#and i like none of them. SAD! many such cases

[gideonthefirst]

you don’t like chappells album but think brat is amazing ???? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

yeah for sure man "amazing"'s what i said

[booksandteaandtears]

That's your wife? sunshine version

Dr. Jack Abott x f!attending!wife!reader

summary: You started working as a pediatric surgeon at the PTMC about a year ago and people have not yet figured out that you and Jack are married because your personalities are very different

obviously a little inspired by dr. Doug Ross fighting with parents (does anyone else think dr. Robby is kinda like Mark Green?)

slightly angsty, but mostly fluff

mentions child abuse

reader gets hurt but not too badly

masterlist | thunder version

You'd always loved working with kids, working as a nanny during college and volunteering at different foster facilities. You had gone to med-school with the goal of becoming a pediatrician and after many years of internships and residency you had landed a job at UPMC Presbyterian. You'd had loved it there for years, but about a year and a half ago a position had opened at PTMC, with the chance to become Chief of pediatrics in a few years.

Initially you had wanted to turn it down. You had worked in the same hospital as Jack years ago as a resident, but had left when you kept being referred to as "Abbot's wife", instead of people seeing you as a doctor in your own right. Even though you'd kept your maiden name they seemed to link your medical abilities to your husband, and you hated it, so you'd always worked in a different hospital since then. You'd worked too hard on your career to be okay with being treated like that. Jack had been sad that you couldn't drive into work together anymore, but he respected your decision and fully supported your career.

Jack had convinced you to take the job at PTMC in the end, agreeing to keep your marriage secret except for a select few. None of the staff had questioned it so far and working at PTMC had been great. You loved the pediatrics team and the chances you had been given by performing new and exciting surgeries.

You especially loved being the on-call pedes surgeon every couple of shifts, consulting down in the Pitt. With PTMc being a level 1 trauna centre a lot of interesting cases were brought in every shift.

You knew everyone's name in the ER. They thought it was because you put in a lot of effort to get to know them, but you secretly knew because Jack would gossip about his staff with you. So not only did you know their names, but you knew that Javadi had a crush on Mateo, and Trinity had her eyes on Garcia. Sometimes you were the one delivering gossip to Jack, because you brought his nurses coffee and pastries which meant they told you everything.

Besides the treats, they liked you because you were always bright, happy and just incredibly good with children. You could calm down even the kids that McKay had trouble with. You had bright patches with dino's on your coat and had stickers for a ton of specific interests, ranging from cars to animals to TV-shows. You'd given Whitaker a sticker to soothe his feelings on more than one occasion and carried a special pack with some of Mel's favourites.

No one in the Pitt had even entertained the thought that you, with your bubbly personality and ever present smile, could be married to their very own anxious, demoralised and borderline suicidal attending.

You had spent that morning in surgery, fixing up a kid's lungs from a major pneumothorax after a consult in the Pitt. You'd been alerted that the child's father had arrived in the pedes' waiting room and that he had been asking for you.

You took a deep breath and turned the corner with Kiara right behind you. "Mr. Morgan?" You called out. A man raised his head at you and you nodded for him to follow you out of the waiting room.

"Your son's nursery brought him in this morning, he had a fever and was complaining of pain in his chest and back. We operated on a collapsed lung this morning. It was collapsed because of trauma, and it was so severe we could not treat it without surgery. We suspect someone kicked the boy in his ribs. I was called in for a consult by the doctors in the ER, and we found several old injuries during our assessment. Bruises and sprained ribs. Burns on his leg. It appears to us that the child has been hurt over a longer period of time."

You tried to control the anger in your voice. Your place was not to judge the man, but to help his son, but you were having trouble keeping yourself in line.

"This is Kiara, she is the social worker that is tied to the Emergency Department. She's been with your son since he was brought in. We want to have a conversation with you, and then child protection services and the police will be here to investigate further. There might be a reasonable explanation for all of this, but we are legally obligated to make a report and involve the police. Could you follow me into my office please?"

Mr. Morgan stood still in the hall. "You're saying you got the police involved?" His face grew red with anger. You raised an eyebrow, apparently the man was more worried about getting caught than trying to deny the accusation.

Kiara stepped in. "Yes, as the doctor explained, we have to report suspected cases of child abuse. I can talk with you about the next steps, so we can ensure this all goes smoothly for your son."

Mr. Morgan took a step towards you, his breath touching your cheek. He smelled of stale coffee. "You reported this to the police?" He asked again. You nodded, trying to step backwards to create distance. He grabbed your wrist to stop you. His voice grew louder. "I'll raise my boy however the hell I want to raise him. A nosy bitch like you has no say in it. Fucking whore of a doctor who thinks she's all that. Bet you've never raised kids of your own. Where is my son! I'm taking him home!" A bit of spit reached your face from the intensity of his outburst. Several people had poked their heads out of doors in the hallway, alarmed by the raised voice. You felt nervous by the way this was enfolding so you tried to deescalate the conversation once more. "Sir, the law in Pennsylvania states that I have to report you. If you've hurt your child, these are the consequences. There's nothing I can do about that. Your son is what we are worried about here, he's just had surgery because of his injuries. Let's try to talk and see what we ca-."

You felt the punch before you could have seen his fist flying at you. He was a big man and the force of it knocked you to the ground. Your hands flew up to your face, holding your nose. "Fuck." You groaned. You tried to inspect your nose, which, in hindsight, was a mistake, because you missed the foot that came flying into your ribs. A second kick landed soon after.

Kiara cried out next to you, calling for help. A group of nurses came flying in, grabbing mr. Morgan and pulling him off of you. You groaned and turned on your side, trying to breathe. Panic was taking over.

The chief attending came running up, assessing your nose and ribs with soft fingers. The touch grounded you and you tried to steady your breathing. You didn't say much, the pain in you body and the anger that was circling your mind keeping your throat closed.

"I need you to talk to me dear," she whispered. "Does this hurt?" You groaned. "Right, you need an x-ray so we can see what's going on. Let's get you down to the ER. Let's call 'em to let them know we're coming. Somebody get a gurney!"

You felt your heartbeat pick up as she mentioned the ER. Your fingers brushed her arm as she shouted orders. "No ER, please." You groaned at her. "I- I'm fine. Doesn't hurt that bad, I promise." You winced as you tried to put a smile on you face. "Try to convince someone else on that. I'm not keeping you out of the ER just so you can keep your husband in the dark." You groaned, again. "Don't call him. He'll worry. I'm fine." Your attending smiled at you. "Don't worry, I'll leave that to dr. Robinavitch. I would rather not be the one to tell you husband we let you get hurt while working."

Robby, Langdon and Whitaker were waiting in front of the elevator. They took over the gurney when the doors opened and rolled you into one of the rooms. Langdon tried very hard not to hurt you further and assessed your face carefully. You still winced when he brushed your left eye. "Sorry." He whispered at you. Robby was poking your ribs in the meantime. You turned you head towards him.

"Robby," You started, "You didn't call yet, did you?" He nodded and poked a particularly sore spot. "Let's asses first, I'll call him after." You whined at him. "Don't, Robby. He'll just be mad, I'll tell him when I get home." Robby looked at you sternly. "We'll talk about this later." You pouted at him and let Langdon inspect your face again. "Yes dad." You murmured. Langdon couldn't help a laugh escaping him.

Half an hour later you were working on convincing Robby not to call Jack. Your ribs were bruised and you had a massive black eye, but the CT's showed no breaks in you face or your ribs. It did hurt like hell though.

"I am a patient now, Robby, I do not give consent to cal my emergency contact and I am perfectly capable of making that decision right now." Robby nodded fiercely at you. "Yes, those are very pretty words, and very true, but the matter of the fact is that Jack will kill me when he finds out you are in his ER and I did not call him. My life's on the line here, not yours. It's bad enough that Gloria's coming down to investigate, I can not handle an angry Jack on top of that." You almost felt sorry for him.

"I just don't want him freaking out. I'll tell him when he comes in, then he can immediately see that I'm fine." Robby sighed at you. "That won't stop him from killing me and Dana." You grimaced back at him, pain pulsing through your bruises because of the movement. "He won't kill Dana, he'll hold you responsible."

Robby threw his hands in the air in surrender and was called away by an incoming trauma, leaving you alone.

You had planned to stay in the ER bed for another hour to make sure you had no concussion, but five minutes before you wanted to leave the curtain around your bed was ripped open.

"I was going to bring you a coffee upstairs and when I arrive one of the nurses tells me you've been knocked down by a parent and you're in the ER. And when I asked when it'd happened, they told me it was over two hours ago." Jack's face was angry. You opened your mouth to argue but where interrupted.

"So, let's see how you're doing" Langdon stepped in through the curtain and was shocked to see Jack standing there. "Dr. Abbot," Langdon called out, "What are you doing here so early? You shift doesn't start for an hour and a half. Is there a big trauma coming in?" Jack turned, still angry. "Where's Robby?" He demanded. "He's in curtain four, I think. He's been screaming to Gloria about hospital security for the past thirty minutes. But what are you doing here, do you need to discuss something with dr. Robby?" Jack grunted. "Bring him here." You winced at his tone. "Jack, come o-" Jack turned towards you. "Don't. Langdon go get Robby." Frank was confused. "He's in four with a patient. Why can't you just go to him? I've gotta check up on this patient." Jack turned fully towards him and Langdon could see the fury in Abbot's eyes. "Because my wife was brought into the ER this afternoon, and dr. Robinavitch did not contact me. That's why."

Langdon looked around the Pitt. "Your wife was brought in? When? I don't see an Abbot on the board? Where is she."

Jack pointed to you and you grew red.

Langdon opened his mouth but no sound came out. Whitaker kept looking from you to Jack.

"That is your wife?" Langdon gasped after a moment. "She's here all the time! How did you never tell us?" Jack shrugged and gently pushedsome hair out of your face. "Not like you ever asked." You leaned in to his touch. "You can hover around, but let Frank take a look at my face please." Jack's finger brushed your eyebrow. "I can do that. I don't want a resident working on my wife."

You took his fingers and pulled them down, kissing them softly. "Langdon can take care of it. Just sit tight and hold my hand. I'm fine Jack, I promise." You could see some of the worry leave your husband's face. "Sit down. We'll ask someone to cover your shift so you can take me home after. You can make me dinner and we'll hang out on the couch all evening, all right?" Jack resigned and took a seat next to you on the gurney, stroking your thigh with his free hand.

Langdon discharged you a couple minutes later and you managed to get Jack out of the Pitt without bumping into Robby. Jack was still mad that he had been blindsided, but he knew your injuries weren't bad. He'd promised you he'd be screaming at Robby tomorrow, but you were pretty sure you could get him to forgive his friend before then.

Tomorrow was going to be confronting enough, by then the entire hospital would know that the bubbly pediatrician and the grumpy ER physician were married.

Jack helped you into his car and leaned over you to fasten your seatbelt. "Jack," you told him when he was satisfied it was on tightly, "I'm not a kid, I can fasten my own seatbelt." Jack looked up into your eyes. "I know you're not. But you're my wife and I want to take care of you. You scared me darling. I was just going to take you a cup of coffee and I find you in my ER. That's something out of a nightmare. That elevator ride down was the longest of my life. I know you're going to be okay, but I was really terrified for a second there. So just bear with me while I treat you like you're made of glass, all right? It'll make me feel better about it." He walked around the car to get into the driver's seat.

You smiled at your husband. "So, did you abandon the cup of coffee in the pediatric ward or did you have the foresight that I would still want it." Jack fastened his own seatbelt and turned to you. "I did abandon your coffee. So I'm guessing our first stop on the way home is to get a new one?" You nodded at Jack. "You bet. Let's go, husband of mine!" He started the car and took another peek at you, glossing over your face to make sure you were all right. "I love you, my wife."

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself back up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

[letsbangts]

baby, please come home || jjk

⤷ summary: when he's the only thing you want for Christmas

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.2k+

⟶ genre: fluff, angst (just a sprinkle), married couple au, established relationship au, christmas themed

⟶ content: husband!jk, dad!jk, pregnant!oc, oc is a slightly emotional expecting mother (eight months along), and koo being a deticated expecting father

⟶ warnings: none just some fluff with a dash of angst to make it sentimental because it's the holidays

↬ a/n: this isn't what I thought I would write for this request and I wasn't going to do it so soon but I got inspired & I thought it would make cute drabble so to everyone who reads hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :) angel xoxo

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ christmas (baby please come home) mariah carey 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

The snow is coming down all around you as if encased in a snow globe. You watch it fall around you as it makes its way to add to the thick layer already accumulated on the ground beneath your feet. You walk through the Christmas market, looking at the stalls and decorations. Your eyes glance at the bodies around you: families, friends, lovers — surrounded by many people, except for the one you want beside you the most.

The church bells ring, blending with the happy sounds of the town’s excitement buzzing in your ears. You finally make your way to the heart of the town square; the carolers begin singing ‘Deck The Halls’ just as you arrive. The usual holiday cheer you would feel is absent, along with the person who brings that joy.

Your mind takes you back to this day last year and all the fun it held, all the memories made together. Sipping hot chocolate with his arm wrapped around you, the hand-holding with both your hands stuffed in his coat pocket, and your cold lips pressed against each other to warm them with sweet kisses.

As you gaze up at the enormous Christmas tree adorned with pretty lights like those shining all around the town, the loss of the new memories you should be making together this year creates a lump in your throat. He should be here with you, with both of you.

You pull out your phone and tap his contact; the phone rings for a few seconds before Jungkook’s face appears on the screen. A bright smile on his face that rivals all the lights around you. His face is so close to the camera that you can’t see anything behind him, but the snowflakes in his hair, paired with his red cheeks and nose from the cold, just like yours, show that he is also outside.

You can’t help but smile back at him, although it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. As much as seeing him brings you happiness, you can’t help but feel a touch of melancholy that his presence can only be through the phone.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hey, baby. I wanted to show you the tree this year; it keeps getting bigger, I swear.”  

You hold the phone out and lower it, trying to fit the whole tree behind you in the screen.

“Whoa, that thing is massive! I’d hate to be the person who had to wrap the lights on it; there must be at least ten thousand on it.”

You giggle at Jungkook’s remark as you raise the phone to speak to him.

“It’s so pretty here, Kook. I wish you could see it in person,” you say with a sad smile.

“I doubt it’s anywhere near as pretty as you, but I wish I were there too, darling. I tried everything I could to find a flight back in time, but as you can imagine, I wasn’t the only one trying to make it back home for the holidays.”

“I know, but it’s unfair for them to send you away for work so close to Christmas. Then, to extend it even more, it’s as if they were plotting to keep you away,” you pout.

“It is unfair, and trust me, I pleaded my case to the airline agents to please let me get home to my adorable pregnant wife for Christmas, but it didn’t seem to work on them. They’re all Grinches, I swear,” he tries to lighten the mood and continues, “Speaking of which, how are my two favourite girls doing? Let me see!”

You hold the phone out again to angle the camera to show your eight-month-pregnant belly. You sigh as you rub a hand over it.

“We’re good, just missing you. She hasn’t been kicking as much; I swear she knows that Daddy isn’t here.”

“I miss you both, too, but I’ll be back before you know it, and we can celebrate then.”

“But it’s Christmas Day; I need you here. It is our first one as a family, and we’re not whole without you. I wish there were a way for you to come home, baby,” your voice cracks as you look away from the screen, trying to hold back tears.

Jungkook catches a glimpse of your tear-filled eyes gleaming under the lights and sighs. The cold weather allows you to see his breath as it floats in the air.

“Hey, you know I would do anything to be there with both of you.”

You catch him glancing up over his phone before he continues.

“Now, don’t cry. You look too beautiful standing by the tree, surrounded by all the decorations like a Christmas angel, to feel sad. The old man selling cookies will be offended; he’ll think you don’t like their smell if he sees you,” he smiles to cheer you up.

You wipe your tears and sniffle as you softly laugh. You look around, trying to find said man, until you eventually spot his stall emitting the delicious aroma, selling gingerbread and sugar cookies.

You furrow your brows once everything processes in your head. You look back at Jungkook on the screen.

“Wait, h-how did you know that?”

“I’m quite aware of how beautiful my wife is,” he chuckles.

“No, I mean, how did you know there is a cookie stall in front of me, and an old man is running it? You can’t even see it. Did the camera flip, and I didn’t notice?”

A hand taps your shoulder, and you jolt at the sudden touch before turning around. Your eyes widen, and a gasp escapes your mouth as you come face to face with Jungkook. Your husband’s smiling face is no longer on the screen, but right before you, and your hand holding the phone falls to your side. He opens his arms wide for a hug as you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“But you just—when—how did you get here?” you stutter in shock.

Jungkook laughs, and when he sees you make no move to come into his embrace, he steps forward and pulls you into his arms. You snap out of your daze and immediately wrap your arms around him.

He kisses your forehead, “I told you I would do anything to be here with both of you,” he whispers in your hair.

“But there were no flights,” you mumble into his chest.

“Yeah, but there were still some bus tickets available. It might have been a much longer journey, but I had to be sure I was here,” Jungkook pulls back, holds your stomach with both hands and leans down and kisses it before looking up at you, “There was no way I would miss spending Christmas with my family.”

He returns to a stand, and you run your fingers through his hair before your hands settle at the nape of his neck. You gaze into each other’s eyes and lean in for a long-awaited kiss.

You break apart just enough to whisper over his lips, “I love you so much. Merry Christmas, Kook.”

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispers back, lips brushing over yours.

You lean back in for a passionate kiss but are interrupted by a kick to your belly. You both break apart with a gasp.

“Did she just?” Jungkook asks with a smile.

“It seems we’re both happy that you came home,” you laugh.

Jungkook joins your laughter as he takes your stomach back into his grasp and leans back down, giving it another peck before he whispers, “And I love you, too. Merry Christmas, my little angel.”

↬ a/n: there you go just a little drabble for you all to snack on before mutt pt2 ;)

[ghrgrsfdesfrfg]

First try for an OC on this universe, future Doomslayer reader, or should i say Crimeslayer reader ?

Not proofread, word counts: 3565

Taglist: @baldieboi, @fantasticarcadefan , @fallen-angel2470 , @feral-childs-word, @bbmgirll, @hai-there-how-are-you

Huge credits to @baldieboi for many of the ideas present in this story and some paragraph are completely thanks to them.

Masterlist , Part 2 , part 3

Request open, i do take some time to write however.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Gotham’s judge, jury and executioner, Part 1

Humble beginnings:

Bruce knew you weren’t human, not completely. He didn’t know much about your mother, it was just a brief adventure for him but one that resulted in you.

Your mother disappeared shortly after or that’s what Bruce told you as he never spoke much of her although you couldn’t tell if it was shame, sadness, anger or a genuine lack of information. You did follow in his footsteps to become a vigilante but looking back, if he knew what would come of it, he would’ve stopped you from becoming one.

He was happy at first, you were an idealist, you wanted to help people and trained with all your heart and your effort paid off as he brought you along on missions.

To his dismay you weren’t one for stealth, this often lead to you charging into danger but this had the benefit of giving him some time and space to do what he needed without worrying about some goon interrupting him. He had to recognize that your strong suit was fighting your opponents head on and that’s where he started suspecting you weren’t human since you took a lot of damage and didn’t seem too bothered.

you were strong, too strong for your age. You could run faster and longer than most people your age and barely be exhausted. Some test later and it was confirmed, your mother’s genes were different, almost alien.

This shifted his focus of training you to guiding you, what could happen if you lost control of your emotion ? Hit someone too hard ? Bruce had to make tough decisions and his first one was to monitor you when you were alone on patrol.

He installed a body-cam in your suit to see what you where doing and for a while nothing happened, then he started training you in defensive combat rather than offensive as well as controlling yourself.

‘he is dangerous’ Bruce told himself ‘guiding his potential is necessary’ it was sad but he knew it had to be done or at least he tried to rationalize it this way.

You were none the wiser, if Bruce trained you in controlling your emotions or how to measure your strength then surely he knew that it would be important later.

And you agreed when you broke some equipment during training, it was a complete accident and you didn’t mean it but the look in Bruce eye’s should’ve been a hint: he feared you.

But that would change, for better or worse, no one would know until the next few years.

The Family:

You watched and kept training as the family expanded, you weren’t jealous as Bruce focused on the other as they each took a place in the family. Far from it, you were excited at the idea of having siblings, another relief for Bruce as he didn’t have to worry about potential disagreements or rivalry.

it started with Dick Grayson. You two worked well, your aggressive style of fighting would compliment Dick’s acrobatic and skillful combat style. While you weren’t one for figures and flashy moves you still trained beside him to improve yourself, causing some hilarious moment as you were more bulky than him and you tried a pirouette which failed miserably (you never lived it down).

Then came Jason and arguably your best friend in the whole family, you two were alike. You both fought fiercely and it was like watching two lions on a battlefield, you two would often hang out and train together in various offensive martial art, your favorite remained anything involving boxing.

Tim and you had a rocky relationship, he was too involved in his cases, always sleeping late and ingesting copious (and frankly inhumane) amount of energy drinks and coffee. You tried to pull him out of it and get him to hang out but this lead to some argument where he told you that “some meat-head should back off from real, difficult detective work”.

You shrugged it off at first but deep down it hurt, yes you used your fist but you were smart, you made your own weapons and gadgets, you just didn’t spend hours looking at a screen for some clue which probably didn’t exist.

You didn’t feel like complaining to Bruce about it. All siblings will inevitably argue and fight but this wasn’t a one time thing, you had no chemistry with Tim, both in and out of the hero life. To him you were just a sidekick meant to delay the enemies while the brains worked out the problem, you couldn’t be more than that, it was impossible to Tim.

Then one of the most explosives argument between you two happened, Bruce and Dick had to intervene as you threatened to make him eat his words. You asked him if he wanted to hang out with you and Dick, a new arcade opened in town and you both wanted to check it out but he dismissed you saying “if my colleges friends saw me with you, they’d think I was helping the less fortunate, no insult but I have better friends to hang out with”.

This did it, what a jerk ! You offered him to hang out, to train, you showed interest in his hobbies and even tried to adapt to him but you were just a “dumb brute”, something he muttered when the two of you were on patrols. You blew up in the manor and told him to shove his cases where the sun don’t shine.

After that you didn’t interact with him much aside from some pleasantries , you did the effort of treating him normally during missions but you never missed the snarky tone in his voice when giving you directions or instructions. Something Bruce never bothered to fix, “the mission is done, it is what matters. We all work differently and you two managed to work together for a patrol without a fight” he simply told you.

Lastly came Damian and Bruce was most worried about the two of you. Damian never minced his words and thought himself superior due to being the only true “blood child” of Bruce, instead of reminding him you were technically the first you took it in stride and slowly brought down his walls.

You two trained together and you would ask him for advice, much to his shock as he’d argue that you were a great fighter already but you told him you wanted advice from an accomplished martial artist. You also never brought up his lineage, it wasn’t your business and you wanted to know Damian wayne, not Damian Al ghul and for this he was endlessly thankful.

Strangely enough you both didn’t hang out much in town and when you did it was awkward, he respected your martial prowess like you did his but finding another subject of conversation other than training or patrol was difficult.

Your only success was your shared love of animals, you also started reading some of your comics to him, making him laugh as you tried to re-create some of the poses in the book or exaggerated a voice to make it dramatic.

You wouldn’t meet Barbara until much later but unlike Tim who thought of you as a brain-dead brute she actually saw you for who you were, a complex individuals dealt a strange hand in life.

Loss of hope :

When you were younger you never questioned Bruce, he was right to become a vigilante, after all who was going to protect the innocent if the police couldn’t ? He was right to teach you how to control your emotion (despite being a slave to fear for his own past and the potential threat you were). He was right to teach you his views on justice and never bothering to truly answer your questions.

‘why are we just sending them to jail ? Why isn’t there a more permanent solution ? They just keep coming back”. He was right, or so you thought.

Years went by, you kept fighting and the criminals were all the same faces you brought to jail a thousand time over as they mocked you, “we’ll get out again you know ? And this time, you won’t stop me !” it was getting harder and harder to not kill them, finally being rid of the problem, but Bruce knew better, he always did. Until he didn’t.

You started questioning Gotham’s justice, it’s flaws like the rampant corruption or how Arkham felt like a hotel for criminals rather than an actual prison. Bruce knew this would come, he had the same question after all, he also wanted to get rid of criminals the hard way but he held strong for a reason.

‘If you kill a killer, the amount of killer remain the same’ he told you once but it was a flimsy answer at best but he couldn’t let you know that, deep down, he wanted to pull the trigger and finally, finally doing justice but he was too weak.

He hid behind his morals and people died for it.

Unacceptable, you started being more brutal during patrols, you didn’t kill yet but you could use fear. The fear of being beaten made a few back off but there was always a bigger fish, one unafraid of a punch or two, unafraid of a beating.

All of this wore you down and it showed, you didn’t smile anymore while suiting up, you were… resigned.

Just another night of beating up people and bringing them to jail only for them to get out shortly after. On and on it went and it wouldn’t be long until you finally had enough.

Death of innocence:

You didn’t believe it at first, Jason was dead ? It was impossible, a very bad joke but Bruce’s face told you everything you needed to know: it was true.

It was true and you failed, you failed to protect the civilians, you failed to protect Jason. You failed in every way possible, as a hero and brother.

You blew up that day, like you never did before and you demanded Joker’s head. Out of everything he did, it was this crime that went too far.

You thought Bruce would agree but he betrayed you, he refused again. Joker would simply be arrested and put in jail, again. You argued with him, hell even Dick and Tim were on your side, it was unfair that Joker of all people got to live and you hammered the point home: Jason needed to be avenged, he fought and bled for Gotham like all of you did.

It wounded Bruce but he would never admit it, he wanted to kill Joker, to subject him to every manner of torture and finally kill him but he was too weak once again. Deep down you were right and it was killing him but he refused again and again.

“You are a disappointment” you told him, a few days later in the batcave. Tim nearly choked on his coffee while Dick couldn’t believe his ears. “You’d let everything he did be for nothing ? Just to let some insane clown walk away Scott-free ?”

Bruce didn’t even look up from the document he was reading, he couldn’t look you in the eyes. “This is not how we do thin-”

“THEN HOW !?” you screamed and your voice shook him. you never yelled, not like this. “Do we keep doing this ? Losing Dick, Tim, Damian, me ?” you kept pressing, “how many death will it takes before you finally learn that they won’t change !”

Bruce exploded in turn “We do not kill ! We cannot cross that line ! I understand your position and… I would give my life to bring back his but it is done. You are mourning and I can understand but killing is not an option, it never is and never will be.”

“You don’t kill because your antiquated morals and fragile mind do not allow you to, you are a coward hiding behind justice, using it as an excuse to hide your pathetic failures !” Dick and Tim listened in shock, what could they do when two titans were arguing ?

“Reader, if we kill, we become them. This is what they want, don’t you see ?! One kill, only one and you are never the same.” Bruce shot back “disappointment I may be, but I will never betray my code. This is the end of the discussion.”

You slammed your fist against the table and it cracked, Bruce looked silently and in shock, he didn’t dare move.

“You betrayed this family, your parents would be so disappointed in you. They may not approve of killing but they would’ve done everything in their power to avenge their son but it seem you also failed them !”

“what…” Bruce started, anger finally rising to the surface “did you say, son ?”

You leaned forward on the table as if to get the words across “I said you failed them like you failed us, Martha and Thomas Wayne would be looking down on you if they were here today, peace to their souls”

Bruce felt a tear run down his eyes, every word, every accusation rang true no matter how much he wanted to deny. He turned to you with red eyes, almost crying “I know…” he whispered “they would be and I am sorry that it had come to this”

You felt guilty for half a second, but Bruce was trying to deflect the subject and his anger rose once again but it was cold this time. “This doesn’t give you the right to choose who dies and who lives. If you go down this path, I will take action.”

“You won’t” you started “Because I have the resolve to do it and I am leaving, this was your chance to make everything right, to make Jason’s death relevant but I guess he died to be another failure on your colossal monument of guilt.”

“son, I-” You interrupted him

“you may be my father but I no longer see you as such, your refusal to act show me what you think of us and our lives: we are worthless. You can and will make another Robin but this will not erase your shame nor your failures” you bitterly spat

You left your weapon on the table, a pair of reinforced gloves with the bat symbol on them, you weren’t a Robin anymore nor were you a Wayne.

You turned to the still stunned Dick and Tim, it was a good thing that Damian didn’t see this. “Your talents are wasted working for him, he’s only limiting you. Go find someone that will actually see your worth, don’t make the same mistake as me.” Your voice was cold but unforgiving, like a tundra.

“Wait reader !” Dick called out “what will you do ? You can’t leave like this !”

“I don’t know but I need some time alone and away from everyone” with that you turned away and left the batcave and the manor.

To where ? You didn’t know, you just walked until you reached a park and sat on an isolated bench then the tears came one after the other and finally the dam broke: you cried, let it all out and cried more.

Jason was your brother and best friend, someone you could vent and laugh with, someone who understood hardship, you looked up to him. And now, he was gone.

You stayed for a while, you couldn’t stand to see Bruce for now, maybe Alfred or Dick but everything reminded you of Jason, a random store he mentioned once or a drink he liked.

With a roar you punched the bench and it left a dent, you didn’t care. With some effort you left and walked back to the manor. To your surprise Alfred stood at the entrance.

“You told him what he needed to hear, Master Reader. Not what he wanted to hear, it is a shame for master Jason but I offer you my most sincere condolences.” He told you with a grim resolve but you knew him, he was sad.

You put your hand on his shoulder “it’s a sad day for everyone Alfred, you should take a moment to grieve. You are not a butler today but a grandfather in mourning."

Alfred nodded and you saw some recognition in his eyes “You read people well, Master Reader. No matter your path in life, I will stand by your side even if it displeases Master Bruce.”

You frowned at the mention of Bruce but you thanked Alfred for his words “I wouldn’t want to force you to choose between me and Bruce, besides I’ll be gone tomorrow morning. I need to leave Gotham and… clear my head of everything”

He sighed “You leave us too Master Reader, I can only wish you good luck on your endeavors, do you need my help in any way ?”

“No thank you alfred, you need some time for yourself as well.” with that you left him and went to your room, you kept your head low when coming across Jason’s room. To think he was here not so long ago, you still couldn’t believe it but you had to, you had to move on for his sake.

Voluntary exile :

You didn’t sleep much during that night, you spent most of it packing your stuff and planning your voyage. You would leave the US but you still needed to plan accordingly.

You would come back to gotham and you would be the hero it needs, the hero the people needed to avenge the dead. And for this to happen you needed to train harder and explore new possibilities, mostly guns, the one universal fear across criminals.

When you were ready you left in the early morning to not be seen by any of your siblings but it failed as Bruce stood at the door, he looked like a ghost.

“Reader… I cannot apologize for my actions, my refusal to punish the joker despite wanting to ! I… I want to do it but you are right, I cannot bring Jason back but we can still ensure his death was worth i-.”

You didn’t let him finish, you shoved him against a wall and kept a strong grip on his mouth, preventing him from speaking. He was afraid and it showed, he looked at you with such fear in that moment.

“DO NOT SAY HIS NAME ! HE WAS THE BROTHER I NEVER HAD ! AND NOW HE’S GONE BECAUSE OF YOU ! BECAUSE KILLING ONE MAN AND ONLY ONE MAN WASN’T POSSIBLE.” You screamed at him, not caring if anyone heard, hell you almost wanted them to hear.

You kept the verbal barrage incoming but you managed to calm yourself “Jason was double the man you are and I’m ashamed of failing him, of leaving him to die.” Your voice was a death knell to Bruce as each word carried truth to them, a truth he couldn’t bear.

You threw him on the ground and opened the door, a taxi waiting for you. You turned to grab your luggage when you saw Bruce get up and clutching a family picture with everyone in it.

You turned toward the door again and coldly told him “Do not consider me a Wayne anymore, you lost another son. Your crusade against crime did more harm than good”

The ride to the airport was a difficult one as the taxi drove past stores that Jason liked, restaurant and bars he visited.

‘you’re paying this time right ?’ you rolled your eyes at this memory, he cheated during a game and refused to admit it so now you had to pay a drink, if only you could do it again.

‘I told you this color didn’t fit you but here, try this one instead’ a tear rolled down your cheek at this one, he always had better taste than you in clothing and it showed. This was a day where he took you for some ‘re-branding’ as he called it. You missed his snarky comments when something obviously didn’t fit you or the color was ugly.

‘quite the patrol tonight ! Beer’s on me when getting home, don’t tell Alfred though.’ You quietly sobbed when remembering this night, it was a long one and every villains were out to get Batman. You two worked hard together and locked up many criminals and even Penguin himself. You knew beers won’t have the same taste ever again.

Then you heard it, almost like a ghost “it’s not your fault, reader. It never was and never will be.”

You saw Jason in an alleyway and he was smiling at you “mourn me but keep going like you always do and please, shake up gotham for me okay ?”

“yes Jason” you muttered “I will, and Bruce will realize his mistakes” you fell asleep soon after.

You reached the airport and boarded the plane. You looked toward the horizon and once again looked back at Gotham, the city that once felt home but now it felt only like painful memories choking you — you turned away from the window. But you could have swore, for a moment you saw Jason waving at you.

[sacredsorceress]

Cass 🤍

I'm so glad your requests are open!!!! So I was thinking for a request, could be head canons or not. What would it be like for Bob shy and awkward guy vs reader who's very extroverted and open. I think there could be a fun dynamic there.

🥹🤍

☆.°*Bob Dating an Extrovert HCs*°.☆

pairing: bob reynolds x extrovert!reader a/n: OO YAY!! as an extroverted person with an introverted bf this is so my cup of tea. i’ll do headcanons now but I def want to explore this in a full fic soon <3 word count: 1k warnings: none I think? fluff!!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・bob masterlist・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bob felt some days that there must have been some magnetic pull or magic spell that you had on people that just made them gravitate towards you in a ways no one ever did towards him.

On many an outing, Bob had stood awkwardly at your side as you gave an old man directions, laughed along to a joke that some lady at the crosswalk said, or cheerfully shared where you got your outfit from after a compliment from a stranger.

And he wasn't confused, per say. Bob understood why people gravitated towards you- you had friendly demeanor, kind eyes and an infectious smile that you passed on freely to everyone you saw. People had to try not to like you.

What he couldn't understand is how you so confidently engaged with so many people. If he had been in your shoes, he would have fumbled over his sentences and somehow manage to disgruntle the other party. As kind as Bob was, as you assured him many a time, he just didn't draw people the way you did.

Really, it was just another thing that he loved about you: that your view of the world, experiences, and people were so different from his.

That being said, if you had a lot of friends he would be so nervous to meet them.

Bob would almost try to get out of it- rehearsing his faux illness to save him the embarrassment of making a fool out of himself in front of the people who mattered most to you-

but in the end, he would go. Bob may have been scared, but you were his girlfriend. His fear of disappointing you and seeing the sad "oh... okay" on your face as he lied to you was greater than his fear of a night out.

When he did meet them, you'd have to hold his hand to ground him.

But obviously, even with his meekness, it went swimmingly, with your friends even commending him on being able to balance you out.

Opposites attract after all.

Some things won't change for Bob. As I've mentioned before, Bob has an addictive personality and would stay far away from a night out drinking. Although being with you had brought him out of his shell more, there were simply some things that he wouldn't do.

If you had a night out without him, Bob would be waiting up for you in bed reading. The second you walked through the door, he'd mark his place in the book, look up at you, and wait for you to repeat the whole night for him verbatim.

"And then- oh my god, Bob, you wouldn't believe it-"

And he would listen just enough to be able to answer any questions you might quiz him on, but mostly he'd just be admiring how pretty you look talking about your friends in the warm glow of the lamplight.

Though he may be sober now, Bob is no stranger being drunk or having a hangover. If you walked in the door stumbling after a night out, he'd guide you into the bathroom, tie back your hair and get you ready for bed: with medication and water waiting on the nightstand for the morning.

If you were in the habit of having friends stay over, Bob would make up the pull out couch, no questions asked, stock the fridge and leave snacks out for your guests.

"Bob, I love you." Your friend would groan flopping onto the freshly washed sheets. "Can you marry her already?"

And it was moments like that where his cheeks burned bright red and he excused himself to the other room to avoid stumbling over his words and embarrassing himself further.

Whether you intended to or not, you would often share stories with others from your relationship with Bob. In your case, they often slipped out when telling an unrelated story that you had gone off track on, or you simply didn't think it was anything worth keeping secret.

You were an open book and your love for Bob was nothing to be ashamed about.

Bob wouldn't even know until he'd be walking into the kitchen of the Avengers Tower one day and everyone would just look at him.

"Bob, why did you not tell us that you keep picture of team in your wallet?" Alexei asked.

"Forget that," John interrupted, mouth full of cereal. "Why do you hide it behind your condoms?"

And if it were not for the Sentry serum pumping through his veins, Bob was sure he would've died of mortification on the spot.

But Bob couldn't even find it in himself to be upset with you because you not being able to stop yourself from talking about him just made his heart swell.

So many people loved you in this life, and you still chose to love him. He really wasn't sure he would ever understand it, but he would try his best to prove you right.

You would have to go with him to his doctors appointments if something was wrong because Bob would be too embarrassed to discuss his body with another person like that.

If the Void ever did make an appearance, he would hate you. He thrives off of Bob's loneliness, but being with you made that impossible. You effortlessly merged him into your daily life and relationships, making enough time for Bob to be alone with his thoughts long enough to spiral, extremely rare.

Your friends would become his friends and vice versa.

On the rare occasion your social battery died or someone had hurt your feelings, rendering you silent, it was as if Bob's backup system had booted up. He'd glance at you worriedly, reaching for your hand and take over the remainder of the conversation: either insisting to your friends that it was time to head home or defending your honor against some asshole.

Even if he stumbled over his words doing it, watching him take care of you like that did make you swoon.

I feel like I could go on about this all day, but Bob would be perfect with an extroverted partner. Opposites attract and your conflicting personalities would bring balance to one another- you getting Bob more out of his shell and confident in his own skin, while he kept you grounded, safe, and loved in the privacy of your own little bubble.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

[darkbluekies]

Dr kry x nurse reader

Like imagine nurse reader was college student wanted to be a nurse to learn some medicine or help people sick and taking care old people

Sea sick

Doctor!yandere OC x nurse!reader

Summary: being the only one to be granted as Dr Kry’s apprentice on board a hospital ship ends in tragedy

Warning: yandere, sinking ships (fictional ship and incident), poisoning, indirect killing, mentions of dead bodies and autopsies, blood, sharp objects

Word count: 8k

A/N: a lot of people hav wanted a story where darling is a nurse and I have tried writing it so many times over a year, but haven't been able yo. So I tried changing location and it seemed to work, so it is not exactly what was asked, but I hope that it is enjoyable anyway!

He stands on the promenade deck, watching out over the harbor, breathing in the fresh air. People carried on stretchers catch his eyes. 

He used to get sea sick during his first weeks out at sea. There was something about how the ship rocked back and forth during the stormy days that made his stomach turn inside out and want to eject the food he had eaten. But now that he's been here for three months, it's barely noticeable. He hasn't thrown up for three weeks. A new record. 

He has grown to like the rocking motion of the sea, but doesn’t care much for the people he shares the ship with. The female nurses try to invite him into their cabins, the male nurses fight over who will be his apprentice and the doctors either watch him with jealousy or ignore him. It’s only for a few more months, until he has saved up enough money. Until everything is over. 

They’ve just picked up a town hall full amount of wounded soldiers and new nurses. Doctor Kry has heard that his new trainee will be among them. He scans the crowd of people walking towards the gangway, trying to guess which one will be his to deal with. He hopes that they are obedient — he has no interest in scolding them — and that they aren’t stupid. 

“Watching the fresh blood?” a voice asks. 

He turns to the side to see one of the other doctors coming out to look at the new herd. Doctor Hart is an asshole, always in everyone’s business. One could almost think that he was getting paid for it. 

“You could say that”, Doctor Kry replies shortly. 

“How many dead, do you think?”

Doctor Kry let his eyes wander over the crowd below. 

“Fifty, maybe”, he says. 

It’s a cruel game, he knows that, to guess how many won’t survive the trip to the mainland. But he doesn’t know how to converse with the other doctors unless he joins in on their sad games. 

Sometimes, he plays with the nurses out on deck. There’s all sorts of games tucked away in boxes, ready to be taken out whenever.

“I heard that your trainee will be among those”, Doctor Hart says and nods down at the group of waiting people. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“I don’t know”, Doctor Kry replies shortly and stops leaning on the railing. “I should go find out.”

He doesn’t wait to hear the reply. He’s not sure where to go for his trainee to find him, but he decides to go to his cabin — if not to be at a static place, then to get away from everyone. Him getting a trainee must be the only hot topic they have. 

He navigates the white naked steel corridors to get to his cabin. It’s hard to believe that this naked ship should be covered with polished oak panels, golden details and expensive paintings. None of that can be afforded to be lost, in case the ship is sunk. 

They have lifeboat drills every morning to make sure that everyone on board knows what to do. Since they rotate staff often, those drills need to be done. They’re boring, but handy. 

The ship is nothing more than an empty shell of what she’s supposed to be, stripped of anything that gives her personality. All that’s left is bare necessities, nothing for pleasure.

He opens his door and walks in. The room is small and only contains a bed and a desk, the walls bare steel. It has a rectangular window overlooking the forecastle and he can’t help but think that he has gotten one of the best cabins on the ship. He knows that doctors, officers — both military and ship — and a handful of passengers, get better cabins than  the wounded or nurses. 

Doctor Kry sits down by the table and opens his notebook to write. He has time to finish two pages before there is a knock on the door. It’s a drastic knock, as if the person on the other side of the door is either nervous or eagerly excited. He stands up, not knowing what to expect as he opens the door. Outside stands a young thing, with their hands clasped in front of them. You take him by surprise. You’re not what he expected — but then again, what had he been expecting?

“Are you Doctor Kry?” you ask. 

“Yes, I am”, he replies. 

“I’m told that I am your apprentice.”

He lets his eyes wander over you. You seem so … small? You’re younger than he had thought, and there’s something naive about you. He can’t help but wonder what events has led you to end up here. 

He realizes that he can’t have you standing out in the corridor forever and steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You walk past him into the small room and look around. 

“You have a better cabin than I do”, you say with a small — nervous — laugh, as if to bring some kind of humanity into the conversation. It’s as if you want to skip right past the awkward small talk. You grimace. “I have to share a cabin with five others. We only have a small porthole.”

Doctor Kry closes the door. 

“What’s your name?” he asks. 

“Oh, sorry”, you reply quickly, eyes widening with realization. “Y/N.”

Doctor Kry can’t help but tug at the corner of his lips. 

“Are you always this light-headed, Y/N?” he asks.

You look down in embarrassment. 

“No, doctor”, you say. “I am just nervous. I haven’t done anything like this before. Sorry, doctor.”

“Sit down.”

You look around for somewhere to sit and end up on his neatly fixed bed. Doctor Kry sits down on his chair by his desk. You fiddle with your hands in your lap as your eyes follow him. 

“You’re going to be my trainee, which means that you have to listen to me at all times”, Doctor Kry says. “The medical field is a profession that requires precision. One faulty move and someone could die. Is that clear?”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I’m responsible for you, so I don’t want you doing anything stupid, do you get that? No breaking rules, no stupid behavior.”

“Yes, doctor.”

He stretches his neck. 

“This doesn’t have to do with you but I will tell you this anyway, in case it should occur”, he says stiffly. “If any of the other nurses give you any trouble, you’ll come tell me right away, understood?”

“Yes doctor”, you reply. 

“Good. In that case, let's get started. A lot of people have boarded the ship today, and we need to check up on them. You might have thought that you’d get a day to settle in, but that’s not how we do things here. On board, things can happen at any hour of the day and you need to be prepared.”

You nod. 

“Good”, he says, pleased. “Let’s go then, we have work to do.”

When he stands, so do you. He walks towards the door and so do you. You follow him through the corridors like a puppy, in silence. You don’t say anything. Maybe this will work for him after all?

You come out to the main staircase, a pathetic excuse of what it should be, and walk up a flight of stairs. What should be the lounge is now an operating theater and bedroom to wounded soldiers. He can hear you draw a breath as you walk in. The smell must hit you, he guesses, the smell of pain and blood. 

You follow him around the open room as he talks to different men and women who have all kinds of painful injuries and sickness symptoms. You’re quiet behind him. When he’s done with his round, he takes you out onto the promenade to get you some fresh air. You hold onto the wooden railing. 

“That can be unpleasant”, he says, leaning onto the railing beside you with his elbows. “Especially if it is one's first time. You’ll get used to it.”

“I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to expect”, you reply. “I knew that it would be … bad … I just didn’t know what type. Tomorrow will be better. Now I know what to expect.”

You give him a small smile. Don’t give up on me yet, I will prove myself to you. You are weirdly cute. 

“Why are you here if you lack so much experience?” he asks.

“Good question”, you sigh. “Money problems, I suppose. My family has it rough.”

“How long will you be here?”

“A few months, until I've saved enough money.”

Doctor Kry nods. “Same here.”

“Is life on board tiresome?” you wonder. “What do you do out on sea?”

“Some play deck games, some write, draw or read”, Doctor Kry says. “Some spend time with the wounded. Everyone comes up with different activities.”

“I would like to explore the ship, see what the home I will have for the coming months contains.”

“If you want I can give you a tour.”

“Really? Thank you, I would love that.”

You follow the doctor inside again. He decides to start from the bottom of the beast and show you up to the very top.

The orlop deck is the one right above the boilers. The two of you shouldn't wander further below, in case of danger. The orlop deck contains a mailroom and the cargo hold. It's chilly inside the ominous cargo room. Wooden boxes stand in groups.

“These contain everything from weapons to medical equipment to food and alcohol”, Doctor Kry says and taps the top of a wooden box. “Some people — of the military staff, I've been told — sneak down here to steal some of it. I wouldn't advise you to explore down here. The ones you'll meet will most likely be drunk beyond measure and not trustable.”

“I understand”, you say.

“That being said, let's go upstairs.”

G-deck is filled with bunk beds, rows and rows of them. Walls that used to separate cabins have been demolished and left are the marks on the floors where they should stand. People are in bed, either sleeping or chatting with each other. They’re wearing bandage.

F-deck was the same as G-deck, filled with bunk beds and cabins. 

E-deck has a pool with crystal clear water. It’s a simple pool, only there for exercise. It used to have much more detailing, a children’s part of the pool and some children’s floating toys. 

“It would be nice to swim here”, you say. “After long hours of standing.”

“I think it is nice”, Doctor Kry says. “I haven’t used the pool yet. I think it’s seawater but, like I said, I haven’t tried the pool yet.”

Before he has time to think, you’ve crouched down, sunk your cupped hand into the water and taken a lick. Doctor Kry gasps and twitches forward.

“What are you doing?” he questions. 

“It is seawater”, you say. 

He grabs your wrist, pulls you up on your feet and shakes your hands free of the water.

“That is disgusting, do not do that again”, he says sternly.

You laugh slightly, meeting his eyes. Doctor Kry shakes his head, but has to restrain himself to not smile. 

“Get out”, he says, nodding at the door. 

You walk before him. Your youthful behavior is going to wear him down. 

D-deck has more dim corridors than the others you’ve explored. Doctor Kry stops in front of a steel door with his hand resting on the handle. 

“This room is the morgue”, he says slowly. “I don’t expect you to like this room, but I do expect you to treat it with respect. Don’t do anything ‘fun’ here, like you did in the pool. Understood?”

You nod. Doctor Kry opens the door. A chilly wind blows through you. You hug yourself. The room is colder than the winds up on deck and you look at Doctor Kry to see if he’s also feeling the cold. Along the walls of the room are numbered hatches. You don’t need him to explain what is inside them. Doctor Kry opens a door to the right, showing a small room with an operating table on it. 

“Have you ever performed an autopsy?” you ask. 

“Many times”, he responds and closes the door. 

“Do they get … easier every time?”

“Easier? I wouldn’t say easier, but you learn to shut off your brain. You’ll learn that too while working here.”

He walks you out of the morgue. D-deck also contains even more wards. 

C-deck has the first class dining saloon, now nothing more than a school cafeteria. The tables are simple, the chairs looking uncomfortable. A few men sit by a table eating. Doctor Kry is quick to get you out. 

B-deck has more cabins and open wards, along with an enclosed promenade deck filled with beds, where patients can rest in fresh air. There’s nothing left of the verandah cafe, the suites have been emptied and the hairdresser doesn’t have the equipment that it once had. 

A-deck is the only deck on the ship left with some of her old personality. The lounge has some armchairs and couches and the smoking room still has the painted glass windows. You look at the painted mermaid on the window. 

“It’s beautiful”, you say. 

“It is”, Doctor Kry says. “I think it has something to do with Greek mythology, but I haven’t asked.”

The enclosed promenade deck the two of you had been on is on the same deck. Boat deck, on the other hand, has nothing enclosed. Nothing to shield anyone from wind or rain. Rows upon rows of lifeboats stand in their davits, collapsible ones are positioned on the roofs for easy access. 

“Okay, I think you’ve seen it all”, Doctor Kry says and sighs. “Not much, as you can see. Majority of it have been removed in case anything would happen to the ship.”

“Is there a risk of something happening?”

“The ship is painted white with a green line and big, red crosses. People know better than to sink a hospital ship.”

“But at night you can’t see what color the ship is painted.”

“I assure you that has been thought of. I will show you. Meet me at my cabin at sunset.”

“Okay.”

You knock at his door as the sun is resting on the horizon. Doctor Kry stands up from his chair a bit too quickly.

“Good evening”, you say. “I’m here.”

“So you are”, he replies and grabs his beige coat. “Let’s go, we can get dinner afterwards.”

You follow him out to the main staircase and up to the boat deck. The red shade above you is fading into dark blue skies. Wherever you look, nothing breaks it. You follow Doctor Kry to the stern where you have a good view of the ship. A strand of green light lights up the side of the ship, big spotlights turned to the red crosses. The green light gives your face a magical shade, one which makes the doctor stare at you when you’re not looking. 

“You can sleep soundly”, he says. “As you can see, there are lights showing other ships what we are. Now, how about some food?”

“Yes, please.”

The two of you walk back inside and make your way down to the dining hall. You don’t say anything, but the way your hand travels the railing down the main staircase makes him smile. 

You get a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. Doctor Kry leads you to a table full of doctors where he always sits. Not because he likes their company, but because he doesn’t want to sit with the immature nurses. 

“So this is your apprentice?” Doctor Hart says, eyeing you. 

“Yes”, Doctor Kry replies. 

You sit down beside him. 

“I’m Y/N”, you say, remembering how you had forgotten to introduce yourself to Kry earlier. “

“You are a voluntary nurse, right?” a doctor asks. 

“Yes.”

“What training do you have?”

“The absolute minimum, sir. I didn't have time to learn more before being sent here.”

“That’s why they’re my apprentice”, Doctor Kry says before anyone else has time to say something that could invalidate your lack of knowledge. “I’m supposed to train them.”

“You have gotten an unfortunate fit, Y/N”, Doctor Hart says jokingly. “Kry is a good doctor, but probably the most boring man I have ever come across.”

You frown, looking between him and your mentor. 

“I wouldn’t say that”, you say slowly. 

Doctor Kry looks at you with a small smile before taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“If you ever get tired of this boring man, I could always use a trainee”, Doctor Hart says with a small smirk. 

The other doctors laugh. You give them a small, uncomfortable smile.

“Let them be”, Doctor Kry says warningly. “You don't have to be an ass to the newcomers.”

He turns away from them, looking at you. 

“Don’t listen to them”, he whispers.

“Okay”, you reply quietly and give him a thankful smile.

He spends the rest of the dinner conversing with you, completely ignoring the other doctors. He asks you about your family life, the members in it, what your favorite memory is. For the first time in months, he's had a purposeful conversation, one he won't forget the second he leaves the dining hall. You've only been here less than a day and yet you've managed to put color in this white steel beast.

“I shouldn't keep you”, he says suddenly. “I suppose that you're tired. You should rest. I will see you tomorrow morning. Will you find your way to your cabin?”

“I think so”, you smile. “Thank you.”

“Be at my door at seven tomorrow morning.”

You nod. Doctor Kry gives you a small nod before walking away. His heart pounds in his chest, already looking forward to tomorrow morning.

Days go by. You spend every waking hour with your mentor, following him like a dog. You don't get why everyone else calls him strict, why some pity you for having him. And some pity themselves for not being picked. It's a weird feeling, you find, that everyone has a divided opinion of you and you have no idea who thinks what. All eyes on you, and none seem to be in your favor.

Doctor Kry is awoken by knocking on his door. Still in his drowsy state can he recognize the pattern. You have a unique sense of knocking. The darkness still covers the sky.

You're standing outside, wet to the bone, wearing your pajamas and a guilty look in your eyes.

“You told me to tell you right away”, you say quickly. “I'm not sure if you meant that literally but … I have nowhere else to go.”

Your voice dies out. Doctor Kry frowns, looking at your wet form up and down.

“What happened?” he asks suspiciously.

“They locked me out.”

“What are you talking about? Who locked you out?”

“The other nurses.”

What?

“Why are you wet?”

“They threw water on me and threw me out of the room. I-I guess that it was a joke but … I didn’t really … find it funny …”

He can tell that you're shivering, although you're trying your best not to show it. It makes him unexplainably furious.  

“Come inside”, he says and steps aside.

He's quick to grab his towel from his trunk and wrap it around you. You sit down on his chair.

“Did they say anything to you?” he asks. 

“Not from what I heard”, you reply quietly, shaking slightly. “Everything went on so quickly. I barely had time to wake up before I found myself in the corridor.”

“They threw you?” Doctor Kry asks, trying to understand. 

“Grabbed me by my arms and threw me out.”

“You must have hit the opposite wall in the corridor.”

“It’s fine.”

He feels his heart tug. His poor little apprentice, getting thrown around like trash. He knew that the nurses were assholes, but he is appalled that none of them even tried to befriend you. He knows that it’s because of him. In some way shape or form, it always leads back to him. It’s his responsibility to take care of you now. And, like hell, he’ll do it.

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes to start with”, he says and removes the towel from around your body. “You’ll get sick if you keep them on any longer.”

He helps you remove them and dress you in his spare pajamas, offering you his bed. 

“Don’t go back to that room”, he says. 

“Why?”

“I feel like I am responsible for you and that’s why I can’t let you back there.”

“What do I do then?”

It’s such a simple question, but it makes him feel even more determined to take care of you. You’re asking him how to proceed. You trust him enough to let him decide what should happen to you. It’s enough to make him hear his heart in his ears. 

“You’ll stay here for the night, and I will decide what to do with you in the morning”, he says and removes the cover of the bed. “Why don’t you go to bed while I get you a hot cup of tea?”

“Okay, thank you, doctor”, you say quietly. 

“Of course.”

He smiles as he walks out, but the second he closes the door he feels a pain in his heart. He has been with you for two weeks by now and every day has been a pleasure. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this excited to work. Every meal, he spends it with you. He plays deck games with you on your breaks and play board games in the lounge at night. You’re interesting to him without being annoying. Everyone else gets on his nerves, being too much, too loud, too clingy and too … much. You, somehow, seem to be just perfect in every category. It’s such a rare trait for him to find. He doesn’t care that no one else understands it —  on the contrary, he finds it great that he is the only one you spend your time with — but he hates that the others are childish enough to mess with you because of it. 

Sea air must bring even the sanest people to madness. 

The morgue flashes before his eyes and he stops right in his tracks. He wants to. Oh, how he wants to. But there’s no way that he could play it off. On a secluded place like a ship, there was no place to hide a crime. Nowhere to flee if he did get caught. He’ll figure it out, though. They won’t go unpunished. 

He gets the cup of tea and makes his way back to the cabin.

“Drink this”, he says and holds the cup to your lips. “This should warm you up.”

He notices how you’re trying to take the cup from him, but he won't let you. Wants to feed you. You drink slowly. 

“What do I do from now on?” you ask. 

“Well, firstly, I will talk to your roommates”, the doctor says. “Tomorrow morning. You can take my bed, I will sleep on the floor.”

“No, I can’t do that. I’ve troubled you enough, doctor.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tucks you in and opens his trunk to take out a shirt to use as a pillow. 

“Doctor, please”, you say. “I can take the floor.”

“Don’t be absurd. Enough of this, now go to sleep.”

There’s no use in fighting him, he will not budge. You try to lay as still as you can, but it’s hard to drift off to sleep. You’re unaware that Kry is awake as well, having an even harder time getting some rest. The only thing he can think of is how angry he is at those nurses … but also a particular happiness. They sent you his way. In an unofficial way they sent you right into his clutches. 

The very next morning, he awakens to find you there, in his bed, sleeping peacefully. He stares at you. There is something so heavenly about you. Something alive, among all this death and suffering. 

He changes into his uniform before walking through the ominous corridors of your room. His knock must have echoed in the room because he can hear a few surprised gasps.

He recognizes the tired face that opens.

“If you don't mind, I'll grab Y/N’s things”, he says and, before waiting for a response, pushes past into the room, hitting their shoulder intentionally. “Where are they?”

“Under that bunk bed.”

He follows the pointed finger and grabs a brown bag. 

“You should be ashamed of yourselves, you know”, he says without changing his normal calm tone. “I thought nurses were supposed to be caring, but what do I know? I never spend time with them. And now I see that it was with good reason.”

“What makes you so special?” one of the nurses scoffs. “There are a lot of doctors people would choose before you too.”

“I'm aware of that, and I'm very thankful for it. But you shouldn't forget that there is a hierarchy on board. I might not fall for your charms, but I can still get you downgraded to kitchen staff.”

He walks out. You're still sleeping when he returns to his cabin and he decides to go get you breakfast.

“Wake up”, he says and places the tray on the desk. “I've gotten you breakfast.”

“Really?” you ask and sit up. “Thank you so much. And thank you for letting me stay here.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives you a cup of coffee. 

“I brought your things”, he says. “I don’t think that you should go back to that room at all. I will try to get you into another cabin.”

“Oh”, you say. “Thank you.”

“You say awfully many ‘thank you’s.”

“Well, you do awfully many nice things for me.”

He tries not to show how happy he gets, but his ears burn a crimson red. You get out of bed and walk over to your bag, looking around for something. 

“I want to give you something”, you say and hold your hands behind your back. 

“What?” asks. 

You take out a little porcelain dog, a spitting image of a Golden Retriever. 

“I don’t have much”, you say, “but I really value this little thing. Take it.”

“No”, Doctor Kry says simply. 

“I don’t have anything else.”

“Which is why I can’t take it.”

“Please?”

He looks at the little dog in your hands and the pleading look in your eyes. His hand reach out and take it in his hand, knowing that he won’t keep it. He will find a way to give it back to you at a later time. But he has to accept it for now so that you don’t feel stupid. 

He places it on his desk and gives you the cup of coffee again. 

“What will we work with today?” you ask. 

“We’re picking up some new people.”

Everytime they pick up new people, he’s reminded of your limited time. One day, sooner than desired, you will walk off the gangway … and someone will take your place. No. Never. He doesn't want anyone else other than you.

Among the newcomers, you find a child. The six year old boy seems to like running along the big ship's decks. 

You and Kry observe him from the promenade boat above.

“Why is there a child?” you ask. “Isn’t it dangerous to let a little boy run around?”

“His parents must either be military, a nurse or wounded”, Doctor Kry replies.

You let go of the railing. Doctor Kry follows you with his eyes as you make your way down to the boy. You introduce yourself, take his little hand and ask him for his. Nicholas. You play with him. Doctor Kry can’t look away. You’re a natural with children. The little boy seems to have genuinely fun with you. You’re running along the deck, back and forth. You pretend to have a hard time catching up with him, making Doctor Kry smile. He’s not much for children. They’re loud, unpredictable and lack consequence-think. He hates all of it. But you seem to have a natural talent for it. The boy seem so comfortable with you. It’s adorable. 

“Doctor!” you shout. 

“What?” he replies without raising his voice. 

“Come down, let’s play something!” 

He sighs and lets go of the railing before making his way down to you and Nicholas. 

“This is doctor Kry”, you tell the boy. “He won’t bite you.”

“Bite?” Doctor Kry scoffs. “Since when have I ever bitten someone?”

“That’s what I’m saying — you won’t bite him.”

“I never bite to begin with.”

“That’s what I’m saying, so what are you arguing about?”

“Y/N- … nevermind, I’m getting nowhere.”

You laugh. He shakes his head disapprovingly, but his heart aches fondly. You’re like an annoying fly buzzing around, but he doesn’t want to kill you. 

You play curling on the deck and you throw lamely to let the little boy win. He tries to match it, tries to follow your lead. 

The image doesn’t leave his brain for the rest of the day. The only thing he sees is you with the little boy. 

“Doctor, be careful!”

He doesn’t notice how he’s slipped with the scalpel and cut himself in the palm. With a hiss, he backs away from the man on the operating table. You grab his other arm and pulls him with you. His head is awfully cloudy. The only thing he sees in front of him is your smile when you played with the boy. 

“Sit here”, you say and place him down on a chair. “Are you okay?”

“Yes … yes, I’m fine”, he says and clears his throat. 

You clean his hand and wrap it in bandage. Your touch makes him want to pass out. But it also makes him want to yell in frustration. How could he slip up that easily? He has never been distracted during an autopsy and suddenly seeing you with a child puts him out of balance enough for him to slip the knife?

“You need to be careful”, you tell him.

“I know”, he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I don’t enjoy hurting myself.”

“I didn’t mean that, I know you’re careful, I just-”

He realizes that he’s made a mistake. 

“I know”, he says, cutting you of before sighing heavily and continuing in defeat. “I didn’t mean to sound mad. I’m not angry with you.”

He could never be. If anything, he’s furious at himself. 

“It’s okay”, you say gently. 

You let go of his bandaged hand. 

“It should be okay now”, you say. “But I don’t think that you should go back.”

“I won’t”, he says. “They need a steady hand and clearly my isn’t.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself, doctor. It happens to the best of us.”

He sighs and stands up, keeping his eyes on a point above your head. 

“Let’s go out”, he says stiffly and clenches his jaw. “I need air.”

“Do you want to be alone?” you ask. 

His reply comes short. “Just come.”

You nod and hurry after him out on deck. His entire body screams anger. You don’t dare to open your mouth, scared to upset him even more. Instead, you follow him like a shadow around the promenade deck. He suddenly stops and looks at you, as if he just only realized that you are still here. You back away a few steps to give him space. He flinches forward, as if his body wants to walk over to you, but his brain stops him. He wants to hug you. Wants so bad. But it is not professional. 

“Maybe i should go”, you say. “I think that you need some alone time to think. I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“No, wait”, he says and grabs your arm. “Don’t leave.”

You look at him questionably. 

“Let’s just sit”, he says and pulls you over to the deck chairs. 

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” you ask hesitantly. “You seem a bit on edge.”

“It’s not directed at you”, he says.

“Okay, but you’re still upset. I know that you hurt yourself, but it’s okay, it’ll heal quickly.”

“It’s not just that.”

He never makes mistakes. He never slips up. You’re becoming dangerous for him.

“Do you want to tell me?” you ask.

He shakes his head and gives you a small smile. “No. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

It’s cute how worried you are about him. He gives you a smile. 

It feels like a dagger through the heart when you tell him that it is your last week on board. What do you mean that you’re going home? You just came here. His mind spins as he tries to come up with something. He needs you here on this boat — or wherever he is — to work properly. Both figuratively and literally. He feels like he performs better, both in the operating theater and as a human. 

The cut on his hand has healed by now, but he can still feel the burning sensation of your fingers against his skin. He can’t — won't — forget it. He kept the bandage, despite the blood on it.

You need to be kept here … and he needs to come up with a solution on how to keep you. He could make you trip down the stairs and have you break a leg. No, you could still return home with broken bones. He could tie you up and lock you in, but if you screamed loud enough someone would hear you through the thin steel walls. You need to blend in. How does one blend in, in a floating prison with wounded people. 

Oh. Of course.

He makes his way to the medical supply room, looking around for something — anything — that he can use. He finds a little green bottle. You shouldn’t drink it straight away, but if he dilutes it in water, it should be fine. 

He decides to mix some of the dangerous substance in your tea the following mornings. For the first few days, there seem to be no symptoms of his little poisoning. Until the fourth morning when you’re not at his door when he expects you. He gets himself dressed and out of the room, marching down to your new — own — cabin. He knocks on the door. 

“Y/N, are you awake?” he asks. 

“Yes”, he hears your voice through the door, your voice thick and hoarse. 

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

He opens the door. You’re lying in the bed, curled up with your arms over your stomach. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

You shake your head weakly. “Not well. My stomach really hurts … I think that I’m going to throw up. I haven’t been able to go get a bucket so I’ve been trying to keep it in.”

“I’ll get you a bucket.”

He leaves the room. Out in the corridor, he can’t help but smile. It’s finally kicking in. He had been worried that it wouldn’t work until you had left the ship … where he can’t care for you. He gets a clean bucket from a storage closet and returns. 

“Let’s get you up right”, he says and helps you sit up. 

The motion alone is enough to have you throwing up. He places the bucket under your mouth, letting you empty yourself. 

“I’m sorry”, you hiccup. 

“It’s okay”, he replies. 

“I don’t think I can work today.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

He opens the window and sits down by the desk. 

“You don’t have to stay here”, you say weakly, leaning against the wall. “I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be fine”, the doctor says. “I can see that. You took care of me, now I’ll take care of you.”

“It’s different. I just put on bandage.”

“So? You weren’t skilled for more. I am, and I intend to put my knowledge to use.” 

He stands up abruptly, deciding to start right away. 

“Let’s get you some fresh air”, he says. “This open window won’t do.”

“Doctor, I can’t move”, you say, eyes widening. “I-I’ve tried, but I-I … I can’t.”

He frowns. Has he done too much? 

“My stomach hurts so much and my limbs don’t seem to want to move.”

“It’ll be okay”, he says shortly and lifts you up in his arms. “I’ll do the moving for you.”

He walks slowly along the decks, so as not to make your nausea even more unbearable. He walks out to the enclosed promenade where rows of beds stand along the walls and places you down in one of them, making sure to get you in the sunlight. With a smile, he tucks you in.

“Some fresh air and sunlight will do you good”, he says and sits down on the side of the bed. “Why don’t you try to get some rest? I suppose you haven’t had much this night. I’m not going anywhere, you’ll be safe.”

You nod and make yourself a bit more comfortable. 

“It’s hard to not be nauseous when the ship moves so much”, you mumble. 

“I have the bucket, you can vomit as much as you’d like”, he says. 

“In that case I won’t vomit at all. Because I don’t want to.”

Doctor Kry scoffs with a smile. 

“I know”, he says. “Try to rest now.”

He sits by your side until you’ve fallen asleep. You are so unbelievably sweet. In every single way. Doctor Kry stands up to go empty the bucket. He walks out the enclosed promenade, out onto the open deck and throws the contains over the side. 

“What’s with your apprentice?” Doctor Hart asks, walking over to him with his hands in his pockets. “Rumour says that they’re sick.”

“Yes, they are”, he says shortly. 

“Weren’t they going home this week?”

Do not remind me.

“They were”, he says, even colder. “Not anymore. I can’t let them go back if they have some kind of sickness. Better for them to be isolated here where it can’t spread far.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Yes, very. I think that you should stay away from them — tell everyone else to be cautious and keep distance as well.”

He grimaces and quickly backs away from him, walking away. Doctor Kry smirks and shakes his head. 

And you consider yourself smart enough to be a doctor? 

“What are you doing?”

The little boy is back. Nicholas stands a few steps behind him, watching curiously. 

“I’m emptying a bucket”, Doctor Kry answers, trying not to sound short and cold like usual. You like this kid and if he’s impolite to him, he’s sure he’ll hear about it from you. 

“Why?”

“Because there was vomit in it.”

“Ew! Did you get seasick?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, not me. Y/N’s not feeling well.”

“Is Y/N sick?”

“Yes.”

He looks worried. His best friend isn’t feeling well? Doctor Kry sighs. 

“Do you want to come and meet them later?” he asks. “They’re resting right now but you can come visit when they’re awake again.”

“When is that?” Nicholas asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“How will I know then?”

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t wait to hear more dumb questions. Doctor Kry walks straight back to the enclosed promenade and places the bucket by the bed. He sits down by your legs and takes your hand. 

A few days go by. He continuous to poison your tea, and help you throw up. When your body doesn’t want to do it anymore, when it’s too exhausted to work for your benefit, he has to help. 

“Alright, open your mouth”, he says, brushing any type of hair away from your face. “This will not be pleasant, but I need you to throw up, okay?”

You sit beside him on the bed with the bucket in your lap, hugging it tightly. Your unsure grimace is enough to answer. 

“I know”, he sighs. “It’ll be quick. It won’t hurt.”

“Okay”, you mumble and nod, opening your mouth. 

He reaches in with his fingers until they touch the soft part of the back of the mouth. Your mouth is warm and soft, making him feel light headed. As soon as you gag, he pulls his fingers away. You hover over the bucket for the thirteenth time in twenty four hours. Doctor Kry pats your back. 

“There you go”, he says. “See? Quick and easy.”

“Easy?” you cough, giving him a stern eye. “Nowhere near easy.”

“Okay, maybe not easy. Bad wording. But it’s over now. Good job, I’m proud of you.”

A sad smile appears on your face. You lean your head onto his shoulder, sighing in exhaustion. Doctor Kry tenses. His heart stops. 

“I’m so tired”, you whisper. “My body hurts.”

He hesitates before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. Your scent clogs up his head. 

“I should be home by now”, you whisper. 

“I know”, doctor Kry whispers comfortingly. 

You break out into sobs. Doctor Kry swallows. He can imagine how you must feel. Body broken and unresponsive, not back home with your family like you had planned and anticipated … and you can’t do anything to stop it. Doctor Kry turns your body to him and hugs you. Holding you feels like heaven. You fit perfectly in his arms, as if you were made for him, and him only. You were born to be his.

“I'm sorry if this is unprofessional”, you mumble. 

“It's okay, you're sick”, he replies thickly

He closes his eyes, enjoying the embrace. It’s everything he could — and have — ever dreamt of. His own little patient, in his arms, where they belong. Only for him. Oh, God, he can never let you go. You will be here for as long as he is, and then he’ll take you back home to him. Whether you like it or not.

“I’m cold.”

“I'll go get you some more blankets.”

He dreads to let you go but he can't deny your request. Your warmth disappears from his embrace. 

He decides to hurry, wanting to get back to you as quickly as possible. As he walks down the main staircase, he feels the entire ship shudder and hear a loud ‘bang’. He has to grab onto the staircase railing to not fall over. The sound of porcelain crashing onto the floor in the distance hits him. He hurries down.

A man covered in soot runs past him. One of the men from the boiler room.

“The ship is flooding!” he shouts in full panic. “We're sinking!”

Doctor Kry widens his eyes. There's no way, right? They're a hospital ship! No one in their right mind would sink a hospital ship! His mind forgets the blanket. He needs a lifebelt. Not a blanket. 

He runs past the room where you had stayed first, and he can see the nurses inside trying to scramble their belongings into small purses. Without thinking, he marches over, shuts the door and grabs the nearest fire extinguisher to break the lock. He throws the fire extinguisher to the side and hurries down the corridor, opening the first door he finds. It's a cabin for female nurses. He reaches over one of the bunk beds, to a net where lifebelts Are kept. He pulls down two and runs out. 

The floor has started to shift beneath him. He can tell that it tilts to his left. She's going down by the stern.

He runs up the stairs, trying to push his way through a flood of people desperately climbing upwards. He wants to shout at them, but it won't matter. No one else will listen or care. Instead, he uses force to push himself through the crowd.

He has to get to you before anything happens. There's no certainty in how much time there is, but there is a certainty of death if he doesn't hurry up. 

He runs through packed corridors, ripping open your door.

“What's going on?” you ask with wide eyes.

There's something horrific with your fearful eyes. Everything about you is dull and tired, besides your panicking eyes. 

“We've been hit”, he says in a steady voice and forces the white lifebelt over your head, tying it tightly around your body. “We need to get to a lifeboat as quickly as possible.”

“What?” you ask in shock. “What happened? You said that we were okay, that nothing would happen to a hospital ship!”

He doesn't answer. If he does, he's worried that he'll snap at you. Instead, he lifts you up and carries you out of the room. He makes sure not to trip, but carrying you through tilted spaces is harder than he expects. Giving up is not an option, however.

The boat deck is crowded. He manages to get through to a lifeboat and sits down with you in his arms.

“I’m scared”, you whisper.

“It's okay”, the doctor whispers back. “Everything is going to be okay.”

He holds you tightly when the lifeboat slowly sinks towards the water, scared that you might fall off. 

Seeing the ship from afar as the lifeboat makes its way away from it finally puts things together in your head. You gasp. You had been on that … and if Kry hadn't come get you you would still be on it, waiting for death.

The bow slowly rises out of the water, dripping with water. The sun shines right on it, as if it is the ocean’s main attraction. The room where doctor Kry locked in the nurses is far underwater by now. He hides a smirk under his hand. He had promised that they would be punished for what they had done. They'd have a chance if they hadn't been childish.

“I never thought that I’d see something like this”, you say. “I never wanted to see the bottom of a ship.”

“Me neither”, the doctor replies. 

“Will many die?”

“No, not many. I’m sure of it.”

You creep closer to him, shivering although you don’t feel any cold winds. He holds you tighter. 

The only thing left of the floating hospital is a steamy, bubbling mess, filled with debris. It’s like you can hear her hit the ocean floor. You can’t help but wonder what position she is in, if you’ll ever get to know. If anyone ever will dive down and check. If that will be possible.

“It’s so silent”, you whisper and meet his blue eyes. “It shouldn’t be silent … should it?”

“I don’t know”, he replies. “What is the other choice? People screaming?”

You shake your head quickly. Don’t want to imagine that.

Hours go by. When the evening comes, you’re picked up by another ship and given blankets and food. Doctor Kry stays close to you, not letting anyone get close. He sits in a protective position beside you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning everything and everyone around him. 

The little boy clings to a woman who you guess is his mother. He doesn’t seem to understand what has happened, how lucky he is, and you hope that he never will.

“What will happen now?” you wonder quietly.

“I will continue to care for you until you are well”, he says. “That’s what will happen. I will take care of the rest, you don’t have to worry about anything. Just lean on me and everything will be alright, okay?”

You nod. Doctor Kry smiles and straightens his neck. 

“Good.”

You look up at the colorful evening sky and sighs. No one died this day — apart from a few nurses who doctor Kry didn’t like, but he will never tell you that — and that is a comfort. But you’re unaware of the plans doctor Kry has for you. And maybe that’s for the best.  

[queenbee298]

Poppy playtime x Gender Neutral Reader “Finally Free” Scenarios.

This is just going to be a platonic story No romance stories or request. You can request something scenarios, you want me to write about, but anyway let’s get started! Warning: Angst and fluff

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Distractions 

Life with your new toy family was challenging, since as trying to leave your house, hiding them from friends and family, and working.

You worked from home so you didn’t have to worry about leaving them alone. However, when you would try to concentrate, the mini critters would run around playing or they would try to climb or jump into the cabinets for candy. Luckily, Doey was there to help you with the mini critters, so you knew you can count on him.

Kickin Chicken: “Hurry up, Hoppy! I want those skittles!”

Hoppy was trying to jump on the counter and into the cabinets for the bag of sweets you bought for the toys. But you tried to put them away so the toys (mainly the critters) won’t try to eat them all. This didn’t stop them.

Hoppy Hopscotch: “I got it!”

Picky Piggy: “Shhh… Or Mama/Papa will hear us.”

Y/N: “Hoppy? Kickin? Picky? What are you doing?”

Hoppy, Kickin, & Picky: “Nothing!”

You didn’t believe them. Doey sat next to you in your office while you worked on your computer. He would just sit nexts to you and just talk about anything. Like a child telling their mother about their day at school.

Y/N: Doey, if it’s not too much trouble , can you check on them?”

Doey: “No problem, mom/dad!”

Doey went out your office and into the kitchen to see nothing but an empty bag of sweets and three little critters when full bellies.

Doey: “Are you guys serious!? You are the whole bag?!”

Picky Piggy: “Hehe, Guess we got a little carried away,huh?”

Hoppy couldn’t say anything, but groan at the pain of her full belly. Kickin’s couldn’t handle of the sugar in his stomach and threw up rainbow puke on the floor. Doey immediately called your name and you rushed out to see the mess in your kitchen and clearly you were angry with the critters.

Y/N: “How many times do I have to time you not to jump on counters and eat up all the candy?”

Hoppy Hopscotch: “None, Angel.

Y/N: “I shouldn’t have to tell you.”

Hoppy, Kickin, Picky: We’re sorry, Angel!”

Y/N: “It’s okay, but next time you’ll listen to me.”

You and Doey had to clean up the vomit.

Others times when you were working the critters and Kissy would running around and play.

Y/N: “Guys, can you settle down, I can’t focus.”

Critters: “Sorry, Mama/Papa.”

Nightmares

Even if you and the toys were out the factory, you all couldn’t forget how terrible it was in the factory. You had nightmares of the bigger toys like Huggy Wuggy or Catnap chasing or not being able to save the toys.

The toys had it worse. Doey worrying if he’s not strong enough to help you or the little critters or hurting someone because of his temper, Kissy’s nightmare about the Prototype or being strapped down by scientists, Dogday being chained up and critters eating his organs, or Poppy being trapped in her case again. They were afraid and needed you.

One night, you woke up to sounds. It sounded like sniffling. You opened your eyes to see it was Kissy.

Y/N: “ Kissy, are you okay?”

Her eyes were flooded were tears and she was shaking. Even if she was smiling, you knew she was sad.

Y/N: “ Come here, honey.”

Kissy crawled over the other sleeping toys and hugged you. You placed a kiss on her head and rubbed her back.

Y/N: “It’s all going to be okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Other night, Doey woke you up due to him having a nightmare.

Y/N: “Another nightmare?”

Doey: “Uh-Huh.”

Y/N: “You wanna talk about it?”

Doey: “No, I just wanna get my mind off it.”

You laid down with Doey on the bed and held him close.

Y/N: “It’s all going to be okay.”

Doey looked up at you.

Doey: “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

Y/N: “Anything for you, sweetie.”

You sang “Rockabye,” by Clean Bandit, (A/N: I know this song didn’t come out in 2005, but this will be the lullaby) this helped Doey go to sleep.

Y/N: “I’ll always be there for you.”

Yarnaby got nightmares of burning to death and you leaving him to die.

He would wake you up to make sure you were with me and to pet him.

Dogday got phantom pain around his waist. You would rubbed his belly to make sure him was okay.

Playtime

Now that you were all out of the factory, the toys can finally run outside and play in the grass without worrying about something attacking them. You bought toys, books, and puzzles for activities and a white board for Kissy so she can communicate. Doey mentioned a book him and the toys like to read back in the factory.

Dogday and Yarnaby would run around in the fields or sit out in the sun. You couldn’t find it there, but you bought it for a book store. “The adventures of the word wizard!” At night, you would read the toys a bedtime story and most of the time they would pick that book.”

Y/N: “ Okay guys, what book do you want me to read.

Toys: “The adventures of the word wizard!”

Y/N: “Don’t you guys want to read a different book?”

Toys: “Please?”

They all gave you puppy eyes and you reluctantly agreed. You all headed to the bedroom and the toys gathered together in bed while you read the story. By the time you finished everyone was asleep.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️Sorry it took a while to post this story, but it’s out now so enjoy. Also, please request some ideas you want me to write.

[moonzzip]

dreams | kwon jiyong

a/n – I tried a new style for the story header, nothing special, just to make it cuter, the story is a little (very little) longer this time, I hope you like it! feel free to correct me about grammatical errors in the comments!

summary: jiyong gets stressed over things that aren't directly your fault.

pairing: jiyong x gn!member!reader

warnings: jiyong stressed, t.o.p, taeyang and daesung are in there, i think that's it

lowercase letters, word count: 1,7k

no, no, no.

there was no way he had dreamed about you, no chance, not LIKE THAT.

jiyong had always believed that dreams had some sort of meaning—good luck, a sign, or something else entirely, even things like déjà vu, which happened quite often. and you were involved in EVERY SINGLE ONE. as if he thought about you that much—he DOESN'T. he thinks... ugh, damn it! you're bringing too many thoughts into his head, and it's starting to put him in a bad mood.

jiyong ruffles his hair with frustration, walking back and forth in the practice room, sighing and muttering to himself, biting the thumbnail of his hand.

the floor always creaks annoyingly when he steps on that specific spot.

"jiyong, can you stop walkin' in circles? you're making me dizzy." the oldest member of the group complains. he and the other two, taeyang and daesung, had already given up on scolding him. this wasn’t the first time one of them tried to call him out, but it seemed to go in one ear and out the other with their leader.

the members were waiting for you to start practice. apparently, you had an issue with some clause in your contract renewal with YG, but nothing major. they figured that’s why jiyong was pacing around anxiously.

t.o.p, taeyang, and daesung were sitting on the floor, completely relaxed—any chance to rest was always welcome. but that didn't seem to be the case for g-d.

when it seemed like he was about to complete his 388th lap in that room, you finally opened the door.

"seriously, this took forever..." the moment you entered, jiyong's entire demeanor changed, though he kept his reaction silent. you were too busy complaining to notice.

"all this fuss over a random document, when all they had to do was look for it!" you grumbled, adjusting your clothes. the other members stood up, and you greeted them cheerfully, "hello, hello~"

t.o.p walked over to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders."so... everything worked out, right?" the eldest asked.

taeyang dusted off his pants and stepped closer as well, alongside daesung.

"well, since you don't look sad, I guess it did." he commented.

daesung suddenly jumped and let out a dramatic whine, "ahhhh~~ there would be no bigbang without ___, don't die on us, ___!" he shook you by the shoulders, making you laugh.

jiyong said nothing, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back. sensing his irritated aura, you rubbed your nose and pressed your lips together nervously, pretending to be clueless. then, quickly, you said:

"ah. I think we should start practice already. I feel like I took way too long."

you nodded to yourself as if agreeing with your own words.

the other members chuckled, stepping away to take their starting positions.

soon, the music began.

not even two minutes into the practice, and you could still feel jiyong's burning stare. it made you even more nervous, feeling guilty for the delay. that nervousness caused you to accidentally mess up one of the dance steps, and—damn—the air got stuck in your lungs.

everyone else froze in place, their breaths hitching. it wasn’t just you who felt jiyong’s irritation.

you stayed where you were, frozen in your mistake, and seconds later, you heard footsteps approaching. you shuddered, expecting harsh words fueled by the anger radiating off jiyong. you squeezed your eyes shut.

.

.

.

okay, and… nothing happened. he just walked past you.

none of you understood what was going on—not even jiyong.

he had been ready to tear into you for messing up, to completely rip you apart with words (he knew it wasn’t right, but his anger was louder). he was about to take everything out on you, but suddenly... he felt nervous. shy...?

he wanted to punch himself. what the hell was this? why was he feeling like this? the great g-dragon, embarrassed? even he was surprised he walked past you instead.

as he passed, his heart skipped a beat. his fingers tingled—no, his whole body tingled, even his ears.

this was definitely your fault. completely your fault! who gave you permission to appear in his dreams and act LIKE THAT??? now he was acting weird. he wasn’t even in control of himself anymore—one second, he did one thing, and the next, he did another. all of his anger had somehow transformed into partial embarrassment—the kind of embarrassment that comes when you do something stupid in front of someone you like—

like?

for a moment, that word felt wrong.

like? no...

like was too shallow, too undefined.

liking was like liking food, liking to relax, liking to swim.

no.

not like.

at that moment, jiyong decided that he love—

he stopped mid-step, whatever his body had been doing completely halted. his hand flew to his mouth in shock.

you, t.o.p, taeyang, and daesung all watched your leader press his hand to his forehead and bite his lips. he looked like he had just witnessed a murder in front of him. the guy paled about 300 shades lighter than his usual skin tone. he looked like a blank canvas, a brand-new sheet of white paper, untouched white paint—before the brush, before the mess, before it all blended into some unrecognizable color. white. you got it.

he let out a completely defeated sigh, disappointed in himself, and made the most disgusted expression you four had ever seen on a human being.

daesung let out a small snicker but quickly shut up, pressing his lips together to hold back laughter. you shot him a warning look that said, 'stay quiet, or he’ll kill you,' before turning back to jiyong.

your eyes locked with his, and immediately, you felt yourself go pale.

it was like getting punched in the stomach, shot in the chest, stabbed in the head, kicked in the shin. you felt like you had just been caught committing the worst crime imaginable, like YOU had said the most absurd thing a human could possibly say. that feeling, you know?

you saw jiyong point at himself, then at you, then at the practice room door.

knowing exactly what that meant, you nodded. and before you could process it, he was already walking out.

you felt pats on your back and squeezes on your shoulders—a clear farewell.

bastards. they weren’t even trying to save you from the dragon about to devour you.

"it was nice having you in the group, thank you very much." t.o.p’s deep voice declared.

"vip’s will be sad, but your departure is for the greater good." taeyang thought he was so funny—why didn’t he just open his own circus?

"just because I told you not to die, ___? do you have no survival instinct?" you had never heard such cruel words from daesung.

you shot them all a look of pure betrayal, "i’ll come back as a ghost and haunt all of you."

scanning them up and down in judgment, you clicked your tongue and made your way to the door.

for a brief second, you considered jumping out the window and running away. it could work—if only you weren’t on the fourth floor. so you scrapped that plan.

you opened the door. it even creaked, making you even more terrified, already mourning your own death. you hesitated, closing it for a moment, but then you opened it again and stepped out.

now it was too late.

why the hell did this hallway suddenly seem so dark and ominous?

you wondered that as you turned your head to the right.

there he was.

leaning against the wall about three meters away, near the company's vending machine. he didn’t even look at you, just kept his gaze lowered.

closing the door behind you, you stood in the hallway, frozen, gathering your courage. you swallowed hard and slowly walked toward him.

he still didn’t move.

you stop at the wall opposite to where he’s leaning, pressing your back against it as well. neither of you speaks, not yet.

“so… what do you want to tell me, jiyong?” you don’t even finish your sentence before he skillfully places one hand beside your body, trapping you against the wall.

“you’ve been disturbing me too much, ___. my patience is running out. seeing you irritates me, hearing your voice irritates me, your perfume—always the same—just catching a whiff of it irritates me. your laughter irritates me, knowing we’re in the same space irritates me. everything about you irritates me. everything you do irritates me.”

his deep, low voice echoes in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. you don’t say anything, just taking in his words, your face shifting through confusion, offense, shock, disbelief—all at the same time.

“i can’t take it anymore. you’re everywhere i go, like a magnet. i turn my head, and there you are. someone is always talking about you. everything is about you, you, you.”

jiyong mutters, his fingers pressing into the wall so hard they turn white. his eyes drop to the floor, teeth sinking into his lower lip. you stare at him, unsure of what to do, watching as his head tilts slightly to the side before dropping forward—until it rests on your shoulder.

you almost let out a sharp breath at the sudden contact, at the weight of his head against you, at the warmth of his breath ghosting over your neck. you swallow hard, your words completely failing you.

“i don’t know how to deal with you, ___.” his voice is quieter now, tinged with something deeper, something raw.

“i don’t know how to handle your presence. you don’t even have to enter the room, and my eyes are already on you. my chest melts when i hear you laugh, my cheeks get so hot it gives me a headache, your voice surrounds me, and i feel like i’m dreaming. everything about you makes me feel so comforted yet so flustered. i feel dizzy and lost just thinking about you.”

his lips are dangerously close to your ear now, his breath tickling your skin. your whole body feels like it’s on fire, your cheeks burning impossibly hot. and then, he says something that sends an inhuman wave of shivers through you:

“this is all your fault. you’re going to have to do something about it.”

a/n – i actually liked this story, i hope you liked it too! it made me want to become a member!reader and here I am... feel free to correct any grammar errors!

[softtdaisy]

the tragedy / Charles Leclerc

summary. you loved to call everything a tragedy but the real tragedy for charles is that he lost you

words count. 1 906

what to expect. super sad, everyone is sad but pierre is engaged lmao

a/n. i guess seeing charles being sad every weekend this year had inspired me lol

F1 masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | general masterlist| request

The applause. Everyone was applauding when the couple kissed at the end of their speech. 

And you felt it right in your heart.

Love always had this effect on you. You were born a romantic.

This was the reason you agreed to organize the engagement party for them. 

Even if Pierre was a Formula 1 driver. 

Even if he was Charles’ friend.

Even if Charles wasn’t yours anymore.

The day they first asked you was on a race weekend, before they were even engaged. You were there to support Charles and had no reason to refuse. Organizing events was literally your job. And more than that, your friends knew how good you were at this: thinking about all the little details that mattered and how you could transform a good night into an unforgettable one. How or when this reputation went from your professional life to your personal days, you weren’t so sure. But you were proud of it.

When you got the second call for their engagement party, this time for real, you had broken up with Charles for more than a year already. The season had been a pure mess, and they didn’t find the time to think about it. 

They still wanted you to do it, considering you were the best at this and nobody could portray their love better than you. “But we would understand if you don’t want to do it anymore,” they said.

You hadn’t seen Charles since you broke up, and you knew there were some rumors that it hadn’t been the smoothest goodbye.

Still, you couldn’t refuse the offer of celebrating a love that was born right in front of your eyes.

You figured out pretty fast that the hardest thing wouldn’t be following the couple’s crazy ideas—and there were many—dealing with everyone’s planning, and making sure there wouldn’t be anyone missing or even remembering how the Formula 1 season could be a pure pain in the ass when it comes to people’s emotions and reactions. You couldn’t even count the number of times Pierre apologized for a mean answer to your text because he had a bad race. 

No, the hardest thing was Charles and seeing him tonight.

You didn’t see him a single time while organizing this whole party, and you didn’t even talk—Pierre got his invitation back himself. 

But you couldn’t miss him tonight.

Not when he was undeniably the most beautiful man in the room with his white shirt tucked into navy blue striped suit pants that made his legs look more muscular, with his perfect hair styled and the whole nice, good-looking guy appearance he gave.

Not when you could see the dark circles under his sad eyes, the fake smile he wore all night, and how his hands were shaky when he held his drink to make his toast. 

You wished you weren’t looking out for him every five minutes, but you were. 

You wished you didn’t have the urgent need to follow him outside when he left discreetly after the speech. 

You ignored it. Pretending it didn’t matter and that it was the perfect occasion to enjoy the night without having him around. When he would come back, you would act like he wasn’t there.

But after at least twenty minutes, Charles still hadn’t come inside. You knew it. You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t feelhim. 

You excused yourself and walked outside. Step by step. Just in case.

In case he came back and you didn’t have to run after him.

In case he wasn’t alone.

In case you just imagined his sad expression. 

None of this happened. Charles was still outside, by himself, devastated. 

But you couldn’t say anything. No, you weren’t allowed to.

When you push the doors, you meet the cold air and the small snowflakes falling from the sky. Falling on your naked arms. Falling on his dark hair. 

“What are you doing alone in the snow?” you asked, because it was the only thing that seemed right to say. It was a genuine question. One that proved you still cared—you truly did. 

Charles didn’t answer. Didn’t even move. He was leaning against the brick wall, his arms crossed against his white shirt—the only bright thing on him tonight. You noticed the way his knee kept bouncing, how he was staring at the sky in silence. His thoughts were so loud you even wondered if he had heard you. 

You did something that many would consider stupid—you chose to be brave and walked to lean against the wall, next to him. Same position but different view. The sky was beautiful tonight, but you could only look at him.

At the man you loved so much, you had memorized every piece of him. The moles on his skin, the freckles on his nose, the mixed colors in his eyes, the perfect curve of his nose. You knew everything from Charles by heart, so much that you could paint it if you wanted to. You could describe it with your eyes closed. You could write a novel about his face. 

But you won’t. It wasn’t your place anymore.

“It’s a real tragedy that his brother couldn’t come,” you whispered, only to break the silence.

That was the thing that made Charles flinch. He blinked, finally. And slightly turned his head to see you.

A tragedy. That was your thing. You loved to call everything a tragedy, even the most insignificant thing. 

The ice cream that melted on the floor? The shop that closed right when you arrived? His missing pole? His mistake during the interview? Everything was a tragedy. 

But you had a way of saying it that didn’t make it sound like it was a disaster. With a laugh when it was definitely not as terrible as you wanted to make it sound. Or with a soft smile when you wanted to comfort him. 

You kept saying that every tragedy could have its happy ending. 

Maybe that was the reason you never called your breakup a tragedy.

“You want to hear about a real tragedy?” His voice didn’t even sound like him. It sounded broken, like he had spent too much time screaming. It sounded broken, like a doll that was used and near the end of its life. It sounded broken, like Charles wasn’t even alive inside.

He closed his eyes, turning his head back and leaning it against the wall. “The real tragedy is that we are together right now, but you’re not mine.”

This felt like a knife right in your heart. You opened your mouth, and even if he couldn’t see it, he felt it. And jumped.

“The real tragedy,” he continued, “is that I have to see you with him.” 

It wasn’t fair, you supposed, to attack you on something that was all his fault in the first place. 

You broke up with Charles; you couldn’t deny it. You were the one who said it was over, the one who moved your stuff from his place, and the one who probably changed his name on your phone first. You were the one who erased the pictures on social media. 

Pictures he was watching every night until they weren’t there.

Until you erased them like you erased them.

Replacing them with pictures with your new man.

Replacing them like you replaced him, he selfishly thought. 

Because you both knew the truth. You broke up, but Charles ruined this relationship. With the sudden distance he put between the two of you. With the hours he took to answer a simple text. With his repetitive absences at moments he should have been there, when he would have been there before. 

When Charles moved in front of you, you finally noticed a new color in his eyes. Red.

“The real tragedy is knowing you’ll never be as happy as you could be with me.”

This one hurt. Because it was true and false at the same time. You were happy. But you weren’t at the end.

You were happy now. But the happiness wasn’t as big as it was with Charles. 

“You’re not…” you started.

But Charles cut you off by grabbing your hand suddenly. Almost hurting you with the way his fingers wrapped on your wrist and his rings sank into your skin. How ironic, you thought. 

“The real tragedy is that you are engaged to a man that clearly doesn’t appreciate you like I did.”

It was impossible to miss. The ring on your finger. A subtle and rather simple ring, but a beautiful one. Even Charles couldn’t deny it. But he would rather suffocate on it than have to see another second. 

Yet, he kept his hand on yours, bringing it between your face so you could see it too.

The tragedy of this engagement ring separating you two. 

“The real fucking tragedy,” he cried, “is that you are engaged to him, not me.”

You saw the first tear, the one that appeared in his eyes when he said the last two words. You watched as it grew; you watched as it left his eye, as it ran down his cheek to his mouth in a fast race—ironic, again.

But you didn’t see the ones that followed, your eyesight blurred by your own tears. 

People said you moved on too quickly. Some said you weren’t fair to your new man.

And none of them were wrong.

You did move on quickly; you said it yourself. The truth was that you didn’t give your heart to someone new. 

The truth was that someone actually picked up the broken pieces and decided to make it whole again. The truth was that he kept your heart after repairing it and cherished it. 

The truth was you suffered so much from your breakup with Charles that you chose the easy love this time. The one that was simple and sweet. 

Once or twice you laughed to yourself at how tragic it was that this man was doing everything he could to make you happy, to make you love him—and you did love him, for sure—but he would never be Charles.

Charles, the man who never fought for you. Except the day he realized it was too late. 

You didn’t answer him. You could form a single word properly, certainly not a whole sentence that wouldn’t be full of cries and inconsistency. 

Maybe it was for the better, because your lack of replies actually made Charles calm down. His fingers eased around your wrist, but he didn’t let you go. Instead, his forefinger went over your ring to touch it. 

You heard his sobs—maybe it was yours—and saw his sad smile—it wasn’t yours. 

“The tragedy,” he said in a low voice, probably speaking to himself more than to you, “is that I will always love you.” 

You had the confirmation he wasn’t speaking to you when Charles didn’t give you a single look after that. He let go of your hand slowly. 

And you watched him.

You watched as he kept his face like that, with tear stains on his cheeks. 

You watched as he turned his back to you after a minute.

You watched as he walked to his car again, leaving his friend’s engagement party—without knowing he had said goodbye when he left earlier.

You watched as the man you thought you would marry one day left you with a heart that needed to be fixed again.

📬 FILL THE FORM TO BE ADDED TO THE MASTERLIST

[munchhmm]

Back To You Part Three

part one and two here! thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoy stinkers ᰔ

Plot: You’re presumed dead after a battle, only to show up days later to the crews surprise.

Pairings: Luffy x Gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death

Word count: About 1.8k

Silence fell quickly over the crew as Luffy walked back toward the meeting point. Conversations about how to break the news to him erupted as soon as he made his way toward the edge of a tall cliff to look for you, but immediately subsided when they noticed their captain coming closer.

It was obvious to them you weren’t coming back. There was no way anyone could survive being crushed by a twenty-foot human with their bare hands. Before your feet had left the ground, you turned to face the crew—face Luffy—saying that you’d be back. He believed you, even as smoke clouded his vision while the enemy escaped with you in his hand. He knew you were stronger than that.

A large tree near the water was the original agreed-upon spot to wait before heading out for the ship. Luffy’s orders were for everyone to stay there until you showed up. After four days went by, Sanji started running out of food to cook, and Zoro was running out of surrounding trees to cut for firewood. Still, Luffy didn’t budge.

On the fifth day, Nami volunteered to go looking for you, since their captain insisted on staying right where he was in case you came while he was gone. Of course, Sanji wasn’t going to let her go alone—and neither were the others. After everything was said and done, a total of four people split into a group to look for any signs: Nami, Sanji, Brook, and Chopper.

At first, Luffy protested the small doctor leaving with them, but Chopper explained that if you had the energy to make your way to the meeting point, you would probably be in better shape than if the group found you somewhere unable to move. This calmed him down enough to let them go on their search, saying they’d be back by sunset.

The captain tried his best to hold it together for his crew, but it was clear anxiety and grief were eating him alive—proven by the fact he himself wasn’t eating. At all. One of the many beaded bracelets you’d made him sat in his hand, each charm being carefully rubbed between his thumb and index finger.

Zoro sat leaning against the large tree, eyes closed but fully awake and aware of Luffy’s mental state. After a few moments, Zoro stood and walked over to the dark-haired boy, patting his right shoulder with a firm but comforting hand. No words were spoken—none had to be. Instead, silent sobs filled the air as Luffy clutched the bracelet to his chest. Soon, the sounds went from quiet and wavering to loud and strained. Zoro was slightly taken aback, not expecting the reaction so suddenly.

“She’s fine… She’s okay. I know she is…” His voice rang through the trees, causing birds to chirp and fly away quickly from the startling noise.

At this point, Luffy didn’t know if his words were real or if he was trying to convince himself. This thought terrified him, and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t see through the fog and grab you like what was planned. He hated that even after chasing for hours, he couldn’t feel your warmth again. Most of all, he hated that he failed you.

Cries of sadness and grief turned to ones of anger and pain. Suddenly, a rubber arm flew to the right, crashing into the large tree and knocking a hole into the side of it.

“You idiot! Don’t knock it down! How would Y/n find us?!” Zoro shouted in an attempt to get Luffy to stop his rampage.

Instead, he only fueled it. The furious hits continued into the ground below them, tears following after as they stained the soil.

The sky turned a beautiful orange and pink as the sun began to set behind the violent scene—just the way you liked it when cuddling with Luffy on the deck of the Sunny. This pulled him away from the repeated assault he was forcing onto the earth. Looking up and imagining the smile on your face every time you saw a sunset like this crushed him more than he thought possible.

Soon, the group that had set out earlier that day returned—without you. Luffy felt empty hearing the news. He still had hope. He still believed in you. But his worry was louder. He couldn’t understand how this had happened—why so many things and people he loved got ripped away from him without warning.

Everyone shared silent looks at each other as their captain stared off at the vast ocean, worried about saying something that might only make the situation worse—if it could get any worse.

Luffy held the bracelet you gave him to his lips, kissing the chain softly.

“I love you, Y/n. Should’ve said it more often,” he whispered, now pressing the bracelet to his forehead as more tears fell from his eyes.

Luffy was always better with actions than words. Even though you knew he loved you, he still felt guilt now that you’d never hear it from him again.

The wind blew through the sparse trees around them, whistling loud enough to cover any other sounds in the area—and that’s exactly what happened. No one noticed the strained grunts as you slowly climbed the hill to reach the crew.

Aching in your broken ankle caused a limp to slow your pace, bringing excruciating pain with every step. It had been days since you last had water, so yelling for their attention wasn’t an option. Carefully, you kept pushing, only thinking of how much you missed your boyfriend and amazing crewmates.

Finally, Nami happened to look over and saw a figure struggling to make its way toward them.

“Hey guys, what is that thing?” she asked curiously, alerting the others to a potential danger.

Luffy immediately turned his head, seeing for himself what Nami was talking about. There was never a chance he could mistake you. His eyes widened with shock, standing slowly before stretching his arm along the trees until he reached you—stunning the rest of the crew.

A pair of arms wrapped so tightly around you that the bones in your upper body threatened to crack again. You were in so much pain from the journey back that you hadn’t even noticed Luffy making his way over.

At first, he didn’t speak—just kept you close and sobbed into your chest, pulling you softly to the ground in a desperate attempt to bring you into him so nothing could ever take this moment away.

You let him cry, wanting to yourself but not having the strength, so instead you lay with him and attempted to hold him just as tight.

After what felt like hours in the best way possible, Luffy pulled back just enough to look you in the face. His eyes were puffy, and his lip quivered slightly.

“Don’t leave me ever again.”

His tone was serious and scared—something rare for the soon-to-be King of the Pirates. You smiled and nodded, unable to say much from the lack of water and food for such a long period of time.

His grip never softened as he picked you up and carried you back to the others, Sanji already getting a meal ready for you.

Everyone gathered and asked a million questions, crying happily as they told you how much they’d missed you.

Luffy shooed them away—except for Chopper—so he could tend to your wounds, especially the broken ankle.

Sanji encouraged you to eat slowly so you didn’t get sick, and Luffy held you in his lap while he rested his head on top of your shoulder.

“We should stay here for just one more night. It’s going to be too dangerous for one of us to carry Y/n back to the ship at night,” Chopper said, looking to the captain for his opinion.

“You’re right. I could handle it, but I don’t wanna put too much stress on her,” Luffy spoke softly, since you had now fallen asleep against him.

Sanji quietly took the empty plate from your lap as to not disturb you.

The next morning, everyone woke up before you. The past few days had been exhausting. Since you’d been either sleeping or in so much pain you couldn’t communicate, no one knew the events leading up to your return—nor did they really care to push for that knowledge yet. The only thing that mattered was you were alive and now safe—especially to Luffy.

Packing was done before going to bed the night before, so all that had to be completed was breakfast. Luffy made sure to keep your plate warm in his lap while he kept an eye on you, brushing hair out of your face while he ate with his other hand.

The smell of food woke you, stirring slowly as you attempted to sit up—the pain in your body forcing you to lay back down.

“Hey, take it slow. Here—I’ll feed you!”

Luffy was unbelievably relieved to have you back, but his fear hadn’t completely vanished. He was still concerned about your injuries—and god forbid what he would do if this ever happened again.

Most of the crew had started making trips to bring supplies back to the ship, leaving only you, Luffy, and Robin behind until it was ready to set sail.

You explained to them what had happened—how you slipped your way out of the enemy’s grasp and fell tens of feet to the ground, shattering your ankle, then climbing trees to find which way you needed to go in order to find the crew. The trip took days due to your injuries, stopping every few hours to rest.

Luffy held you tightly as you spoke, and Robin nodded along, listening deeply to every word you said.

Once the others were done packing, Luffy scooped you up effortlessly and carried you bridal style toward the ship.

Usually, he threw you over his shoulder lovingly ofc hehe but today, and from this day forward, he planned on trying to be a bit more romantic, even if he wasn’t good at it in the traditional sense.

“Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry that I worried you.”

The words came out barely above a whisper. You were already tired again just from being awake for a few hours.

“I’ll always help you. Don’t be sorry for being hurt—you couldn’t help it.”

Luffy flashed his typical goofy grin, bending down to peck a small kiss to your forehead.

God, how he had missed you—and never again would he have to.

Months go by, and your captain hasn’t changed. He takes you everywhere, steps in front of you more during battles, even feeds you meat off his plate before eating himself.

You tell him he doesn’t have to do these things. He knows he doesn’t. But he wants to—because he’ll always remember the time he thought these beautiful moments with you would be nothing more than a memory.

But now he gets to make new ones—and Luffy wouldn’t trade that for the world.

[breakindishesinaelevator]

GET HEXED! pt 1

Invincible (Mark Grayson) x Jinx!Reader

————————————————————————————

soooo yeah this’ll be HEAVILY inspired by jinx and her past and her mentality and whatnot

yes things will be different, yes therell be different scenes, yes the characters will have different names

yes this will be in parts cuz i write too much

yes my english is my worst subject so if its sucky please bear with me or just tell me straight up if this is ass i can take it

yes there will be zaun but imagine it is just downtown baltimore or something like where titan is from but everyone will refer to it as zaun bleh bleh bleh

Sounds of laughter is in the air. Children running rampant at the park. It’s a small park but you know how kids are. Their imagination knows no bounds. Hell, they could have a piece of cardboard and make whatever kind of game out of it.

Wait, off track.

Anyways, back to the park.

Some little guy is running around, playing with the other kids. He's a cute little guy. Jet black hair and dark brown eyes. See that little tooth gap? Yeah, this kid is adorable.

Oh- oh! Um, did he just fall?

"Mark! Be careful!"

Presumably, his mother called out. She's currently cuddling up on the bench with her, what looks to be, husband.

"I will Mom!"

The kid, now known as Mark, shouted back, as he ran back to play with some random little girl. She was small, frail like a twig. Does she eat at home? Actually, where are her parents? Is she here alone?

"Anyways, back to what I was saying. I was cleaning up the house and found these weird little rock things." The woman went back to talking about her job to her husband. Sighing, she continued, "I'm guessing the guy who sold the house left them behind, and I tried to contact him using the number he left with me in case there were some things wrong with the house... for some reason though, the number didn't even work."

She shrugged her shoulders, waiting for some kind of input from her husband. Nolan hummed in thought, stroked his mustache, and then said, "Did he leave any other form of contact with you? Email? Emergency contacts?"

She shook her head, "No, none at all. Those rocks also looked super exotic." She giggled and nudged his arm, "Maybe we could sell them for a pretty penny. Or they could be a cute decoration for the house!"

Debbie was enjoying her time in the park with her family. The sky was clear, flowers were blooming, the birds were singing... Unbeknownst to her, there was an extra pair of ears listening to their conversation.

It was a girl. She looked maybe in her early teens, rugged, oh gosh- are her clothes burnt? And what's up with those bandages on her arms?

"[Name] let's go."

She stepped up, calling for the random girl who was playing with Mark.

"Awh, already? I was having fun..."

[Name] was pouting, not making any moves to get up, still building some kind of lodge out of sticks with Mark.

"Come on. Let's go. He's waiting for us."

The older girl got more insistent on leaving. Moving towards [Name], and grabbing onto her arm.

"Awh..."

[Name] getting pulled up by the older girl, she looked back behind her shoulder and waved to Mark.

"Bye Mark! Let's play another time!"

"Oh- Bye! ...I guess..."

Mark stands up and walks back over to his parents.

"I'm ready to go home now..."

He sighs and sulks, sad that his friend left already.

"Already? Why don't you play with the other kids honey?"

Debbie stroked his hair, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"I don't wanna play with the other kids... My friend left already..."

"Oh, Mark..."

Debbie clicked her tongue in thought. Turning to Nolan, who shrugged his shoulders. She sighs, turning back to Mark, outstretching her hand for him to hold as she gets up.

"Alright then, let's go home."

-------------------------------

The two girls meet up with two boys in an alley.

The taller boy, buzzcut hair, steamer goggles, shirts layered on him (seriously how many shirts is he wearing), and way too long pants, steps forward to greet the two, but he’s cut off from the shorter boy who is accompanying him.

The shorter boy, matted hair, shirt that is HUGE a little too big on him, charred pants, and torn up shoes (YOU CAN LITERALLY SEE HIS TOE POKING OUT), pushes past the taller boy and scoffs at the two walking up.

"Jeez. Took you long enough!"

"Shut up Nile.”

The older girl pushes past him, walking to the now open sewer hole.

"I got a tip on the next place we'll hit. I'll give more information when we get home. Now come on."

Nile groans and stands at the entrance of the sewer.

"Can one of you go first this time? I need to smell good at the very least 'cause your boy- Ahhhh!"

Nile gets pushed in face-first, Mokkur goes next, leaving you and Indie outside. You look up at your older sister with an unreadable expression before hopping in and sliding down, followed by your older sister who closes the entrance behind all of you.

—————————————————————

grrrr i hope this was okay

[luiluvr]

treacherous — luigi mangione

genuinely spent so much time pondering how to write this out, thank you to the anon who sent the request i really love how it turned out :,) also in my head luigi loves taylor swift, hence the ending mwahahaha

WARNINGS: none, fluff, a moment where luigi snaps from stress, f!reader, kinda (not really) proofread

SUMMARY: After being freed from prison, Luigi has plenty to catch up on and he tries his best to reply to letters from supporters, but between keeping up with them in a timely manner, having a new girlfriend and other things he’s trying to do — he snaps at you.

WC: 2.1k

It had been over a year since he walked free. Through thick and thin — it had been endless hours of pondering, worry and prayers to a higher power; unsure if they were even listening. By some miracle, the verdict fell on the courtroom like an angelic tune: “not guilty.” His legal team had spent so much time in understanding every aspect and working through so many kinks that they encountered. But they did it.

It was you he found in the midst of it all, an escape from the hells he suffered through, when he saw you, when he read your letter – he felt like he had found heaven. There was something about you that fascinated and intrigued him. He impacted you equally – the male’s image, what he stood for… Something almost revolutionary that somehow united a split nation. Your heart ached every time something new was revealed about his case, the way he had been treated was diabolical. A disgrace to the country – to the world – to the people.

Strong as a tree he stood, resilient and kind despite his circumstances. Even behind bars – he was such a darling before it all happened. You always believed in his innocence. The mere thought of support made his heart cheerful, even in the strange, various ways people expressed it. He was proud to bring people together.

So, now that he sat in the comfort of his own home, still haunted by the memories of the life he endured inside that prison – he kept a smile on his face and continued to spread positivity, more than happy to keep in contact with those who showed him nothing but love in a time of pain. It was difficult to write back to what seemed like over a thousand different letters, but he kept persistent and worked diligently day in and day out to be sure everyone received a response from him. He was writing a letter back to a mother, to whom he pondered his reply for a few days now. It troubled him more than most letters normally would, considering these types were always heartbreaking. The ways the healthcare system treated families was so dehumanizing. It was a sad reality.

He wasn’t all for the public eye and attention on him, he never was – he appreciated it nonetheless, he would never not be grateful for people caring. It was a rocky process, getting out so many responses. Sometimes he’d get a bit stressed because of it. Today was one of those days, he had a major hand cramp, a slight headache on the left temple and a sudden stump. His fingers trembled, causing a shake through the pen he jotted with; a cramp in his back made him sit up straight forcefully and he glanced out the apartment window – a little break for his eyes.

When sense finally sunk back in and he focused on the paper, you had walked back in from running a few errands. Luigi had been so indulged in keeping up with his replies for weeks. It became a little annoying for you, not necessarily because you needed his attention – okay maybe you did; but all he did lately was write. Day in, day out. He tried not to overwhelm himself with anything else so it didn’t disturb his thought process while reading then replying to letters. Perhaps tonight you would cook something for him, and he could take a break to talk with you. His routine was just: wake up, clean up, read through letters, have lunch around noon, then he’d start responding to all of those letters he spent reading during the morning. He’d grab a snack for dinner or order out for you both, and still be writing.

Sure, his dedication was endearing, however it could be too much on you. It felt like your partner had just become another person in the house rather than what he was before he decided: “I think I’ll start replying to all of those letters.” 

“Hey Lu,” you said softly as you hung your keys on the hook by the door, kicked off your shoes and sat your bag on the couch. He doesn’t reply, just hums something as he writes. You sighed and carried the bag of groceries to the kitchen, then sat them on the counter. “I’m cooking dinner tonight, so we can sit together and eat. Maybe you can tell me about your letters?” You smile, placing some refrigerated things in their place; and all you’re met with is a nod from the back of his head. Shaking your own, you slowly pad off to the bedroom. You had been ready to shower since you got up, while you were out, you went to the gym. 

After, you winded down. Drying your hair carefully, applying skincare and dressing comfortably. Maybe an hour went by – you weren’t entirely sure. You stand, sliding into your fuzzy slippers and emerging from the bedroom, no surprise that Luigi’s still sitting there silently. “Hey, I’m gonna start cooking now, I know it’s a little early but I was thinking we could have a movie night.” 

No response … You continue on with what you please. 

He was hyper-focused on making the best response, and all he heard was the nose you were making. Clanking a pot or two, rustling food packages, popping oils, every sound sinking into his ear drums and driving him nuts. Accidentally, you dropped some tomatoes, they were just the small cherry ones. “Shit,” you muttered, they rolled around and scattered. Luigi rubs his temple. When dinner was finished, you were so content with it, you glanced over at Lu. “I’m done with supper, are you ready to eat?” ...  “Luigi.”

Silence. “Babe.”

Nothing. Again. “Luigi,” You call, and he turns, staring at you. He then rises up, comes over and picks up the plate you were holding for him. “Mhm.” He hums and walks back off to the desk. Like getting a toddler’s attention – the casual span of a gnat of course, Luigi plops back down in his chair and eats while reading another letter. You dine alone at the table, quietly. The only sound to flow throughout the room is the gentle scrape of the silverware on the plate, or small swallow. You offer Luigi seconds, but he denies. So, you take his plate and begin cleaning up – normally he would assist with that, or do it himself if you cooked; alas, tonight he wouldn’t.

Your hands are rushed over by warm, soapy water as you scrub the plates, the silverware, the pan and pot you used. Then carefully wiped down the stove, the countertops and the table despite you being the only one who sat there tonight. You were able to sit down, just let out relief knowing that was all set and done – in the corner was Lu, writing again. After dinner you guys would relax on the couch and watch a series or movie together, soak in life. He was able to enjoy breathing freely again when he’d sink into the cushions and throw pillows – wrap his strong arm around your side as you lay your head on his broad chest, your serotonin bursting out as you burrow in his embrace.

It's the opposite, you don’t lean into anyone, no extra warmth, no company, just you, the couch and the black TV screen you hadn’t turned on yet. You wanted to wait, perhaps he’d change his mind tonight, he’ll set everything aside and come to you. Tuck himself behind your body as he cradles you into his side, cover both his and your legs with a fuzzy blanket, pet your hair until you eventually fall asleep right there so he’ll carry you to bed.

Not tonight.

You take yourself back to bed after TV time – if you even consider it that. The TV stayed on mute as to not disturb your boyfriend’s intense writing session in the corner of the apartment. It only bothered you somewhat. 

What finally tipped the iceberg was waking up at 2 AM and finding the illuminating light from a small lamp on his desk still on. His eyelids droopy, his pen hovers over the page hesitantly, shaking ever so slightly. Luigi was one blink away from passing out.

“Lu, come to bed will you?” Your voice replies gently – there’s no visible reaction from the male. “Luigi,” you repeated. He draws in a breath, sitting up, his back cracks quietly, causing his face to contort in a reflection of mild discomfort. Being hunched over the desk all day is equally worse to being hung over a laptop or phone all day. Which he normally was against doing to himself. He cut a connection with electronics at a certain point in his life, and he swore it was one of the greatest things he did to help his mental and physical health. Now here he is, sleep deprived and ruining his posture simultaneously 

“Please come to bed, you look so exhausted.” 

He tilts his head and continues to write (what you’re assuming is) a new letter. You just missed him, you wanted to cuddle to sleep and know he was there in the bed by you as you close your eyes and let peace swallow you whole. Your heart aches to be without him – even if he is there. You love him too much. 

“Luigi, babe–” “Oh my god, don’t you see that I’m trying to write these letters?! Just shut up for five seconds, I’ll go to bed when I’m ready!” He snaps at you, the tiredness is clear as day on his face. Normally his skin is a gentle tan, slowly losing its color – going pale again. HIs eye bags were saddening and as you stared in disbelief that he snapped at you like that. It’s truly painful to you. You understood he was busy, overly stressed trying to respond to more letters than possible every day. He needed to slow down though. He was driving himself crazy by not sleeping enough and not socially interacting only through letters.

He sat silent after his little snap, he sighs as immediate guilt crept over him and he looked at your expression. Never used to that, he never gets angry or upset with you, he always talks it out slowly, genuinely, lovingly. He had no idea what came over him, but now – staring at you – his beautiful, tender-loving girlfriend who he probably just startled by yelling at – was eyes-wide and arms folded. 

“Baby, I’m so, so sorry – I didn’t mean…” His apology is delayed when you walk off to the bedroom. He rubs his aching face, then combs his fingers through his curls and stands – finally. After hours. He swallows a lump in his throat as he makes his way back to your shared room and leans against the doorframe. “Look, baby…”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Lu.” Your voice is muffled by the way you lay against the pillow – facing away from the door. “Look – I didn’t mean to snap at you okay? I’m really stressed right now… That’s not an excuse though, I should never yell at you, bellissima.” He murmurs, sitting beside your feet at the edge of the bed, his weight sinks the mattress awkwardly. His hand reaches out, lanky fingers wrap around your leg and he gives it a squeeze through the fabric of your pajama pants. When you don’t respond, he clenches his jaw, he has no idea what to do other than to give you attention. He should’ve done it before, never ignored you, he felt horrible.

“I’m so, so sorry princess.” He whispers, crawling up on the bed behind you. He snaked his arms around your waist, his breath heats the side of your neck as he begins peppering kisses right there. All he knew was he wasn’t letting either of you go to bed until you were happy again. He squishes your back against his front. “Dolcezza,” he sighs, “Please talk to me.”

You shake your head slowly, he kisses your jawline. “You’re my princess,” his breath tickles your skin. “I’m gonna make time for you, I shouldn’t prioritize anything else in the world over you, my love. Even cheesy letters.” He says, you turn onto your back and he immediately grins, the corners of his lips turn up, his cheeks blush every time he sees that pretty face of yours. He inches towards you, resting his chin in the valley between your breasts, harmlessly.

He flaps and flutters his big hazel eyes, those flawless lashes – like a new puppy. “Oh fine, you big baby.” You smile, but his smile’s brighter. He leans up and plants his plump rosy lips against yours. “So treacherous.” His eyes meet yours again.

You squint and raise a brow, “Was that a Taylor Swift reference?”

“Maybe.”

“You actually like Taylor Swift!”

“All too well.” He says cheekily.

[justageekk]

You can write something about Dean Huijsen (that man is soooo fineeee 😫) it can be bf headcanon or something, please and thank you 💕

IN WHERE : dean huijsen is your boyfriend

THIS ONE SHOT IS : fem!reader x dean huijsen

note: i don't speak english, only spanish n a little portuguese. any errors are the translator's fault.

w: none!

request open!

bf!dean who always tells you "que pesada eres" with a smirk because he really loves it when you're looking for him.

bf!dean who sends you sleepy-faced selfies and says "so you can see how handsome I wake up."

bf!dean who silently runs his hand up your thigh when you're in the car.

bf!dean who pretends to be bothered when you kiss him, but turns his face to you every two minutes: "venga, otro, pero ya el último."

bf!dean who answers your calls with just one "uh-huh," but then calls you to talk for an hour.

bf!dean who doesn't tell you he's coming to your house, he just shows up with his backpack and says, "I brought a change of clothes just in case."

bf!dean who falls asleep on top of you watching movies, and if you move, he murmurs "no te vayas, mi vida..."

bf!dean who takes you to Malaga and his family treats you like a queen. He proudly boasts, "esta es la que me trae loquito."

bf!dean who makes fun of you for everything, but if someone else does it, he doesn't find it funny anymore and always tells them to stop.

bf!dean who isn't jealous, but if someone stares at you too long, he says "se va a quedar bizco como siga."

bf!dean who silently strokes your hair when you're sad and whispers "estoy aquí, tonta, no llores más."

bf!dean who always lies half-lying on the couch with a dead-eyed expression, but if you ask him for cuddles, he comes around like nothing's happening.

bf!dean who grabs your hand under the table and plays with your fingers while talking to others.

bf!dean who loves it when you go see him at games.

bf!dean who sometimes gets jealous of his mother when she spends more time with you.

bf!dean who hates photos, but lets you take as many as you want "because they look good on you."

bf!dean who covers you with a blanket if he sees you asleep and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, as if you were made of glass.

❝ justageekk, 2025 ❞

[jweekgoji]

.Seen your tiny motorcycle cybertronion reader. Can l ask for like the complete opposite. Just a massive hulking reader and the TFO characters reactions, to put it in perspective, reader is like only a few inches smaller then darkwing without a cog. Please?

TFO chars/Reader [hcs]

tw: none. word count: ~1,3k additional tags: cybertronian!reader, massive!reader, gender-neutral!reader, cogless!reader chars included: B-127, Orion Pax, Elita-One, D-16, Sentinel Prime, Darkwing, Airachnid a/n: thank you for your request and your patience~

B-127

He's a magnet for bigger bots. The little 🐝 managed to befriend at least 3 new bots that ended up being taller than him, so it's no surprise he will stick to you like a tiny coala. Oh, imagine how much bigger you can get once you have your t-cog.

If you're stuck with him in the waste management, I can see him preferring to sleep on top of you instead of on the conveyor belt. It doesn't even matter if you let him do that or not; once you two fall into your recharge, the next thing you see when you wake up is his face. right. in front. of you.

And it's not really his fault! Seriously! Even though his attention span is kinda short, he does understand your message, 'stay on your side, and don't get too close'. His only problem is his own behavior when he's unconscious. In the previous headcanons B-127 is very talkative when he dreams about something, so there's a big possibility that 🐝  also moves a lot in his sleep.

↑ So yeah. It doesn't really matter if you mind his clingy behavior or not; by the end of the night, the little yellow mech rolls over, whines and calls out for you, like a kid missing his favorite, big teddy bear.

The other interesting detail I see in TFO is the first fight between Death Trackers and High Guard/Main Four.  🐝 gets on top of Orion while the latter in his vehicle mode, and that gives me an idea how B-127 might act with reader that is much bigger than him.

↑ B-127's affection is not only shown through the quality time. Yes, if you're not already friends with him, he will be so excited to get to know you better. I mean, how many cogless bots this big ever exist? Not to mention, he has never gotten the chance to socialize. Poor thing was stuck for Primus knows how long, so excuse him when he gets so chatty with you at first, even though your dialogue is really one-sided at first.

“How did you get this big?”

“Can you reach for the top of the ceiling??”

“If I consume as much energon as you, will I get this big too??!” — 🐝.

↑ The more comfortable he gets with you and vice versa, the more he will want to be as close as he can get.

↑ When he has troubles reaching for something, he will get sad, until a light bulb appears above his head when he thinks of ‘oh wait, I have my best friend—’, and he's already running off to find you.

Overall, B-127 is really amazed by you, but if you think about it...he's just really enthusiastic about everything and everyone. 🐝 probably jumps and climbs on you whenever he has a chance, just to sit on your shoulder and ask you to carry him around; maybe even throw him into the air and catch up. He's really, really...touch starved.

Orion Pax

You two are some sort of similar, but in a little different way than one might think at first. You're very, very— easy to spot. In Orion's case, he's famous for making his pranks and running to the library, only to get smacked later by the guards or supervisors when he starts a fight with the others. In your case, it's really simple. In the crowd of cogless miners, you tower over any of them, and only supervisors can match you in this one.

Orion is really friendly, and he has no trouble making friends with other bots even if you're not interested. Maybe, like Elita, you're dedicated to your job and want to get to the top of your ranks, but it's really hard when that blue-and-red bot follows you around to throw a joke or two. He's dedicated too, you know!

I feel terrible for both you and D-16, since being around Orion Pax means only one thing. Lots of new, unbelievable experiences. Sometimes, this new unbelievable experience means getting punched for trying to intervene.

↑ But you're more lucky than D-16. If you think about it, D-16 is strong enough to hold Darkwing's punch, and it doesn't look like the supervisor tried to be 'gentle' on any of them (and that's all while D was two times smaller than Darkwing!).

↑ Now imagine Orion running to you every time the troublemaker is pursued by your oh so angry supervisors! Pax hides behind your much bigger frame, and if he had been a little faster, he'd successfully get them off his tail, but unfortunately...they saw him, so once Darkwing marches towards you to yank that annoying miner from behind you, the other big boy only stops half his way.

If only it was one of the other tiny cogless, he'd deal with both of them once and for all for even slightly disrespecting him. But once you cross your servos over your chassis, showing that you're not going to back away, he will step aside. This time, Orion was lucky to have you around, but that doesn't mean you will always be there to help him...

↑ Don't get me wrong, Orion is not that bot who will run away every time the consequences of his actions are getting to him. He understands that you have your own goals, and he doesn't really want to get in your way. 🚚 will apologize profusely if you get in trouble because of him, but he can't promise you that he won't do it again...but that is usual Orion Pax for you.

Elita-One

Realistically, it's hard to impress Elita. Mainly because she's the type who is married to her job, so as long as it's not related to the scores of her team, you will not get anything more than spared glances here and there.

↑ I think it's a big rarity for someone like cogless reader to tower over other cogless bots, so it's natural for her to first act like ‘how the—?’ before she brushes it off, focusing on the more important stuff to do. This is a blessing and a curse at the same time, since you probably hoped to at least impress her in some sort of way. Your co-workers and friends love to hang out with you and lean on you to rest a little, but no— everyone but her loves you! How unfair.

It will take a lot of effort and work to catch her attention. Firstly, don't become trouble. Secondly, be natural (take notes from Orion!).

↑ Elita, like a natural leader, really appreciates traits like determination or inspiration. There are two possible situations when she might grow closer to you: 1) where you are leader of your own group, leading the other bots through dangerous mines. 2) where you're her second in command.

It is important to use your quick thinking and stay cool during dangerous situations, so when the explosive accident in the mines happened, you were the one who saved everyone, not leaving other injured bots behind.

She was scared as hell when she saw that you didn't leave the mines with her when she clearly ordered you to leave. But seeing you walk out with your teammates safe helped her spark to calm down a bit.

Maybe you're not so bad yourself after all.

D-16

↑ there's something similar to this reaction, when he meets you for the first time, hehe.

 D-16 is one of the tallest in the group of cogless bots, or so he thought that, until you show up.

There's something that clicks inside his mind when he sees you, and he just can't take his optics off you until Orion elbows him in his side, making the silver-colored mech hiss and rub the spot with a painful expression. You didn't catch him staring, did you? That would be too awkward.

I think D-16, just like Elita doesn't actually mind your size, but he's more open towards his feelings, and it's even harder to hide when you two get closer.

For him, short or big, you are still someone he wants to protect from any harm. He's kind of selfless in this one, ready to grab you and pull away from any possible dangerous situation. And if he can hide Orion somewhere, it's so much harder to do the same for you, so he will bring his poor negotiation skills and somehow not get you two in the end of the list for promotion.

↑But if you're a peaceful and hardworking bot, just like him, I really hope that it's you who will protect D-16 this time. It's just hard not to get defensive every time he has to be punished for something he didn't even do. Justice for D-16!

He will be surprised at first when someone stands up for him against your supervisors, so he is speechless for a good time. Slowly, he will warm up to that new feeling, which is...actually very nice, being on the receiving side.

You two always look after each other, and it's easy to become good friends with him. D-16, used to the role of protector in his group, still has some habits when he sticks his nose somewhere where he shouldn't be, so you should definitely look after him.

Sentinel Prime

Sentinel takes a good look through your profile when he gets notification about the group of protororms being created. One of them is unusually too big for someone cogless.

His reaction would not be really positive at first, mainly because he has a superiority complex. I hc him as really jealous of Prime's not only because of their status but because they also reminded him that they will always be higher than him, in both senses. He was smaller than them, which makes him feel even less of himself (despite the fact that they never did anything to insult him). Sentinel hates when others look down at him, and thankfully, you're not tall enough to tower over him...

↑but he probably gets paranoid because of you. what if one day another cogless not shows up but this time both stronger and bigger? no,no, such a silly thoughts. there's no way someone can be better than him.

If you somehow get his attention, enough to make him personally approach you, sort of like D-16 and Orion's situation, he will be so pissed off behind the scene! Sentinel would never show it clearly, mainly because he has to maintain that perfect leader image, but it's hard not to notice how the corner of his mouth twitches or how he shakes your servo a little too tight...

But Sentinel would not be Sentinel if he didn't try to use everything for his own business. You're strong, tall, and can do a much better job than your short coworkers! A perfect worker, and that one bot everyone should look up to for inspiration!

Darkwing

Another bot who gets so pissed off just because of the way you were created, even though you had no power over it, but that's just your usual life as cogless on society built by Sentinel...

Darkwing is a pain in the aft for most miners; he will bark orders at them and throw some insults, but for some reason, he's a little more scared to approach you directly.

↑ Your supervisor might give you this glance as he gossips with his coworker, and whenever you look over your shoulder to find who keeps staring at you, he immediately looks away, as if he didn't do that for like a good hour or so.

It's not hard to notice that his behavior towards you is different. Whenever your friend gets scolded by him, he will turn to you to do the same— and he just mutters a quick “yes, you too, back to work...cogless”.

Darkwing doesn't look like a good fighter, to me. He mostly shows his strength against weak and defenseless bots, and he knows that they have no chances against him. He is easily startled and can be stopped by cogless who dare to go against him. There's a tiny part of him that understands that, so he will bite you with his words instead of hitting.

Airachnid

She's pretty damn tall too, as she is half a head taller than Sentinel, but that is mostly due to her spider legs. Even then, 🕷️ lady has her optics down at you, and her presence is already sending chills down your spine, despite her not mumbling a single word.

There's not too many opportunities for you to meet her; at least I can't find her being interested in miners, unless it is related to her job, like one of the tasks Sentinel gave her.

It can be like, that Sentinel suspects you of being a possible rebel, or you somehow got too close to revealing the truth, so he sends her to spy on you. Maybe she meets you when she accompanies Sentinel during one of those fan-meeting situations.

Anyway, Airachnid is more similar to Elita in this case. Spider lady is hard to read, especially since she always stays quiet, only occasionally giving you a half smirk or laughing at something, making the situation even more awkward than it is.

There's a really tiny possibility that if you prove yourself to be loyal to Sentinel Prime, obedient and hardworking, given the fact that you already received your promotion, she might start thinking about taking you under her wing.

↑ If you get a cog, what kind of alt mode will you get? A tank? A jet? Maybe a ship or train? Only Primus knows, but she's a little excited to find it out if only Sentinel puts down his pride just a little and agrees to that.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like A Lamb

**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.

Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.

He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.

John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.

The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.

How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?

John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.

With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.

The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.

He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.

~~~

Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.

“What do you think it is, Danny?”

He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.

“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”

For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.

The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.

That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.

Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.

“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”

“Adopted?”

“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”

Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.

“Why did he- what made him do that?”

Pandora ruffled his hair.

“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”

~~~

“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”

Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”

“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”

John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.

He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.

Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?

“Fine. What are the details?”

Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.

“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”

“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”

The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.

As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.

The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.

The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.

This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.

Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.

And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.

“Hi.”

The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.

“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”

Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”

“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”

Bless Diana.

“Can you leave the circle, young one?”

The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.

“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”

John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?