate return to something less concerning before he takes a breath and goes back inside.
(He has work to do after all.)
It takes only a half an hour for him to find out exactly where those feelings had come from. Or, more importantly, who.
“She’s here?!”
Whitaker nods. “Yeah, she seemed kinda freaked out. I put her in—”
Robby doesn’t wait for him to finish, just glances up at the board to see which room you’re in, and then he’s moving. His stomach roils with anxiety as he remembers the reason why you’d ended up here last time. Your bloodless lips. The gushing wound in your side as he frantically tried to drag you back from the jaws of death.
Why were you here? Had something happened? Why hadn’t you texted or called him? Dozens of scenarios flew through his head, each more catastrophic than the last. Were you sick? Were you injured? Oh fuck, were you dying?! That’s okay, he thought with an ever-growing sense of panic and delirium. He was a doctor. A damn good doctor. He could fix you. He would fix you. He’d already done it once. He could do it again. He just needed to—
He turns a corner into your room…and there you are. Hair windswept and eyes wide as they swung toward him in surprise.
Something in his chest loosens at the sight of you. Safe and whole and so perfect he could weep right there.
“You’re here,” you croak. And then, before he can process anything, you’re up and moving and rushing into his arms like you belong there.
(Because you do. You always have, even if he didn’t know it then. He certainly knows it now.)
“Hey,” he murmurs, lips pressing into the crown of your head and arms pulling you in close until you’re pressed up against his chest. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He’s not sure if he’s saying that to you or to himself. Probably both.
“I’m sorry I’m bothering you at work,” you mumble into his neck, your heated breath against his skin making him shiver. “I just…I can’t go back there.”
Robby frowns. “Can’t go back where? Did something happen?”
He feels you nod against his chest.
“There was a…a man…” you whisper. “He grabbed me.”
It clicks for him then. The fear he had felt earlier. The sudden wave of panic that had overtaken him and forced him out of the operating room. It was you. Someone—this man—had scared you enough that your fear had leaked across the bond and become his own.
He’d heard of such things before. Stories of soulmates being able to sense when the other was in pain or distress. A woman knowing her twin had taken her final breaths hours before she got the fateful call. A man who spoke of feeling a pain in his shoulder at work only to discover later that his wife had dislocated her arm that same morning. There had been a few studies here and there that he’d read about out of curiosity. Scientists were always eager to learn more about the inner workings of the soulmate phenomenon—this strange and mysterious anomaly that had plagued humanity since time immemorial—but so far it had found very little to explain it. It remained wonderfully—and frustratingly—as close to magic as humans could imagine.
“Are you hurt?” It’s his first, most pressing thought. Robby wasn’t a violent man but if this strange man had done anything to you…he clenched his hands more tightly in the back of your shirt.
You shake your head. “I’m okay. I ran away before…” you go quiet again and the silence makes his skin itch.
“You’re okay,” Robby repeats.
“Can I…stay here?”
The soft timidity in your voice breaks his heart. As if he would ever turn you away for any reason.
“Of course,” he says immediately. “Of course you can.”
He’s gentle with you.
No, that’s not right, he’s always been gentle with you. But this time there’s no sternness in his voice nagging you about your terrible decisions. No exasperation at your stubborn need to do everything yourself. Just soft words—low and sweet—as he settles you back down onto the bed and checks you over.
(Ever the doctor this one.)
Unfortunately, the sternness makes a rude comeback when he touches your abdomen.
Pain, cold and sharp.
Immediately you jerk with discomfort and your face twists into a grimace. He frowns as he lifts your shirt and reveals a bruise blooming along your side.
“I thought you said you weren’t hurt?” His voice is calm, but his eyes are stormy. You shrink down further against your pillow.
“I wasn’t,” you mumble. “At least…I thought I was...”
His lips twist with displeasure. “How could you not notice this?”
“I just thought I had a hitch in my side!” You try to explain. “You know, from all the running. I’m not exactly in the best of shape these days…”
“You ran here?”
“I…yeah?”
Oh yeah, he definitely looked pissed.
He blew out a frustrated breath and stood. “I’m going to order you a CT scan.”
You blinked. “What? Why?”
He stared down at you with that look that you could only describe as ‘disappointed father’.
“Because I’m pretty sure all that running just tore open your stitches.”
You shrink down even more. “Oh.”
He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “And now we need to make sure you won’t need surgery. Again.”
“…Right.”
You see him soften—just a smidge—and lean down to press a kiss to your forehead. You blink up at him, eyes wide and skin still tingling when he pulls away.
“Hang tight. I’ll go call in that CT and then if everything is okay we can go home in a couple hours when my shift ends.”
You nod, still a little tongue-tied, and then he slips back out into the chaos beyond your room.
Home. Home sounded nice. In fact, home sounded amazing. All you wanted at this point was to go home and wrap yourself up like a burrito and convince your soulmate to snuggle with you. You probably wouldn’t even need to try very hard what with the forehead kisses he was suddenly handing out so easily.
A buzzing at your thigh jostles you out of your thoughts of blankets and snuggles and you pull out your phone to see your boss’s name displayed on the screen.
Huh? Why was he calling you at 4:30 in the afternoon? Your shift had already ended nearly an hour ago. Was he trying to get you to come back in to cover for someone? God, you hoped not. The last thing you needed right now was to go anywhere near that place.
“Hello?” You answer suspiciously.
“Where the hell are you?”
Oh…kay. Not quite the greeting you were expecting but you’d certainly heard worse from this man.
“The hospital. Why?”
“Why the fuck are you at the hospital? Wait, you know what? It doesn’t matter. I need you to come pick up your car and get it out of my lot.”
“Huh?” You say, taken aback by the hostility in his tone. Sure, he’d bitched at you before but never quite like…this.
“I said I want your car out of my fucking lot. Also, you’re fired.”
Time slows. You feel the blood pounding away in your ears as you stare blankly at the white wall in front of you.
“Wait…what?”
“You heard me,” he spits through the receiver. “I heard all about how you treated one of our customers. You’re lucky he didn’t file charges.”
Wait…lucky he didn’t file charges???
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He ignores you. “I’ll send your last paycheck in the mail. If you don’t pick up your car in the next twenty-four hours I’m having it towed.”
The line goes dead and you let your phone fall to your lap as you continue to stare at the wall.
Fired.
You’d been fired.
After you had been the one harassed and borderline assaulted at work.
What the fuck.
What the fuck.
Michael bustles back into your room, oblivious to your inner turmoil as he happily announces, “Good news. Looks like we can get you in for that CT in the next fifteen minutes so I need you to…” He trails off as he finally notices the shell-shocked look on your face. “What’s wrong?”
You don’t even bother looking up as you reply.
“…I think I just got fired.”
Next Chapter | The Pitt Masterlist
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