CW ~ short smoking, reader does weed [may be joking or not], does abbot even smoke?, making shit up as i go, abbot tits appreciation,
A/N ~ quick abbot drabble lalala finally getting an off day oms
ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━˚.⋆₊⊹♡
Jack didn't even see you walk up, turned with his eyes vigilant to any incoming paramedics. He just knew one moment he was taking in a puff of that tangy, lingering ash and the next moment a pair of lips were on his.
"Stop smokin'," you murmured, showing up as a surprise greeting to your boyfriend. You knew nights got cold and he simply adored staying longer than he was technically meant to. His cigarette was pulled now inbetween your fingers, dropping it while he was distracted and stepping on it with your heel. "Come do weed with me instead. At least it won't give'ya cancer."
Abbot hummed in quiet amusement, knowing your act by now but still indulging in any chance to see and touch you. His calloused hand reached to cup your cheek, half-heartedly pulling you away if anything not to kiss you deeper while on the clock. "'M not gonna get cancer, hon."
"Maybe," you clicked your tongue, pressing your weight on his as the moonlight breeze picked up. "But you can never be sure. An' how could'ja risk these beauties?" You teased, playfully dragging your finger across his eye-catching upper abdomen.
"Pretty sure you don't get breast cancer from cigarettes," Abbot scoffed, grinning and shoving your hand away with a roll of his eyes. "You come for any reason in particular, or just to play with my tits?"
You pulled your hand to your own chest, huffing indignantly and looking away with a mock pout. "Well, you wound me, sir. Can a boy not see his wonderful wife anymore?"
"Oh, upgraded, have we? 'Wife'?"
"Of course. I yearn for you across the seas, so far away from me while you save lives oh-so-heroically," you egged on, the back of your hand on your forehead and a leg propped up as if you were to faint for good measure. "Oh, Jack, my darling, come back home. The kids miss you."
Your boyfriend gave a gravelly yet honest laugh at your antics, yet playing along anyways and catching you in a tilt. "If by 'kids', you mean 'dogs', then sure. Anything for my love."
You bit back a laugh and playfully pushed Jack's face away when he moved to theatrically kiss you, whom gave a deep sigh of feigned disappointment. "What, no kiss for the heroic wife?"
"I will-" you compromised, turning around a moment to the small bag you brought with you. Producing a good-sized canister of fresh soup, you pushed it into your boyfriend's chest, the warmth of the blue tinted metal seeping into the both of you against the chilled atmosphere. "-if you eat something."
Abbot hummed as if to consider the offering, though really just admiring the way you looked at him; clearly sleepy, but not really wanting to sleep without him. Something that annoyingly plagued you often. "Well, who am I to deny the yearning prince?" He accepted, taking the canister and urging you closer for that kiss he- okay, the both of you- always want more of.
You indulged in toying with the other man's shirt a few seconds more before you pulled away, knowing you had likely already taken too much of Abbot's time at the ER. "Whatever, loverboy," you clicked as if you weren't the exact same way. "Just come home when your shift actually ends instead of stealing the dayshift's job. You're gonna replace everyone at this rate."
"In your dreams, sweetheart," Jack mumbled, a more productive side of him yelling at him to get back in the hospital, but not yet wanting to let go of you. For the time being, his hand lingered on your wrist, a thumb rubbing into the skin as if subconsciously mapping out even the layers he couldn't see.
"I'd hope that's not my dreams." Pulling away before you let this run on into getting one of you in trouble [again], you huffed dramatically. "No, my dreams of you are much, much better."
Relationship(s): Eloise Bridgerton x nonbinary/genderqueer!AFAB!reader (platonic or romantic)
Summary: Amidst an identity crisis, you confide in Eloise.
Warnings: Coming out scene. Period-typical lack of knowledge about nonbinary people. Eloise Bridgerton not listening, until she does. (Let me know if I need to add any)
Word count: 0.5k
(A/N: The idea of being nonbinary, genderqueer or gender nonconforming in a very gendered society like that which we see in Bridgerton is something I was interested in exploring, even in just a short fic (it may or may not be an element of the Regency-inspired rom-com I'm planning on writing). I thought that Eloise would be the perfect character to pair with a enby/gnc reader because of her aversion to the importance of gender roles in her society, and how that would shape her reaction. Not to mention, I'm in love with her, and I need there to be more Bridgerton fics for nonbinary readers, so here's my offering.)
You weren’t sure what had compelled you to tell her then and there. Perhaps it was because it felt like an intimate moment, the pair of you alone in the dark, the only sounds your quiet breathing and the faint, distant hum of the string quartet coming from inside.
You looked at her contemplatively, chewing on your bottom lip. She noticed this and cocked her head to the side.
“Are you quite alright?” she asked.
“Eloise…” you hesitated. “Might I confide in you about something?”
“Of course. You can tell me anything.”
You swallowed your saliva. She watched you with evident concern and anticipation.
“Sometimes… I doubt that I am a woman.”
After considering your words for a moment, she let out a relieved laugh.
“Thank goodness. For a moment, I was worried that you were with child.”
Unsure how to feel about her reaction, you chose not to speak. In an effort to reassure you, she linked arms with you and pulled you into her side.
“You needn’t adhere to their rigid ideas of what women should or should not be to consider yourself one. Do not let what anyone thinks convince you otherwise.”
You shook your head.
“That’s not- I did not mean it like that,” you tried. “Existing as a woman feels… wrong for me.”
“Oh, I know how stifling being a woman can be, but we can defy what is expected of us. We must. There is fulfilment for us in this life of womanhood.”
“Eloise, you are not listening,” you sighed. “I have read about people throughout history who did not identify with their sex. There are those born as men who have lived as women, and those born as women who have lived as men. It is not something they do because of convenience or to deceive- it is simply because how they were born did not match how they saw themselves. There are even people who do not feel that they are a man or a woman at all, perhaps neither, or both, or something in between. I do not feel that I am a woman or a man. Does any of that make sense to you?”
Eloise thought for a moment, before looking at you.
“Yes, I suppose it does,” she replied. “Is it distressing to feel such incongruence?”
“Oftentimes, yes. To be told what you are when you know it to be untrue… it can be maddening. Especially when it is your own body telling you so.”
“Well, I am sorry that you must endure that. It is bad enough being a woman. I cannot fathom how much worse it is to be one when you are not one.”
You exhaled a trembling breath and rested your head on her shoulder.
“Thank you, El, for being so understanding.”
“Of course. Woman or not, you are still my dear friend,” she replied with a chuckle. She paused before continuing. “That really is fascinating, you know. I would love to learn more about these people, if you would care to tell me.”
Summary ~ A humanoid alien seems to have crash-landed it's way onto Erid and, in a quick panic, they're passed off to Simon and Grace. Though, nothing can ever be easy in space, can it?
CW ~ none, reader is mute
A/N ~ Madly in love with everyone adding Reader inserts to Bloodymary as various space medias except. I've played and watched very little space. Taps my evil fingers together and grins nervously and deviously. Whoever understands the insert is getting a sloppy kiss from me.
Grace and Simon had been... well, not much had been happening. Simon caring for the plants that dared to grow in such a strange environment, slowly learning and getting used to living like this. Grace busying himself however he could; surrounding himself with his many, many schoolkids, doing his best to understand Eridian technologies and culture, just figuring out himself further as a person. Nothing big, though nothing small. Keeping their minds occupied and stimulated enough to just not go crazy and possibly try to eat the other. Well- maybe eat each other in some ways was acceptable.
Though a visit from Rocky was not uncommon, it was rather strange to hear a bunch of the Eridians- a 'landslide', Grace has tried to dub them- chirping and giving long, distressed melodies as they baraged closer. Grace quickly stumbled out of his house-lab atop the hill, skirting around to the mouth of a cave which separated the oxygen-encased enclosure and the rest of the planet. He wasn't sure what to expect from the jumble of sounds, the translations getting mixed from so many voices being interpreted on only one system. Something something 'human?' Something something 'not breathe' something 'quick quick'. Wonderful hints to go off of.
Whatever his mind was internally preparing for, Grace admittedly froze at the sight of... another person? Though, not passed out and injured as Simon [or him] had been when he arrived. Instead, they looked completely fine. In spite of the Eridian air and cluster of rock-aliens pushing them towards a film-like barrier as they approached the mouth of the cave. The stranger was surprised, but made no move to fight the high-pitched chirpings of the new creatures. Catching Grace's eye, you gave a single wave. As if this were normal.
What really intrigued Grace, though, was the fact you had on no helmet. Your skin wasn't burning up and you weren't choking to death or anything drastic, the Eridian air seemingly having no effect on you. He held back a step, always cautious of the ammonia, watching as the landslide panicked and shoved you through the film. You tripped at the rocks and the strange barrier against your body, the sudden change in temperature sending a slight chill down you.
At this point, Simon, too, had been intrigued by the commotion, watching the other man race his way to the cave's entrance while he himself leaned on the doorway of the greenhouse. His form remained rather still as a figure, a bit blurry in even in his good eye, stumbled through the mouth and Grace fluttered to steady them and try to quickly make sense of things. As he does.
"Hi! Hey- uh- wow," the man infront of you blinked a second, wide eyes running over you as if trying to figure you out. If you were real. If so, how? How- everything? "You- how were you breathing? The ammonia through the barrier should've been highly toxic, or-"
You took off your helmet, shaking out messy hair and only offering a small shrug in response. Grace cut off then, noticing your skin that was, infact, not skin.
"Oh- oh! Gosh, sorry, ah-" the scruffy man inhaled quietly, taking a second to assess the newcomer. Grace tried to bite back any ramblings and a bulldozer of questions, toning it back as he recalled how Simon had claimed it offputting when first meeting him.
You seemed humanoid, in terms of outer body, at least; two arms, two legs, a torso, a head. Eyes, mouth, ears, hair, even smaller details like faded cuts and light eye bags. Though, upon closer look, you didn't seem to have skin. It looked like stitchings, similar to the fox cardigan he wore. The back of Grace's mind scoffed at even the idea, though he knew at this point, maybe he should accept not everything was totally scientific. Especially in space. He had befriended and communicated with one alien species through math, though, so he still held onto the idea.
You wore a spacesuit, scattered with stickers and hand-drawn doodles that seemed unprofeshional in some way. The helmet now rested against your hip, watching him with half-amused eyes as if you had all the time in the stars for him to keep ranting.
Okay. So. You weren't talking. More like waiting for the overexcitable stranger infront of you to keep going. That didn't reassure Grace at all, though a small part of him was relieved you didn't appear opposed or nervous or defensive over all his questions. Quite the opposite, really.
A silence scatter before you two, as if slowly wrapping a string in the air. Then, taut and cut, Grace startled feeling a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Ah-! Don't- gosh, Simon, don't do that to me," the blonde gasped quietly, though quickly settled. It wasn't totally wild to think he did this a lot.
"Wow," was all the new person said- Simon, if you had heard right. You're eyes flickered at the rather neutral tone, unsure whether how to take it, though offering by a small wave to him as well.
The new man let it be at that until Grace elbowed him, giving a bit-back 'ow' before realizing you shouldn't just say 'wow' to a stranger and go silent. "Sorry. 'S just been... a long time since we saw someone new. And you're..." he gestured vaguely to your overall appearance. 'Not like us.' He meant to say.
You shifted a bit on your feet, feeling the cool, slow breeze of an ocean unfamiliar to you. Of course, it had come out odd, but it's not like you were unaware of the difference between your stitches and their... well. Okay, maybe you didn't know exactly what they were, but it was different. Still, you'd never met others within the many planets which you traveled that would seem almost offput by such a thing. Then again, you were rather far out...
Regardless, your demeanor did not change. Only giving a one-sided shrug and lazily dragging a foot across the sand. Wow. It's been a hot moment since you've felt sand.
The silence tugged it's way up and out of Grace's throat, taking it back in a breath that paced alike the artificial ocean that filled the air and background. It seemed to skip a beat between the three of you as they came to the inevitable conclusion you either would not or could not talk. The science teacher didn't let himself linger on this, though, clasping his hands together and rocking back on his heels. If just an excuse to move.
"Right. So... how'd you get here? You definetly didn't sem impacted by the ammonia, either- are you used to this type of atmosphere?" Grace questioned aloud, not knowing what to expect in response.
You lightly tapped the helm against your hip, thinking of how to get it across. People didn't usually question your origins. Just set you on quests and introduced you to tools and items and the concept of negativity [again]. Then, to likely no one's surprise, you used your free hand to mimic a small explosion, before pointing down to the sandy floors.
The two creatures before you stood in a shared, processing silence. Grace was faintly reminded of the first few times he tried to communicate with Rocky. It was almost humbling, to him, how aliens seemed to continuously love their puppet shows.
"You... crash landed?" The blonde voiced, dragging the vowels as if it would cushion the possibility of him being wrong. Simon threw the other man a wordless, 'how'd you get that?' look, though dropped it when you nodded. His eyes squinted further at you, trying to read the apparently oh-so-easy messages you sent via hand motions.
Grace nodded quickly, already getting used to such a methods of speaking. He glanced back to the cave mouth in which you were pushed through. A few Eridians had stayed out of curiosity, whispered melodies floating between the rock-aliens. Majority of the landslide, though, had disapated and left to do... whatever they did out there.
"Soo..." the blonde dragged a moment, moving his eyes back to yours. Admittedly, trying hard to not let them drift and continue to figure out what exactly you were. "I'm guessing you need help repairing your ship? We- me and Simon, I mean- can't leave this beach, but seeing as you didn't immediately die in the previous setting, I'm sure the Eridians would be willing to help."
A polite offer, yet you lightly grimaced. Ah, here comes the hard part. How are you to explain your ship is actually made of nothing but cardboard and creativity? You yourself weren't even sure how to repair something like that. The thought had never even occurred to you! How odd it must be, traveling the galaxies in such a fallible material. You felt a twinge of doubt that settled in your gut like a weighted plush. How had that ever even worked? How would you get it working again?
Realizing you were thinking too hard, resulting in a less-than-promising silence between the three of you, you gave an apologetic smile. With no other way to explain it yet, you just gave a tilty, iffy motion, though a look on your face that leaned more towards 'ehh...'.
Happy pride month. [Masc aligned] Date Everything characters who would wear a dress with you.
☆ Volt ☆
C'mon. He's a hell of a showman, of course he's worn one before. Maybe very rarely, as matching suits are a specialty of the two Breaker Box owners, but he would. All you have to do is ask, livewire.
Of course, Volt sticks with his colours of electric blue and grey/black, the occasional complimentary gold. The few gowns he has are typically have a train. Not too long, of course, in the active crowd of the bar. Perhaps tea length, if he's really feeling into it, but he prefers flashy and flowy. If the dress isn't already cape style, Volt totally has a few capelets he adds on top. Not just for dresses, sometimes just whenever. No-go for any styles off the shoulders. No shame to it, it just feels strange to have himself exposed like that.
♡ Eddie ♡
Nope. Not his style. He hasn't tried one and doesn't plan on it. Eddie doesn't think he'd look bad in one, per say, but he's a huge fan of layered clothing against his skin [wires?]. It's like a self comfort. Loose dresses- or any loose clothing, for that matter- just feels wrong on himself. And a tight fitting gown, pointing out every form of his body? Yeah, no, he'll pass.
☆ Tony ☆
It'd take a looottttt of convincing and pleading and egging on, but if you bug him enough and you do it first, he will. Groans loudly when you say he needs his own, not wanting to risk tearing yours. But Tony listens [as he should]. Once he finally puts one on, after you swear up and down and left right and sideways and backwards you won't go blabbin'? Stars above, one of y'all are leaving this experience pregnant, and it's not gonna be you. . I'm joking. Maybe.
Anyways. Tony has tits, and he knows it. He also knows you're into it. So, naturally, he somehow got his hands on a strapless dress. So of course, he flexes in it, flaunting and teasing,'all for you, pretty boy'. It rips around his third movement.
♡ Lux ♡
Yeah. And they look better than you in it.
☆ Amir ☆
Oh my gosh. Ohmygosh. Excuse my drooling. Hold on. Give me a moment. Okay.
First of all, yes? Secondly, of course. Third of all, sorry I'm drooling again.
In all seriousness [which is none], of course this absolute charmer does, has, and will. I mean, look at his everyday outfit. Maybe it can be described as more of a robe, but do you think that's gonna stop Amir? Noooooooooo
If you bring up wanting to match with him? Oh, he's gone. He already adores helping you dress and showering you in compliments every morning. Yes, of course, he's flattered you ask him. That morning takes a bit longer than usual- cough cough a few hours- but gosh, you wouldn't rather be anywhere else.
Call me crazy but I think Amir is very.... hmmmm... genderflor
♡ Barry ♡
Oh, darling. Obviously! He's helping you trying on so many various outfits and dresses, some of them sundresses, some of them a cross between a suit and a gown. When you ask if he'd like to try one, for a change. He's flustered, of course. Him? You mean you'd like to see how he looks?
At your gentle insistence, though, it soon delves into a girl's night [gender neutral]. Barry's excited to take notice in the way the same dress will look different on the two of you. Isn't that such a wonderful thing? The same piece, transformed into something different with each turn and choice in center? And, as always, Bathsheba is always ready to share shameless opinions and tips and gossip into the time, with Amir offering his own advice and gently tucking in pieces you or Barry wouldn't think to notice.
☆ Parker Bradley ☆
Are you kidding. He would aggressively play lost magical missing princess with you and go full out if you brought it up in passing. Of course.
He's so adorably awkward the first couple times, but if you're nice about it, he mayyyybe just miiiiight start exploring and questioning how wearing a dress can be nice even on a specialized day. Parker discovers the term 'paraboy' while scrolling the wikipedia references page for cards against humanity. Don't quote me on that.
♡ Washford ♡
No.
At least, definetly not at the first ask. Or the second. Or third, or...
Said simply, it takes quite the nagging and questioning for him to cave even a little. When pushed on his repeated rejection, he says- obviously in a Shakespearian way- it gets in the way. Bullshit.
Washford finally, finally gives in when he sees you and Drysdale just... out in the open. Wearing gowns. Do you know how embarrassing it is as an aged performer having to rush away at such a simple sight, flustering over himself and bowing in red?
He tries to act put off by it, though is admittedly very curious with the wide array of options. The fabrics, the styles, th cuts and hangs and coordination in colour. It's intricate, if you really look at it, and he appreciates that.
Washford's gown is, of course, a sudsy blue and dewdrop white. It does need to be flexible, considering his acts. Plus, too much movement of anything waist-below distracts him [he doesn't like the texture or feeling]. Likely a mock-top, slightly puffed or ruffled and a humble lining of charms, with a midi or tea length mesh skirt
☆ Drysdale ☆
Oh, this absolute diva? Who's idea do you think it was to start wearing more revealing and still flashy outfits?
So maybe they first time you caught him wearing a dress, he was wearing yours. So what? Drysdale was rocking that shit. Sorta. It did not fit him.
As always, staying with the theme of his typical outfit; dewdrop white and a soothing orange that still gave a pop to whatever he wore. It still needed to be flexible and comfortable to move about in, though Drysdale- being the one more in the air- has more variety given he's not the stability. He's in an, ahem 'underbust thong shapewear' COUGHHHHH who said that. Ok whatever realistically. Alike Washford, a close-fitted [totally not on purpose], puffed mock-top. He's showing off those thighs [🤤], but is wrapped in arm drapes and ribbons. Leg drapes? Do they do that? They do now.
