#((i think right now i just...need to sleep. it's very late.))

[ackermanrage]

ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ

levi ackerman x fem!reader warnings: none :) an: finally some levi fluff hehe~ i saw a fic like this a long time ago and decided to recreate it 😊

You stood near Levi’s desk, arms crossed and a teasing smirk on your lips as he finished adjusting the straps on his gear. The early morning light poured in through the window behind him, casting his office in an amber glow—warm enough to soften even the infamous scowl on his face.

“You’re triple-checking your harness like a rookie,” you said lightly.

“I don’t intend on dying because of a loose strap, brat.”

“You don’t intend on dying, period,” you corrected, walking over and gently pulling his cravat tighter around his neck. “Besides, you’ve got someone to come back to now.”

Levi’s eyes flickered up to meet yours. That intensity—the one only you ever got to see soften.

“I don’t need a reminder,” he said lowly.

You didn’t break eye contact. Instead, your fingers trailed from his cravat up to his cheek. His hands instinctively found your waist, steadying you, grounding both of you in that rare and quiet intimacy that existed only behind closed doors.

He glanced at you sideways. “What are you doing?”

“This,” you whispered, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He sighed, as if he were already exhausted by your antics—but you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his side.

“Are we really doing this right now?”

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, lips grazing his jaw. “Before you go risking your life, I think you deserve a proper goodbye.”

Another kiss—lower this time, brushing the underside of his jaw.

Then one near his ear.

Then one just above his collarbone.

He shifted slightly, but still didn’t stop you. Maybe he didn’t want to.

“Don’t get carried away,” he muttered.

“You love it.”

“You’re leaving marks.”

You leaned in and said sweetly, “I'm not.”

Another kiss, slow and possessive, right at the side of his throat.

Levi let out a breath through his nose and fastened his cravat lazily over it. “You done?”

You tapped your chin in thought, then kissed his mouth once—quick and warm.

“Now I’m done.”

He adjusted his jacket, grabbed his gloves—but didn’t notice the trail of lipstick evidence decorating his pale skin.

You, of course, stayed completely quiet.

As he stepped toward the door, he glanced at you once more, his tone softer now.

“Try not to miss me too much.”

You gave a slow, coy smile. “Too late.”

---

The morning chill hadn’t yet burned off. The squad stood in a loose circle near the horses, the kind of barely-coordinated gathering that usually only happened when Levi hadn’t arrived yet.

Eren was yawning. Jean was pacing. Mikasa was already fully prepared and silently judging everyone else.

“Where the hell is he?” Jean muttered, shifting his weight. “Captain’s never late.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” Connie said, brows raised. “Or like, sleeping in.”

“Maybe a Titan ate him,” Sasha added helpfully, chewing on a hunk of bread.

Mikasa didn’t say anything, but her eyes were on the HQ building like a hawk.

Then—footsteps.

Levi emerged from HQ, striding toward them with his usual quiet confidence. Scouts jacket. Bladed gear. Blank expression. Standard-issue everything—

Except the very obvious lipstick mark on his left cheek.

And the one half-hidden under his jawline.

And the faint pink blur at the base of his neck, slightly covered by his scarf but still peeking out.

He didn’t notice.

But they did.

Hange blinked once.

Sasha choked on her bite.

Armin visibly froze, as if trying to compute a math equation that broke physics.

Jean stepped back like he’d seen a ghost.

“...What the fuck is that?” Jean muttered. “Does anyone else—? Am I losing it?”

“Wait—waitwaitwait,” Connie gasped, grabbing Armin’s arm. “Look at his face. Look at his face.”

“I am looking at his face,” Armin whispered. “There’s lipstick. There’s definitely lipstick.”

One mark near the edge of his jawline.

Another just under his ear.

A third on the side of his neck.

A faint smear on his collarbone, barely hidden by the cravat.

Hange turned, took one look at Levi, and let out a loud, delighted cackle. “HOLY SHIT.”

“Are those—?” Sasha started.

“Lipstick,” Mikasa confirmed, arms crossed.

Jean took a step back like he’d seen a ghost. “Who the hell kissed Levi Ackerman?”

Eren squinted. “That… that can’t be real. That’s Levi. He doesn’t—he doesn’t do kissing.”

“LOOK AT HIS FACE!” Jean barked, pointing. “Someone full-on made out with him before he got here!”

Moblit looked like he was glitching. “Did we enter a parallel universe?”

Levi stopped walking. His expression was blank, jaw tight, but he could feel all eight of them staring holes through him.

He considered just mounting his horse and leaving without a word.

But no.

Too late now.

“What,” he said flatly, “are you all gawking at?”

“Captain,” Armin started delicately, “you… seem to be wearing… um…”

“Several very vibrant statements of affection,” Hange supplied. “In Rich Rosewood. Excellent shade, by the way.”

Levi glared. “Tch. It’s none of your business.”

“You’re covered in it,” Sasha said, voice an octave too high. “It’s everybody’s business now.”

“You’ve got kisses all over your damn face,” eren said, incredulous.

Levi frowned. “I do not.”

Mikasa reached into her pocket and whipped out a tiny compact mirror. “Check the evidence, sir.”

He looked into it.

Pause.

A longer pause.

His expression didn’t change—but his eyes did.

“…Shit.”

Connie exploded. “WHO KISSED YOU?!”

“No way this was just one kiss,” Sasha breathed. “This was like—a storm.”

Armin looked genuinely distressed. “Captain, are you in a relationship? Like—a real one?”

Hange’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Oh my god, it makes so much sense. You've been disappearing more. Staying late in meetings that mysteriously don’t involve any of us. That mysterious bruise on your neck last month. The weird good mood. This is huge.”

Levi adjusted his cravat again, this time higher, but it was far too late.

He considered lying. Brushing it off.

He sighed.

“I’m seeing someone,” he said, voice sharp as steel.

Sasha screamed.

Connie dropped to his knees. “THE WORLD ISN’T REAL.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Wait, wait. Who is it? Who could it possibly be?”

“It’s not your concern,” Levi said calmly, starting toward his horse.

“It absolutely is our concern!” Jean cried. “We’re invested now!”

“Are they in the Corps?” Armin asked, trying to keep the tone respectful. “You can just say yes or no. Blink twice.”

“No,” Levi replied. “But yes.”

Moblit whispered, “What does that even mean?”

“Are they hot?” connie asked.

Levi didn’t answer.

“Oh my god,” Hange murmured, looking skyward. “It’s y/n, isn’t it?”

Levi froze mid-step.

And that silence said everything.

Eren howled. “YOU’RE DATING HER?! SHE’S LIKE—THE COOLEST PERSON IN THE ENTIRE BRANCH!”

“She could punch all of us and I’d say thank you,” Sasha added.

Jean shook his head slowly. “I didn’t even think you liked people.”

“I don’t,” Levi muttered. “She’s an exception.”

Mikasa was quiet, but the smallest, faintest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “She makes sense for you.”

Levi mounted his horse without further commentary.

Everyone watched him like he was a newly crowned deity.

“When did this happen?” Armin asked.

“None of your damn business.”

“Do you love her?” Sasha blurted.

Levi paused. “Irrelevant.”

“OH MY GOD YOU LOVE HER,” Jean screamed.

“Like. Deep,” Sasha whispered.

“You guys gonna get married or—?” Connie started.

“Enough,” Levi barked. “Anyone who brings this up on the mission gets left in the forest.”

Hange sang out. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Shut up.”

“You can’t stop us,” Connie said proudly. “This is the tea of the year.”

“Connie,” Levi deadpanned, “do you want a concussion?” "But you gotta admit captain, you're down bad." Eren said, smirking.

Levi turned around. But from the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the answer was clear.

And he still didn’t wipe off the lipstick.

©ackermanrage - please do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work!

[aervera]

Even You Sleep Through It

synopsis. satoru finds peace in curling up beside you, ranting about everything and nothing—only to realize halfway through that you’ve already fallen asleep. contents. sfw, fluff.

MASTERLIST

you’re already halfway asleep by the time he gets home.

the sliding door opens with a familiar click, soft and smooth, followed by the rustle of his coat being peeled off and tossed somewhere it probably doesn’t belong. you don’t open your eyes, not fully. just enough to confirm that, yes—he’s alive. in one piece. loud, glowing, and annoyingly tall. business as usual.

you hear the sigh first.

then—

“you will not believe the day i’ve had.”

you hum faintly into the pillow, cheek squished against the warm cotton of his hoodie you stole hours ago.

gojo, undeterred, flops onto the bed beside you with dramatic flair. you feel the bounce of the mattress, the dip near your hip as he stretches one absurdly long arm across your back like a weighted blanket made of chaos.

“so first of all—nanami lectured me. again. like i’m twelve. because apparently, showing up to a mission ten minutes late is a war crime now.”

he shifts closer, tossing one leg over yours, not caring that you’re basically boneless at this point. his hand slips under your hoodie to rest against your waist, warm and splayed like he’s claiming the whole surface.

“i said, ‘hey, i brought snacks, that’s worth something!’ and he said, ‘you brought dango to a battlefield.’ like okay? and?”

you murmur a sleepy noise that could be interpreted as supportive.

“exactly,” he says, clearly taking it as encouragement.

his voice is all around you now—richer without his blindfold on, deeper when he’s not performing for a crowd. the kind of voice that slides into your ears and settles like velvet behind your ribs.

“and then shoko said i couldn’t keep cursed spirits in the faculty fridge just because i wanted to study them later. which, rude. i labeled them and everything. proper tupperware and all.”

you smile against the pillow, eyes still shut. “you’re insane.”

“y/n, it was scientific research. you wouldn’t understand. you’re too normal. that’s your whole thing. you’re my emotional support civilian.”

you snort.

it’s true. you’re not a civilian, technically. you’ve been a sorcerer long enough to earn the scars on your fingers and the wear in your bones—but next to gojo satoru, everyone’s normal.

you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, then rest his chin there like a shelf.

“anyway, then i almost vaporized a first-year by accident because they startled me while i was meditating, which is probably their fault more than mine. honestly, it’s like people forget i’m a sensitive guy. i need gentle introductions. soft voices. snacks before confrontation.”

you nod, very slowly. “mmhm.”

“you’re so validating,” he says with a sigh. “this is why i love you. you let me complain and you don’t try to fix it. you’re just like—‘oh no, baby’s mad?’ and i am mad. baby is mad.”

you think about telling him he’s not a baby.

you don’t.

you’re too comfortable.

the weight of him wrapped around you is oddly soothing. you’d never say it to his face, but he feels like a personal heater—sprawled out and ridiculous, all limbs and heat and never-ending commentary.

“also, someone called me a ‘dilf’ today. can you believe that? first of all, i’m not a dad. second of all, i could be, but you’re hoarding the rights.”

you mumble something unintelligible.

“yeah, yeah, ‘shut up, satoru,’ i know,” he says, grinning. “but seriously. the barista looked me in the eye and said, ‘you’d make a really hot single dad.’ and i said, ‘bold of you to assume i’m single. my girlfriend could dropkick you and look good doing it.’”

you yawn. barely hold onto consciousness.

“also—yuuji tried to teach me how to skateboard. that went well until i hit a curb and somersaulted into a vendor stall. the nice old man gave me free takoyaki out of pity.”

you feel his hand move to your side, rubbing lazy circles into the curve of your waist. it’s gentle. almost unconscious.

“then i saw a dog that looked exactly like me. white hair. vaguely threatening energy. barked at a child.”

you laugh, soft and slurred. “you barked at a child?”

“i don’t bark. i’m above barking. i glare. i’m a respectable menace.”

you peek one eye open.

his face is close—resting half on your pillow, hair tousled, eyes unguarded. he looks at you like you’re made of starlight.

“and then,” he adds dramatically, “i came home, exhausted, drained, emotionally neglected—and you weren’t at the door with snacks and applause. betrayal.”

you smile faintly. “you’re so needy.”

“and you’re not needy enough,” he counters. “you don’t demand daily love letters. you don’t insist i serenade you. you don’t weep when i leave for work like the tragic heroine you are.”

you hum, nestling into his chest.

“y/n?”

“mm?”

“are you even listening to me?”

“mhm…”

“no, you’re not. you’re fake listening. you’re sleep-listening.”

you smile without opening your eyes. “go ‘way.”

“never,” he whispers, and the hand on your waist shifts to your hip. “you’re mine.”

you don’t answer this time. can’t. the warmth is dragging you under—his scent, his voice, the slow rhythmic pressure of his thumb against your hip.

still, he doesn’t stop talking.

“you always fall asleep on me. every time. i could be delivering the most brilliant monologue in the world and you’re out by minute four.”

you hear his breath hitch—like he’s checking if you’re still awake.

“…it’s okay, though. you’re cute when you sleep. kind of drooly. occasionally violent if i move too fast.”

you would deny that if you had the strength.

“you know,” he says softly, voice dropping lower, “i think i like this best. you, like this. all quiet. letting me ramble. trusting me enough to sleep before i shut up.”

he shifts closer, tucking his nose against your neck.

“sometimes i think the world could fall apart and i’d still come home to tell you about it. even if you’re too tired to answer. even if you fall asleep halfway through. because it means i made it back. means i get to see you again.”

your lashes flutter, but you don’t speak.

“even if no one else listens,” he whispers, “you do. or you try to. that’s enough for me.”

he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, then wraps both arms around you like a promise.

you drift.

and somewhere, far beneath dreams, you hear his voice again—

quieter now, like a secret he only tells the dark:

“i love you, y/n. even if you sleep through it.”

[stellargh0ul]

If you haven’t gotten tired of my fic request I had another idea for a dom! perpetua, what about him and a very bratty reader who keeps pushing his buttons just to see his reaction?

I did my best but I actually don't think i'm very good at writing bratting? I myself am a very obedient kind of submissive so it definitely doesn't come easy to me, but I tried my best!

-

he adores you at all times- when you’re sleeping, when you’re tired, when you’ve just woken up and are still blinking the sleep blearily from your eyes. when you’re smiling and when you’re frowning, when you’re interrupting his work to remind him to eat and when you’re watching with wide eyes as he practices onstage for his performances.

there is something about you he finds captivating and Perpetua comes back to it time and time again, reminding himself how there was no one else in the world for him but you.

it’s just that, sometimes, you can be a real pain in the ass.

like now, when you’re standing just outside his reach, holding the straps of his mask in your hand, with a devilish little grin on your face.

“lamb…” Perpetua drawls, turning away from the mirror in front of him where he’s applying his faceprint to look at you. “I’ll need that back.”

“what will you do to get it back?”

your voice is cheeky, with the laughing, playful tone of a toddler doing something they know they aren’t supposed to.

he sighs. so that’s the game you and he will be playing tonight. it’d be cute if he weren’t in the middle of doing something, preparing for a ritual in which he must be in attendance in his full ceremonial garb.

which, of course, included the mask you’re holding, dangling just far enough away that he can’t grab for it without getting up.

Perpetua sighs, putting down the brush on the vanity so that he can turn to face you fully.

“you know I have somewhere to be soon. i’ll play with you all you want after the ritual, but I don’t have time right now.”

a pout crosses your lips and you fold your arms, glancing away from him.

“that’s too bad. I still haven’t heard what you’d do to get your mask back.”

he purses his lips. stands to his full height, watching you take a few steps back, perhaps in anticipation of him trying to take it from you by force.

“I’m telling you to give it back before I punish you for being rude. Daddy doesn’t have time for this, little one.

“you don’t have time for me?”

“you know that isn’t what I meant.”

you take another few steps back, towards the door.

“maybe i’ll go see if Frater wants to play with me, since Daddy doesn’t have time…”

Perpetua moves quicker than your eye can follow him, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other coming up behind your head to cradle it. it cushions the impact as he pushes you up against the wall of the dressing room, fangs bared momentarily as he pins you in place.

“if you were trying to earn a spanking, little one, there are easier ways than invoking my brother’s name.”

“…Sorry Daddy,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes. his hand gently but firmly takes the mask from you.

“too late. come, over my knee. if you wanted to go to the ritual with an aching bottom, you’ve got your wish.”

[tarnishedxknight]

"We do not yet know... how this path... will go. What we do know... is that we have seen... many others that have traveled... the same... trajectory before. And when that happened... we know what resulted. So we try... to avoid... or encourage... to steer humes... to a better path. Example. If we have seen... a hume rise to power before... many times... and each time... the ob-... obliteration... of another hume land... resulted, then we can say... with some foresight... that to avoid that catastrophe... and loss of life... and tilt of the Balance... we must eliminate that hume... before he can take his race... into that likely future. So we do not know... as a perfect certainty... how this turn of Time's Wheel... will go... but we can predict... with good ac-... accuracy... where we need to inter-... intervene... to avoid what has happened... in past turns of the Wheel. Makes sense?"

He paused and waited patiently for if she had other questions. Xenos really didn't mind Wanda's questions at all. not only did he like talking with her, but in his mind, it was far better to ask if one did not understand, rather than assume, accuse, or judge as most humes did. "It is alright. I... I was part... of making decisions... when I lived... in our city... in the sky. Just not... anymore," he explained. "I am seen now... as being... gone. Dead. No longer part... of the Collective... the Hive Mind. I cannot hear... my kin... anymore," he said, lifting a hand and circling his ear a bit. "Used to hear all voices... inside... at once. Now, only my own." He frowned a bit at that. "Lonely."

If Xenos had at all wanted to replace his hood where it had been and hide himself away again, those thoughts were gone the moment he saw Wanda looking him over. She was so curious and interested that how could he take away something she liked looking at? Even if it was him? "Others... do not think so. Cid... called me... his pet. Little pet. 'How is my pet today?' Always asked that... when he entered my cell. Vayne... said I was useful. A... a..." He tried to remember. "...a mean to end. Means... to an end," he corrected himself. "Like a tool. Object. Not a living being." He sighed, and for a second, there was a flash of something in his eyes. Anger maybe. Perhaps a bit of insult. "Degrading. Disrespectful." His smile returned, though, when his gaze did to hers. "But you have always been kind. Thank you."

"Mm-hmm," he said with a little nod and a smile, albeit a weary one. "I am alright. Was dreaming... of... my original capture. My change... into this," he said, looking down at his hands and arms. "Re-... recurring... dream. Nightmare. Just something... I must live with. Will be alright." It was then that he looked over and saw that she was extending her hand out to him. Remembering how nice it had been when she'd allowed the time to touch his hand to hers and be comfortable with it while they had still been inside his cell, Xenos supposed that it would be alright to do it again now. He reached out his hand slowly, letting it hover for a moment before he lowered it onto hers. His gaze lifted and he smiled ear to ear. How wonderful it was to have someone he was not afraid to touch, and whose touches did not result in pain for him.

As she laid down on the bed, Xenos politely moved to the chair, partially to make sure he stayed vigilant, but also to give Wanda space and not crowd her. He liked it here, he thought, as he sat in silence, letting her rest. It had none of the fear and coldness of his cell.

- - - - -

It was early for Gabranth yet, but whenever His Excellency requested things of him, his own sleep schedule went right out the window in favor of following non-optional orders. And so, some three hours before he would usually rise and after being up very late, he was already in full armor and making his way to the sage's chambers. It was his duty to make sure her night was satisfactory and assist her with anything she might need for her day. Reaching her door, Gabranth knocked loudly enough to be heard, but not so loudly that it might startle her if she was still sleeping.

"It is Judge Gabranth, my lady," he announced politely. "I've come to ask if there is anything you require to start your day."

Xenos eyes widened at the sound of the knock, looking to Wanda to see if she heard it too. Upon hearing the voice, he drew his hood down over his face. "Gabranth is here!" he whispered to her with a sense of urgency. "Wish me to hide?" he asked, pointing to the space under her bed.

"Who are you? I do not believe we have met." (for Xenos because reasons)

It had been Gabranth's duty to show the Emperor's new sage around the palace and the capital city, helping to familiarize her with important locations she may need to know during her stay. If she was to assist His Eminence with war strategies and grant him advice on what direction to take the Empire in the future, she would need to know what was going on there. Thus, one of the stops on their tour was the Draklor Laboratory.

The Laboratory was a massive seventy-floor building within which all sorts of research important to the Empire was conducted. Everything from airship design, to weapons development, and magical pursuits were studied there, and at some of the topmost floors were the offices and lab of Dr. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, known by most as Dr. Cid. He was not only the head researcher of Draklor Laboratory, he was also the chief writer of science, technology, and magical policies for the Archadian Imperial Army, which funded the Laboratory. Dr. Cid was also one of Vayne Solidor's main go-tos for secret nethicite research serving the prince's agenda.

Gabranth took Wanda up to Dr. Cid's offices, but the man was not there. This was typical, for Cid was always something of a free spirit, and he often went out in search of materials for his experiments. He took Wanda on to see Cid's laboratory anyway, explaining to her that this was where the Empire was attempting to safely study the effects of nethicite. Even as he said it, though, he scarcely believed his own words. Cid was anything but safe. If rumors were true, and Gabranth had at least some evidence in support of them, then Cid's might was slowly beginning to slip. Regardless, Gabranth gave Wanda a superficial look at the lab, for she mostly just needed to know where it was, in case she needed to talk to Cid at some point, and not so much its intricate inner workings.

When she seemed to stop by a rather ornate looking set of double doors - doors with a strong magical ward for a locking system - Gabranth was soon tasked with explaining that, no, Cid did not experiment on living beings. His research was mostly chemical, magical, and technological. He wondered why Wanda would fixate on the doors and ask such a question, but none of his spies or his own reconnaissance had indicated that Cid was experimenting with live creatures. "It may be a storage room for nethicite or other highly dangerous magical components," he explained, feeling the Mist within him stirring, and not just because of the magical lock on the doors. In his mind, that was the only explanation that made sense.

Oh, but there was a living being inside the room, and he was quite tortured, frightened, and sad. His emotion was so thick and heavy, it came off him in waves to one who was even mildly empathetic like Wanda. Even through a magically locked door, the imprisoned and enslaved being Xenos gave off a heartbreaking and desperate amount of suffering that permeated the room and even beyond it. His magical power also branched out into his surrounding environment, even magically bound such as he was.

When Wanda returned later without Gabranth, that same energy and emotion was apparent the moment she got within the near vicinity of the doors. For someone with magic as unique and versatile as Wanda, the magical locking glyph placed on the door was certainly no match. Once the doors were unlocked and opened, a sorrowful sight met her eyes.

The room was bare, sterile, with no sign of warmth or kindness. A marble floor, two pillars made of a different type of stone, and a man kneeling between them, slumped where he sat, a mess of chains tethering him to the pillars. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of linen pants and a tattered cloak, the hood of which was draped over his head. His wrists were shackled, connected to chains that were rooted in the stone pillars on either side of him. Those shackles were then also chained to a third shackle around his neck. Small glowing glyphs of warding, suppression, and control glowed on each of the shackles.

When Wanda entered the room, Xenos slowly lifted his head, feeling her presence even if he hadn't heard her first. Her magic was significant, he could feel it, but he didn't know who she was. Was she here to hurt him? Probably. Everyone else here was. He shakily rose to his feet and backed away slowly, until the chains pulled taut and he couldn't go any further. Trembling and a bit folded in on himself, Xenos stood there, clearly afraid of Wanda.

He was very lean, probably too thin for a man of his height. And there was an unnatural blackness to his hands and feet, continuing up his arms and likely his legs too if they could've been seen under his pants, until it brightened into a bronze skin tone. Red glowing eyes could be seen peeking from underneath his hood.

Her question, though... was strange. Usually people just came in and started ordering him around, inflicting pain with magic if he did not comply. They didn't usually want to chat with him, or ask his identity. Did she not know who he was? Was she not told? If she didn't know, then why was she here? Maybe she wasn't here to hurt him after all.

Xenos slowly moved to one of the pillars, his left arm being harshly pulled in the direction of the other pillar by the short chain even as his right hand softly touched the pillar before him. He huddled against the stone, partially obscuring himself with it, feeling safer when he wasn't standing entirely out in the open. "Xenos..." he answered her, his voice a raspy whisper from lack of use. "I... am Xenos..."

[shima-draws]

Sorry I’ve been kinda quiet btw 😭 I’ve been super art blocked so I haven’t really been able to sit down and draw much…

I’m really active on Bluesky tho, I try to post older art at least once a day over there lol

[capyclub]

:((

[connormoving]

loveee when a character is crushed under the weight of someone elses expectations for them love when a character dedicates their entire life to something they never even wanted for themself love when the only reason a character keeps going is because theyre Supposed to and bc theyre supposed to make another person happy/proud. YES !!! CLAPPING !!! YES !!!!!!!!

[puzzledmemories]

((i...ended up leaving early from work today. i still don't think i can talk about what happened. i've been requested to keep it private until my brother who lives a couple hours away learns, and i don't think he knows yet. i'm going to try to work a full day tomorrow. i spent a half hour at work just crying at my desk. i don't think anyone noticed thankfully, but it's really unlike me to do that.))

((i don't know why my mom's requested to keep this quiet when i don't think my brother's very emotionally attached to the situation, but, i'll do it anyway.))

((and when i got home i didn't have it in me to do much besides eat. i stared at my dash on here and didn't have it in me to...do anything. i feel really shitty about it. i'm really sorry. as hard as working was today, being home was also hard.))

((i wouldn't even be bringing any of this up if it wasn't hampering my ability to get myself to rp. i had a couple of rought weeks at work that just sapped my energy and made writing so hard, and as soon as work calms down and i start getting my mojo back...i tried my best today. all i could really do is exist.))

((i'm hoping tomorrow will be better. i will work, unless i really feel like i can't, and when i am home, i will try to write. i know rping's all about fun and people are kind and patient and i appreciate it a lot. right now i just want to write to cope with things. i guess i just needed a break today.))

((might try to write a little at work. saturdays are usually okay for that. also taking my nintendo switch to work in case i need that for a distraction. i'm alone in the office on saturdays right now. who cares. in any case, i'll try again tomorrow!))

((I appreciate everyone on here. Everyone here is so nice and kind.))

[jrueships]

I HAVE TO GO ON A LONG CAR TRIP WITH FRIENDS MY LOVED ONES AND I WOULD BE SO HAPPY EXCEPT THE VOICES AHHHHHHHHHHH

[cornflowershade]

aww <3 (just finished ep 12) okay this was definitely one of my favorite thai series so far. would definitely watch it again sometime!!

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*

[docrobinavitch]

chasing ghosts

dr. abbot x f!resident!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, lots of angst, age gap, swearing, alcohol, mentions of child death/multiple casualties at the beginning during a shift words: 8.1K synopsis: you and jack share a kiss during your second year of residency and you spend the next two years trying to outrun those feelings. until the pitt's annual summer party. jack abbot is down absolutely fucking horrendously. like i meaaaaan unprecedented levels of yearning. a/n: hi, i think i blacked out while writing this. eyeeeee had so so much fun. i hope i did jack justice. let me know what you think!!!!

The annual summer party for the Pitt is an all day affair in order to make sure everyone, regardless of who’s working what shift that day, has a chance to stop in.

You wouldn’t think it, but the ER knew how to throw a good party. In the morning, it started with brunch at a place downtown with bottomless mimosas, top tier pancakes, and a drag performance. After brunch, they’d go hang out at the park by the river for a few hours before reconvening for dinner and bar hopping downtown.

Jack Abbot was off today, but still skipped all the morning and afternoon activities in favor of the evening. His sleep schedule was built that way now and even on his off days, it was rare for him to be out during the day. Besides, he was hoping he’d run into you there after your own shift.

You never came to these types of events, but that didn’t stop him from hoping every time. His eyes were always searching, hoping they’d stumble upon yours.

He hadn’t seen or spoken to you much in the last two years, since you switched to the day shift. When shift change occurred, you largely avoided him. He asked Robby about you and Robby always said the same thing, “She’s a great doctor, but she keeps to herself.”

It hadn’t been like that when you were on the night shift. You were shy, sure, but it hadn’t taken Jack very long to pry you out of your shell. 

He wondered sometimes if you regretted it, now. Letting him in.

Now, he was making the rounds at the first bar of the night, not so subtly looking for you.

“You’re pathetic,” Robby teased as he sipped his beer.

“Huh?” Jack said, finally bringing his eyes back to the man in front of him. 

Robby smirked knowingly, “She is here, you know.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” He said, “But her boyfriend is supposed to be meeting her here.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, “Boyfriend?”

Robby nodded, “I didn’t know she was seeing anyone until today. I overheard her mention it to Heather.”

Fuck. Not only were you seeing someone, you were bringing him here, to meet everyone in the Pitt. You must’ve been serious about him, then.

“Do you know where she is?”

Robby tilted his head as he looked at Jack, “You sure you wanna go down that road?”

“I just want to talk to her.” He said, and it was true. Mostly. 

The two of you hadn’t had a real conversation since the week before you had requested the shift change. That night on the roof. He felt it was long overdue for the two of you to sit down and talk about it like adults. Maybe Robby was right, maybe it was much too late for that. 

But Jack couldn’t accept that.

Robby sighed heavily, “I saw her go upstairs to the rooftop bar with Heather and Samira twenty minutes ago.”

“Thanks, brother.” Jack clapped him on the back as he headed up the stairs.

***

You liked the quiet of the night time. Being awake and working when everyone else was asleep brought with it a sort of peaceful solitude you couldn’t quite explain.

But Jack hadn’t needed you to explain, he had understood it intrinsically.

The night shift, of course, could become hectic and even nightmarish at times. But if you stepped outside for some air, either on the roof or the ambulance bay, the quiet of the night cocooned you in safety.

And that’s where you were that night two years ago, on the roof and leaning over the railing, trying to catch your breath.

There had been a six car pile up almost immediately rushed in after the day shift had trickled out. Ten patients. Four of them were in critical condition when they arrived, in that terrible purgatory between life and death. For five hours, you, Abbot, Shen, and Ellis had bounced between them. Still, you lost all four of them.

You had kept it together for the half hour after you had called the last patient, despite the fact that you had felt Jack’s eyes on you the whole time.

But he seemed able to keep it together, to not fall apart, so you would too. The knee jerk response to impress him, to make him proud of you had never quite dulled in your two years of residency. It felt a bit fucking pathetic, actually.

Worse, still, that he seemed to notice how badly you craved his validation and so gave it freely. 

“Hey,” He stepped close to you, his warm breath caressing your cheek, “Go take a break, I’ll come find you in fifteen.”

“I don’t need a break.” You said quickly.

“You do,” He said, undeterred, “You’ve been staring dead eyed at the board for the last two minutes. Shen tried to call you over for a code stroke thirty seconds ago and you didn’t blink.”

You turned to him finally, panic on your face, “Fuck, seriously?” 

You started to walk to go find Shen and the stroke patient, but Jack grabbed your arm, “Nope, uh-uh. Break first. Now.”

It was rare that Jack wasn’t joking with you, trying to make you smile. Now he looked deadly serious. Like he would physically remove you from the floor himself if you refused. You must’ve looked like shit.

“Okay.” You said finally, “Fine.”

He released your arm, but his eyes trained on your every step as you walked away, “I catch you on a patient in the next fifteen minutes and I’m sending you home.” He called after you.

You raised your hand over your head in a thumbs up to signal that you’d heard and kept walking.

And that was how you ended up on the roof. Bathed in the moonlight with the quiet midnight streets of Pittsburgh below, silent tears streamed down your cheeks as you greedily sucked the night air into your lungs.

You weren’t aware of time passing and your mind had gone blissfully blank until you heard him come up behind you.

“How come you, Ellis, or Shen didn’t need a break?” You asked, your voice wavering, “Is there something wrong with me?”

He leaned over the railing at your side and turned his head to look at you, but you avoided his eyes, knowing they’d be soft and warm and inviting. You did not need to see him looking at you like that right now. Just like you had been trying not to notice the way he watched you more than the others, touched you more than was necessary, handed out praise to you more generously.

“Not even a little bit.” He said softly, voice rough, “You were perfect down there. Nothing else you could have done.“

You breathed out a shaky breath, “Then why does it feel so bad?”

“Because you’re human,” He said softly, “And because you were the only one of us to call time of death on a seven year old tonight.”

You swallowed, tilting your head up towards the sky so you could see the moon. A moon that seven year old kid would never see again. “Does it ever hurt less?”

“Fuck, no.” He sighed, “But it makes you a better doctor, I think. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself to try to make it all mean something.”

Finally, you looked at him, and the sight of your red rimmed eyes wrecked him, “It does make you a better doctor,” You hiccuped and gave him a small smile, “The best, probably.”

He shook his head, smirking, and looked down at his hands, “Careful, kid. You keep talking like that, I might think you actually like me.”

Feeling brave, you nudged your shoulder against his, “I mean it. I feel really grateful that you’re my attending. I wouldn’t want to learn under anyone else.”

He pushed his shoulder back against yours and your hands brushed where they each grasped the railing, “I came up here to make you feel better and somehow you’re the one comforting me. How did you get so good at deflecting?”

You laughed through your tears and he relished the sound, “I learned from the best,” You said pointedly as you looked over at him.

“See,” He pointed at you, teasing, “That’s what I’m talking about. Much better. You’re way less unsettling when you’re mean.”

You smiled and he found himself staring at your mouth, enraptured by it, really. The truth was, he had noticed the ways in which he was better when he was around you. Both as a doctor and a teacher. You made him want to be better. He knew he had been giving you more attention than the others, bordering on an inappropriate amount. And he knew, before he came up to the roof, that he’d have a hard time being alone with you and not imagining what you taste like or what your soft skin would feel like under his calloused hands.

He thought you felt the same, but you could be hard to read sometimes. Sometimes, he swore you leaned into his touch, other times you jumped away from it as if he had burned you. Sometimes you went whole days seemingly trying to avoid him, others you followed him around like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head and for him to tell you what a good girl you are.

But now, fuck, now you were gazing at his mouth, too. And he tried, really fucking tried, to rein in the desire. He shouldn’t have kissed you. And he would think about it every day for days and weeks and months and years how badly he wished he could take it back. Not because he didn’t mean it or didn’t want it, but because it had started this downward spiral of silence and distance until you were so far away he hadn’t really seen you up close in two years. If he could go back, he would’ve told himself it wasn’t worth it. Because having only this much of you day in and day out while he yearned for more was better than having nothing at all, than you slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. 

But he didn’t know then what he knew now. 

Cautiously, he moved his face towards yours, waiting for you to pull back. But inch by inch he moved, and you stayed put. And when he was close enough to share breath with you, he met your eyes and was greeted with pupils that had completely devoured your irises. No color in sight, just an endless abyss of desire and want. Your breath faltered when his lips just barely brushed yours, and he stilled for a moment before his self restraint crumbled.

The kiss was hesitant and gentle, at first. Jack kept his hands to himself, slowly kissed you in a way that repeatedly seemed to ask Is this okay? Is this alright? Are you okay? Are you sure?

It was you who deepened the kiss first, tongue darting out to swipe gently at his lower lip.

And the cord between you, that was already so tenuous and frayed, snapped.

His hands shook as he touched you, moving from your waist, to your neck, to your face. It was like his body knew first what his brain didn’t, that he was taking too much and not enough, that hours and days and months and years of touching you would never satiate him anyway and he should just fucking quit while he was ahead. His traitorous mouth that moaned into yours was a bottomless, greedy pit and it could never have you, not really, not even as it sucked desperately at your neck in a useless attempt to mark you as his.

The marks would fade and you would fade from him along with them. 

He thinks now he probably knew as soon as you pulled away, at the panic in your eyes, that he had lost you before he had even really had the chance to have you. 

But he would deny it to himself, even as you ran off the roof ignoring the way your name came out strangled from his throat. 

He would deny it when you didn’t look at him the rest of the night, when you pretended not to hear when he tried to talk to you after the shift change that morning.

He would deny it when you handed him your shift change request form after a week of avoiding him, asking for his signature as you looked anywhere but at him.

He would deny it when his broken voice asked “Is this really what you want?” and you only silently nodded.

Jack Abbot knew he had lost you, he wasn’t delusional, but he could convince himself it was only temporary. He was patient. So fucking patient. He’d find you again, when you were ready.

***

Jack could admit that you having a boyfriend had not been part of his plan. Not that he had a plan, more so an overwhelming sense that if he waited long enough, you’d fall back into him.

But you had still been fleeing the ER at shift change without acknowledging him. He was patient, but it aggravated him to no end, the way you seemed so unaffected. Sometimes it made him feel like maybe he had made it all up in his head and that you had never wanted him at all. But then the film would play on loop again in his head and he knew he didn’t imagine your blown out pupils or the way you deepened the kiss first or the way you moaned when his mouth plucked bruises from your neck like ripened strawberries.

You had wanted him just as badly, he was sure of that. He just couldn’t understand why you were still acting like he didn’t exist.

When he got to the rooftop and looked around, he found you first at a table in the corner, eyes glued to your phone. Another quick glance around and he saw Heather and Samira talking at the bar.

Perfect. You were alone.

When he crossed the roof and sat in the empty seat next to you and you didn’t immediately look up, he realized you had marked his presence on the rooftop as soon as he got here.

The man was like a fucking sonar to your brain. You knew when he was in the same room as you before your eyes could track him. Tonight was no different.

“You look like you could use a drink.” Jack said.

Oh, you hadn’t realized how much you had missed the pleasant roughness of his voice, how it soothed you effortlessly. It practically sent chills down your spine.

You swallowed, continuing to stare at your phone. The second you met those warm hazel eyes, it would be over for you, you knew. It was the reason you had avoided him so diligently the last two years.

“Heather and Samira are getting me one.”

He wordlessly held his own drink out to you. When you stared blankly at it for a few moments, he shook it lightly, ice rattling against the glass, “It’s just a tequila soda. It’s not poison.”

Against your better judgment, and perhaps to indulge that stupid fucking instinct in your head that demanded you not disappoint him, you took it from him. You did your best not to pay attention to the sensation that shot across your skin when your fingers brushed, but the traitorous goosebumps spread across your arms anyway.

You took a sip and handed it back to him, still looking at your phone.

“Why aren’t you with them at the bar?”

“I had to take a call.”

“From your boyfriend?” Finally, fucking finally, you looked at him. It was disdain all over your face, but fuck it, he’d take it. He smirked and held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t ask, Robby told me. Said he was meeting you here.”

Quickly, you looked back at your phone and he saw your throat bob, “He called to say he couldn’t make it, so.”

Jack watched you carefully, the way you frowned and your mouth turned down just slightly. You were upset, and not just at him. 

“I’m sorry,” He said softly, but you scoffed at his apology and shook your head. And that pissed him off, “Look, you may fuckin’ hate me, but I still care about you and I mean it. I’m sorry if he stood you up. I don’t like seeing you sad.”

You rubbed at your forehead in agitation, “I don’t hate you. I’ve never fucking hated you. That’s the problem.”

Well, that was news to him. But he decided not to comment on it. He didn’t want to piss you off anymore than he already had, which seemed to be an awful lot considering he had just got here.

“How long have you been together?” You shot him that annoyed look again, “Christ, I’m just making conversation.”

“Right,” You said sarcastically and shook your head, but you answered all the same, “Two and a half years.” You said quietly. It hadn’t quite caught up to you yet, what you were admitting when telling him that. It took a couple of moments for your brain to catch up, but by then it was too late.

But Jack’s brain was already there, making the mental calculations you had long forgotten about.

Two and a half—? No, that—That couldn’t be right. Because that would mean—

Your face and ears had reddened and you wouldn’t look at him.

Jack’s ears were ringing. He started to say your name—

“Dr. Abbot,” Heather and Samira were back, the latter handing you a drink, “Catching up with your old resident?”

He forced a smile and stood, acted like his world wasn’t fucking falling apart around him, like you hadn’t just dropped a fucking bomb on him in casual conversation.

He was impressed with his ability to hold damn near cheerful conversation with Heather and Samira until he was able to excuse himself.

And this time, it was you who called after him when he left the roof.

“Jack,” Your voice was a soft plea behind him. It was a language he used to be fluent in, but clearly, he didn’t fucking know you anymore. He was starting to think he never had, “Jack, wait—“

He rounded on you in the stairwell, you still a couple of steps above him so the two of you were eye level, “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

You seemed to be caught off guard that he had actually stopped, and just blinked at him for a moment, “What difference would it have made?”

“What difference—?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “All this time I’ve been driving myself out of my goddamn mind trying to figure out what I did wrong when it turns out I was your fucking, what, side piece? Affair?”

“Affair?” You hissed incredulously, “We kissed once!”

He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, “Does he know?” 

“What?”

He was quickly becoming frustrated with your inability to keep up with the urgency this situation demanded. To him, at least, the whole world had shifted around him. And you were behaving as if he was the one acting crazy.

“Your boyfriend, does he know? About us?”

“Jack,” You said breathlessly, “There is no us. There was never an us.”

Jack shook his head, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked, exasperated.

“I’ve been pining after you for two fucking years and you’ve compartmentalized so goddamn well that you’ve convinced yourself it was nothing. That it meant nothing.”

For a second, he thought he saw a flicker of the version of you he used to know. Your face faltered for just a second, but then the walls were immediately back up, “I don’t owe you anything.” You said coldly, “It’s not my fault you’ve spent the last two years chasing a ghost.”

You stared each other down for a few more moments, the rage pulsating between you, before Jack broke your stare by tossing back the rest of his drink, “You’re right,” He said finally, and turned away from you to head down the stairs, “I’m sorry I disrupted your evening. Won’t happen again.”

You sighed, “Jack—“

“It’s Dr. Abbot,” He said coldly, turning back to face you again, “If you don’t mind.”

Your face fell marginally and he almost took it back when he thought he saw your lower lip wobble, but he couldn’t be sorry. If you wanted to pretend like there was nothing between the two of you, then he would do the same.

He turned again and jogged down the rest of the stairs. He needed another drink. Or seven.

***

Your hands were shaking. You stood in the stairwell staring stupidly after Jack for longer than was acceptable. You couldn’t go back upstairs to Heather and Samira like this, they’d know something was up. And you certainly couldn’t follow after Jack.

You should just go home. It was a stupid fucking idea to come here in the first place, you knew it was. And still you had come, why?

Because some part of you wanted to see him? No matter how much you denied it? Never mind the fact you had basically only invited your boyfriend because you knew his presence would keep you accountable if you were forced to be alone with Jack?

You hadn’t wanted him here, not really. Not for reasons that made sense. If you were honest with yourself, which you hadn’t been in a long, long time, your relationship had been over for at least six months.

Seeing Jack again, hearing his voice again made that very clear to you. And a part of you hated Jack for it. You had been able to convince yourself for two years that your current relationship was as good as it would get. Your mistake with Jack on the roof was just that, a mistake. Nothing more.

You had thought after all this time Jack must’ve felt the same. He fucked up and kissed his hot, younger resident, just once. He hadn’t meant to and he would be glad it was all over. You had been doing him a favor, you thought.

But when you had allowed yourself to look at him, really look at him tonight, that hadn’t been what you’d seen. In fact, he was angry with you. He had looked at you with such hurt and betrayal as if all this time he had been in love with you.

It didn’t make any fucking sense. You sat in the stairwell and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. None of it made any fucking sense.

You should go home.

***

Robby eyed Jack with silent suspicion when he joined him back at the bar and ordered two tequila sodas. He knocked the first one back in one go and then rested his head in his hands on the bar top.

“So it went well, I take it?” Robby asked mildly.

Jack glared at Robby and then looked back at his drink, “She has a boyfriend.”

Robby nodded, “Right. I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, now.”

Jack shook his head and felt the tequila make its way through him, “No, you see, she’s had a boyfriend. Since before she moved to the day shift. The same one.”

Robby was silent for a moment, then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jack knocked back his second tequila soda and ordered another.

“Alright, I can see you’re upset, but all the tequila sodas in the world aren’t going to make you feel better.”

“No,” Jack agreed, “But maybe it’ll stop me from thinking about her for just a while.”

Just then, as Robby was trying to subtly get the bartender to cut off Jack, Robby’s phone buzzed with a text from Heather.

What did Abbot say to Y/N? Found her crying in the stairwell. She won’t stop.

He sighed heavily and turned back to Jack, “You made her cry?”

“What?” Jack looked at him incredulously, “No.”

“Heather says she’s sobbing in the stairwell.”

Oh, he hated the way that sent an ache through him. There was a time when he would’ve taken off running to get to you if he had heard that. Maybe even just earlier today. Not now, though.

“Believe me, her eyes were fucking bone dry when I left her.”

Robby’s phone buzzed again.

Never mind. Finally got her to say something coherent. Broke up with her boyfriend over the phone. Nothing to do with Abbot.

Christ. Nothing to do with Abbot. Right, Robby thought and rubbed a hand down his face, somehow he doubted that very much.

Robby looked back at his friend, debating if he should deliver this news to Jack or not. But Jack was very drunk now and he’d probably just tear after you like a man on a mission. Neither of you needed that right now, Robby thought. He’d tell Jack in the morning.

***

Heather and Samira sat on either side of you as you tried and failed to explain everything to them. You were very bad at this. Having work friends. Shen and Ellis had tolerated you, always including you, buying you coffee, but you knew really you were mostly third wheeling. And you hadn’t minded it. You had always tried to draw a firm line between your work and personal life, which is probably why the situation with Jack fucked you up so badly.

Heather started again, “So you and Abbot—“ 

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you switched to the day shift.”

“Yes.”

“And Jack also wanted you moved to the day shift?”

This is where things got murky for you. Tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, “I don’t know what Jack wanted because I never asked.”

“He didn’t know about your boyfriend then, either?”

You shook your head slowly, “I thought the fact that I was his resident was excuse enough. I left because I didn’t trust myself around him and I thought it’d be easier on us both.”

“And today was the first time you’d really spoken in two years?”

“Yes.”

“And this one conversation spurred you to break up with your long term boyfriend on a whim?”

You looked at Heather and smirked, “So you’re getting it now? Why I should be institutionalized?”

Heather and Samira both laughed, but Heather shook her head, “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re finally being honest with yourself about your feelings. Which is really fucking brave.”

“I say we go to the next bar and get very drunk.” Samira said, standing.

“Oh, I— No,” You shook your head, panicking, “What if he’s there?”

“Oh, I hope he is.” Heather laughed and the two of them linked arms with you.

***

Robby walked silently next to Jack as they made their way to the next bar, his hands stuffed in his pockets, “Brother, I really think maybe you should just sleep this one off.”

Jack turned to Robby, “It’s only 10 PM which is roughly 10 AM by my standards. So there will be no sleeping from me for a while. But you, by all means, can go home.”

Robby inhaled slowly through his nose. He was fucking exhausted, but he didn’t trust Jack in this state. And he had seen you go off with Heather and Samira not too long ago, headed in the same direction they were walking in right now.

So he kept walking, eyeing Jack every so often until they got to the bar.

He should have just gone home, probably.

Because once they got to the bar, all hell broke loose.

***

The room was spinning. The text had come in just moments after back to back lemon drop shots and your vision was blurred. You were unsure if it was from tears or the alcohol.

“Hey, what happened?” Samira was shouting in your ear over the din of the bar.

You passed the phone to her wordlessly as you ordered another shot. You needed to be belligerent if you were going to survive this.

Samira’s jaw dropped as she watched the video. She scrubbed back and forth a few times before she handed the phone back to you.

“This is the boyfriend who couldn’t meet you here because of ‘work’?”

You nodded.

“Well, you made the right call then, breaking up with him.”

You laughed humorlessly, and then you were sobbing, “I don’t know… why I care…” You hiccuped, “I don’t think I’ve loved him for a long time.”

Samira sighed, rubbing a hand down your back, “It sounds like you tried really hard to salvage the relationship. Probably feels like a waste of almost three years of your life now,” This renewed your sobs and Samira looked at you with alarm, “I’m not saying I think you wasted three years, I just mean, it probably felt that way— I’m gonna go find Heather, she’s much better at this sort of thing.”

Alone, you ordered a drink and wiped at your cheeks. You knew Jack was next to you before you smelt his cologne and sighed heavily.

“Don’t worry,” He said softly, “I’m just getting a drink and then I’ll go as far away from you as possible.”

You only nodded. The man you had chosen to fight for had stood you up to go to a bar across town and make out with the coworker he swore for months you had nothing to worry about while your best friend unknowingly filmed him from across the room.

The man you were beginning to suspect had been in love with you for close to four years now, you had spent the last two years running away from and now he hated you.

It felt like a big cosmic joke.

You rested your head on your arms and willed him away so you wouldn’t have to confront the long string of bad decisions you’d made that had led you here.

But Jack just couldn’t resist when you looked so miserable, “Are you alright, kid? Hate seeing you like this.”

You pushed your head up and met his eyes. Despite your earlier argument, he was looking at you with tenderness and concern. He meant it, that he cared, you could see it all over him. It made you want to burst into tears again. And maybe that’s why you decided to poke the bear, see how far you could push, what would make him really, truly loathe you? It was what you deserved after all, right?

You turned your head away from him and unlocked your phone, tapping to the video your friend had sent, hitting play and sliding it over the bar top to Jack, “You’ll be happy to know this is what my boyfriend was too busy doing to meet me tonight. Some sort of fucked up karma, I suppose.”

Jack’s face betrayed nothing as he watched the video, but you thought maybe a muscle in his jaw ticked. He slid the phone back to you, “Whatever you think of me, I’m not enjoying this.”

You scoffed and shook your head, looking down at the bar top.

“I’m serious. I would never—“ You hear him sigh in frustration, “Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I wish you were hurting, too. If anything, if you were happy, maybe it’d all make more sense to me.”

He tapped his finger on top of your phone case, “That guy’s a fucking idiot. You deserve way better than that.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, carefully avoiding looking at him, “Hey,” He said and crooked a finger under your chin, gently pulling until you met his gaze, “You deserve better, okay?”

You were conscious of the fact that you wanted to kiss him. And you knew he saw the way your eyes drifted dangerously to his mouth. 

“I did the same thing to him.” You said quietly, still staring at his mouth, “Only seems fair.”

Jack released your chin and shook his head, “Don’t compare what we did to… To that.”

He sounded disgusted and it made you want to laugh, “How is it any different?”

“That is just drunken lust.” He leaned towards you on his forearms, “What we did meant something. Maybe not to you, but it did to me.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Did it mean something to you?” He shot back.

His face was very close to yours now, you could smell the tequila on his breath. 

“Tell me,” He said slowly, “Tell me it didn’t mean anything to you and I swear to God, I’ll walk away and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly to clear the watering of your eyes. Of course you couldn’t tell him it meant nothing. You had thought about it nearly every day for two years. 

But you were drunk and a fucking wreck and you didn’t know anything anymore except that you still remembered exactly what Jack Abbot tasted like and that he was looking at you right now like he would get on his knees for you in this crowded bar if you asked.

“I should go.” You whispered softly, broken, and slid from your bar stool.

He let you pass, but then called after you, loudly enough that people around you quieted, “What the fuck are you so scared of?”

You turned back, knowing that your face was flushed from the attention of others, “Goodnight, Dr. Abbot.”

***

“Hey, let her go,” Robby stood in front of Jack who was now trying to exit the bar and follow after you, “You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine,” Jack insisted, and when he looked around Robby, he saw it had started to downpour outside, “She’s drunk and it’s storming out there.”

“Heather will check in with her and make sure she gets home okay.”

Jack looked from the door to Robby a few times before sighing and running a hand through his hair, “Sorry, I just… She really gets under my fucking skin.”

Robby nodded and tried to stifle a yawn, “I noticed.”

Jack sighed, “Go home, Robby, seriously. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I promise.” He shook his head, “I should probably just go home, too.”

Robby offered a sad smile and clapped him on the shoulder, “It’ll all make more sense in the morning, brother.”

Jack snorted, “Historically, that has never been true for me.”

***

It felt pretty melodramatic to be standing in the park overlooking the river as it poured. It was all very Jane Austen of you, you decided. Except Mr. Darcy would not be showing up to declare his love for you, Mr. Darcy was likely dry and headed home in his UberX.

You didn’t know where home was anymore. Luckily, you hadn’t moved in with your boyfriend yet. It was one of the many things that should have been a red flag, the fact that you hadn’t had a desire to cohabitate with him. You liked when he left in the morning and you liked the nights where he got home too late and went to his own apartment so as not to disturb your rest.

But still, there were traces of him all through your apartment. You didn’t want to be there.

You’re not sure how long you sit in the warm rain before your phone buzzed. You expected Heather or Samira, but were shocked to see Jack’s name on the banner, alerting you to a text.

Jack hadn’t texted you in something like two years.

I know I shouldn’t be texting you, it read, But I just want to be sure you got home safe. Please  text when you’re home.

After staring at your phone for a few minutes, now soaked with the rain, you attempted to dry the screen with the sleeve of your jacket. It worked only slightly, but allowed you to hold down the text and “like” it.

After about thirty seconds, the speech bubble appeared on your phone to indicate he was typing.

Well don’t just fucking like the message. Are you home?

You could lie, you supposed. Probably, you could walk into PTMC and sleep in an empty room upstairs.

But you were growing tired of all the pretending.

no. You replied finally.

His reply was immediate, Where are you? 

in the park.

It’s raining.

excellent observation, dr. abbot.

You stared at the screen as his speech bubble appeared and disappeared, over and over, for a couple minutes.

Send me your location. Then, almost as an afterthought, Please.

This was a bad idea, probably. After the events of today, you should not be sending Jack Abbot your location. You should not be speaking to Jack Abbot at all. After today, you should probably resign from your residency and maybe join a convent.

You watched as seemingly of their own volition, your hands tapped all the right buttons to send Jack a pin.

A few moments later, he texted a screenshot of an Uber being sent to your location with the car information and license plate.

i don’t want to go home. You sent him in a rush.

Yeah, I got that, he replied, The Uber is bringing you to me.

You blew a long breath out between your lips, you sure that’s a good idea?

Nope. Uber’s pulling up now.

Sure enough, headlights lit up the raindrops behind you. You turned to see the car, quickly giving the license plate a cursory once over to make sure it matched what Jack sent. 

You could send the car off. Say it was a mistake. Not get in. Showing up at Jack’s apartment soaked to the skin in the middle of the night, still drunk and emotionally unstable felt like boarding a train you knew would derail. 

You still got in the car, though. You didn’t have anywhere else to go.

***

When Jack opened the door to his apartment, the frigid air from his AC assaulted you and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stepped aside to allow you in and you kicked off your water logged shoes.

You had been here only once before, the first week of your residency. Jack would host a team dinner (early, so you could all still make your shift in time) whenever a new resident was added to the night shift. 

You had been really nervous you recalled, until Jack had cracked a joke that made you choke on your soda.

It had been almost four years, but his apartment hadn’t changed much at all. It was neat and tidy, nothing out of place. The furniture was well taken care of, but everything was in varying shades of gray and blue. The only hints of personality being some pictures on his fridge, vinyls by a stereo, and some books on a shelf.

But one photo on his fridge caught your eye and before you knew what you were doing, you were walking to it.

Early in your second year of residency, you had presented your research on cardiogenic pulmonary edema outcomes in the ER at a conference in New York. Jack had shown up without telling you he was coming. He stayed near your poster all day while you presented to interested passersby, giving you a thumbs up or “solid work” when you needed it, smuggling you snacks, making sure you drank water. And at the end of it you remembered he took you out to dinner and told you how proud he was of you and what a great emergency medicine doctor you would be.

You had taken a picture with him in front of your poster and this was the photo on his fridge. You had a huge smile on your face and Jack had an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“I didn’t know you had this.” You said softly.

He didn’t say anything so you turned to look at him, but his eyes were trained on the photo, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” He said finally, walking by you to his bedroom.

You watched in his doorway as he pulled a pair of clean sweatpants and a t shirt from his closet and placed them at the edge of his bed, “The shower’s in that room,” He pointed to a door off the bedroom, “There’s clean towels under the sink, use whatever soap you like.”

He started to walk past you, but you grabbed his arm, and he stopped, eyes snagging on the hand that was touching him, “Thank you.” You said softly.

His eyes slowly roved upwards until they met yours. He searched your face, though you weren’t sure what he was looking for, then pressed a kiss to your forehead before he left the room.

***

After you were showered and changed, you wandered out to the living room where Jack sat on the couch, an arm draped over his forehead. He had taken his prosthetic off and it was propped up next to the coffee table.

When he heard you pad into the room, he cracked his eyes open, “Feeling better?” You nodded. “Good. Take the bed, I’ll sleep out here.”

But you still stood there, staring at him, arms wrapped around yourself, “Do you love me?” You asked, voice small.

He stared at you for a moment and sat up, running a hand over his face, “Have I not made it painfully obvious?”

“For how long?”

He shook his head and smiled at you incredulously, “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“You’ve been in control of this,” He gestured between the two of you, “From the second I fucking met you and now you’re trying to what, decode the situation? See what outcome is most advantageous? I mean, Jesus Christ, what do you want?”

“What do I want?”

“Yes,” He said, “Not what seems correct, not what seems rational, what is it that you want?”

“I—“ You shook your head, “I don’t– I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He said firmly, “Do you want your cheating boyfriend?”

You frowned, “No.”

“Did you ever want him?”

You huffed in frustration, “What do you mean?”

“I mean when you chose him over me, was that what you wanted?”

“That’s not a fair characterization of what happened—“

“Was it what you wanted?”

You faltered, “It was what was safest.” You said softly.

He smiled at you sadly, “He couldn’t hurt you if you didn’t love him, right?”

You stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears back into your eyes, “I didn’t think it meant that much to you.”

“You never gave me the chance to tell you.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, “I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

You looked at him, eyes watering, and you swallowed hard before you moved to him. He watched you as you placed a knee on either side of his legs, straddling his lap. His eyes followed your every movement reverently, your face just above his as you rested your forehead against his. His hands knotted themselves in your hair, “I’m scared,” You breathed shakily into his mouth.

“Of what?” He asked, his mouth near centimeters from yours.

“Of you. Of wanting you too much. Of losing you. Of everything.”

“I can’t promise you that this will work,” He said softly, “But I can promise I’ll fight like hell to make it work.”

You swallowed, “Because you love me?”

Finally, he laughed, “Yes, I fucking love you. Now be quiet.” He said before he kissed you.

He tasted exactly like you remembered, except tonight, there were remnants of tequila on his tongue. It was like he was trying to make up for lost time, the way he kissed you on that couch. He pushed his tongue into your mouth almost immediately, like he was searching for something he’d lost. Already, you were out of breath, hips grinding down on him without realizing. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth and bit down gently, groaning when you rubbed yourself on his growing erection.

“Slow down,” He chastised.

“You started it.” You reminded him.

“Fuck,” He moaned and then pushed you off him so he could crawl over you, “You’re sure?” He asked as you looked up at him, hair fanning around your head on the couch cushion like a halo.

You nodded, “I want you.”

He smirked and lowered his head to yours again, pulling kisses from you as one hand worked its way under your t-shirt. Your skin was smooth and soft there and he inched up slowly, until his fingers just brushed the underside of your breast. Touching you like this, he thought a lot about that night on the roof, the way he had kissed you like he knew he was already out of time.

Now… Now the world seemed to open up. He could take as much time as he wanted. You weren’t going anywhere, not this time. You were his and he wouldn’t let you go so easily again.

Gently, he tugged the t-shirt over your head so he could look at you and he was unable to suppress the sigh that tumbled from his lips. He squeezed your breast with one hand, thumbed your nipple and watched it pebble as you sighed. Still watching you, he pinched your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger and your eyes rolled back into your head as you writhed beneath him.

He kissed you, fingers still teasingly rolling your nipple between his fingers, and then he began to kiss down your jaw and neck until he was able to suck your nipple into his mouth. The moan that fell from your lips when he swirled his tongue around you went straight to his cock. 

He was overly conscious of the fact that because he had imagined this very moment for two years minimum, likely longer, because he had imagined it hundreds of times while getting himself off, it was likely he would last all of thirty seconds once he was inside you, once he felt the real thing. So he would make this last for you.

Jack shimmied the sweatpants off of you and forgot that because you were here and you had just showered, you weren’t wearing panties. And suddenly, he felt feral. 

“Jesus Christ,” He shook his head looking at you, it felt like maybe he was dreaming a little, having you naked beneath him. He felt almost delirious with it.

You looked up at him, those pupils once again whole saucers, “Touch me, please?” You whined.

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he reached a hand down between your thighs. You gasped as he fully sunk a finger into you. When he moved his mouth back down to suck on your other nipple, your back arched and it sent him into another dimension, being able to make you feel like this.

With two of his fingers pumping you slowly and a thumb on your clit, he felt the moment when you climaxed before you cried out, “That’s it, sweetheart,” He said softly, “Look so pretty when you come for me like that.”

As you caught your breath, you watched as he pulled his fingers out of you and then sucked your juices from his digits. “Taste so good, too.”

Your eyes stayed locked on one another as he reached for a wooden bowl on the coffee table. He took the top off, pulled out an aluminum packet, and closed it again. And suddenly you were giggling, “What?” He asked, ripping the package open.

“D’you fuck mad bitches on this couch or something, Jack?”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked, “Shut up.”

When he slid into you, forehead pressed to yours, you gasped at the sensation. You had thought about this countless times before, Jack Abbot above you, like this. What you had never really thought about was that maybe while he did it, he’d be looking at you like he was in love with you. And it nearly shattered you.

“I love you,” You murmured into his mouth as you felt him beginning to come undone, “I love you so much.”

He moaned your name as he finished and collapsed against you, damp and breathless, “You love me, huh?” He said after a moment.

You lightly scratched the back of his head, “I’ve loved you for years,” You said softly, “Just spent a lot of that time denying it.”

He pulled his head back and kissed you messily, your chin grasped firmly in his hand. 

“Better late than never.”

[missdynamighttt]

because i'm evil, pro hero! katsuki avoiding you after giving you backshots just because the poor baby had feelings for you :((

it’s been days. days since you last spoke. days since that night.

since he touched you like you were the only fucking thing that mattered and then, like cowards, you both just... disappeared.

you hadn’t spoken. you hadn’t really spoken. not in a way that mattered. all the little things—the bickering, the late-night conversations, the stupid arguments—it had stopped.

you’d become ghosts to each other.

so now, here you are, marching straight into the locker room after hours, footsteps echoing off the walls, heat rising to your face and fists clenched tight.

simply because, you couldn't take it anymore.

because despite the quiet, despite the harsh avoidance, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you was always tugging you back toward him.

even now, when you were furious, when the bitterness burned through your chest like a furnace, you couldn’t resist the pull of him.

katsuki's sitting on the bench, half-dressed, toweling off his sweat, when he hears your boots stomp in. his eyes narrow as they meet yours in the mirror.

“oh, look who decided to show up,” he drawls, voice low and sharp, like he was expecting this. “finally ready to grow a pair?”

you scoff. loudly. “you ignored me first, jackass.”

“no. i fucked you first. then you ran.”

your mouth drops open, heart lurching in your chest. “you—are insufferable!”

you march right up to him, getting in his face. “you really think that’s what this is about? that i’m mad about the sex?”

he smirks. “well, i did blow your back out, so i figured you’d need a few recovery days.”

you slap his towel off his shoulder, fury boiling over. “you fucking coward!”

his smirk falters.

“you knew exactly what you were doing,” you hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. “you touch me like you mean it, kiss me like it matters, and then pretend like nothing happened. like it wasn’t real. just sex, right? just scratching an itch?”

“i didn’t pretend shit,” he snaps back, standing up so the two of you are chest to chest. “you’re the one ignoring me like i was some fuckin’ mistake!”

“you are! one i can’t stop thinking about!”

the two of you are breathing hard, voices sharp and heated, until something catches your eye.

you glance down. ...and freeze.

your words get caught in your throat when you notice it—very, very obvious through the thin fabric of his sweats.

he’s hard.

“...are you kidding me right now?” you whisper, stunned. “you’ve got a boner—in the middle of us yelling at each other?”

katsuki groans and runs a hand through his hair, frustration tugging at every muscle in his body. “you-you think i like this? you think i like being hard whenever you so much as look at me?”

you take a step back, face flushed. his eyes are burning into you now, voice rough but lower.

“i’ve been like this for days,” he grits out. “couldn’t train right. couldn’t sleep. couldn’t even jerk off without thinking about you—your face, your voice, that smart-ass mouth...”

you blink, stunned into silence.

“and it’s not just about the sex, alright?” he mutters, quieter now. “i keep thinkin’ about you after. the way you looked at me when i kissed you. the way you said my name. the way you held onto me. like you wanted more.”

you swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry.

“i didn’t know what to do with that,” he says, almost hoarse. “didn’t know what it meant. scared i’d fuck it up if i said something, so... i said nothing. and that was worse.”

the silence between you stretches. you’re staring at him, your heart pounding. you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. so instead, you just do the only thing that feels right.

you step forward and kiss him. hard. hot. angry. desperate.

and when he kisses you back—hands tangled in your hair, mouth slanting over yours like he’s starving—it’s not just lust anymore. it’s a confession. it’s an apology.

it’s everything you were both too fucking stubborn to say.

when you finally pull back, breathing hard, you look up at him and mutter, “you’re still a coward.”

he chuckles, resting his forehead against yours. “yeah? deal with it.”

you sigh, cheeks burning. “only if you fuck me stupid in the shower.”

his grin is wicked. “oh, you’re gonna regret sayin’ that.”

you tried to deflect with your usual sarcasm, a smart remark perched on your tongue—but it didn’t make it past your lips when he looked at you like that.

like he meant it. like you weren’t just a fight and a fuck to him.

he pulled you into the private bathroom of his office at the agency—some high-end, sleek place with dark marble walls, chrome fixtures, and a rainfall showerhead that must’ve cost more than your rent.

the moment the warm spray hit your skin, the heat from earlier didn’t dissipate. it deepened.

steam curled between you, trailing along your neck, between your breasts, down the bruises he left on your hips.

you turned away, hiding your face beneath the water. embarrassed. overwhelmed. because you weren’t supposed to feel like this, and pretend it mattered.

but he followed you in, body pressing up behind you, arms bracketing your hips with surprising gentleness.

“…you okay?” katsuki murmured, his voice low and husky but softer than before. no teasing, no cocky smirk. just that raspy, raw tone of someone who wasn’t used to asking.

you nodded quickly, too quick, like a liar. “i’m fine.”

“you’re shaking.”

you didn’t have a response to that. not one that made you sound strong. so instead, you gripped the tile, your body still humming from him, from the kiss, from everything.

he kissed your shoulder. then the side of your neck. his hands didn’t grab—they rested on your waist, rubbing soft circles into your skin like he was memorizing you. every slow pass of his thumbs up your ribs made your breath catch.

“you always run your fuckin’ mouth,” he muttered, lips against your damp skin. “…but you’re real quiet now.”

you felt his cock rock-hard against the small of your back, thick and hot, pressed to you through the water.

your stomach flipped.

“this is different,” you whispered. it wasn’t supposed to be this slow. this… intimate.

“i know.”

he pulled your hair back from your face, gentle fingers smoothing it behind your ear, the same hand trailing down over your collarbone, cupping your tits like he needed to feel the weight of it in his palm.

his thumb circled your nipple slowly—so slowly it had your knees wobbling. then he twisted it, just enough to make you gasp and lean into him, your back to his chest.

“let me take my time with you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “don't treat me like i’m some kinda mistake.”

“you are,” you breathed, trying to hold onto the fire in your chest, even as it softened under the drag of his hands down your belly.

he chuckled low. “liar.”

his fingers dipped between your thighs, parting your slick folds under the warm water. he groaned when he felt how wet you already were.

your breath hitched. “you gonna tease me now?”

he kissed your cheek, smirking against your skin. “nah. just wanna make you cum with my fingers first.”

and he did. oh, fuck, did he.

he sank two thick fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them just right, his other hand palming your tit, lips dragging down your neck between sweet praises and filth.

“god, you’re tight… fuck—grippin’ my fingers like this, princess? you wanna milk my cock again, don’t you?”

you whimpered, your forehead pressed to the tile as your legs threatened to give out. his fingers thrust steadily inside you, a little faster, a little deeper, until your thighs trembled and your orgasm of the night crept up quick and sharp, exploding through you like wildfire.

you came with a strangled gasp, collapsing back against him. he held you up, letting you ride it out, brushing your hair back and kissing your temple.

he didn’t even ask for anything in return. but when you turned to face him, your hand sliding down his abs, eyes soft and nervous and needier than you wanted to admit, he let out a shaky breath like you were the one taking him apart now.

“…want me to take care of you too?” you asked, voice quiet.

katsuki stared at you. then kissed you again. slower this time. softer. it knocked the air out of your chest. and even though your body was still trembling, you wanted to give him something in return. something that said you felt it too, even if you weren’t brave enough to say the words.

you kissed down his jaw, his throat, lingering on the spot just under his ear where you felt him shiver. then lower.

he let you push him gently back against the tile, water streaming down the hard lines of his chest and abs, that cock of his already flushed and twitching with need.

“fuck, you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you cut him off softly, meeting his gaze as you sank to your knees, the shower floor warm beneath you. the look on his face—half disbelief, half pure, wrecked hunger—sent a bolt of heat through your stomach.

you started slow, like he did with you.

fingers curling around the base of his cock, you dragged your tongue from root to tip, tasting the water, the salt of his skin. he hissed through his teeth, one hand flying to your wet hair, fingers tightening, not to control you—but to ground himself.

you licked again, swirling your tongue around the head, teasing the slit. his thighs tensed.

“shit… that mouth,” he groaned, his head hitting the tile behind him with a dull thud. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

you smiled, smug now, and took him into your mouth slowly—inch by inch, stretching your lips around the thick, heavy weight of him. his breath stuttered above you, hips twitching, but he didn’t thrust. he let you take your time.

you hollowed your cheeks, letting your tongue press along the underside, dragging back with a soft slurp that had him groaning your name.

“god—you’re… you’re too fuckin’ good at this.”

the praise made you moan around him, and that vibration nearly broke him. his fingers gripped tighter in your hair as you bobbed your head, slow and deep, letting your throat relax as he slid further in.

when you gagged slightly, he cursed and tried to pull back.

but you held him there, hands on his thighs, eyes locked on his as you swallowed him down again, slower this time, more controlled, until your nose brushed his skin and he choked on a groan so wrecked it made you ache.

“you’re—shit, you’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess, sweetheart.”

he wasn’t wrong. your spit mixed with precum and the water, dripping down your chin, pooling at your knees. but you didn’t care. not when he was looking at you like that, mouth slack, chest heaving, completely undone.

you pulled back with a pop, stroking him with your hand as you caught your breath, tongue flicking over the tip just to hear him curse again.

“you close?” you asked, voice sweet, lips swollen.

his jaw clenched, eyes dark and desperate. “y-yeah. but i wanna—shit—i wanna cum inside you. please.”

the “please” broke you.

and just like that, you were rising to your feet, mouth brushing his as you whispered, “then fuck me again, katsuki. right here.”

and oh, he did.

your breath caught when his arms wrapped around your thighs and he lifted you like it was nothing—like you weighed nothing to him. one second you were kissing him, wet and needy and pressed to his chest, and the next your back hit the slick shower wall, legs wrapped around his waist, his broad hands locking under your ass.

“you—oh my god—how are you so strong?” you gasped, blinking at him through the mist and steam, your heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

he smirked, water dripping from his hair, running down his sharp cheekbones. “tch. i’m a pro fuckin’ hero, baby. lifting you is the easiest thing i’ve ever done.”

and fuck, that cocky glint in his eye paired with the way he adjusted his grip on you—rough, protective, possessive—it made your stomach flip and your cunt clench around nothing.

“but—i’m—this is so embarrassing,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his neck, suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. you were flushed everywhere. cheeks, chest, even your ears were burning. “you’re making it hard to keep pretending i hate you.”

he chuckled low in his throat, tilting his head so his lips brushed your temple. “think we're way past that, sweetheart.”

and with that, he shifted his hips and slid inside you in one smooth, maddening thrust—deep, slow, thick enough to make your mouth fall open in a silent cry. your legs trembled around his waist, your arms flung tight around his neck, trying to stay upright even though he was already holding all of you.

“fuck,” he groaned, voice strained. “you feel so good.”

the stretch, the angle, the sheer depth of him like this—it was too much and not enough, and all you could do was hold on. moaning brokenly into his shoulder as he rocked into you, strong hands gripping you like you were something precious.

“you always act so tough,” he murmured against your jaw, hips snapping harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the tile. “but look at you now. wrapped around me. so fuckin’ sweet.”

“sh-shut up,” you whined, but it had no heat. your voice cracked with every thrust, and you could barely keep your head up, overwhelmed by the way he filled you, the way he held you.

you bit his shoulder. he kept fucking you like you were his favorite sin.

he grinned, that cocky little smirk barely hiding how wrecked he looked too, water running down his temple and jaw. “did i ever tell you.. how i’ve been fantasizin’ about fuckin’ you like this... since the first time you called me a dickhead?"

your heart pounded, chest tight with flustered disbelief. “you’re so—god, you're so rude.”

“yeah?” he said, grinning against your neck. “still let me pick you up though. wrap those thighs tighter around me, sweetheart. let me feel how much you want it.”

you whined. you actually whined, heat flooding your face as your thighs clenched harder around his hips.

you were barely holding on—your nails dug into his back, legs trembling around his waist as he fucked you into the wall like he owned you. each deep, hungry thrust had your head spinning, the water pouring over you both doing nothing to cool the heat blistering through your body.

he was grunting low in your ear, panting against your neck, his arms tightening under you with every bounce of your hips on his cock.

“katsuki—” you gasped, the name tumbling out desperate and ruined.

“fuck, baby,” he growled, forehead pressed against yours. “you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight—gonna make me lose it.”

your entire body was strung taut with want, soaked in heat and steam and the friction of him pounding into you like he couldn’t get deep enough. your mind was blank, blissed out on the way he stretched you, hit every single spot just right—and then some. you were breathless, trembling, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how good it felt, how full you were.

“inside,” you whimpered, eyes wide and shining. “katsuki—please, i want it inside.”

he stilled for half a second, eyes dark and blown wide as his jaw flexed. “you know what you’re askin’ me for, baby?”

“yes,” you breathed, pressing your forehead against his, kissing the corner of his mouth. “i want it. want you to fill me up. like you promised.”

his groan broke into something feral, primal, possessive—his hips snapping forward with even more force now, like he had something to prove.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it then,” he growled, his grip bruising now as he chased his high. “gonna fuckin’ breed you."

“katsuki, please—cum inside me,” you cried, legs tightening around his waist, your whole body clinging to him. “i need it. i need you.”

that was it. the growl he let out was deep and broken as he buried himself to the hilt and let go, warmth spilling inside you as he groaned your name like a curse and a prayer. his hips jerked through it, milking every last drop, and you swore you felt it—every pulse, every throb, every ounce of him claiming you from the inside out.

and even as you trembled in his arms, breathless and dazed, he didn’t let go. didn’t pull out. just held you there, lips brushing your temple.

your back hit the cool tile as he finally, finally set you down, though your legs still felt like jelly. you leaned against the shower wall, blinking up at him with glassy, dazed eyes, the water still cascading down both your bodies in lazy rivulets.

and then you saw the way he was looking at you.

katsuki’s gaze dropped between your thighs, where his cum was slowly starting to leak out of your swollen, sensitive pussy. he watched, utterly transfixed, like he’d never seen anything so perfect. his tongue darted across his bottom lip, chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths.

“shit,” he muttered, almost reverent. “look at that.”

“don’t look,” you mumbled, trying to press your thighs together, shy despite everything. “you’re making it weird.”

“the fuck i am,” he said, stepping closer again, voice low and smug. “that’s me, baby. all of it.”

his fingers grazed your inner thigh, pushing your leg aside so he could see more clearly. the way his eyes darkened sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin' for me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “could watch this shit all day. you takin’ me so deep—beggin’ for it—and now look at you.”

“katsuki,” you said, voice small, your face burning now.

he leaned in, his mouth brushing your ear. “you got no idea what this does to me. how good you look with my cum leaking outta that pretty pussy.”

you whimpered, fingers gripping his arms to steady yourself, flustered beyond belief. you tried to hide your face against his neck, but he caught your chin, tilting your head back so he could see just how red your cheeks had gotten.

“aww,” he teased, grinning now. “you shy now? after you begged me to cum inside like a fuckin’ good girl?”

“katsuki,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

the teasing faded as soon as he saw your shiver. maybe it was the water cooling down, or maybe it was the aftershocks making your body tremble, but either way, katsuki's expression shifted. the heat in his eyes softened—still intense, but now threaded with something gentler.

“hey,” he said, brushing a hand over your soaked hair. “c’mere.”

you let him pull you close again, resting your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat grounding you. his arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand smoothing down your back as the water pattered around you both.

“you okay?” he asked, dipping his chin to meet your eyes.

you nodded, a little dazed, a little overwhelmed. “yeah. just… floaty.”

“mhm,” he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “stay here. let me take care of you.”

you blinked, looking up at him. “you’re gonna…?”

“yeah, dummy,” he muttered, though his thumb was gentle as it traced the curve of your jaw. “i made a mess. least i can do is clean you up.”

he reached for the body wash, pouring a little into his palm before lathering it gently between his hands. then he started with your shoulders, massaging in slow, careful circles. down your arms, your back, and over your hips, like he was memorizing every inch of you again—except this time it wasn’t about lust. it was soft, reverent.

“i didn’t hurt you, did i?” he asked quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

you shook your head, voice barely above a whisper. “no. i liked it. a lot.”

a low sound rumbled in his chest, but it wasn’t cocky this time. it was something closer to relief. pride. love.

“good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss to your jaw as he lifted your arm to wash underneath it. “you tell me if anything ever does hurt, yeah? i don’t care how hot you think it is, i need to know.”

“i will,” you whispered, eyes fluttering closed as he rinsed you off, careful not to let the suds drip into your eyes.

katsuki crouched to wash your legs next, his hands warm and firm as they moved over your calves. when he reached the inside of your thighs, he hesitated—then looked up at you.

“you okay if i…?”

you nodded, cheeks still warm.

his touch there was gentle, as if washing away what was left of him inside you was a sacred task. when he was done, he stood and pulled you into his chest again, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“we should do this more often,” you mumbled sleepily.

“the fuckin’ in my office part or the shower part?” he asked with a grin.

“both."

he chuckled low. “yeah, baby. me too.”

and then he just held you there, under the steady stream of water, hands slow and soothing as they traced lazy paths up and down your back. like he could wash away the world if you asked him to.

by the time he stood again and wrapped you in a towel, you felt like your bones had turned to honey. he dried you off with the same quiet focus, then pressed another kiss to your temple.

“let’s get you home,” he said, voice gruff but warm. and he carried you out of the shower like you were the most precious thing in the world.

he helped you into his car, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back as he guided you gently into the passenger seat.

you were still wrapped in his agency hoodie, legs bare beneath it, your damp hair tucked behind your ears. he didn’t say much on the drive—just kept his hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing small circles, eyes flicking to you every so often like he couldn’t believe you were real.

you were sleepy, soft, and still buzzing from the high and the aftercare.you were already turning to say goodbye, your voice still soft from the come-down of everything, when he cleared his throat.

“wait.”

you looked up. he was rubbing the back of his neck, eyes suddenly everywhere but your face. for once, bakugo katsuki looked awkward. bashful, even.

“i’ll let you rest,” he muttered, lingering in the doorway like he didn’t wanna leave. "you need anything, you call me. don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”

you looked up at him, still flushed, still wearing that stupid little dreamy smile he’d put on your face.

“you staying?”

his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. he looked like he wanted to say yes. but instead, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “nah. i want you to sleep."

he looked up at you, brows furrowing slightly like he was second-guessing whatever he was about to say. but then he exhaled through his nose, almost like a sigh.

“go out with me.”

your heart skipped. “huh?”

he scratched at the back of his neck, still trying to play it cool. “a real date. dinner. a movie—shit, nevermind, movies are stupid. a walk in the damn park. somethin’ that doesn’t involve us stripping in my agency’s damn shower.”

you blinked, then snorted. “we’re doing this backwards, y’know.”

“what?”

“we already slept together and saw each other naked in broad daylight, and now you’re asking me out?”

he gave you that grumpy little scowl—eyes glinting, jaw tight. “yeah, well, guess i figured i’d get the scary shit outta the way first.”

you grinned, stepping forward until your fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt. “bold strategy.”

“shut up.”

“i didn’t say no.”

his eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up. “so that a yes?”

you leaned in, kissed his cheek—soft and slow. “yeah. it’s a yes.”

for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, he didn’t have a smart-ass comment ready.

just a bashful smile with red ears, and the promise to pick you up friday at 7.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ part one ! ]

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ AHHHH i must confess i honestly hate doing part twos because im scared they'll never live up to the first one😭 im so happy i get more time to write now omgomg, i FINALLY might be able to clear my bazillion drafts teehee 😝 hope you guys enjoyeddd💗💗

[silksandcravats]

No Sleeping Alone - Dean x Reader blurb

headcanon on boyfriend!dean who does NOT condone sleeping apart from you.

After years of lonely trips and no true closeness, Dean finally has you. And he refuses to spend any more nights alone, at least, not when you’re under the same roof.

No matter what.

Lovers quarrels are inevitable. Dean had always been a hothead, his anger boiled fast, and his sharp words shot out even faster.

Going into the whole thing, you knew your relationship would require strong patience on your end.

But you’re only human, so sometimes you’d snap, and call him out on his shit.

The fight grew to a peak, and to his credit, Dean was the one who stepped away first. Biting his tongue and exiting the room before he said something he really couldn’t take back.

You both keep your distance the rest of the day, opting to cool off in private.

The bunker was vast enough for you to comfortably avoid each other. Even through dinner, you both had found your own quiet moment to sneak in and out of the kitchen in record time.

You don’t know where to go as the day winds down, so you end up back in your old room. It was only a few doors further down the hallway, and you’d occupied it for quite a while.

Only it felt unfamiliar now. The very same room that was once your personal sanctuary now seemed cold and empty.

And damn it have queen mattresses always been this big?

It was just too much empty space for one person.

Still, it felt like the right thing to do, you both needed space to cool off. And the bedroom you now shared had been Dean’s first, so of course you should be the one to go.

This was the most logical place to spend the night.

It all made perfect sense, but you were still feeling sad and lonely as you curled up under the covers.

You pressed your eyes shut, trying to force sleep to come to you. Surely if you just held them shut long enough you’d drift off.

But you didn’t.

You wiggled around the ample empty space of the mattress, unsure what to do with yourself. So uncomfortable with the lack of a second, larger, warmer body, with grabby hands and little regard for how much space he took up.

You tapped out first most nights, you had no problem keeping late hours, but you needed your eight hours. Dean, on the other hand could go on four, even less sometimes. (No matter how many times you tried to convince him he needed more.)

So it took a while for Dean to realize what you’d done. But realize he did.

Eventually the door to your old room creaked open, and you didn’t flinch, you didn’t even have to turn to know who was there.

“There you are,” he sighed with relief.

Realistically, you’d always been somewhere in the bunker, where would you ever go? But in his panic, that logic hadn’t held.

“Why the hell are you in here?”

He’s irritated, but not like before. He’s not irritated at you, he’s irritated at the absense of you.

“I think we both need some space,” you sighed, back still to him. You heard his heavy steps as he moved deeper into the room, towards you.

“No.” He dismissed firmly.

“No?” You questioned back.

“We’re not fucking doing this,” he announced, decidedly gripping you and tossing you over his shoulder in one swift move.

You yelped, wriggling in his grasp until a firm swat to your backside stilled your squirming.

“Damn it, Dean! Did you forget we’re fighting?” you grunted, his shoulder digging harshly into your stomach.

“Well then we’ll work it out now, or tomorrow, I don’t really care but you’re sleeping with me.”

He deposited you on the side of the bed further from the door, your side.

You shuffled under the covers, propping your pillow so it was just so. You were trying to busy yourself with anything other than watching him strip down to his boxers and crawl in beside you.

Even in the early days, before anything was official, sharing a bed with Dean had always meant cuddles. Back to his front, chest to chest, you laying atop him.

You’d even managed to spoon him a few times when he was very very tired. The position was awkward, and your arms would ache the next morning, but for all that he did you felt he deserved to be held sometimes.

Now, for the first time, you were trying to keep space between you. It felt appropriate. It wasn’t as if you could erase the events of the day just because it was bedtime.

(Dean disagreed.)

“I’m too tired for this. C’mere,” He grunted.

He moved your unwilling limbs like a ragdoll, forcing you where he wanted you.

First, the hand around your waist tugged you, middle first against his body. His other arm around your back brought your chest completely flush to his, while a thick, muscled leg around yours brought the rest of you in. He had effectively trapped you against him.

“You go right here,” he hummed decidedly, tucking you in beneath the blanket.

“Dean-“ you protested weakly, not even convincing yourself.

“Where you belong,” his voice was low, content, and final.

As you laid in his arms your mood shifted, time had a way of making old anger feel pointless. You sank into his hold without even meaning to.

However mad you’d felt earlier couldn’t compare to the peace you felt now. The utter relief of being him his arms superseded any other feeling.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” you whispered after some time had passed.

You didn’t know if he was still awake, if he’d heard you until he answered.

“M’always gonna come get ya.” His tired voice croaked, chest rumbling against you. “You’re not going anyway.”

“Don’t want to go anywhere,” you agreed sleepily, wiggling closer against him.

“Good.”

[rexhya]

note — i built these into each other js for funsies 😛

✦ ✦

yandere!prince who wakes up feeling empty, and was right when he can't find you anywhere. he thinks your just hiding from him as usual, he thinks he'll find you in the bathroom somwhere crouched beneath the sink, trying to make yourself feel useful, but there's nobody.

he doesn't panic yet, you can be slippery from time to time, not to mention the fact you insisted it was better you sleep in your room last night. ( something about being on your period and dirty sheets ) and you'd bee so good lately he was easy to comply with your demands.

now he wishes he hadn't, Anul tore his bedroom and living room looking for you, tears prickinging his cheeks, hand shaking manically. where had you gone? and were you okay, what if something bad happened to you?

he was abput to search the kitchen when he realized there was too much ground to cover, instead he made an announcement to all the staff working that day: find you.

when it was quickly realized you werent in the castle Anul almost felt his heart stop. you werent hiding from him, you were running from him. uou'd escaped his grasp and took off without a word.

he was hot with anger, but would save that for later. first and foremost was to locate his precious girl, the woman of his life.

but that didnt come easy either, 2 weeks had gone by snd he was starting to feel helpless, he'd exhausted most of his resrouces looking and looking for where you could be. how long would this take, he didnt know. his patience was thinning along with his willpower, this was it, there was only one place he hadnt searched for yet and if you weren't there he'd be sure then that someone had taken you and he needed to go further to find you.

and then he did, after two long weeks and a lifetime of worrry later you were there. smiling from ear to ear, a basket of something in your hand talking to whoever had the pleasure. he didn't waste a second, it wasn't a very steep incline from the hill he'd recognized you on downwards. he'd left the horses there, he could see the ansty villiagers, what was the prince doing all the way out here? it couldn't have been good.

news travel get to your quaint little town as fast, anul was approaching you from behind as your mother and father spoke to you fondly. but then they stopped, and a young gave them a confused glance.

"are you two okay, you look a little pale.."

"everything is spendid!" a cherry voice aaid behind you.

fear rippled through your body, you whipped your head around and your worst fears were fufilled. he'd found you.

"but-but how I..." you trailed off as anul frowned, he didnt like it that you weren't estatic to see you considering how much time he spwnt looking for you. he'd thought you'd been kidnapped for christs sake!

"what are you doing here!" you blurted out, regretting it immediately.

anuls gaze was like ice, you took a step back closer to your parents arms. anul didn't say anything for a moment, he only started at the picture in front of him.

his only love, and your mother and father. "I think i should be asking you that question, don't you?"

"I-," you gulpled, terrified. "I'm sorry." and another protetive step back.

this made his smile, "oh i know you are."

that's when it dawned on him, "well, I belive it's quite rude, and probably treason to turn away the crown prince from your door, is there no tea?" and your motger immediately jumped into action, swooping the three of you into your childhood home and trying to calm the atmosphere.

when the tea was set down anul scooted closer to you so that his arm could slink around your waist, it was a feeling you thought you'd forgotten about.

you parents sat there quietly, trying to make sense of whst was happening in there home.

then anul opened his mouth, "Mrs. [Last Name], Mr. [Last Name] I'd like to graciously ask the two of you for your blessing."

and you flinched, this wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. you could only watch as he explained to your parents, then just as quickly as he came, he left, only this time with you in his arms, fit perfectly right where you belong.