#''i want to save everyone'' and it starts being about getting back what he personally has lost

[2b4st4r]

I've been gooned out waiting for ur reqs to open soooo I'm gonna ask for a fic of Zoro x harpy!reader (humanoid harpy though) who tries to steal his swords because they shine and she wants to put them in her nest that she made on top of the tangerine trees but since he won't let her she starts pecking at him whenever he gets close to her (reader can be very childish,and cheerful) and can this be fluffy if u do it

A Harpy’s Shiny Obsession

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧

୨ৎ Words: 4,399

୨ৎ Warnings: mention of violence, fluff, humor, fem reader.

୨ৎ A/N: this was pretty short but i tried hard to make it enjoyable!!

🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧

You were never supposed to land on that ship.

You were just flying. Nothing special about it, just the wind whistling through your feathers, the warmth of the sun on your face, and your mind blissfully somewhere between a daydream and a nap. You were chasing seagulls, actually. Loud, stupid, flappy things, yet you adored the way they squawked at you when you swooped too close.

And then—bam. Mast to the face.

You hit it hard. Feathers went everywhere, and down you tumbled in a dizzy spiral until your back hit the deck with a dramatic thud. A dozen curious eyes blinked down at you.

"Woahhh, are you a bird?" someone asked.

"I think she's a person," said another voice.

"No, no, no, definitely a bird. She has talons."

"She's got arms too."

"Yeah, and a beak—wait. No beak."

You sat up and hissed a little, shaking glittery blue feathers from your hair and rubbing your sore tailbone. "Excuse you! I'm a harpy, not a bird!"

The one with the straw hat leaned forward with the widest grin you’d ever seen. "Cool!! Wanna join our crew?!"

And that was it. Seriously. That's how it happened.

Now you were the Straw Hats’ newest crewmate, and while you may have forgotten to ask what they actually do, you were already obsessed. Everyone had their own weird skills, their own vibes—your kind of people. Especially Luffy. He was loud, strange, kind of sticky sometimes (you weren’t sure why), and reminded you of a younger cousin you once had who used to eat dirt. Very trustworthy.

You helped with lookout duties mostly, since no one else could fly. Sometimes you snatched apples right off trees without landing. Sometimes you brought back weird rocks that looked like faces. Sometimes you got distracted and didn’t come back for hours, which earned you a gentle scolding from Nami and a lot of nose-poking from Usopp.

But you were happy.

For the first time in forever, actually happy.

You used to live on a little sky island. A quiet place with pretty clouds, but boring as mud. Everyone there was strict and flappy and said you needed to act more "elegant." You got tired of being told not to laugh so loud or fly so low or dream too big. So one day, you just… didn't go back. You kept flying. And flying. Until you didn't know where the sky ended or the sea began.

And then—bam. Mast to the face. Again.

But now, you think that mast might’ve saved you. Because this ship? These people?

They made you feel like you were finally allowed to be loud. To be wild.

To be you.

The Swordsman and the Harpy

You never really understood how someone so quiet and grumpy could become one of your favorite people. Zoro didn’t talk much, and when he did, it was usually with a glare. Or a grunt. Or a glare and a grunt. He slept a lot, trained a lot, and drank like a dragon with a death wish. And yet—somehow—you liked being around him more than anyone else.

At first, he said you were annoying. You said he looked like a cucumber. He said you talked too much. You told him he sulked like a wet cat. He told you to stop fluttering so close to his sword. You landed on his shoulders and braided feathers into his bandana while he tried to ignore you.

And now? He doesn’t even flinch when you nap with your wings draped over him. He doesn't say much, but he lets you sit by him during watch. He lets you hang upside down from the mast when he’s nearby, just in case you fall (you do, often). He even shared his sake once, just once, and called you “tolerable” when you didn’t spit it out.

You think that means you’re best friends.

Luffy is easy to love. He's sunshine with fists. Chaotic, bright, full of dumb questions and wild dreams. You swear you’ve never met anyone who could make you laugh so hard by just sitting still. He plays tag with you in the rigging and always asks if you can teach him how to fly. (You can’t. You’ve tried. He just flops.)

Nami is the responsible one. You’ve tried to teach her how to fly too, but she only pretends to care when you say you could scout treasure from the sky. You like to drop shiny coins or colorful leaves into her lap from above just to see her confused face twist into a smirk. She pretends not to smile. But she always keeps the things you drop.

Usopp is your mischief partner. He taught you how to use a slingshot (you’re horrible at it). You taught him how to steal snacks without Sanji noticing (you’re amazing at it). Together, you’re the self-declared Masters of Trickery and Doom™. You have matching cloaks. You hold secret meetings under the table. One time, you tied Zoro’s ankles together while he was asleep. You barely escaped alive.

Sanji dotes on you like you’re made of golden eggs. He calls you mademoiselle du ciel and makes you the most ridiculous, colorful plates of fruit you’ve ever seen. You’re his favorite taste-tester (you think), and sometimes, you flap your wings dramatically just to make him swoon. You’d feel a little bad, but the food is so good.

Chopper is your baby. You love him. You let him sit on your shoulders when you fly (gently!). You braid his fur. You bring him flowers. He lectures you like a tiny grandpa whenever you come back scratched up from chasing things in the air. You pretend to be insulted but secretly think he’s the sweetest thing to walk the sea.

Robin is… cool. Mysterious. Pretty. You’re a little scared of her in the same way you’re scared of thunder—beautiful and powerful and soft-spoken. She reads you stories sometimes, and you hang upside down from the ceiling while she talks. Her voice is calm and her words paint pictures in your mind. You fall asleep during them often.

Franky is so loud, and you love him for it. He makes you weird little gadgets to help with flying and gliding. One time he tried to make you rocket-powered wings. You crashed through the upper deck. He called it a super success. You love high-fiving his giant hands.

Brook plays you music that makes your feathers ripple. You like dancing to his violin, spiraling through the air above the deck while he laughs and calls out silly requests. You asked him once what it’s like to not have wings. He told you, very gently, that even if his bones were light, his heart used to feel even lighter. You gave him a single glowing-blue feather that night. He still keeps it in his violin case.

And then there’s Jinbei. The first time you met him, you squawked. Loudly. He was huge. You thought maybe he was a whale. Or a building. But he just chuckled softly and bowed his head. Jinbei is kindness shaped like stone. Solid. Calm. You don’t flutter around him as much, but you always sit nearby when he’s telling stories. He has a way of making you feel still even when you’re full of too much energy. Like the ocean. Big and heavy and safe.

You don’t really remember what it felt like to be lonely anymore. Not since that mast to the face. You weren’t meant to land on that ship. But now, you don’t think you’ll ever leave it.

A few weeks in, when the ship started to feel more like home and less like a moving floor with people shouting all the time, you did what came naturally.

You made a nest.

It wasn’t like you planned it. It started with a pillow. Then a second one. Then a blanket you “borrowed” from Usopp (he still hasn’t noticed), some fluff from Franky’s tool bag (he has noticed), and one of Sanji’s kitchen towels because it smelled like vanilla and garlic and something warm.

But the perfect spot didn’t come until you saw Nami’s tangerine trees. There was one thick branch, high up and just strong enough to hold you if you crouched just right. The leaves were soft. The sunlight was golden there. You asked Nami if you could perch up there just for a bit, and to your delight, she barely even blinked.

“Just don’t eat my tangerines,” she said, and that was that.

So you started weaving. Sticks. Feathers. Fabric. You’d flutter down with ribbon from Brook’s violin case or threads from Robin’s sewing kit and tuck them into your nest like they were treasure. And then, something changed in your brain—like a little switch flipped.

Shiny.

You didn’t mean to start collecting them, really. But one morning you found a button shaped like a star on the deck, glinting in the light, and you just knew it needed to be in your nest. It wanted to be there. And then it was a coin. A little spoon. A bolt from Franky’s workshop. A piece of sea-glass from a beach you stopped at. You stuck them between the woven layers like decorations.

It was… beautiful. Sparkly. Colorful. Yours.

Sometimes the crew noticed. Zoro stepped on a trail of glittery pebbles you left behind one day and muttered something about magpies. Luffy tried to live in your nest once—seriously, climbed in—and only got out when Nami threatened to launch him into the sun.

Robin gave you a whole book full of pressed flowers one afternoon and said, “In case your nest needs something quieter.” You almost cried. You put it right in the center, nestled between a ribbon and a silver spoon.

You kept watch from up there now. Curled in your fluffy, sparkling hoard, wings draped lazily over the side, legs swinging. You liked hearing the chatter of the crew below, the way their voices rose like waves, warm and chaotic. Every now and then, someone would look up and wave. You’d chirp back. Sometimes you dropped them snacks. Sometimes pebbles. Sometimes accidentally dropped Sanji’s soup pot. (That was a bad day.)

But when the ship rocked softly in the calm sea, and the air turned orange with the setting sun, and your nest glowed with all the treasures of your odd little life, you felt something hum deep in your chest.

A warmth.

Not just comfort. Not just safety.

Belonging.

Shiny Sword-Shaped Trouble

You didn’t mean to want them. It was instinct. A harpy thing. A you thing.

You’d been gliding low over the deck after lunch, wings lazy, belly full, mind somewhere between “maybe I should nap” and “maybe I should steal another one of Sanji’s citrus muffins,” when you saw them.

Zoro was sitting cross-legged near the rail, one leg bent, the other stretched out, head tilted just a little under the sun. His shirt was half-open, as usual, and there was a soft breeze moving through his hair. You wouldn’t have looked twice, honestly—he always sat like that. Grumpy. Handsome. Grumpy again.

But it was the swords that caught you.

He had them lined up in front of him, resting on a cloth. Three of them. Long. Sleek. Gleaming.

He was wiping the blade of one—Wado, you thought—slow, careful strokes. And in the light, it shined. Not just metal-shined, but magic-shined. Like it belonged in a treasure chest or a dragon’s hoard or—your nest.

Your wings stiffened mid-flap.

Shiny.

You landed on the crow’s nest without realizing you were flying. Your heart was racing. Something about the way the hilts caught the sun, the way the polish gleamed like stars in daylight—it made your brain go all fizzy.

Zoro’s swords. You wanted them.

But not to take. Not really. Just to… borrow. Just to see what they looked like nestled among your pebbles and ribbons and sea-glass. Just for a moment. A peek. A sparkle.

You fluttered down again an hour later when he was gone, blades all packed away. No swords on the cloth anymore. Nothing shiny. Nothing you could grab.

But now you were thinking about it. A lot.

You didn’t need them. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. Zoro would be mad. Zoro might actually murder you in your sleep. Or worse—ignore you forever.

Still…

That night, you laid in your nest on top of the tangerine trees, your wings tucked around you, staring up at the stars.

The nest glimmered around you. Coins, trinkets, shells, tiny bones, marbles, and a cracked mirror that made your face look like a wobbly moon.

But it was missing something.

Shiny.

Sword-shaped.

You curled up tighter.

Maybe… just once… if you asked really really nicely?

Or maybe… if you waited until he was asleep?

You covered your face with your wings and groaned dramatically into the fluff.

You were in trouble.

Big, shiny, sword-shaped trouble.

You waited three days. Three whole days of flying loops over the deck pretending not to stare. Three days of watching Zoro clean his swords in that same quiet, reverent way, like they were sacred. Which—okay—maybe they were. But they were also really shiny. And every time the sun hit them just right, your feathers puffed up and your fingers twitched.

It wasn’t stealing. Not really.

Just… borrowing.

So one night, when the sea was calm and everyone had gone below deck—Robin with her tea, Luffy snoring somewhere in the rigging, Sanji mumbling in his sleep about “lemon zest reduction”—you crept.

Your talons made soft clicks on the wood as you tiptoed across the deck, low to the floor, wings folded tightly against your sides. Your heart was pounding. You were being so sneaky. So smart. So criminally adorable.

And there they were. Propped beside the door to the training room. Zoro’s swords.

Just sitting there.

You licked your lips.

You reached.

The second your fingers brushed the hilt of Wado Ichimonji—

“I wouldn’t.”

You screamed. A real, high-pitched, full-bird shriek that echoed across the entire ship. You tried to flap backward but your wings tangled and you hit the deck with a whump.

Zoro stood in the shadows just a few feet away, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. His shirt was off, towel slung over his neck, sweat still glistening on his chest. Apparently, he’d just finished training.

“Were you—” he squinted. “Were you trying to take my swords?”

You froze, halfway rolled onto your back like a guilty parrot. “…No.”

He walked closer.

You panicked. “OkayyesbutlistenitwasjustbecauseTHEY’RESOSHHINY.”

Zoro stared.

You sat up fast, fluffing your feathers. “Not to steal! Just to look! Maybe nest them for a minute! Just a tiny minute! I wasn’t going to fly away with them or anything—I couldn’t even if I tried, they’re like three tons of angry death metal, which, honestly, is part of the appeal—”

Zoro blinked once.

You clutched your claws together and whispered, “They sparkle.”

He stared for a long moment. Then, to your absolute shock, he snorted. Not a full laugh, but a little exhale through his nose that was basically an earthquake coming from him.

“You’re ridiculous.”

You puffed your cheeks. “You’re mean.”

He turned away, picking up one of the swords and sliding it back into its sheath. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Your heart fluttered faster than your wings.

“Really? You do?” you chirped, scrambling after him on all fours like an overexcited crow. “Can I touch them if I ask first? Maybe just hold them? For a second? For art reasons. Nest reasons. Emotional reasons.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Zoroooo.”

“No.”

“…What if I give you one of my best shiny rocks in exchange?”

He paused at the doorway. Looked over his shoulder.

“Two rocks.”

You gasped. “Deal.”

He shook his head and walked off, muttering, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

But he was smiling. Just a little. Just enough.

And you were already digging through your nest for your shiniest stones, wings flapping in joy, heart soaring like you’d just flown to the moon.

It became a thing. A "you" thing. A "Zoro" thing. A whole-crew-knows-and-nobody-is-surprised-anymore thing.

You tried to steal Zoro’s swords again the very next night. This time, you thought you were clever—waiting until he was dozing off on the Sunny’s lawn deck, snoring gently under the stars. His swords were leaning right next to him, like usual. They were practically begging to be sparkled in your nest.

You tiptoed.

You crept.

You reached—

“Don’t even think about it.”

You yelped, flailing backward into the grass. His eyes were still closed, still snoring, but somehow his mouth had spoken. How?! Was he sword-sensing in his sleep?!

“I wasn’t thinking about anything!” you shouted at him, even though you were tangled in the towel you’d been using as camouflage.

After that… it got worse. For you. For Zoro. For the entire crew. Because you didn’t give up. Oh no. You just got more creative.

Attempt #7: You lowered a tiny grappling hook from the mast while he was napping on the deck. It caught the hilt perfectly. You were so close to lifting Wado into the air when—

SNAP.

Zoro opened one eye and cut the rope in half without even standing up. You screamed. “YOU KILLED MY ROPE SON.”

“You named the rope?”

Attempt #11: You disguised yourself as a laundry bundle. Sanji was doing towels. You curled inside a big blue one and had Chopper accidentally carry you close to the swords.

Zoro didn’t even look up from his bench press. “That towel just chirped.”

“No it didn’t,” Chopper said innocently.

“It did.”

The towel (you) exploded into feathers and tripped into a bucket.

Attempt #16: You enlisted Luffy. Bad idea. You told him you were playing “Sword Snatch,” a game where whoever grabs Zoro’s swords first wins… a pie. Luffy was in immediately. You watched from above while Luffy lunged at Zoro full-force. You didn’t expect Zoro to dodge with his usual calm and yeet Luffy into the sea. You cackled so hard you fell out of the rigging.

By Attempt #20, everyone was aware. Brook would gently say, “Y/N, dear, I believe that’s the twentieth time this week,” every time you snuck by with a fake mustache and a fake mustache for your tail. Robin would hand you a cup of tea as you were sneaking and say, “You’ll get him eventually, maybe in your next life.” Sanji stopped asking where his silverware was going and started replacing it with dull spoons, “just in case you mistake them for swords again.” Chopper got used to patching you up with band-aids shaped like stars. Franky built a trapdoor. You fell into it once. Just once. You keep forgetting where it is. Usopp started selling tickets. “Zoro vs. the Feather Thief, Night 25!” And Nami? Nami just sighed. “If you break one of those swords and Zoro kills you, I will not avenge you. Just so we’re clear.”

Still… every time you failed, every time Zoro stopped you—sometimes with a glare, sometimes with one finger on the hilt—you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Just a little. He was so smug about it. Never raised his voice. Never chased you off. Just… watched. Waited. Blocked. Laughed silently.

And then, one day, he didn’t stop you.

You’d swooped down dramatically with a rope in your beak, determined to snatch the sword right off his hip in one, glorious move. But when you landed—nothing. No glare. No snark. No sword. Just a folded note, tied to the hilt of a broomstick he’d left in its place.

You opened it. It read:

“Nice try, birdbrain. This one’s made of wood.

You want a real one? Beat me in a fight.”

—Zoro

P.S. You won’t.

You stared at it, mouth open, wings flared. Then you shrieked into the sea breeze, clutching the fake sword like it was your heart. The entire crew clapped from the deck below. Zoro just smirked from the shadows, one arm behind his head, the real swords resting at his side.

You hated him.

You loved him.

You were gonna get those shiny death sticks into your nest if it was the last thing you ever did.

It happened on a day like any other. The sun was bright, the sea was calm, the crew was yelling about something you’d stopped paying attention to fifteen minutes ago, and Zoro was, as usual, lounging under the shade near the mainmast, swords beside him like loyal dogs.

You weren’t trying to do it again. You really weren’t. You’d promised Robin. You’d promised Nami. You even pinky-taloned Chopper. No more sword-snatching.

But then Zoro dozed off.

Like, really off. Mouth slightly open, head tilted back, arms crossed over his chest like he was meditating inside a nap. The swords were resting just beside his leg. Close. Tempting. Glinting like forbidden candy.

You hovered. You told yourself, Just one look. Just a little touch.

But your claws brushed the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, and something in your soul snapped. You grabbed it. Not all three. Just one.

And you ran.

No—flew.

You took off in an instant, wings flapping so hard your nest nearly collapsed. The sword was heavier than you expected—long, polished, wrapped in perfect silk—and it sang as you bolted into the sky, laughing like a maniac.

“I GOT IT!” you screeched to the wind. “I GOT THE SHINY STICK!!”

Down below, a shout cut through the chaos like thunder. “Y/N!!”

Zoro.

He was awake. And angry.

But you were fast. You dipped and spun, clutching the sword to your chest like it was a newborn. Seagulls scattered. Clouds split. You looped around the mast twice just because you could.

“Try and catch me, sword man!” you cawed triumphantly.

He did.

You didn’t see him leap. Didn’t see him scale the rigging like a demon in sandals. But suddenly—bam—he was mid-air, arm outstretched, eyes locked on you with terrifying calm.

You shrieked and twisted in a panic. The sword nearly slipped. You gripped tighter.

Zoro landed on the railing behind you, crouched like a predator. “I told you,” he growled, “you wouldn’t get far.”

“Far enough!!” you yelped.

You banked hard toward your nest—your sanctuary, your shrine, the glowing pile of shiny junk that would now include a legendary blade. You could already see the perfect place for it, nestled between the silver spoon and the glass marble you were pretty sure was haunted.

But just before you could reach it—WHAM—a blur of green and a firm, heavy arm wrapped around your middle mid-air.

“Gotcha,” Zoro muttered.

You screeched like an electrocuted parrot, wings flailing, talons kicking at nothing. “UNFAIR UNFAIR YOU’RE TOO HEAVY GET OFF I’M DELICATE—”

You both slammed into a hammock with a boing, tangled in fabric, feathers, and indignation. The sword rolled across the deck with a soft clink.

Zoro didn’t even blink. He just pinned you gently with one arm, face half-buried in your feathers.

You stared up at the sky. “…Did I get further than last time?”

“Fifteen meters,” he grunted. “New record.”

You beamed, despite being completely trapped. “Yesssssss.”

A pause.

Then you said, cautiously, “…Are you gonna kill me?”

He sighed. “Tempting.”

“Can I try again tomorrow?”

“No.”

“…Next week?”

He looked at you. Dead serious. “You touch my swords again and I’m tying your wings down.”

You gasped dramatically. “You’d ground me?”

“I’ll bury you in your own shiny garbage.”

You whined and collapsed in his hold. “Meanest man alive.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t move. His arm stayed right where it was—warm and solid over your chest—and you realized, with a flustered little flutter, that he wasn’t actually letting go.

“…You gonna move?” you mumbled.

“Nope,” he said flatly.

“…This is punishment?”

“This is a warning.”

You grinned. “Can I have Wado’s sheath? Just the sheath?”

“Y/N.”

“…A hilt wrapper?”

“I will throw you.”

You giggled, wings twitching. But you didn’t ask again. Not that day.

The next time you made your move, you thought you were being extra careful. You’d waited until the dead of night, when the ship creaked softly and everyone else was fast asleep. You tiptoed—well, as much as a harpy tiptoes with talons—toward the swords, heart pounding like a drum solo.

But Zoro was already there. Not with a glare this time, not with a word. No, this time he was waiting.

You reached out slowly, fingers brushing the polished hilt of Wado Ichimonji, and—WHAP—a quick, firm smack caught the back of your head.

You yelped and stumbled forward, blinking up at him.

Zoro just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Again, you reached.

WHAP.

This time, a soft but unmistakably annoyed tap on your wing.

“Oi,” he muttered, voice low but serious.

You rubbed your head, glaring playfully. “Quit it!”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say more.

You tried again.

WHAP.

This time, the smack was gentler, like a reminder from a stubborn cat who just wants you to stop petting it right now.

You flapped your wings in mock outrage. “Stop! I’m not a baby!”

Zoro didn’t laugh. Instead, he gave you a look that said, You’re lucky I’m this patient.

Over the next few days, this became a ritual. You’d approach the swords. He’d catch you with a light smack on the head, a gentle flick on the wing, or sometimes—just sometimes—a soft pinch on your side that made you squawk and squirm. No yelling. No harsh words. Just those little taps of “Back off, featherbrain,” and then he’d walk away without another word.

The crew? Oh, they loved it. Luffy tried to imitate Zoro once, smacking your tail feathers with a big goofy grin. You retaliated by tickling his ribs until he rolled away laughing. Sanji just sighed, muttering about how you two were “like an old married couple with a very weird fight.” Even Robin raised an eyebrow, commenting, “You’re certainly persistent.”

And Zoro? Well… Sometimes, late at night, you’d catch him staring at you, sword sheathed, arms relaxed. No smacks. No scolding. Just quiet acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, a little fondness hiding behind those serious eyes.

You didn’t know if you’d ever get your hands on those swords. But you sure weren’t giving up on pecking your way into his stubborn heart.

[batsandbirdbrains]

"Softer" AU where dick does get fired... as batman's sidekick. Not as robin, he's more than allowed to do everything he did before, but batman just thinks that he can't really deal with dick anymore and that he's making everything worse by just... being batman, so he makes dick like 20 new safehouses in bludhaven, a new apartment, and Alfred (only on the weekends, because bruce would not be able to bear the thought of sending away Alfred permanently, even to dick).

Eventually Jason happens, and he finds out, and he wants to be batman's new sidekick. So he goes to dick. Says he knows bruce is batman. Says he wants to impress bruce and be a sidekick. Dick says no at first because he thinks Jason is after Robin (as the title), but reluctantly agrees to train him after Jason clarifies hastily after dick gets mad at him.

Then Jason (with a new name, personally fond of Bluejay or Jayshirke, although cardinal or even batlad is kind of good too) takes to the streets.

Then he dies, and tim has to step in, and aside from the first time where he needs to borrow one of Jason's/dick's old suits to go save bruce and dick from poison ivy, he gets to join, but only because he insists and batman's actually kind of in a rough shape mentally and has been really really aggressive with criminals.

Of course post revival Jason is pissed at Tim for replacing him as batman's sidekick. Not sure what to name tim here, but I think Corvus or Rook could be a great name for tim. The whole under the red hood happens, and then after a lot of time, Jason somewhat reconciles with everyone.

Then damian comes along and tries to duel tim for the spot. Bruce gets lost in time shortly after and after dick reluctantly agrees to take batman, he actually talks to tim about how he thinks tim is ready to strike on his own, and that he wants Tim's blessings to to take damian as a sidekick because the league of assasins will probably try to yoink him back now bruce is gone.(canon deviation I think, in canon I don't think tim took being told to go solo well).

Dick still thinks Tim is grieving when he says bruce is alive and in the time stream, but instead of threatening him with arkham like he did in canon, he tries to give tim a time limit to work it out. Tim gets resources and lets him try to find bruce for like a few months in an attempt to help him "work it out".

And I think that's a far less fucked up batfam there. Damian choses batlad (if Jason hasn't used that name) or something else. Maybe dick helps choose a name. Maybe it's something like falcon because of how fast and precise damian is.

I have no idea how this snowballed into a complete AU. When I started this, I was just going to stop at "Jason figures out bruce is batman and dick is robin and wants in, and dick agrees to train him".

It feels kind of flat, but I just think this is kind of neat because it's calmer.

Tbh I actually don’t know what’s worse: Bruce outright firing him and kicking him out or being like “you can be Robin just not with me. Get out.”

Either decision I think would gut Dick in totally different ways.

[emobirthdaycake]

IM GETTING ON MY ASSET/DREAMER SOAP BOX BC YALL DONT FW THEM LIKE I DO!! (/J all jokes!)

Okay let's start with the really obvious part.

Dreamer wants to be needed.

Not wanted, not to belong, to be NECESSARY.

They're a magic born latent, meaning their family was empowered and they grew up not only knowing about magic, but constantly being around it without having any of their own.

The whole reason they sought out Marcus and his... Less than safe methods was because they KNEW they had magic but couldn't access it. Or at least, they had convinced themselves that because their family was empowered, they had to be too, just a latent. (How else would they know so much about magic n such?)

We learn through the flashbacks that Asset is a big sci-fi fan, which is why Marcus chose the dreamscape he did.

There's a lot of robots in sci-fi media, however I'm not a sci-fi nerd so this parts a little blurry for me as I don't have my sci-fi nerd dad here to give me examples so feel free to add any examples for this part.

(from what I know) Most robots in media (TV shows, movies, etc) are referred to by one of two things. Their model number/what they are or a name.

Examples:

R2D2 & C3PO - Star Wars

Connor, Kara, Marcus, etc - Detroit: Become Human

The Daleks - Dr. Who

RK900 - Detroit: Become Human (technically)

G.I. Robot - Creature Commandos

All these robots have names or models that people refer to them as, which is why when I watched Project Meridian the name "Asset" stuck out to me so much. I would've expected a model or some sort of name that aligned with Asset's purpose.

But then you look at the definitions of the word asset. (There are multiple definitions of course)

Asset - a useful or valuable thing, person, or quality.

Dreamer grew up in a world where they were the odd man out. Sure, there are far more unempowered people than empowered people, but THEY were born into a family that HAS magic.

They're a house cat in a family of lions. They aren't special. They can't do anything extraordinary like their family can. I imagine that once their parents realized they didn't have magic(/were most likely latent) they tried even harder to include them and make them feel welcome in the family. But when you and your empowered sister get jumped by a desperate, powerful vampire alone in the woods, it makes you wish you could've blasted him with fire or crushed him with a giant piece of Earth.

Especially when your EMPOWERED sibling is the one who's incapacitated and not you. The one without magic.

Dream NEEDS to feel like they matter. So what does their brain do? Makes them the center of the story. THEY'RE ETS' last hope. THEY were made to fix/save the Meridian. THEY overcome an abusive relationship with someone in power. THEY are the center of Project Meridian. Everyone in the facility is there so THEY can fix everything. And they WILL fix everything.

Being the center wasn't enough, which is why they added the storyline of Marcus's affection. Not only did they need to feel wanted/needed by someone so desperately that they'd break rules and risk the world ending just for them, they needed to become a MARTYR. They martyred themselves in their own mind in an attempt to not only progress the story, but to compensate for a life of being normal.

And we don't even know the full extent of Assets personality and childhood. This could be the extent of it; quiet desperation to be needed, or, it could be deeper than that. Possessiveness, neediness, lashing out for attention.

We already know they're outwardly anxious, but the way they speak to Corvus also reveals that they may be stubborn at the very least (the no! Yes! No! Yes! Back and forth with Corvus).

I think Assets social awkwardness steams from their reservations and experience moreso than fear. Where Lasko fills the silence but fears saying something upsetting, Asset wants people to perceive them a specific way. They're scared that people won't find them palatable. Won't think they're anything special.

They need people to want their presence.

This brings us full circle.

Why name yourself "ASSET" (minus Marcus calling them "Love") instead of "ANDROID" or a model number? Or even give yourself a cute nickname! Dreamer had MANY options but CHOSE a word that gave them VALUE. Naming themselves "SOMETHING WITH VALUE" and putting themselves in the center of the story gives them value they don't have in the waking world.

BUT!

Being pulled from the dream and knowing they made it all up breaks the illusion. Now they're in the real world again with people that can think whatever they want about them. People who can dismiss them, belittle them, make them feel worthless.

Dreamer is clawing at the unraveling threads of not only their memories, but their perception of themselves. Everything around them is falling apart and so they do the only thing they can think of, the only thing they've EVER wanted to do. They throw themselves head first into studies. Because if they study and master their magic, then people will care. They can even win AWARDS. Being an award winner gives them value. Having MAGIC gives them value.

Dreamer needs value, but no one ever bothered to teach them how to be valuable without being empowered when they know about the empowered world.

I'm very excited to explore Dreamer further because they have the opportunity to be an extremely deep and complex character, as a magic born latent isn't a perspective we've explored AT ALL! Speaker or otherwise.

Dreamer has clearly been through a lot and needs help and direction. Hopefully they'll find that at MAAM.

(also I know I probably kind of just went in circles but I would like to make everyone aware that PM was the first full storyline I got into and I've been locked in since day one. There's also a lot of ties to robots and feelings of alienation but I didn't wanna dive head first into "DREAMER IS AUTISTIC TOO" territory since they're a listener and not every redacted fan is neurodivergent.)

Tag - @l0st-dream3r

[chromieclipse]

By your own blessing i'm asking for everyone who don't know yet, myself included

Achilles and Zain, what can you tell us about them and their stories? (Without spoiling future stuff ofc :3)

What made you come up with them? What story are they cannon to and WHY THEY SO DAMN ADOREABLE HELP ME AAAAAAAAA (sorry i had to gush a bit X3)

Of course, I'm happy to!

Achilles and Zain are a pair of OCs I like to put into kind of everything, but for the purposes of this explanation, I'll just describe who they are and what's going on with them in Deltarune!

This got really long so I'll put it all below a cut <3

Achilles moved around a lot as a kid, up until he moved into Hometown when he was around 12 after his mother's disappearance. He's autistic, trans, and gay, and he struggles a lot with connecting to people on a deep level. He was friends with the Holidays and Dreemurrs until Dess's disappearance when he was 16. Due to it reflecting his own trauma, he became incredibly distant with the two families - still staying in contact with Asriel, but generally keeping to himself.

He's very morally driven, wanting to do the "right" thing. Ever since Dess disappeared, his goal has been to find her and bring her back. There's a certain level of responsibility he puts on himself for this, feeling as though he should have done something to prevent her disappearance, to save her - but he's made little progress in the years since her disappearance.

If he were in the game, you'd be able to find him on the way to the Shelter, leaning against a tree. He'd be closer and closer to it, up until midway through chapter 4, where he's at the shelter, and you can ask him why he's always down here. he'd explain that a shelter is meant to keep people safe, and you don't just close off a location meant to save people. Something isn't right about that.

When asking about his scars (something you could do every chapter, every time you speak to him) he'd tell you a different story. In chapter 1, he'd say he's surprised Asriel didn't tell you, before pausing, and then having a little smile as he tells you an absolutely ridiculous way he got them. Susie likely says he's full of crap at some point lol

In the Dark World, his gimmick revolves around being unable to defeat enemies when he attacks them! He'll leave them at 1hp, and then he will purposefully miss attacks. He has a fire breath magic attack, a regular attack (which he does with a warhammer), and a healing action :> A-action would likely be some awkward social interaction and it would be funny every time.

Achilles is a person trying to adjust to "normal" life when he doesn't really understand normality, even after years of living in Hometown.

Zain, on the other hand, is a wanderer who intentionally leaves his backstory kind of nebulous. He just sort of showed up in Hometown one day with all his whimsy and smiles in tow.

Zain is cis, but he's unlabeled - whoever he's attracted to, he's attracted to. He's also poly! Like Achilles, he struggles to make connections - though unlike Achilles, this is 100% of his own accord, and he does it on purpose. Everyone has a nickname for him, and he doesn't call anyone by their name - unless they're Achilles, of course.

Zain has a strange relationship with religion, so much so that at the start of chapter 4, he likely can be found just leaning against the outside of the Church after worship. When spoken to, he'd say "oh I'm a devil, didn't you know? Going inside burns." Susie would probably immediately be fed up with him as he grins and messes with the both of them.

He's a shapeshifter, meaning he can appear pretty much however he likes - though he tends to keep the form seen above. If you ask Achilles about Zain at some point, he'd probably go into a time where he and Zain were hanging out, and he left to go get some food, only to be startled when he came back and Asriel was sitting there. Zain then started laughing, having turned into Asriel, and Achilles just. Holds his chest after that panic attack lmao.

Zain is also something of a flirt - though that wouldn't be something the main characters experience. The idea there's a dialogue option called 'flirt' and then instead of Kris ACTUALLY flirting, it's asking if Zain really does flirt with everyone, is really funny. He'd respond that he only flirts with people over 18, and while they're almost there, he's not quite comfortable flirting with them.

In the dark world, Zain would be very cowboy-based. His weapon would be a gun, and his gimmick would be he can mimic the abilities of his teammates! So hypothetically he could use Heal Prayer OR Rude Buster if you REALLY needed him to. Z-Action would likely be some sort of shapeshifting into the enemy, or something the enemy likes. He'd also have plant-based attacks alongside his cowboy themeing!

Sorry this got so long, I uh. These two are two of my most developed OCs, and so I have a lot of in-depth thoughts about them </3

There are things I didn't go into, as it's either more complicated to explain or I didn't feel comfortable describing, but these are some basic gists of their characters and what they're about! <3

[winnie-wine]

I was going to restrain myself but these tags have brought up a point I've also thought about.

Saying "ohhh Hylia's evil! She maaaade these problems! If it weren't for this Accursed Hero's spirit, I could've been happy!" As if the hero's spirit is a parasite she implanted in them that temporarily possesses them until they're sufficiently landed in hot enough shit that they can't back out.

The emotional core of every single adventure now means nothing. Winds a fantastic and well understood example, with his motivation being saving his sister, but I haven't played his game so I'm talking about Four instead.

Four starts his first adventure because he loves his friend and wants to help. He gets to the minish and they say "you need to do dungeons and fight monsters" and he does it because it needs to get done. People say "determination" a lot but it's not.

Its integrity. It's the force that says "who else is doing this? Then I will." That is what sets apart heroes from everyone else. The person who stops their car to check on the driver who spun out. Firemen. Paramedics. Hell, the one person it takes to start CPR and call 911.

It hinges on them seeing a problem, and stepping up to solve it. Wild was drafted during the calamity, but everyone he had a duty to was dead except Zelda, who sure as hell couldn't hold him accountable for desertion. He still stormed the castle.

Legend heard a girl call for help and he went because she sounded scared. He heard about a princess who was cursed and helped. He went on a whole quest because a stranger in a purple robe asked him for help.

To treat the hero's spirit as something that controls them strips any agency they have. Sure, now there's angst because their adventures were out of control, but so too then are their victories, they growth of character. Who's to say that their greatest feats weren't the hero's spirit's interference, after all, and not them?

Cause here's what the hero's spirit, is. It is integrity to face great odds, and the selflessness to accept what it will cost, because they know how much good it will do and by its nature, that they will always rise. Because Legend in fics bitches about how many quests he's done, how tired he is, how he wants to retire, but do any of you honestly think for one second that if another hero said "you sit this one out, we'll handle it" that he'd actually accept? That he wouldn't feel compelled to stand with them, that just because he can means it's his duty? Then, are the adventures really an issue, or is it the loss of relationships and the lack of work life balance, that with both remedies he'd adventure happily for decades?

Who are they really, if Hylia's interference is the only reason they quested?

If someone who saved me with CPR said "I only did it because I had no other choice, or I wouldn't have bothered" I'd frankly be incredibly insulted and think they're not heroic at all.

Dear LU fandom, STOP treating Hylia as a callous being who only cares for her own self-interest and just spins a wheel to decide what to put the Links through next for entertainment. SHE WOULD NOT. And she isn't the one putting them through that in the first place? Demise is!? He started the curse? Ganon(dorf) and the other villains are the ones actually putting the Links through everything? WHY ARE YOU BLAMING HER FOR EVERYTHING!?!?!

AUUUGHHH. I know I complain about this like almost daily at this point, but like. AUGH. I've seen enough at this point, and I am so SICK and tired of it.

This issue stems from a lot of things. Like people not playing the games. But I also understand that not everyone has access to the games and just get their information from others. Information on Hylia is incredibly scarce, given that fact she never actually shows her face once.

Just please know that she basically died defending her people from Demise. And apologized to Sky in the form of Zelda. Plus, she had no idea about Demise's curse, didn't want to send Sky at a young age (Ghirahim forced things to start earlier by taking Zelda from the sky), nor did she even want Sky to fight Demise in the first place. She HAS compassion. Quit acting like her intentions were malicious. Please. I am BEGGING.

[noorasredlip]

the voices in my head told me that...

sam winchester headcanons

content warning: again, not much. mostly just some fluff, some angst, some supernatural canon type violence...

⛧ sam keeps a journal just like his father’s. → except it’s sam, so it’s way more personal. it started out as a hunting journal. he’d write down the cases he and dean worked, and scrapbook it with pieces of lore — what worked and what didn’t, etc. when you started tagging along on hunts, sam started writing down little details about your participation. maybe he’d highlight a bit of lore and correct it according to what you discovered. or when detailing the case, he’d add a joke you made at dean’s expense that he thought was so funny and clever. → the more he fell in love with you, the more junk he’d add to the pages. receipts from lunch at local diners you picked, movie tickets from the time you insisted watching the conjuring was a good idea after a random salt-and-burn in nevada (dean had nightmares for weeks, even though he never said anything)...

⛧ sam doesn’t say “be careful.” he says “come back to me, ok?” → barely above a whisper, always after kissing your forehead or pressing his lips to your hair. it’s grounding. it means more than just him wanting you to be careful. it means he needs you to be okay. he needs you to be safe. he needs you in his arms again once it's all over.

⛧ sam remembers everything you’ve ever told him (even the things you don’t remember saying). → it’s not on purpose, it's not just him trying to impress you, he just... remembers. your favorite color — because honestly, it kinda becomes his too. how you take your coffee, or how you like your eggs. if you have a collection of trinkets, he’ll make sure to always bring something for it. your favorite childhood movie? he’s watched it. a book you once said you wanted to read? he bought it. → he brings these things up without even realizing it. “i saw this and thought of you,” he’ll say, holding up a novelty keychain shaped like a crow. you won’t get it — until he reminds you of the story you told him three years ago about naming the crow that lived outside your apartment window.

⛧ sam can’t sleep if you’re upset with him. → it doesn’t matter if it was a big fight or a stupid argument over what movie to watch. if sam senses even the slightest shift in your attitude, he goes crazy. → if it was something silly, something small, he’ll just quietly walk over while you’re brushing your teeth before bed and hug you from behind. he’ll whisper “i’m sorry” and “you know i hate when we do this” into your hair. he’ll kiss you gently on the shoulder and patiently wait until you’re done so he can walk you to bed and just hold you. → if it’s something big, something that makes you say, “go sleep it out somewhere else or i will,” he’ll feel awful once the adrenaline fades. he hates being yelled at, and he hates yelling back. he doesn’t want to be like his father — always angry, always yelling. so he’ll give it maybe two hours before he’s quietly slipping back into your shared room. he won’t make any noise — he doesn’t want to wake you. except when he gets in, he sees that you’re not asleep. your eyes are red and puffy from crying. his heart breaks. he’ll cradle you and whisper a million apologies, and he means all of them. even if he didn’t think he was wrong, he knows better than to raise his voice. he doesn’t want to be the angry man in your life.

⛧ sam hates thunderstorms — but not because he’s scared of them. → mostly when he’s not with you. he doesn’t mind the noise. it’s just that they remind him of bad hunts. worse nights. motels with leaky ceilings and blood drying on his skin. nightmares and the quiet feeling that he’ll never be enough. that he’ll never save everyone. it’s haunting. → but when it storms and you’re with him, he pulls you close. wraps himself around you like you’re a shield. he listens to your breathing instead of the thunder. and he always whispers “you’re safe,” even though you didn’t ask. maybe because he’s telling himself too.

⛧ sam still wears the bracelet you made him. → it’s ridiculous — ugly little beads on stretchy cord. it spells out “moose” because you were teasing him. → but he wears it. sometimes under sleeves, sometimes on his ankle if he’s suiting up for a case. → “what? it’s good luck,” he says when dean makes fun of him. but when you ask why he hasn’t taken it off after all this time, he just looks at you with that soft, quiet expression that says everything.

⛧ sam can’t help getting jealous — but he hates himself for it. → it’s not a possessive thing, not really. it’s just that when someone flirts with you or touches your arm or makes you laugh, his gut twists with fear. because part of him still believes he’s cursed. that everyone he loves gets taken. and if someone else makes you happy — truly happy — wouldn’t it be safer to let you go? → but he doesn’t. he tightens his grip on your hand. steps in closer. kisses you a little harder that night. just to remind himself that you’re here. still choosing him. still his.

⛧ sam falls apart the first time you get really hurt. → he’s held guts in before. reset bones. done field surgery in bathroom sinks. but when it’s you — when it’s your blood on his hands — he shakes. he begs you to stay awake. cradles your face with blood-stained fingers. curses everything — god, fate, himself. → and afterward, when you’re safe, he breaks down in the bunker hallway. silent sobs. back against the wall. hands still trembling. he blames himself. he thinks how could he be so stupid to let you take such a risk alone. he hates himself for it. so he slides down the wall, head in his hands. → you find him there. and he lets you hold him for hours, like he’s the one who needs saving.

⛧ sam is quieter with his affection than dean — but it runs deeper than words. → he braids your hair after showers when your hands are too sore to do it yourself. he learns how to cook your comfort food, even if it means burning it five times first. he’ll carry your gear without asking. → he loves in essays, not declarations. long, rambling explanations about obscure topics — because he wants to share his mind with you. → but when he does say “i love you,” it’s always with aching reverence. like he still can’t believe it’s real.

⛧ sam is a chronic over-preparer. → research is his love language. case notes, contingency plans, backup weapons hidden in the car, backup for the backup. → he’s the kind of man who makes lists on napkins and sticky notes. you’ve found them in books, under the bed, taped to the fridge. → they’re always neat. written in pen. and when it’s about you? circled, underlined, starred. → get her a new knife sheath. → remind her she did a good job. → don’t let her go in alone again.

⛧ sam gets really competitive at trivia nights. → like way too competitive. → he’ll sit there in a hoodie, sipping his beer, calmly answering every question like a casual genius — until someone tries to correct him. then he’s pulling out sources. arguing obscure 14th-century facts. smug as hell. → it drives dean insane. you? you just sit back and enjoy the view. brainy sam is hot. sue you.

⛧ sam keeps a mental inventory of everyone’s comfort snacks. → dean’s is gas station pie. yours is sour candy and hot tea. cas, for some reason, has developed a love for those little jelly fruit cups. → he’ll swing by a store on the way back from hunts and pick everything up without saying a word. it’s never a big production — he just leaves your stuff on your desk or your bed or hands it to you while you’re patching up. → “figured you could use this.” → and every time, it’s exactly what you needed.

⛧ he makes everyone’s injuries his problem. → you get a scratch, he’s got the antiseptic out. → dean says “it’s just a bruise,” and sam’s like “internal bleeding can kill, dumbass.” → cas gets smote and sam starts googling how to cleanse celestial energy. → he won’t rest until he knows everyone’s patched up, hydrated, and doing better.

author's note: i loved writing this one!! i'm still sick and still in imy feelings so i did make them a little sadder... BUT i'll be back soon with some happier stuff + something a little more... spicy... ANYWAYS!! as always, feedback is heavily apreciated, and don't hesitate to sendany coments, requests and/or ideas!! love yooouuu

[electricgg]

Hello, I'm back! I didn't except to get this done so soon, but I'm just so excited to have free time again!

Digital art this time! It's not very polished since I have a problem with trying to fix every part of my digital art to the point that I never finish it. So I didn't fully color it and I was kind of just trying stuff, but I think it works. Anyways time for me to explain way too much of this drawing!

I really wanted Wayne to super sunken in eyes and hollow cheeks. I gave her these black eyes with white iris's cause it is very ghost core. But also I like the idea that when she's haunting someone that her face is cover by her hair and shadow to point the batfam can only see the white part of her eyes. 

She's drench from head to toe constantly dripping water everywhere. And you can see the design of her school uniform devolving throughout this whole piece. The last thing I drew was the middle with her wearing most of her school uniform, but her tie is undone since I thought it being tied didn't give the disheveled look I wanted.

Love the idea that she constant has blood running down her face from her wound. I don't why I made her head injury that shape, but knew that I wanted it to be big and going horizontal over her head. Also, I gave her some green drool that's always there since the pool she drowned in had gross green water. 

A part of me wanted to make it seem like her hair dye was coming off and bleeding onto her head, but with the style I was going for I didn't think it would work. 

The drawing to far right is: POV when you snoop in your sister room and start touching her stuff. This is what I was thinking Damian saw while he was under her bed. Could also be Dick's POV, I think both could work. 

Off topic real quick, but while I was making this I kept going back to Harvey meeting Wayne after years of being apart and how honestly heart breaking that must have been for him. This man clearly loves his family with all of his heart. He's like the Harvey from Caped Crusader where his normal kind personality is still there, but every once and while Two Face pops up. He's been separated from the most important people in his life for years, only to find out that his niece that he helped raise is dead. He didn't get to watch her grow or go to school events cause of her family. The same family that couldn't bother to go to any of those events much less save her! He wasn't already a villain, this would have been the tipping point. 

Also, bonus mini comic! 

When you mentioned that you had written a roller skating scene, this is what popped into my head. The gang is hanging out for once having a calm moment. Warren isn't skating, instead watching and making fun of Bobby hug the wall since he's scared to fall. Wayne is watching having a great time listening to their banter (glancing at Warren cause she has a little crush). Then, Maximoff comes flying in at top speeds not being able to stop and goes soaring over the wall and tumbling to the floor outside of the rink. Wayne tried to help her, but she can't do much. Warren is just disappoint and not surprised. Bobby is trying to help but he also is struggling to get over to her. 

Again, it's very rough since I didn't wanna spend to much time trying to fix it. I'm not the best comic artist, but I tried. I just thought this would be really funny.

Your fic has really inspired to make art of these fun characters. So excited for the next part! Can't wait for the gala so I can draw Maximoff in a fancy outfit!

I don't think i can ever explain my deep love for horror art. It's something that I simply adore.

While i do go into description about the haunt scenes and how Wayne looks from that perspective, I love to see how you portray it. I am very inclined to the fact that she looks different for everyone. Like Damian sees her this way or Dick sees her in another way. It adds to the horror of it and god I LOVE IT!!

She looks so haunting and it's amazing. The white irises? You cooked with that. Imma stand up and applaud.

She is my spooky girl and I love her. Green pool stench and all.

And yeah, Harvey is heartbreaking in here. While he is very much in a balanced control with Two-Face, this could have gone in a darker route if it wasn't like that. He could have easily slipped into the yandere tendencies but i decided to challenge myself against it since I did want to explore a softer Harvey. But just bc he is softer here it doesn't mean he is less dangerous (big stuff is coming fr-)

LET HIM JUST BE AN UNCLE WITH HIS GIRL UGHHHH (as if i didn't write it like that-)

ALSO THE COMIC HAD ME HOLLERING!!!! They are my dumb teens and they deserve to do dumb teen stuff. I Love it so much and I really hope I can write more funny moments between them (because trauma is about to hit-)

Thank you so so much for this! Stay tuned for tonight because I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter!! (each week closer and closer to the fancy Maximoff dress jsjsjsj)

[meganhalsey]

Really, Dan is just majorly caught in the sunk cost fallacy after Megan dies. He's already sunk so much time and energy into this, and lost so much, and the only way for him to get back what he's lost is to see this through. But after realizing he won't ever get Meg back, it snaps him out of this and he realizes he personally has nothing to gain from the research anymore, which is why he leaves.

[arolesbianism]

I Really need to properly draw Christopher at some point but everytime I want to I just look at her in game sprite and weep for her truest form has already been achieved. What's even the point. This is her in the flesh.

[strkly]

misunderstanding

s.m: you and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x avengers!gn!reader

w.c: 2k

c.w: hurt/comfort, bob being avoidant (but he means well), two idiots in love, hea, reader implied to be an og avenger, no use of y/n, thunderbolts spoilers obv. bob displays childish behaviors bc he is upset im not trying to baby him !not proofread and intentionally lower case.

a.n: as soon as i finished the thunderbolts i wrote this LOL. im already working on like three more for him

After you had all saved the city and had been established as the new avengers you and bob had been inseparable. you had chucked it up to you just seeming the friendliest out of all of them but the looks the rest of the team all exchanged with one another anytime the two of you were around told you they thought otherwise.

you watched movies with him, went to go get milkshakes together, helped him with the chores around the base, there wasn't really a second the two of you weren't together unless you were out on a mission or sleeping.

yet as a recent theres been a shift. hes been avoiding you. its so obvious to not only you but everyone else in the team, he was more than happy to chat with yelena ava alexei hell he’d even rather talk to walker than he’d rather talk to you. the only person also seemingly receiving the cold shoulder from bob was bucky who shrugged when you asked him if he had any clue what was going on.

whenever you would walk into the room and smile at him he stared at you wide eyed before rushing out the room mumbling to himself before you could say anything to him. you tried not to let your heart break show on your face as you watched him flee the room as you had entered. you had been so determined to get him to talk to you today after over a week of nothing from him but watching him run away from you killed any sort of motivation you once had.

the pout only grows on your face as you feel yelena pat your back in pity. “i dont know what i did wrong.” shes quiet for a moment before she speaks, “dont worry im sure he’ll get over this weird phase and you’ll get back to normal in no time.” you look down at your feet and sigh, maybe she was right. you knew he struggled with his mental health maybe he just needed space yet the idea of that being it just made you feel worse. he had always confided in you, told things he wouldnt even tell the therapist he started seeing. it made you feel trust worthy, like the two of you had a bond stronger than words could describe. you like him, you like him so much your heart feels like its about to burst out of your chest at the thought of him.

it was later that same night. you could see the light peering out from under his door. he was up, but when you knocked on his door you were only greeted with silence. “bob?” silence. you sigh before pressing your head up against the door. “i just wanted to say goodbye, were leaving for the mission, me and bucky.” you can hear some shuffling inside at your words, you almost let yourself hope he’s about to come to the door but after a few more beats he still doesn’t respond.

“i miss you bob.” the words spill out before you’re able to stop them, “im sorry, for whatever ive done im so sorry, i just want use to go back to the way we were. i miss you so much, i hope we can talk once i’m back. goodbye.” you force yourself away from the door as the tears begin to pour down your face you don't even bother to glance back at the door as you exit the hallway and down to the area where bucky is waiting for you. he doesn't comment on your tear stricken face, simply just placing hand on your shoulder and asking if your ready to go. with a quick nod you join him on the ship and your off. you silently thank him for it.

what you don’t know is bob is curled up in a ball in his bed, pressing his face tightly against the stuffed bear you had bought him as a gift as he tried to silence his own sobs. it was for the better, he told himself over and over again. you didn't need him, not when you had him, you were better off without him as much as it made his heart ache.

five days. it had been five days since you had left and bob felt like he was losing his mind. he didnt leave his room, laying and rotting in his bed hoping the universe would just swallow him up. it took yelena and walker finally coming into his room to force him out of bed much to his dismay. he couldnt stomach to eat anything, shaking his head and hanging it down like a child clinging his stuffed bear to his chest while they tried. he knew it was a pathetic display but he couldnt find it in himself to care.

the rest of the team stares at him in pity, unsure of what to say. they all knew what he was going through, the only one oblivious to it was you, as walker finally sighed and opened his mouth to speak they all froze at the sound of the doors slamming open. “can somebody call a doctor?” bucky called out and everyone turned to see him enter the room. you were held in buckys arms, all beaten up covered in blood. bobs head spins, he doesnt hear the sounds of everyone asking what happened he doesnt see ava running off to get medic all he sees if you and he faints.

the mission was supposed to be easy. it was easy, until the last guy standing ended up being a mutant neither of you were prepared for. you ended up taking the bigger hit and bucky quickly finished the job rushing to take you back to the tower. your injuries were not life threatening but you lost a lot of energy in the fight and had ended up knocked out for a couple days. when you regain consciousness the first thing you hear is his voice. bob. he’s talking with someone whos voice you an barely make out, based on the brass and tone you assume its bucky. you cant make out what he’s saying but you cant bring yourself to open your eyes just yet.

footsteps ensue with a couple final words exchanged before the gentle opening and closing of the door and suddenly you’re alone with him. you can hear the scrapping of a chair and suddenly his very warm body heat flows next to you, you can feel his hands playing with the blanket as he sniffs. “please wake up.” you still cant open your eyes, maybe you’re still too tired but a part of you thinks you simply want to hear what he’s going to say.

“im- im so stupid. im so so so so stupid. all ive been dreaming about is seeing you again,” you feel him place his head on your stomach and you try to keep your heart and breathing at a regular pace, “i wanna sit on the couch together and watch movies and drink milkshakes and talk about anything with you i miss you please i was so stupid please just wake up so i can hear your voice again.” your chest aches and you fight the frown growing on your face. you open your eyes, realizing his has his face turned away from you. when you go to speak he manages to beat you to it. “i was so jealous.”

his words have you almost gasping before quickly closing your eyes again realizing he was turning his head to look at you. your mind running a mile a minute, you had no clue what he was talking about but his words had you hopeful, you couldnt help but be eager for whatever he was about to say. “he’s so much cooler than me. i get why you must like him, i just,, i just wish i could be the one you like. the one you think is cool but i know im not worthy of that.” what? you almost find the word spilling out from your lips but you manage to stop yourself. “i just couldnt do it anymore, after i saw you guys in the kitchen, you were smiling at him, i couldnt make that ache in my chest go away like you taught me and whenever i saw you it just go worse so i ran away like a coward. im such a loser.”

it finally clicks. you remember.

it was late at night. you had stepped out of your room to get a glass of water. when you got to the kitchen bucky was also there drinking a glass of whiskey, the two of you chatted for a moment and when you opened up the dishwasher to get a glass you busted out laughing at the sight of his metal arm in the dishwasher. “what the hell is that doing in there?” “what how do you think i clean the damn thing?” ‘not in the dishwasher! you’re so stupid bucky.” he walks towards you and leans down to be face to face with you, “thats why you like me doll.” you grin and hit him on the chest, shaking your head. “shut up.”

you opened your eyes once more and realize he had pushed his face to be pressing against your stomach. slightly shaking as he sobbed lightly into the fabric. your heart ached, realizing how sad he must have been. how lonely he must have felt. he freezes when you put your hand on his hair lightly running your fingers through it. “i dont like bucky.” your words are course, its clear your throat is yearning for some sort of hydration but you dont care. his head flys up and he looks at you with his wide wet eyes. your name tumbles from his trembling lips but you still continue to speak. “ive known him for a long time, he’s called me that for forever, he was just joking around with me i dont like him i promise.” he continues to stare at you in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he clenches his jaw and looks down at the floor, mumbling to himself, “im so stupid.”

as much as it hurts you force yourself to sit up and touch his shoulder. he looks up at you, a much sadder expression having taken over his face. “i love you bob.” his breath hitches, “i love you so much it kills me.” you wait for him to say something back, anything in return but he simply stares. you wait for him, you’re so patience with him he just can’t help himself.

you yelp in surprise when he suddenly laches onto you and you fall back with him ontop of you. you ignore how much your body burns in pain as he shoves his head in your neck. “i love you i love you so much.” you feel so much relief your eyes burn with tears. you can hear him mumbling over and over again that he loves you and it feels unreal, like youre dreaming and youll wake up soon.

“bob look at me.” he reluctantly pulls away from you and stares at you with heart eyes, your hands gently cup his face before pressing your lips against his. he eagerly but sloppily returns it, clearly inexperienced but you cant even find yourself caring as you can feel him brightly smile against you all other thoughts float away from you.

hours later when bucky comes back to check on you a smile falls on his lips as he sees bob laying on top of you and the two of you asleep peacefully, both of you unknowingly smiling in your sleep. he shakes his head before walking away. he pulls out his phone and clicks a couple things before raising it to his ear as he walks down the hall. “you own me 50 sam i told you they would get together.”

[mohntilyet]

imagine being illario and finally finding the resolve to kill your cousin right. you seduce and fuck a blood mage venatori magister to get her to do this for you. you figure you’ll eventually kill her once you are first talon, tie up the loose end and make it look good for you. a vengeance story! except when your cousin’s body shows up your grandma retreats into herself presumably out of grief and you’re like jesus christ he’s a corpse and still the favorite. at this point you start feeling some regret and at the wake you’re beside yourself. it helps to be really feeling some of that to fool everyone else. but months pass and your grandma still isn’t even discussing the inheritance and you have to be normal because you don’t want to incriminate yourself. and then a year later some random guy (worse if its a de riva tbh) shows up saying they need your cousin to kill an elven god (what.) and he’s the only one who could (insulting). and its at this point your grandma is like “lucanis died… but he is not dead!”. record scratch freezeframe. while you juggle with the fact that the freak woman you fucked specifically to get her to kill your cousin didn’t even kill your cousin AND your grandma didn’t bother telling you (for good reason ofc but she doesn’t know that), you have to lead these assholes to go save him and unravel your hard work. so plan b. you kidnap your grandma and push your (now possessed) cousin away (and then get mad when he actually walks away. because you’re like this). and when your cousin comes dangerously close to figuring out what’s happened with you and the magister, you kill the magister. you ally with those elven gods and venatori (you aren’t sure how you’re going to get out of this one but it’s fine. that’s a hill for future illario) to make sure you have enough backing to stand up against the other houses if they challenge you becoming first talon. you continue to gaslight your cousin into staying away, because if there is one thing you can count on, it’s his literal inner demons and total lack of a support group, you’re certain he’ll fuck it up by himself. you know this because his support group used to be your grandma (dubious) and yourself (lol). you’re almost home free. and caterina will definitely acknowledge you as a player on the board. which isn’t important but it would be nice, right. BUT THEN IT TURNS OUT. YOUR COUSIN HAS RECENTLY MADE 7 FRIENDS. one of whom can speak to the fucking dead because of course he can. and then some of those friends show up to publicly humiliate you at the dinner party that should have been YOUR crowning moment. your grandma ALSO shows up to tell everyone you have gathered that your cousin is first talon. your cousin gapes at her because he doesn’t actually even want it so it’s kind of awkward for everyone. and then when you’re sure he’s about to ask viago de riva to poison you to death, he actually tells him just to take you away. because OF COURSE he’s being the bigger person. anyways the point is i’m surprised illario just lets himself be taken away because if i were him i would have started biting people and then bombed the villa

[rhaenyraeri]

Co-Star Tensions - Jack O’Connell

based off this behind the scenes picture hehe

minors dni!! 18+ only!!

Part 1, Part 2, Interlude, Part 3

Summary: You and your costars were called back for some reshoots, and one night after a long day of filming, something unexpected happens.

Pairing: Jack O’Connell x fem!Reader (and technically Remmick x fem!Reader?)

Warnings: it is filth y’all, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, there be’est role play involved, some swearing, i’m not great at writing smut unfortunately

Note: this is an rpf (real person fic) so i encourage that if you don’t like that, please keep scrolling. i’ve never wrote one of these before but i felt compelled to lol. also if there are any mistakes pls let me know 🫶

The tension could, almost literally, be cut with a knife on the set. Everyone could tell, but no one would say it. They wouldn’t speak about how you and Jack had scenes just barely near each other, but you both gravitated closer. No one would dare mention how hard you locked in on him when filming the scene with vampire Bert, how he sat in the rocking chair covered in fake blood.. there was something about it. Something, dare you say, carnal, was awakening in you.

The nights you yearned to touch him, yearned to just have your hands on him, sexually or not. The nights just hoping he felt the same way. Just watching him in his element, such a talented actor and great man, having the honor to work alongside him. He just had that charm about him, and that charm resonated into Remmick. You wanted him, and you wanted Remmick. Two birds, one stone.

There were just a few nights of filming left, and the two of you had spoken earlier in the day about how sad it was to say goodbye to a wonderful cast and to people you’d grown to call friends. Some scenes needed some touch ups, and others need reshoots due to new ideas flourishing from the director.

—————

Walking past the set to your makeup artist’s camper, you noticed a figure in the dark. Leaned back in the rocking chair, in the corner of the darkened room used for a reshoot earlier that day. The light in the corner cast a slight shadow onto the figure and you stopped to get a better look. It was Jack, still dressed in the bloody Remmick costume from the scene filmed earlier with Joan and Bert. The way he looked at you after ran chills up your spine. He caught you staring from the sidelines of the crew. Tensions were already high due to your character and Jack’s being romantic partners, and having to say filthy shit to each other had you reeling, yearning for it to have meaning behind it.

“Hey baby,” he spoke, that thick southern drawl that Remmick had came out. Your mouth dropped slightly, your hands holding your belongings slowly lowering. He was staring right at you, that was meant for you. He slowly began rocking, eyes never leaving you. “You gonna come on over here, darlin’? I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

Oh, what the southern drawl did to you. You didn’t think it’d corral you into him like this but it did. That thick accent made you swoon, in and out of character. Seeing him calling out to you, and you alone, warmed you up.

“Come on now, lass. You just gonna leave ol’ Rem hangin’?”

Ah. So this is how he’s gonna be. Jack wants you, and he’s going to do it in true vampiric Remmick nature. He’s luring you in.

Realizing you’d better play the part, you close your eyes and get into character. You dropped your items and starting making your way to him.

“There she is… there’s my girl. I’ve missed you,” shaking his head slightly, still rocking in the chair. Your feet clicked against the concrete floor almost antagonizingly slow, your eyes never left his, and you felt your body heat up. Crossing onto the wood, the change of energy set the mood. There he was, still covered in that fake blood from earlier, dripping right over his face and down his neck. The lights of the set were all either off or dim, save for this one hanging overhead. Just enough to hit him like a spotlight.

“I’m sorry, Remmy. I didn’t mean to make you wait on me. Are you upset at me, baby?,” you spoke to him. You could watch as those words made every hair on him stand up, the gulp traveled down his throat, and his hand gripped the armrest. His foot started to shake a little. You put on those big puppy dog eyes your character has when she looks at her lover. Slowly, you stepped closer and closer to him, walking behind the chair and putting your hands on his shoulders. You leaned down to his neck, right beside his ear and said, “I’m here now, baby. Did you need somethin’?”

“I just missed you, darlin’. Missed your touch, your voice… your face. Lord, that face of yours,” he admired as a hand reach beside him and held your cheek. The tension you two had all lead up to this moment. You took your hand and ran it up his arm and over his that was placed on your face, locking your fingers into his. Taking your other hand off of his shoulder, you walked in front of him, and used your free hand to touch his face in return.

“You’ve made a mess, Rem. But you look just as handsome as always.”

“Nah, darlin’, this ain’t no mess. A mess is what you’ve made me into, and I think you know just how to clean it up.”

Did you? Did he want you to touch him? Fuck him? Be with him? This is all new to you, this role playing thing. Not to mention it being with a man you’ve admired for so long, and just hoped that one day you’d be able to have him this way. This was your chance to finally have what you wished for.

Your eyes left his, scanning down his body in that outfit that made you an unstable wreck, and stopped at his pants. Smirking, you nodded, and stood between his now open legs. He took his free hand and grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to him. His body was practically calling out to you, you could feel how badly he wanted you, and he could feel you the same way. You bit your lip, and got on your knees.

“Oh, Rem. You got this worked up over me? I can’t just let you suffer, can I, my love?”

He gulped hard, biting his lip and hardening his lock on you.

“Nah, I don’t think that’d be very kind of you.”

“I didn’t think it would.”

Your hand left his face, running down his neck, chest, then stomach, and finally ending at his suspenders and pants. Your fingers got to work fast on his buckles and buttons, as you wanted him more than you could imagine. You wanted to taste him. You were going to. That was certain between the two of you.

Pulling off his pants and underwear in one movement, they fell to his ankles. He was hard for you. Thinking about how you walked on the set each day, head held so high and you were so passionate about your work. So passionate about the project.. about your characters. About him, he wished.

You kissed his tip, making sure to keep that eye contact. A guttural moan left him and you felt your heart flutter with pride, excitement, and admiration for the man in front of you. Your right hand came down to wrap around him, moving it up slowly, taking in what you’re about to do to him. Stroking him for a few more moments, you grew impatient. You wanted the taste of him, and you wanted the feeling of having the man you’ve pined over for months in you finally. Leaning back down, you opened your mouth and ran your tongue down the length of his dick. Stopping at the top after a few times of going up and down, you sucked, letting your tongue roam around him. You hummed against him, the sensation making him let another low, sexy moan out. Your head began to bob up and down, and your cheeks hollowed out as you went as far as you could. Your eyes closed, humming as you sucked on him. You felt his hand trace your jaw and entangle itself into your hair, grabbing a loose fist full of it and guiding you.

Deciding it was enough, he used his grip on your hair to pull you off him, and got a good look at your face. Your eyes filled with lust met his eyes, matching the same level of desire that you had.

“Stand up, I want you to try somethin’ out for me,” he said, breath shaky, as he ran his hands up your costume dress, and pulled your underwear down, “good, now we’re even.”

He put a hand on your waist, guiding you down to his thigh, using his grip to rock you back and forth over it. You grabbed his shoulder with one hand, and the top of the chair with other, now guiding yourself across with his assistance still being used.

“Oh, yeah. You like that, huh? Grindin’ on my thigh all desperate like. ‘Cause that’s what you are, desperate, right?” That drawl invoked a loud and, like he said, desperate moan from you, right into his ear. The hand on his shoulder now gripped his hair, holding him closer to you.

“I saw you watching me from the sidelines. You wanted me so bad, now you’ve got me. This is what you wanted, right? You’ve made me a damn mess, girl.”

His façade as Remmick was now gone, and it was his pure intentions coming out of him. That accent change damn near made you release then and there, but you were too lost in the feeling of his warm thigh against your pussy as you took out your sexual yearning on it. His other hand ran between your body and his, rubbing your clit, and he took his fingers to his mouth. He made sure to get your eyes to look into his as he savored your arousal. The fake blood mixed into his mouth a little as he finally got a taste of the beauty before him.

“You couldn’t be the only one that got a little taste, huh, darling?”

That was enough to get you off, and you came hard onto him. His moans from seeing you getting yourself off to a part of him that wasn’t even sexual filled your ears as you moaned into his ear, wrapping your arms around his neck as you came down from your high. You stayed like this for a few minutes until you both calmed down. You raised up, running a hand over his chest before placing it around his heart.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted you. Not even just like this, you know? You’re special, you’re beautiful. Absolutely perfect. D’you want to go out sometime? Properly get to hang out?”

You smiled, nodding along with the idea.

“I’d love to. I hoped for so damn long that you felt that way, too, you handsome devil.”

“Handsome vampire, get it right.”

You giggled, leaning in to give him a kiss.

“Oh, and for future reference, just know that was hot as fuck.”

“Duly noted, love.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Thinking about designationless reader...

Imagine how alone she must've been for all her life. It started since she was young, her parents pushing her to the corner of the home, away from the family, and naturally, her siblings would follow their parents' lead, pointedly ignoring her, and finding any excuse available to be out of her presence. She wouldn't understand them anyway, she can't tell the difference between noises nor could she even recognize scents. It just wouldn't work.

Reader thinks that maybe she could find someone, anyone in school, but kids are like sharks, except instead of smelling blood, they smell the lack of all scents on her. Most kids have a combination of their own and their family members' scents. Reader has nothing, so everyone continues the pattern, but now with more stares and jeers and hushed giggles. Reader knows that bullying is bad, but anything would be better than simply not existing to anyone. That's what the others say, at least, that she's nothing, nobody. Never to her face, though, just in the whispers shared between friends.

She eventually tries to find others like her through the wonders of the internet. There's maybe a handful more scattered in her country, but none are her age, and all have their own families who care about them. Was it just her who wasn't deserving of love, of connection? Reader reaches out to them, and they talk a little, but before long, through no one's fault, it falls through. She was bad at talking anyway, even if she doesn't have to worry about scents or sounds that aren't there, she never knew much about context or connotation. She never had the opportunity to learn about the intricacies in communication. Reader is back alone.

The military eventually scouts her, and it's the first time anyone has ever really looked at her. Sure, they look at her like a valuable tool, but a tool is better than nothing. Reader obviously joins, desperate for crumbs. She climbs the ranks, gets the job done. She is good at her job, so people respect her. She learns how to talk professionally, emails, texts, and so one, but no one talks to her on leave. No one invites her to the pub after a good mission. No one even talks to her in the mess. But people do talk to her when they have to, and that's enough. Maybe she even gets a callsign. Doe. After Jane Doe, the placeholder name for unknown individuals, and insult if anything.

Now there's the 141. They invite her to things. They talk to her. They touch her. Reader exists for them. She isn't just an unknown person stuck in the background and invisible to everyone else, and Reader doesn't know what to do. Her speech is awkward and overly professional, even in personal settings. How is she supposed to be friends with someone, multiple someones? How is she supposed to move? To act? To express? She doesn't know, but she really wants to learn. At least now she has good teachers.

ANON YOU GENIUSSSS okay but this? Perfect. AHHHH I ADORE THIS IDEA!! Esp the jane doe callsign omg yes

You weren’t used to being seen.

Growing up, you learned quickly how to make yourself small- how to exist quietly, without taking up space, without asking for too much. Because the few times you had asked- asked for a hug, asked to be let into the nest, asked why you felt so different- the answers had all been the same.

No.

Not now.

Not you.

It wasn’t that your parents didn’t love you. You were sure they did, in their own way. But love was hard to feel when your mother flinched at your touch like you were something disgusting, when your father sighed like he was tired every time you entered the room as if you were taking up space he was saving for his other children. When your siblings built their nests without you, curling into piles of warmth and safety while you sat outside the door, knees pulled to your chest and hands balled into fists to keep them from knocking, a cold ache burrowing itself in your chest.

You stopped knocking eventually.

You stopped trying.

You used to wonder if you’d done something wrong- if maybe you could fix yourself and everything would go back to normal. But it wasn’t something you could fix. It was just… you.

Scentless.

Designationless.

Invisible.

School had been worse, perhaps the worst. At least your family had pretended not to notice how different you were. The other kids didn’t bother pretending. They stared openly, whispered behind your back, laughed when you walked by. You’d caught bits and pieces of what they said- weird, wrong, broken, as if they hoped by having you hear their words, they’d convince you to leave at last.

You’d started keeping your head down after that, slipping through the halls like a shadow. No one talked to you unless they had to, and even then they either did it with a mocking, jeering tone that echoes in your nightmares or with a meek tone; as if your lack of everything is contagious. No one sat next to you at lunch, either. When partners were assigned, you always ended up working alone per your teachers’ instructions.

It was easier that way.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you joined the military, you’d gotten good at being alone. You didn’t need friends. Didn’t need packmates. You had work, and work didn’t care if you were quiet or awkward or too stiff to laugh at the right jokes. Work didn’t care if you flinched when people got too close or froze when someone raised their voice. Work demanded to be done, and you had nothing and no one to stop you from that.

But the military also has the same teens who used to bully you so consistently. Rookies all to ready and happy to lord over you. It’s how you get your despised callsign, Doe. Jane Doe. A cruel mockery, comedy wherein you are the joke that has the world laughing.

Still, you wear it. It’s still an acknowledgment and that will always be better than never being seen. You flit from team to team, unit to unit, always an observer from afar, watching everyone around you speak a language you can’t.

But the 141 was different, when you eventually end up working for them.

They cared.

They cared in ways you weren’t ready for.

Soap was relentless, dragging you into conversations even when you barely knew what to say. He filled the silences like it didn’t bother him, kept talking for the both of you, lounging against you unbothered, until you started talking back. Gaz was gentlest, steadier. He never pushed, just lingered close enough to remind you he was there, waiting, whenever you were ready. Quiet, silent acceptance you’d never been given before, and you were yet far too afraid to so easily cling to it.

And the Alphas- Price and Ghost- were worse.

Price had a way of looking at you that made your chest ache, like he saw you, really saw you, and didn’t mind what he found. Scentless, with no designation and all. Ghost was quieter, sharper, but his eyes tracked you everywhere, presence wrapping around you like he was staking a claim you didn’t understand, like he was teying to etch every part of you behind his eyelids.

You didn’t know what to do with it.

They didn’t give you space. They sat next to you at meals, tugged you along when they went out for drinks, called you over during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural- until it didn’t, because sometimes you still felt like an outsider.

Like you didn’t belong.

You tried to hide it, but they saw through you. They always did, and they never shied away.

When you started avoiding the mess hall, it was Gaz who caught you, shoving a plate of food into your hands and dragging you to sit with him like it wasn’t a big deal. When you hung back during missions, letting the others fall into their pack dynamics without you, Soap was the one who looped an arm around your shoulders and pulled.

And when you flinched, once, at the sharp sound of someone’s voice echoing down the hall- when you tensed so hard it made your fingers tremble- it was Price who closed the distance, standing in front of you like a wall and letting Ghost linger at your back. Neither of them said a word.

They didn’t have to.

You weren’t used to being protected. You weren’t used to belonging.

But they made it hard not to.

[intothefrisson]

I present my link click x swan princess AU or what I call, The Swan Princes 😌🦢

(Part 1)

My notes on this AU:

Swan princes AU 

-Ql and CXS are from a neighboring kingdom from LG, QL's parents arranged to start bringing LG over to their kingdom every summer to try and matchmake QL and LG together so they can marry when they are older to unify their kingdoms. Ql and Lg do not have any romantic interest in each other at all right off the bat and end up more like siblings, Lg and Cxs (who is the adopted ward of the royal family) become fast best friends and all three of them are joined at the hip when Lg visits, and often arrange more visits outside of summer as well when they can. 

-QL's parents give up trying to get LG and Ql together but still welcome LG whenever he comes to visit 

-LG, Ql and CXS start making plans about the best way to unify their kingdoms (without marriage) when they reach their 20s, even though in general their kingdoms are really friendly already. 

-Not everyone is a fan of this idea, especially a faction of nobles in LG’s kingdom 

-One of the times that LG is leaving to travel back to his kingdom, his convoy gets ambushed by a party wanting to overthrow the throne, and only a wounded messenger escapes back to QL and CXS’s kingdom to tell them that there was this great beast that had attacked their convoy and he doesn't know if anyone survived, but that the beast isn't what it seems to be (like in the movie) but the messenger does not recover from his injuries and passes away shortly

-Cxs and Ql go out immediately when they hear the news to search for the remains for Lg's convoy (and possibly his body, because the messenger was adamant no one had survived.) but all they find is a bloody massacre (and no lg except maybe a personal item) leading them to believe he didn't survive

-They are both devastated, but Cxs is beyond devastated 

-Cxs and QL start researching into the great beast and about the messengers last words about how it was a deceiving beast because they want to figure out what the hell happened (And Cxs wants REVENGE)

-Cxs starts hunting in the forest over the span of a month or two because they can’t figure out what the beast could be disguising itself as and also to unleash some of his pent up anger and grief over LG’s ‘death’  when he comes across a Swan, (and like in the movie he assumes that's the great beast) so he chases it to the lake 

-But just as he was about to take the shot with revenge on his mind the swan turned into Lg in the moonlight hehe 

-both of them overjoyed to see one another

Random Notes:

-Lg can't talk as a swan, and can only honk 

-Ltx is part of the faction trying to overthrow the kingdom, but helps lg out when she can, she doesn't really have a choice of being in the faction or not cause her brothers in it also she doesn’t fully understand what is going on with the politics in their kingdom

-at some point cxs is brash and ends up getting turned into a swan too, Lg is less than thrilled with this development because how are two swans supposed to save an entire kingdom. 

-They figure out how to go honk to QL for help

-Lg didn't find cxs quickly originally cause he had to learn to be a swan and couldn't get to far from the lake, when cxs becomes a swan he has to teach cxs how to be a swan (fly, swim, honk, poop, eat etc)

-It goes as well as one would expect. 

Will upload more notes/artwork probably next week!

[teaeodora]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[thecherrypittttttt]

SOLID WORK; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 4,700+

content warnings: my minimal medical knowledge, doctor humor, abbot’s filthy mouth, some smut, fluff <3

notes: i am so beyond new to this fandom and to tumblr so please stick with me but i couldn’t not write this🫶

・❥・

”Solid work.”

My breathing slows as I start to process the complexity of the procedure I had just performed. I’d probably be blushing at Dr Abbot’s praise if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me.

“That was your save. Not mine.”

Trust me - I am never jumping to credit a man with my work but that was the truth. I may have physically done everything but the idea and the instructions that made it possible were all Dr Abbot.

I look back down at the patient. I tell myself it’s to make sure this is all real. That I really just did that. But if I am being honest it’s to avoid Dr Abbot’s unwavering eye contact.

“Hey-“

He is not gonna let me. I look up to meet his gaze. So rock solid but somehow so warm all at once. He may as well be staring right through me.

He lightly rests his hand on my forearm to stop me from going for the suture. To stop me from giving him anything other than my undivided attention.

“-you are the smartest person in here. Take the win.”

I can’t help the exasperated smile that spreads across my face. He’s right. I’ve only got a couple months left of residency. I should just take the fucking win for once in my life.

Abbot, much to my surprise, smiles back. And he has dimples because of course he does.

He’s calm under pressure, he lies on official paperwork to get a teenage girl the abortion she has every right to, he’s the actual smartest one here, he’s kind to everyone in this ED regardless of the stress he is under, and…he still has his hand on my arm.

His hand. The veins there don’t hurt the eyes either.

We must both realize his lingering touch at the same time because he is clearing his throat and pulling away. He reaches for a surgical instrument he doesn’t need. Picks it up and then puts it down.

I swear there is a faint blush on his cheeks but if I think about that too long one will appear on my own.

“Let Whitaker stitch this up. Go home - get some rest. Your shift ended hours ago.”

“I love Whitaker but he is so slow we may as well let the wound heal all on its own.”

Dr Abbot laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs as we exit out of the trauma bay. So loud that Robby looks over and asks if he’s okay.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr Abbot has a wonderful sense of humor. A wicked one, actually. But it’s one of those dry, witty kinds. Not the animated, giggly kind.

I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that I’m proud to have gotten a good laugh out of him. That it’s not a bad thing that it gave me butterflies. That’s it’s not a bad thing that I am laying in bed wondering how the hell I am going to get him to do that again.

・❥・

Jack lets out a low moan as he recovers. His eyes are dazed, his head slightly tilted back but not so much so that he can’t keep eye contact with me.

His hand that held the makeshift ponytail in my hair starts to massage my scalp as the other hand reaches for my chin and tilts my head up to meet his strong gaze.

Once he’s got me where he wants me, his thumb travels from my chin to my lips, swiping what’s left of his release off of it.

“My good girl. So good for me, yeah?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at his words. He knows it too. I nod as his thumb presses further into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it.

His mouth quips into a smirk, “Solid work, doctor.”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away. Standing up from my knees on my own. Ignoring his arms trying to gently guide me up instead.

“That! That is exactly what I am talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Jack just laughs as he grabs my wrist, turning me back towards him. He’s quick to have me pinned up against our shower wall - his strong thigh spreading my own apart as he plants long slow kisses across my neck.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Back when I was a resident, otherwise known as a couple months ago, Jack consistently praised what I was doing by saying “Solid work.”

The way he did always made me dizzy. His voice would drop an octave and he’d look me straight in my eyes while he said it. There is nothing inherently sensual about the phrase but it took me a while to realize he was not complimenting the other residents like that.

Him saying it during sex started as a joke. Harkening back to when, as he puts it, I was so painfully oblivious to his flirting. To which I responded, “That was flirting?”.

He said it again to me at work the next day. Being completely and utterly genuine. I don’t even remember what I did but I did it well and he is always the first to acknowledge that. So he was confused when I just huffed in annoyance and peeled out of the room without so much of a glance at him.

I wasn’t annoyed at him. I was annoyed that now all I could think about was him. His hands, his biceps, his tongue. Everything. And I still had six hours of my shift to go.

He followed me into the on-call room I was going to find some refuge in. He locked the door behind him - closed the curtain for good measure.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And then I felt bad. He thought something was actually wrong. That no way I’d ever brush him off like that when he was just trying to compliment me unless something was seriously wrong.

His eyes bored into mine, genuine concern and love pouring out of them. And here I was just being a brat.

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes trailed the veins bulging out of his biceps. I tried to be sly about the way I was imagining my hands tugging on his salt and pepper curls that were just slightly askew from a couple hours work. Unfortunately for me, Jack can read me like a book.

“Did you just stomp out of the ED because you’re needy?” Jack couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face at the realization.

“Well maybe if you weren’t always going Mr Christian Gray on me with the praise-“

“I don’t even know who that is but all I said was ‘Solid work’-“

Jack stops himself as he remembers the past couple nights. When he was saying the same thing in a much different context.

I can’t say I’m entirely innocent. Or innocent at all really. I love throwing in a ‘sir’ every now and again at work to tease Jack. So he does the same to me with other phrases - constantly.

And he said the same thing in that on-call room that he is saying to me right now, “But what I do know is how fucking wet you are for me. So stop pouting and let me taste you, yeah?”

He swipes a finger through my soaked folds before he’s the one sinking down to his knees as I try to keep mine from buckling.

・❥・

“Solid work, Dr Abbot.”

I smile down at my sparkling new engagement ring and then up at the love of my life.

“Seriously? You can tease but I can’t?”

“What’s that saying again? Happy wife, happy life?”

Neither of us can wipe the huge grins off of our faces. No one knows we’re engaged yet. Just how we wanted it.

A couple of months ago, right after I had taken an attending job at The Pitt, Jack had broached the topic of marriage. We’d talked about it before. We both knew we were spending the rest of our lives together. But we hadn’t actually talked about the timeline of it all - the logistics.

Jack was always extremely hyper aware about how our relationship affected me. He didn’t want it to interfere with my career or all of my hard work. So as much as he would’ve walked down the aisle six months ago, he wanted everything to be on my terms.

“Hypothetically - if I were to propose, say within the next month - would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically - if I ever say no to a marriage proposal from you - please get me a psychiatry consult.”

Jack laughed - in an airy way where you could tell he was relieved. I kissed him. There was no universe in which I ever said no to a proposal from him.

He pestered me with questions. He wanted direction but not so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised when the time came.

I told him I didn’t want anything fancy. No big party although I did want to have a small gathering with our friends and family at some point afterwards. A nice sized diamond but not gaudy. No grand gestures - just him being him is all that I wanted.

And he executed perfectly. Because when does he not. It was our first night in the new home we had bought. He said we could get a hotel while we waited for our furniture to be delivered. But I wanted to do one night with no furniture, an air mattress, some candles, and a pizza delivery.

“Like camping.” I had said.

“You hate camping.”

I laughed because he was right but he obliged me anyways. He carried me over the threshold and I made a joke about how he’s got to be careful - being old and all.

Then he carried me right over to the air mattress, said something like “Can an old man do this?” and went on to coax four orgasms from me - one from his fingers, one from his tongue, one from his thigh, and finally one from where I wanted him most.

When we were done, I threw on one of his old tshirts and a pair of boxers. He just had on an old pair of sweats and a white tee. We stared into each others eyes like two lovesick teenagers until he said “Come here - I gotta show you something.”

“Babe, the house is empty.”

“Get over here smart ass.”

Jack picked up a candle and lead us over to the fireplace. He set the candle on the mantle as I read what was now engraved into the stone ‘The Abbots - Est 2025’

“So this is why you were getting all of those random tools from Amazon.”

Ever the handy man he is. Then he was on his knee. His bad one. To which I told him he didn’t have to do that. And then he said he would even if it killed him. And I think I said something stupid like “Not on my watch.”

I don’t even remember what he said after that. He doesn’t either. We both blacked out from sheer happiness. All I really remember is him asking me to do him the honor of being his wife and me pulling him up off of his knee and saying ‘Duh!’ as fast I could before kissing him. Over and over and over again until that air mattress was just a deflated extension of the wood floor beneath it.

・❥・

Dana’s hand rests on my thigh gently. My leg stops shaking. My mind doesn’t stop racing though.

I'm not an anxious person. If anything, I can be relaxed to a fault. But I am an intuitive person - and something is wrong.

Where is he?

“Relax. When is that man ever late?”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You would think I didn't have my own license or car the way Jack insists on driving me everywhere. He tells me it is to keep our insurance from being sky high. I may or may not be a bit accident prone when behind the wheel. I tell him it's because he's obsessed with me. He always huffs a laugh and murmurs something about two things being true at once.

The Pitt makes sense. Ever since Jack started taking on more day shifts to balance out our conflicting schedules, a lot of times we are arriving and leaving here together. But on the off chance we are not, he is still picking me up. Always with some kind of treat in hand - usually a McDonalds Diet Coke much to Jack's dismay.

Jack takes the saying 'If you're not early - you're late' far more seriously than anyone I have ever met. The day shift typically gets off at 7 PM which means he is usually here to gossip with Robby on the roof by 6:35 PM.

“Go - take a case! He’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.”

My dissents are quickly met with Dana shooing me from the nurses station and personally squaring my shoulders to the board.

I haven’t even read the first name when Robby appears at my shoulder.

“Where is your fiancé?”

“Say that any louder and you’re going to be my next patient.”

“Yeah because you two are so inconspicuous with the whispering and the giggling and the big honking rock on your finger and the-“

“-disappearing to 'clean' the on-call room.” Dana finishes Robby’s sentence as they both double over in laughter.

Dana, Robby, and Collins are the only people in the ED that know about Jack and I’s relationship.

Collins knew I had feelings for Jack before I even let myself go there. Robby knew Jack had feelings for me before he let himself go there. So they took matters into their own hands.

Collins had a $100 on Jack breaking first. Robby $100 on me. And he had an extra $100 to spare when he bribed Dr Ellis to ask me to take her night shift for a week. Oh, how that backfired on him.

Three shifts later and Robby was $200 in the hole.

Six months later, I was moved out of my city apartment and into Jack's house.

Dana offered to drive me home after shift one night. Because it was cold and rainy and my apartment was close by. My apartment that I no longer lived in.

Jack wasn’t picking me up - he was out of town at a conference. I insisted on taking an uber, the bus, walking - anything that meant not explaining to Dana why my new address was the same as Dr Abbot's. She wouldn't take no for an answer and yelled "Oh, I knew it! Bridget owes me $100!" when I finally fessed up.

One year later, almost to the day that Robby had to pony up on his bet with Collins, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

Tonight, after he picks me up, Jack and I are going to pilates together.

It was only a matter of time before Robby and Collins gave it another go and I bet Jack that Robby would fold before Collins.

What's the point in betting money when we share a bank account? Seeing Jack in the pink pilates grippy socks he does not know I got him will be priceless.

“Well, when you find him please tell him that he is late for our date on the roof."

"Stop dragging him up there - you already have a date tonight!"

"Yeah, one in which I need his advice on."

"Oh please, you're talking to the wrong Abbot if you need advice on how to woo Collins." Dana interjects. Not everyone in the ED knows about Jack and I but they do know Heather and I are best friends.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you two had tied the knot already. Do you want me to change your name on the board? I can do that right now actually. Does HR know? It'll just take a moment-" Robby teases.

I grab the remote out of Robby's hands as he laughs, "Okay fine - go have your little roof date but do not take long!"

"Well, we'd already be done if he wasn't late. Where is he by the way? He is never late for anything.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I step forward, my elbows on the counter of the nurses station and my head now in my hands as I groan.

“Relax. It’s Jack - we couldn’t keep him away from this place even if we wanted to. Especially with you in here.” Robby squeezes my shoulder and is off to what I assume to be the roof.

I check my watch before I stand back up to scan the board for real this time - 6:50 PM.

Where is he?

I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s no new message from Jack lighting up my home screen but I open up our conversation anyways.

From Jack: I miss you

From Jack: I can’t believe Langdon is getting to hang out with you right now and not me

From Jack: If you stay at that damn hospital any longer we’re gonna have to start forwarding all these packages you order there

Little does he know one of those many packages holds his new pilates socks.

To Jack: Oh please - as if more than half aren’t all your little go bag gadgets

To Jack: And to think our colleagues think I’m the drama queen

“Incoming - Trauma 1!”

I’m happy for the distraction. I’m gowned, gloved, and ready to go before the patient is even rolled in.

The doors to Trauma 1 fly open - but not with a patient. Just Dana.

“I’m going to get Robby! You should not have to do this.” Dana is staring pointedly at me before she’s off. I don’t even get a chance to respond.

Weird. I know I’ve only been an attending for a couple months but Dana had more confidence in me on my first day as an intern than she did just now.

I now understand why as the patient is rolled in front of me.

There he is.

Unconscious. Cold. Clammy. And slightly bloody from a small cut on his forehead.

My world stops.

“Heart attack.” Langdon is here.

Somehow all I can think of is Jack’s text from earlier. I want to laugh but I can’t. What if I never get one again? I’m supposed to see him in pink pilates socks tonight. Not in a body bag.

“CLEAR!”

Suddenly all the pieces from the past couple days are coming together and I cannot believe I didn’t catch it sooner. Can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner!

“CLEAR!”

His dizziness. The increase in massages of his amputated leg. The quick heart beat. The rash.

I hear the commotion around me. But I’m not processing any of it until it’s directed at me.

“I said CLEAR! Move!”

This cant be happening. So I decide that it’s not going to.

“No!” My voice comes out way more feeble than I meant. Way more feeble than anyone in this ED has ever heard me.

“Well I hope you enjoyed being Abbot’s favorite because you’re going to kill him and your career in one go.”

“Langdon - he is not having a heart attack.”

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t - take off his leg!”

“Take off his leg?! Okay, you’re literally going insane. And I’m supposed to report to you?! I know I went to rehab but oh my gosh - CLEAR!”

“I’m going to clear you out of this trauma bay if you do not get out of my way.”

You know how they say a new mom could lift a car off of her new born baby? I’m pretty sure that’s the phenomenon I am experiencing right now. I don’t exactly know what other worldly force is taking over me right now but I do not question it. I am watching myself from outside of my body as I spring into action.

I shove Langdon to the side as I lift up Jack’s pant leg to remove his prosthetic. The prosthetic that noone else in this room would’ve known he had.

He doesn’t keep it a secret but he doesn’t exactly advertise it either. Especially when he refuses to sit down on a double shift. Ironically enough, that’s probably why he is on this table.

I spot what I’m looking for immediately but Langdon is the one who speaks it out loud, “Pressure ulcer - he’s in septic shock.”

“Thanks for finally using your brain Dr Langdon but we’re going to be using mine from here on out.”

“Blood ox is 91.” Someone yells. I don’t know who. What I do know is that 91 is dangerously low.

“Scalpel.” I demand.

“What are you going to do?”

“We need to drain this fluid before his organs start to fail.”

The first and only time Jack taught me this procedure it was his save. Now it has to be mine.

I tell myself that one day we will be sitting in front of our engraved fireplace. Old. Like, actually old. Not the fake old that Jack tries to pretend he is. With kids and grandkids - telling them the story of how Jack saved his own life through the transitive property. So I better get to work.

“Scalpel. Now.”

Langdon slams the scalpel into my hand. I ignore the looks around the room. The looks that say ‘The only person qualified to perform something like this in an ED is the patient’.

“Your funeral. And his.” I ignore Langdon.

I must have cut the most perfect incisions of my life. Performed the most flawless procedure anyone has ever seen from me. I don’t remember any of it.

The loud beeping slows. His blood pressure rises. Then his blood oxygen. Then the bag I drained is full and being disposed of by Dana.

When did she get here?

Robby’s hand is on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.

When did he get here?

I hear him tell Whitaker to get a suture and close up the wound. Oh, the irony. Credit where credit is due - Whitaker has gotten much quicker under Jack’s patient teaching. Thank fucking goodness.

I think of the first real laugh I got out of Jack. My eyes start to tear up but I stop myself. I will hear that laugh again. Over and over and over again. So much so that I would get sick of it if that was even possible.

Robby is apologizing profusely into my ear. He has nothing to be sorry for. But I can’t manage any words. So I just let him move me out of Whittaker’s way but I do not leave Jack’s side.

I can’t seem to register anything beyond Jack’s face that I’m seemingly trying to force into consciousness with my stare alone.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

My head turns to Whitaker at his question but it swivels so fast back to Jack I think I give myself whiplash. Because I don’t speak - he does.

“Solid work, doctor.”

I’ve never been happier to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh my god.” My hand clamps over my mouth as my head dips to Jack’s chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

My adrenaline tank plummets to zero and I am absolutely sobbing into Jack’s chest. Whatever was coursing through my veins during that procedure is coming out in what feels like gallons of tears and hiccups.

I don’t care who’s in the room. I don’t care that everyone is slack jawed and staring and so beyond confused. I don’t care that out of the corner of my eye I see Perlah slapping a $100 into Princess’s palm.

All I care is that Jack’s hand has found its way into my hair and when I place my shaking hand on top of it to make sure it’s real - it is. Even better - it’s warm and dexterous and alive.

He’s alive and he’s here.

He gently guides my head out of his chest. I lift my chin up to look at him - give him the eye contact I know he is seeking. That we both are.

“Baby - I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is as steady as ever. His heart beat matching it. The beat that was so faint what seems like moments ago.

I let it calm me down. I place a kiss to his chest and lean up to do the same to his forehead. My hand tangles in his salt and pepper curls as I hold his sweaty forehead to my lips and then bring my own forehead down to meet his. I close me eyes and breath him in.

He’s alive and he’s here.

“Welcome back, brother.” Robby manages to choke out through a couple tears of his own.

“Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t getting lazy at the end of your shift.”

We all crack a smile but only Robby speaks, “Does this mean I have to work a double?”

“Not if you go park my car. It’s in the ambulance bay.”

I speak a full sentence for what feels like the first time in days, “You drove here?”

“We had a date. Plus, I wasn’t feeling quite right.” Jack nods down towards his amputated leg like it’s nothing but a minor inconvenience.

I dig into his pocket and toss Robby his keys. Robby calls for a CT and a room with a bed before ushering himself and everyone else out to give us some privacy.

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’d like to make the woman who just saved my life my wife.”

My hand immediately flies to the small cut on his forehead. The blood dry and crusty, “How hard did you hit your head? We’re already engaged.”

Jack chuckles, places his hand on mine and squeezes, “I barely hit my head when I fell out of the car. I’m fine - I just really don't want to live another moment without being able to call myself your husband.”

So we don’t. Not really anyways. I make Jack get every fucking scan in the book that I think we hit our insurance deductible in under an hour. He humors me by lying in the bed in one of the ER rooms as I pump a myriad of fluid and antibiotics into him.

After a few hours his blood oxygen is perfect. So is his blood pressure and his heart rate. I don’t think I’ve taken my eyes off of him once. Or my hands. Running my hands through his hair, caressing his forehead, squeezing his forearm. Just to reassure myself he is here.

He understands what I’m doing. Hears what I cannot say. He grabs my hand on its next pass through his hair and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before speaking, “Baby, I’m sorry I scared you. I scared myself honestly. But I promise, I am not going anywhere. Ever. And I am so sorry you had to go through that. You should have never had to operate on me. I don’t know how you did that. I mean if it was flipped. If I saw you come in like that-“

His voice falters, his bottom lip quivers and he pulls me into the tightest hug as we both begin to cry. I think if we could crawl into eachothers skin, we would.

We stay there like that for a while. Until Jack grabs my face, kisses every single part of it, then whispers “I love you so much but I think if you pump anymore fluid into me you’re going to water board me.”

As if on cue, Robby whips the curtain open, “To the roof we go!”

“You can’t be serious.”

Robby holds up some kind of certificate as Collins and Dana round the corner.

In the hours I spent nursing Jack back to health, I went to the bathroom one time. And only because I hadn’t gone the last four hours of my shift and I own a huge water bottle.

In that one bathroom break, Jack had managed to get Robby ordained online and enlisted Dana and Collins to ‘decorate’ the roof.

We’re still gonna have our wedding ceremony and the reception and the whole ordeal. But I agree with him - I can’t go another second not married to him. Not after today.

So we go up to the roof. Jack still in his hospital gown and me in my scrubs. Robby officiates, Dana sings because she can’t help herself, and Collins ‘witnesses’ which really means crying.

Jack is kissing me before Robby can even say, “You may kiss your bride.”

When we come up for air, Robby claps both of us on the back and says, “Solid work, you two.”

I just kiss my husband again. Because he is alive and he is here