pityslash

[pityslash]

“where you going?” you turn to see bakugou leaning against the doorway of his dorm.

“just to the corner store,” you tell him. “I need a couple things.”

he raises an eyebrow at you, “It’s almost ten,”

“bakugou I’m gonna be super quick!”

he snaps. “the hell you will.”

“what?”

“I’m coming,” he steps out of his dorm and closes his door. “come on.”

you wanted to tell him the shop was right down the street, and that you would be safe, but it wouldn’t be any use. bakugou had been coming with you to run a lot of your errands anyway.

when you two get to the corner store, you begin browsing through the energy drinks.

you open the door and bakugou holds it open for you, allowing you to see everything fully.

“these things are shit for your body, you’ll die early if you keep this up you know,” his fingers tap against the glass of the door.

“I’m just getting one, and It’s not like I have these all the time!” your fingers graze all of the different flavors and brands.

“you need some damn sleep,” he noted. he continued to stand behind you and watch you pick something.

you shrugged at him, then reach for a watermelon flavored drink.

he scoffs. “you hate watermelon flavored things.”

you blink. “I do?”

“last time you tried watermelon candy you almost spit it out.” he says as if it’s common knowledge.

huh. you hadn’t even remembered that yourself.

he grabs a pink can and puts it in the basket he had been holding. “just get the strawberry idiot, It’s your favorite anyway.”

“how’d you know?” you look back at him.

he avoids eye contact, “I’m not blind.”

you hum in response, not thinking much of it. after having picked out your energy drink, you begin picking out some snacks to buy.

and bakugou is following you around the store, per usual, holding everything you pick up.

after a few minutes, when you go to the counter to pay, a little old lady begins to ring up everything you have.

when she sees bakugou, her eyes kind of light up like she recognizes him?

she smiles. “oh? is this the young lady you always buy things for?”

he scowls, “..yeah, so what?”

her smile grows as she turns to you, “you know he always comes here and tells me about you. good to finally meet you dear!”

you feel your face flush. what? he talks about you?

you can see bakugou’s posture shift, so you give a quick smile as bakuou gives her cash.

“have a good night you two,” she says in a sing-song voice.

when you and bakugou leave, you just have to ask. “what was all that about?”

he clicked his tongue. “dunno. probably schizophrenia.”

you laugh. “riiiiiight,”

.ᐟ

[pityslash]

okay so its a tradition in my family to give the first slice of cake to the person you love the most so imagine reader giving bakugou the first slice and he doesn't get it until like later someone mentions it to him.

you can alter it, but also if you don't want to do this u can ignore it or delete it no pressure <33

THANK U FOR THE REQUEST!!

STOPPP WAIT I LOVE THIS<333 I HOPE I DID YOUR TRADITION JUSTICE!!

post-war!katsuki x reader, childhood friends to lovers, profanity, katsuki sucks at words, katsuki is kinda dense, FLUFFFFFFFF SO FLUFFY YOU MIGHT DIE, angst if you squint, very tiny pjo reference

wc:722

Katsuki was a fucking idiot.

He had known you for what—sixteen years? He had been to every. single. one. of your birthdays. At this point, he definitely knew about your family tradition of giving the first slice of cake to the person you love. So when, for the first time in sixteen years, you didn't give the slice to one of your parents but to him, and he didn't bat an eye? He was positive you hated him.

It had been a few days since your birthday, and Kaminari had casually mentioned how you had given him the first slice when the realization had struck him harder than a brick to the head. He was mortified in himself. You had basically confessed to him, and he said nothing in return? Oh god, why didn't he stay dead when Shigiraki killed him?

He bolted off the couch in the common room, racing down the hall and up the stairs, finally making it to your dorm and knocking a little too aggressively. The door swung open to reveal your confused form. "What the-?" You began, but stopped as he raised his hand, hunched over, panting for breath.

He straightened, his eyes locking onto yours, his brows scrunched together in concentration. "I'm such a fuckin' idiot," he muttered, shoving his way into your room and shutting the door. You raised a brow, confusion evident on your face. "What?" He turned, facing you. "That cake. You gave the first slice to me and I didn't bat a fucking eye." He groaned, running his hands down his face.

Your eyes widened in realization, a small frown pulling at your lips. "Took you long enough," you mumbled, turning your gaze to the ground. He huffed, stepping close, his calloused hand cupping your cheek so gently you were a little startled. "Shit... 'M sorry I'm slow as hell... Please don't hate me, I know I messed up." His voice was gruff, but you could hear the sincerity dripping from each word.

A quiet laugh escaped from your lips, but was quickly swallowed by his own. Your eyes flung wide, then immediately snapped closed, your hands moving to wrap around the back of his neck. His lips moved fervently against yours, every word he didn't know how to say, every feeling he'd been suppressing shoved into the meeting of lips.

The blonde's hands encircled your waist, pressing your body to his. His lungs burned, and he reluctantly pulled back, your lips desperately attempting to chase his. "I hope that gives you an answer..." He whispered, his gaze a gentle caress. You melted in his cherry red eyes, your limbs feeling lighter. A smile wedged its way onto your lips, your fingers running from his neck to his chest. "It does."

He grinned slowly, not his usual cocky smirk, but a genuine smile. He pressed his lips to yours once more, his hands tightening on your waist. Katsuki needed you to know how badly he returned your feelings, how long he had been keeping it to himself for fear of losing you. He sucked at expressing his feelings in words so he hoped you understood what he meant as his lips moved passionately against yours.

You pulled apart, gasping for breath, his gaze heated as he looked at you. "How long...?" He spoke quietly, a hint of desperation in his tone. "Since like... beginning of middle school...?" His eyes flew wide, a small smirk pulling at his lips. You scoffed, pulling away from his grasp. He grinned cockily, his grip tightening, "and ya' didn't tell me?" You rolled your eyes, "I was sure you'd scoff and never speak to me again." His brows furrowed, "bullshit. I might've been a twit back in middle school, but I wouldn't ditch you..."

His smirk melts into something more sincere, meant solely for you. "Well, I'm glad you did now, even if it took me a minute to figure it out." You both laughed, his lips hovering over yours once more. "This means I get to take you out now, right? No more fuckin' 'hangouts', but I get to actually kiss you 'n shit?" You nodded, grinning. "No more dates under the term of 'hangouts'."

His lips met yours again. After that, he overanalyzed your movements, just so he didn't miss something like that again.

you can pry this cliche romance out of my cold dead hands

gahhh i love this fictional man

[pityslash]

[pityslash]

excuse me while im in my feelings. tw pregnancy

“really, another outfit?”

the voice startles you, spinning around to look at the looming man at the doorway of your shared bedroom. red eyes hold no malice, and you swear there’s a twitch of a smile on his face. “well? let me see.”

you hold out the small romper, a beautiful cream color with delicate embroidery on the sleeves. he hardly looks at it, busy staring at the excitement in your eyes and how you couldn’t hide your shaking. “isn’t it so cute?! katsuki, they really stocked up on the summer outfits!”

he sits down beside you on the bed, finally acknowledging the dozens of clothes you’ve gotten over the months; you must have been reorganizing when he got home. “there were so many cute socks too, but i didn’t get any more because only this was on sale. but oh my god, you should have seen—“

“then next time, wait for me to go with.” you wave him off, mumbling about how long he takes despite you being the pregnant one. he liked shopping with you way too much. “i would have bought the socks.”

“i know, because you’re just like your parents,” you stand up with a pile of folded onesies and his eyes follow you to the baby’s dresser. he quickly folds more to help you out, trying to keep conversation, “my mom called, wants to know if you were free for lunch tomorrow.”

you’re grateful when he hands you the rest of the clothes, acknowledging what he said and enjoying a brief moment of silence.

strong arms wrap around you, and you instinctively start to sway with his body. “i missed you today, both of you.” a gentle touch, his hands trail up your arms in a soothing manner.

katsuki stops to turn your head, giving a kiss to your forehead, then cheek, before finally meeting your lips and he’s so full of love when you return the gesture without hesitation.

it’s a swooping feeling in your stomach as though you’re at the top of a rollercoaster. it was everything and it was over too soon. you were left breathless and red faced, awfully shy for someone who kissed their husband.

before he could talk himself out of it, he kissed you again and threads your fingers together, not ready to let go. “thank you.”

“for what, exactly?” you ask, slowly turning around and you try to lean on his shoulder without putting pressure on your belly, soft and gentle; as if he would bite if you were too hasty. he would never. you feel him let out a soft breath and then a warm hand fixes on the bump between you two.

katsuki has a sinking feeling that he’s done for. oh, how he misses and wants to pull your body flush against his again without the worry of straining your back, wants to spend hours and hours shopping for those tiny outfits and write healthy grocery lists, even if all you wanted was take-out. wants, wants, wants.

but soon he’ll have more than he could have ever wished for. so he will bite his tongue and ignore the wild hammering of his heart which matches your own, and he will cherish the person who now shared body with his child.

“everything.”

[pityslash]

Ready or Not | Bakugou Katsuki

CW: Pregnant reader, Katsuki is a husband/father.

For once in his life, Bakugou Katsuki isn't prepared.

As a student, he studied hard, aced all of his exams. As a hero, he trained hard, won big. As a husband, nothing goes unnoticed: dinner is planned, the house is cleaned, and every important date is saved in his calendar. Your anniversary, your birthday... and now, something new.

The birth of his child.

For once in his life, Bakugou Katsuki isn't prepared.

He's not prepared to be a father. But he tries.

He never really imagined himself as one, but when you announced to him that you were pregnant, your eyes brimming with tears (of excitement or anxiety or both, he wasn't really sure), he knew it was a role he was going to step into, ready or not. He wrapped you in his arms and promised that he would do everything he could to protect his little growing family, to play an active part. And he meant it.

He reads a book titled "Newborns, New Parents: A Guide to Early Parenthood." His brow furrows beneath his reading glasses just going through the table of contents. There is so much to remember and so little time. Nine months will fly by, he knows this, so he takes notes in the margins, bookmarks chapters he think you might find interesting, and passes the book to you when he's done.

He attends your doctor appointments with you, holding your hand through every examination, listening intently to what the doctor has to say. He makes sure all your questions get answered when you feel too tired to speak up, and checks and double checks that he understands everything. He seems confident in his role as your advocate until the appointment for the sonogram that determines the gender of the baby. His foot taps nervously on the tile as you sit together in the doctor's office.

"What gender do you want it to be?" You asked.

He thinks for a moment. "I don't care, as long as it's ours."

But when he's told it's a girl, he feels himself getting emotional. A girl. He's going to have a daughter. In that moment in the doctor's office, he sees a vision of himself beyond anything he's ever imagined, a vision of a future with you, a little hand in his, a giggle in his ear.

"Are you ok, Katsuki?" You pat his shoulder, concerned. "You haven't said anything."

"Sorry." He murmurs. His eyes don't leave the sonogram image. "I'm just... I'm just so happy right now."

You nod. You understand perfectly.

After that, he can only prepare more. He helps you choose baby clothes, pointing out what would be comfortable in addition to being cute. He works on the nursery every day, putting together furniture and hanging the decor you've chosen out. He continues to read books and articles with endless advice for caregivers, even though he's starting to think they're all rather repetitive. It's only as he's beginning to feel like maybe he could be prepared that you go into labor, and suddenly he's not prepared at all. Within hours, there will be a baby in your arms, and it's terrifying.

It's terrifying that he can't help you through the labor. There's nothing he can do to ease your pain or to make it go faster, despite how much you beg. All he can do is rub your back, stay out of the way of your medical team, and tell you you're doing great. Are you doing great? He doesn't feel qualified enough to know, and that's terrifying too. But eventually, after seemingly endless hours of toil, the baby is delivered and he's holding her for the first time.

"Katsuki look, she has your eyes." You say.

"I know." He wipes tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Damn it, she's perfect."

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

The next few hours are a blur in the hospital, but eventually you are released to go home. When you return to the apartment as three instead of two, it hits him how different things are going to be. But when he looks at the little bundle in your arms, he thinks he finally understands why babies are called bundles of joy. He's in a bubble of it, the warmth, the adoration, the love. Becoming a father is the best miracle that has ever happened to him.

Until the sleepless nights build up. He knew that they were coming, but nobody could've warned him enough how exhausting it would be. He's not even the one who gave birth and he's already feeling overwhelmed. He takes over bottle feeding whenever he can on the off chance that you can get some rest, he learns how to change diapers and comfort his daughter when she cries. He offers comfort to you too, reminding you how strong and how beautiful you are through it all.

When his parental leave is up, he's guilty to admit that he feels ready to go back to work. He loves this little family of his, but he’s starting to doubt himself. Being a father is difficult, being a good one feels impossible. The things that he thought made him a good husband have been put to the backburner: meal prepping, house cleaning, anything that isn't you or the baby is no longer a priority. He returns to work with bags under his eyes, and the jokes his coworkers make about his obvious lack of sleep aren't funny at all. Being a parent of a newborn is hard, have they all forgotten that?

It's raining as he takes the train home. The apartment elevator is broken, so he treks up the stairs instead. He hesitates at the door of his home, the home he built with you, the person waiting for him inside. He questions himself again. Is he prepared?

He remembers your smile. The way his daughter’s tiny fingers close around his thumb. How you laugh when you hear the baby babble. The look of relief on your face when he comes home.

He is prepared.

He opens the door, prepared to hear crying, but all is silent except for the sound of the rain pattering on the windows. The lights in the living room are dimmed, but he can make out the silhouette of his wife on the couch, a bundle in her arms. He takes off his shoes and walks over quietly, so quietly, not wanting to disturb either of his girls.

You must have sensed his presence, because you sleepily open your eyes. Upon seeing him, you put your index finger to your lips, motioning for him to be quiet. He copies you, and smiles. He sits on the couch next to you and holds his arms out, silently offering to take the baby. You oblige, gently passing her over, but the movement is enough to jostle her awake. Her little eyes blink open slowly with an unfocused gaze as you both hold your breath, waiting for the crying to begin. It never does. She yawns before closing her eyes again, safe in her father's arms.

You lean your head on Katsuki's shoulder and begin a whispered conversation.

"Doesn't this make it all worth it?" You ask.

"She's always been worth it. You both are." He says.

He turns to peck you on the top of your head before looking down again at your sleeping baby. The rain continues to pour outside, but the home you've made with him is safe and warm. There may be another sleepless night ahead, but he wouldn't trade it for anything- his whole world is right here.

[pityslash]

‧₊⋅♡⋆The Emergency Contact

˚🎀༘⋆ || Pro Hero Dynamight x reader |

Your phone rang at 2:47 AM.

Unknown number. Hospital line. A voice on the other end—calm but urgent.

“Are you Katsuki Bakugo’s emergency contact?”

Your heart dropped.

You didn’t even remember throwing on shoes. Your jacket was half-zipped. The cab ride over was a blur, your hands cold no matter how hard you wrung them.

You knew the risks. Loving a hero meant knowing one day the call could come. But it’s different when it does.

The hospital light was too white, too sterile. A nurse led you down the hall. “He’s stable,” she said gently. “A few bad hits. Cracked rib, minor burns. Shaken, not broken.”

Still, your stomach didn’t settle until you saw him.

Room 412. Curtain half-pulled. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, bandaged, bruised. Hair flattened on one side. Arms resting on his thighs, head bowed.

He looked up.

The relief hit his face so fast, so visibly, that it startled you. For someone who always had a sharp word loaded, he suddenly looked like he’d forgotten how to speak.

“…Didn’t mean to scare you,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Knew you’d come.”

You stepped in. Closed the door behind you.

For a moment, there were no jokes. No ego. Just the soft beep of the heart monitor and the hitch in your breath when you sat beside him and took his hand.

“You listed me as your emergency contact?” you said, voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t meet your eyes.

“You’re the only one I trust with the aftermath,” he said, fingers curling around yours. “Figured you should know if I ever got my dumb ass blown up.”

You let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. Pressed your forehead to his shoulder — carefully, avoiding the bruises.

“I’m here,” you said. “You scared the shit out of me, but I’m here.”

He exhaled hard, like that truth let him breathe again.

You sat in silence after that. No pressure to talk. His thumb traced circles into your palm. You watched the slow rhythm of the monitor, the rise and fall of his chest. And when the nurse peeked in, he glared until she backed out with a whispered, “Sorry.”

“You staying?” he asked, too casual.

You tucked the blanket higher on his chest. “Always.”

And in the harsh light of that sterile room, nothing ever felt more real than the way his hand gripped yours — like even Dynamight needed someone to hold onto, too.

[pityslash]

You on occasion lay down on Bakugo’s chest just to hear his heartbeat.

Been 4 years since the war, and you can still remember the feeling you had when you seen Bakugo’s lifeless body on the field.

You couldn’t reach him, you couldn’t save him, but you seen his chest, the way his eyes slowly dimmed, tears and blood stained his cheeks, you felt a part of yourself die a little as well.

It was a difficult transition to see him from alive to dead to back alive again, you never got around to tell him how you really felt during the time of the war. How exhausted you were, not just physically but emotionally and mentally. How you been going to therapy for the past 2 years, because the nightmares came back.

You never told him about your internal struggles post war, because you felt guilty.

You wasn’t on the line like he and Deku was, but you still played your part, having a few battles of your own to fight and if Bakugo was there to see how you carried yourself he would have been so proud, but that small bit of comparison between you and him made your problems seem so minuscule.

It was silly, but honest.

He’s on the couch now , one arm over his eyes, and the other over his stomach taking a nap, or so you thought. You had another scare while thinking for way too long. That fear bubbling up inside your heart and mind like a cloud before a storm begins you physically try to shake it off, so you go to do what you knew best to help and that was to lie on his chest.

His chest was moving very shallow, his snorts was light as it was being covered by the rain outside the window. He looked so peaceful, you examine his figure , seeing the scars on his body, as well as the big one on his chest.

You approach him slowly, adjusting to climb and squeeze between his legs, he noticed your presence before even moving, he was just waiting for you to make a move and when you finally did he stretched himself out for you to get comfortable.

When your ears reach where his heart is you slowly shut your eyes to concentrate on his heartbeat. The quiet thumping increased slightly when he wrapped his arms around your waist.

It felt so much better now. His scent and sound immediately made your body relax.

You smile a little, weakly, seeing at the calming beats of his pulse soothes you like a heavy wave of water to help you fall asleep.

Bakugo pecked your forehead, a subconscious move he does when you’re near his lips, when he held you it was almost in a way of protection. His arms being a shield from anything around you, the same way he wished to have shield you all those years ago.

[pityslash]

Ready or Not | Bakugou Katsuki

CW: Pregnant reader, Katsuki is a husband/father.

For once in his life, Bakugou Katsuki isn't prepared.

As a student, he studied hard, aced all of his exams. As a hero, he trained hard, won big. As a husband, nothing goes unnoticed: dinner is planned, the house is cleaned, and every important date is saved in his calendar. Your anniversary, your birthday... and now, something new.

The birth of his child.

For once in his life, Bakugou Katsuki isn't prepared.

He's not prepared to be a father. But he tries.

He never really imagined himself as one, but when you announced to him that you were pregnant, your eyes brimming with tears (of excitement or anxiety or both, he wasn't really sure), he knew it was a role he was going to step into, ready or not. He wrapped you in his arms and promised that he would do everything he could to protect his little growing family, to play an active part. And he meant it.

He reads a book titled "Newborns, New Parents: A Guide to Early Parenthood." His brow furrows beneath his reading glasses just going through the table of contents. There is so much to remember and so little time. Nine months will fly by, he knows this, so he takes notes in the margins, bookmarks chapters he think you might find interesting, and passes the book to you when he's done.

He attends your doctor appointments with you, holding your hand through every examination, listening intently to what the doctor has to say. He makes sure all your questions get answered when you feel too tired to speak up, and checks and double checks that he understands everything. He seems confident in his role as your advocate until the appointment for the sonogram that determines the gender of the baby. His foot taps nervously on the tile as you sit together in the doctor's office.

"What gender do you want it to be?" You asked.

He thinks for a moment. "I don't care, as long as it's ours."

But when he's told it's a girl, he feels himself getting emotional. A girl. He's going to have a daughter. In that moment in the doctor's office, he sees a vision of himself beyond anything he's ever imagined, a vision of a future with you, a little hand in his, a giggle in his ear.

"Are you ok, Katsuki?" You pat his shoulder, concerned. "You haven't said anything."

"Sorry." He murmurs. His eyes don't leave the sonogram image. "I'm just... I'm just so happy right now."

You nod. You understand perfectly.

After that, he can only prepare more. He helps you choose baby clothes, pointing out what would be comfortable in addition to being cute. He works on the nursery every day, putting together furniture and hanging the decor you've chosen out. He continues to read books and articles with endless advice for caregivers, even though he's starting to think they're all rather repetitive. It's only as he's beginning to feel like maybe he could be prepared that you go into labor, and suddenly he's not prepared at all. Within hours, there will be a baby in your arms, and it's terrifying.

It's terrifying that he can't help you through the labor. There's nothing he can do to ease your pain or to make it go faster, despite how much you beg. All he can do is rub your back, stay out of the way of your medical team, and tell you you're doing great. Are you doing great? He doesn't feel qualified enough to know, and that's terrifying too. But eventually, after seemingly endless hours of toil, the baby is delivered and he's holding her for the first time.

"Katsuki look, she has your eyes." You say.

"I know." He wipes tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Damn it, she's perfect."

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

The next few hours are a blur in the hospital, but eventually you are released to go home. When you return to the apartment as three instead of two, it hits him how different things are going to be. But when he looks at the little bundle in your arms, he thinks he finally understands why babies are called bundles of joy. He's in a bubble of it, the warmth, the adoration, the love. Becoming a father is the best miracle that has ever happened to him.

Until the sleepless nights build up. He knew that they were coming, but nobody could've warned him enough how exhausting it would be. He's not even the one who gave birth and he's already feeling overwhelmed. He takes over bottle feeding whenever he can on the off chance that you can get some rest, he learns how to change diapers and comfort his daughter when she cries. He offers comfort to you too, reminding you how strong and how beautiful you are through it all.

When his parental leave is up, he's guilty to admit that he feels ready to go back to work. He loves this little family of his, but he’s starting to doubt himself. Being a father is difficult, being a good one feels impossible. The things that he thought made him a good husband have been put to the backburner: meal prepping, house cleaning, anything that isn't you or the baby is no longer a priority. He returns to work with bags under his eyes, and the jokes his coworkers make about his obvious lack of sleep aren't funny at all. Being a parent of a newborn is hard, have they all forgotten that?

It's raining as he takes the train home. The apartment elevator is broken, so he treks up the stairs instead. He hesitates at the door of his home, the home he built with you, the person waiting for him inside. He questions himself again. Is he prepared?

He remembers your smile. The way his daughter’s tiny fingers close around his thumb. How you laugh when you hear the baby babble. The look of relief on your face when he comes home.

He is prepared.

He opens the door, prepared to hear crying, but all is silent except for the sound of the rain pattering on the windows. The lights in the living room are dimmed, but he can make out the silhouette of his wife on the couch, a bundle in her arms. He takes off his shoes and walks over quietly, so quietly, not wanting to disturb either of his girls.

You must have sensed his presence, because you sleepily open your eyes. Upon seeing him, you put your index finger to your lips, motioning for him to be quiet. He copies you, and smiles. He sits on the couch next to you and holds his arms out, silently offering to take the baby. You oblige, gently passing her over, but the movement is enough to jostle her awake. Her little eyes blink open slowly with an unfocused gaze as you both hold your breath, waiting for the crying to begin. It never does. She yawns before closing her eyes again, safe in her father's arms.

You lean your head on Katsuki's shoulder and begin a whispered conversation.

"Doesn't this make it all worth it?" You ask.

"She's always been worth it. You both are." He says.

He turns to peck you on the top of your head before looking down again at your sleeping baby. The rain continues to pour outside, but the home you've made with him is safe and warm. There may be another sleepless night ahead, but he wouldn't trade it for anything- his whole world is right here.

[pityslash]

Pro hero dkbk 💪

Based on this lovely thread by @/shikkestu on Twitter

[pityslash]

sub or dom?

a burden

[pityslash]

Villains hear them before they even see them

[pityslash]

"What's the matter with you?"

I couldn't keep the miserable pout off my face as I looked at Katsuki. He was standing in the doorway of our bedroom. He might have just gotten off of his conference call, but I'd hardly noticed his yelling from the other room, never mind when it stopped.

His gaze softened when I didn't answer right away. "The brat giving you trouble?"

I laughed humorously, breathless as I often was these days. "He is his father's son," I joked.

He scoffed before walking over to me and sitting on the edge of the bed. He laid his hand on my pregnant belly, the familiar warmth soothing. "Do you need something?"

I hummed. "A time machine. Wanna hold him already."

Katsuki leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Another month," he said.

"Yeah..." I put my hand on top of his. "And the first of many."

"Oh yeah?" He asked with a certain glint in his crimson eyes.

"Sure. I hope heroing is paying well, 'cause I want a dozen more." I closed my eyes as a wave of exhaustion fell over me.

"Hn." I didn't need to see him to know he was worried, though I didn't know exactly what about. "Let me get you through this one first," he said firmly.

I smiled. "You don't wanna go half on another?" I asked without opening my eyes. "It was fun making him."

"Yeah, that's all the fun we need. Besides, I don't like seeing you like this; all tired and shit." I opened my eyes to find his gaze trained on my stomach.

I squeezed his hand. "I'm fine. We're both fine," I reassured him.

Crimson eyes cut to mine in an instant. He huffed and went back to tracing circles with his thumb. "We don't need a dozen. If you want a lot, three is plenty."

"What's that? Murder God Dynamight doesn't want to win at everything?"

He scoffed. "Nice try." He was even more gentle with me ever since we'd first found out I was pregnant. I was looking forward to seeing how he would look holding a baby. We were the first of our friends to be expecting. Leaning closer, he kissed my forehead. "Craving anything?"

"Sweet and sour chicken sounds really good right now. But it's not a craving. We can have whatever." Except for pizza. Normally I loved it, but I'd indulged that craving so often that I was almost sick of it. I grabbed his hand before he could get up. "Don't go," I pleaded, not caring if I sounded needy.

Evidently he didn't care either. He obliged right away, getting into bed with me and wrapping an arm around my middle. "I've got you. Sleep. I'll cook you something special when you wake up."

His warmth, the deep, gruff tone of his voice, and the solid feel of his body against mine, all but forced me into deep relaxation. My eyes fell shut and Katsuki's arm tightened ever so slightly around me.

[pityslash]

gradient map / alternative colors

[pityslash]

I feel like a virgin when I search up “x Reader” with a new character I like

[pityslash]

omg so request: it’s like a pretty popular headcanon that levi likes horses (maybe because riding them gives him extra height lmao) so what if reader is one of the people who trains the horses and levi is secretly pining for them ok. And he uses checking on cadets working/or making sure his horse is cared for kind of as an excuse to see the reader and yeah :):) I love your writing bye!!!

your captain

pairing: levi ackerman x gn!reader

summary: somehow levi's managed to fall hard for the scouts' horse handler.

warnings: slightly ooc levi (???), pregnancy mention at the beginning (in reference to the reader's mother), amputation mention (reference to a random cadet)

a/n: i am so sorry that this took me so long to post. i have had it sitting around for so long and kept editing it and just could NOT get it to work. i altered what exactly the reader does a bit, so i hope that's alright <3 BUT LITERALLY LOVE THIS IDEA AND DIDN'T WANNA RUSH IT,,,,, SO I'M GONNA MAKE LIKE A SECOND PART FOR IT DFKLAJSFKJ

new scouts always meant new horses. every year every cadet was assigned their own horse. one that they were responsible for feeding, grooming, and cleaning up after. and every year there were a few kids who were just not good with horses in the slightest.

some of them were too heavy-handed when it came to riding. they’d tug on their horse’s neck harshly, most of the time not even meaning to. others were so painfully nervous that they would just sit on top of their horse, hands shaking while they tried to figure it out. and still others who just got a stubborn horse.

which was why you were there.

you’d originally joined the scouts in hopes of becoming a medic. your mother and father were both in the scouts, your mother a dedicated medic for them until she became pregnant with you. afterwards, she’d taken to staying home to raise you in the city of trost. she continued her work as a medic and taught you nearly everything that she knew.

your father didn’t know the first thing about medicine. but he knew everything about horses. he’d grown up on a farm near wall maria where his family was responsible for breeding and caring for the horses that would be sent to the scouts. he loved what he did and had passed his knowledge onto you when he too would step away from the scouts due to a missing arm and nearly blind eye.

when you joined the scouts, you were the only one of the new cadets who immediately knew how to handle a horse. the commander had you teach all of the other scouts, and when a new wave of cadets came in the following year and you taught them too, you were appointed the job of handling the horses and teaching cadets how to ride when you could. and when you couldn’t, you helped in the infirmary.

it was always difficult, regardless of how much you enjoyed helping people. switching from teaching sixteen-year-olds how to ride their horses to trying desperately to stop those same sixteen-year-olds from bleeding out was hard. it made you an interesting person. a complex one really. one moment you could be rambling about horses and the importance of having proper bits, and the next all stoic as you answer someone’s questions about how their friend had died.

and so naturally, you’d caught captain levi’s eye.

he’d been forced into the scouts a few years after you had joined. when he’d joined, he’d originally thought you to be annoying and a show-off. especially when he was forced to visit you to learn how to handle a horse. surprising as it may be, horseback riding was one of the few things that levi ackerman was not good at. and he hated that. and by association, he hated you.

you weren’t one for hating people though, so you’d just ignored levi’s constant jabs and efforts to bother you when you were trying to help him. you were used to impatient scouts getting annoyed at you for trying to be nice.

his feelings for you had changed though. it was very sudden, and he couldn’t really find a way to explain it. he supposed it must have happened that day after the expedition where furlan and isabel had died. his horse had been injured, and unsure what else to do with himself, levi had dragged his way to the stables to check on said horse, only to find you sitting just outside his horse’s stall with a defeated look on your face.

“your horse is an asshole,” you had said after a few moments. levi was taken aback; he hadn’t thought you’d noticed him yet. he wondered then if you knew of his friends’ fates. but looking back now, he knows you must’ve known. why else would you have been so determined to avoid all mentions of the expedition?

“maybe you’re just not being nice to him,” levi had replied before he had walked into the stall without issue. you were shocked; that same horse had just tried to violently kick and bite at you. “he scares easily. i thought you knew that?”

the rest of the afternoon had been filled with friendly conversation. you’d told levi about your parents and how you’d ended up in charge of the horses. he’d said nothing, just listening to you ramble and watching your gentle hands work a splint around his horse’s leg.

he’d learned then the importance of your kindness. and he’d learned then that you were not the kind of person he wanted to hate.

so now, years later, levi was left hopelessly pining after you.

he was surprisingly discreet about it too. the only person who seemed to have caught on to levi’s lingering glances and gentle handshakes was moblit. he’d made the mistake of asking levi about it once and had sworn he’d never question levi about anything again. poor moblit was so scared of levi that he hadn’t even told hange.

it should’ve been obvious though. because seriously, who really needs to check on how training the new recruits to ride horses is going? and who really needs to visit their horse three times a day? a horse that he hadn’t even named, to add.

which was precisely what you were nagging him about today.

“levi, you should name him!” you exclaim as you had dozens of times before. everyone else had named their horse, but levi refused to. he claimed it to be because he thought it was stupid, but really it was because levi had come to learn that most things that he loved died. and in his mind, levi had convinced himself that naming his horse would doom him to his death.

“i’m not naming him,” his voice is flat, as it always is, but there’s a smile playing at his lips. you can see the corners of his lips twitching upwards, making yours do something similar. “he’s quite content without one.”

“what if he gets loose? what’ll you do then? you’ll have no way to call him,” you try to reason, gesturing with your hands as you did so. levi ignores your comments, smile now fully formed on his lips, and instead raises his right hand to lay on his horse’s nose.

“you’re so annoying.”

it’s said with a hint of affection in his voice. a hint of affection that you don’t miss, but don’t acknowledge either. you’re used to his affectionate teasing, to the way he seemed so much softer with you than he did anyone else.

a short silence fills the air while levi strokes his horse’s head gently. he looks lost in thought, and when he speaks again, you figure he must’ve been.

“i’ll name him alastor,” levi says, and you tilt your head at the peculiar name. before you can question why, levi’s already began to explain. “there’s these old, old tales of gods. there were gods of all sorts – war, sun, death. you could name anything and there was a god for it.

“the god of the underworld, where we’re sent to when we die, was called hades. he had a horse called alastor, and he sent the horse out of the underworld to bring his wife, persephone, to him. the god of the sky – zeus – was called alastor for a time too. it meant he was an avenger of wrong doings and evil deeds. where alastor went, vengeance followed.”

you’re quiet as levi tells you the tale of foreign gods. you’d never heard such tales before, and hearing levi speaking so fluently of them was captivating.

“you’re quite the poet,” you finally say, earning another one of levi’s short-lived smiles and a shake of the head.

when you next see levi, it’s late at night, and you’re trying to distract yourself by tending to your horse. you couldn’t sleep, not after a day filled with injury follow ups of scouts you had helped to patch up. it was horrible, seeing all that pain and all that fear on so many people’s faces. it haunted you and your caring heart when you tried to close your eyes.

levi’s bags under his eyes are darker than usual. it seems he’s experiencing something similar. he watches you for a few moments before he finally draws in a breath and approaches you. the sound of dirt under his boots catches your attention, pulling your red rimmed eyes away from your horse.

“you should sleep,” is his way of greeting you. it catches you off guard. levi hadn’t been rude to you in a very, very long time, but such an obvious display of his care for you and your well-being was unexpected.

not unwelcomed, however. you’d do anything to listen to levi express concern for you every day of your life if you could.

“i could say the same to you. you know, there’s a rumor that you hardly sleep at all, captain. that’s horrible for your health.”

you’re the only person he’d let scold him so obviously like that.

levi moves closer to you, standing on the other side of your horse’s head. one hand is hanging at his side, the other carefully strokes your horse’s neck. on the other side, you do the same thing. like two parents coddling their child.

“it’s hard to sleep with a job like this,” you finally say, breaking the semi-peaceful quiet. your honesty is not unexpected, but levi’s heart still tightens at your willingness to be open with him. “one of the cadets – his leg is infected. on that small expedition last week he collided with another cadet and their blade got him. i think the real doctors will have to amputate it.”

levi frowns, then reaches with his free hand to grab yours, squeezing it gently.

“friar, right? the one who likes to cook,” levi questions, and your eyes light up with surprise. he knew the new scout’s name? and his hobby? levi played everything off as if he didn’t care about the scouts that he didn’t consider friends – you’re beyond shocked to see that he cares enough about them to remember small details like their interests.

“yes, the one who likes to cook,” there’s a small smile on your lips when you look away from your horse and down to where yours and levi’s hand hold onto each other.

“you should rest,” levi tells you again. his words are gentle still, but there’s more firmness to it this time.

“is that coming from my captain or from my friend?” you question, eyes looking up to meet his, studying his reaction to your words.

you’re surprised to watch a short conflict behind his eyes. you’re not sure what’s started it, but the captain is clearly thinking heavily over something.

my captain.

your captain.

he liked that a little too much for his comfort.

“if it must come from your captain for you to listen, then it’s coming from him,” levi finally states, giving your hand one last comforting squeeze before he releases it, letting his hand fall limp at his side.

your captain.

levi’s head was spinning, but his face remained blank this time. he had long since accepted his attraction towards you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still struggle to deal with it. part of him liked the friendship you had, where he could slip caring sentences in the cracks of his cold demeanor and be nonchalant about holding your hand in the stables on a night neither of you can sleep. but most of levi wanted more. he wanted to press his lips to yours and melt into your embrace. he wanted to sit in a shared room together when you couldn’t sleep. he wanted to listen to you tell him about your day every night.

levi wanted you and everything that came with that.

and it was fucking terrifying.

“well then,” your voice pulls him from his thoughts. there’s a playful smile on your face as you straighten your back and raise your fist to your chest in a salute. “goodnight, captain.”

levi says nothing else while you turn your back from him and go inside to sleep.

beside him, alastor huffs. levi strokes his nose, whispering a quiet good night to his horse before he too goes in. not to sleep – heaven knows he never did that – but to get away from the overwhelming feeling of you that the stables held.

while levi sits awake in his study that night, all that comes to his mind is you.

tags; @levis-hazelnut @tvnyaiidas @may-machin @justanotherkpopstanlol @shelby-ren @slitheringss @leiriswhore (join taglist here)

[pityslash]

Outranked

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Medic!Reader

Word count: 2,928

Warnings: mentions of injuries, dizziness and nausea (please let me know if I missed anything!)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort , Fluff

Description: Never had Levi been a fan of hospitals or medic tents, too in his head to appear as Humanity's Strongest to allow himself the luxury of being nurtured back to health. When he returns looking worse for wear and tripping over his two feet, his cadets know one person who'd be brave enough to drag the Captain to the medical wing by his ear if necessary— you.

Join the taglist here!

Masterlist

•

Levi messed up.

He knew he messed up when he completely skipped the obligatory check-ups held at the medical wing after every expedition— the very ones you were in charge of. He knew he messed up upon seeing the darkening bruises painting the skin above his ribs; every shuddering breath pulled from his lungs was a bitter reminder of the losses under his belt. He knew he messed up the first time his leg gave out upon reaching his office, buckling beneath his weight and dropping him onto pristine wooden floors.

But he knew he truly messed up when he found himself clinging to Jean for dear life. His vision swam while labored breaths rattled his aching ribs, nausea seeping through the pits of his stomach. He'd barely managed to drag himself to the mess hall before the world around him spun, his fluttering fingers trying to grasp onto anything that would keep him from doubling over. Of course, his nosey cadets were by his side the second they'd notice how their Captain looked ghastly pale; his sickly complexion was enough to sound the alarms within their heads. 

How he ended up clutching Jean's arm as the boy frantically tried to ease him onto a chair, he didn't know. He might've blacked out for a second. A grunt escaped his throat, pushing past gritted teeth, muscles protesting as he settled down on the seat Connie had dragged over. 

"Captain! Are you alright?" Eren shoved Jean out of the way and faced the Captain with a look of concern. His brows pulled together and it was then Levi was reminded of how young his cadets were. Damn, they're just kids. 

Levi only spared the boy a heavy-lidded glance accompanied with a wave of his hand. "I'm fine. I was only a little dizzy," He sighed, "I apologize for scaring you like that."

"No offense Captain, but you've definitely seen better days." Connie pipped up, earning a smack in the head from Sasha.

Mikasa met the Captain's gaze, a look of disapproval leveling him. "You skipped the check-up again, didn't you?"

"My doings and whereabouts are none of your concern," Levi answered, his words clipped by the company of sharp breaths. The younger Ackerman clicked her tongue, earning a glare from the Captain.

Armin frowned. "Sir, that would be the third time you skip the check-up." The boy pulled at the sleeves of his jacket nervously, hoping he hadn't spoken out of terms. 

At that, Jean nodded. "And I can't imagine Squad Leader (Y/n) will be happy to find out you've been neglecting your health again." 

Damned brats were right, Levi knew they were. He knew you'd be dragging his ass to medical by the ear if you saw his current state. Pale, sweaty, bruised, and dizzy. But Humanity's Strongest didn't have the luxury of settling for a moment's worth of rest. No, there was no rest for the man who'd been tasked with the impossible— to be the strength of all of humanity. Broken or bruised, he had to keep himself upright for the sake of others. Because what was he if not more soldier than man? Who would he be if he weren't humanity's top weapon against the enemy?  

"I can assure you," Levi breathed, his voice crackling painfully as it spilled past his lips. He winced slightly. "I do not require her medical services. I'm fine." 

"Like hell you are," The sound of your voice had the Captain sitting up quickly, cursing colorfully at the stabbing pain that shot through his chest. Anyone else would've missed the subtle look of guilt and embarrassment that flashed behind his silver eyes, but not you. You, who could read even the most minuscule shifts in his expressions. You, who could differentiate the pained pinch of his brows from his usually stern stare. You, who seemed less than pleased with the signs of his condition. "You're so stubborn." You sighed.

It was only then that Levi noticed Sasha lingering behind you. She must've ratted him out. All he could do was accept defeat and slump back in his chair.

A few beats in silence passed, the air thick and tense. The cadets waited anxiously for their next orders, willing to help care for their Captain. It's the least they could do for the man that protects them at all costs. Their eyes flickered from the Captain to you, and back to their leader, their shoulders held back in attention.

"Go back to your table, kids," The reassurance in your voice had them relaxing ever so slightly. Your eyes remained on Levi as you spoke, "I can handle it from here." Sparing the cadets a final glance accompanied by a short nod, they were quick to scramble away, allowing you a moment with your lover. 

"I'm not going to medical," He rasped, instinctively leaning into your touch the moment your cool knuckles caressed the sharp lines of his cheekbones. "I can't stand that place." The hot stench of death, blood, and bleach were always quick to make him queasy. 

The sharp disapproval in your gaze softened in understanding as you gave a gentle nod. "I know," you sighed. "But I still need to make sure you're okay, love."

"Could I possibly pull the rank card here and say you can't make me go there?" A futile attempt at escaping the dreadful confines of the medical wing, he knew, but he couldn’t help the fluttering of his heart when a huff of laughter bubbled past your lips.

"You could," you started, a knowing smile pulling at your lips. "But it won't work."

Levi frowned, tilting his head curiously. "And why's that?" He truly wanted to know.

"Because, Captain," you teased. Oh, he knew you were enjoying the savory taste of your next words. "When it comes to the health of the Scouts, I outrank even the Commander himself." 

“Damn,” Silver eyes searched your gaze. There was no doubt in his mind that you were completely capable of tossing him over your shoulder and carrying him to medical if necessary; he’d rather avoid such commotion. He was never a fan of the monotonous medical rooms, cold with grief and mourning, so he was really hoping he could avoid them.

As if understanding his train of thought, you brushed a strand of hair away from the slick sheen of sweat on his forehead, bringing his attention back to you. A tender stroke of your fingers down the contour of his jaw had his pained expression loosening subtly. You needed to get him out of the mess hall; there was no need for his condition to be exposed in front of all the Scouts. “Can you walk?” When conflict glimmered within his silver gaze, you nodded. “Alright, that’s okay. Come on, love” Carefully wrapping his arm over your shoulder while pulling his waist close to you, you slowly maneuvered him out of the wooden chair, whispering apologies as his troubled breathing hitched through hisses of pain. With his body so close to your own, you could feel the cold sweats that soaked his skin, the way he leaned most of his weight against you, the soft loll of his head as he fought through the fog in his brain. Your heart clenched with every muffled groan he kept within tight lips. 

Before he knew it, he was being eased down onto your shared bed, carefully propped up by the pillows behind his back. Through dark lashes, he watched as you pulled out the medic pack you always had in the room, setting it by the bedside table before sorting through its contents. Even through his foggy mind, he could make out the pull of your brows accompanied by the gentle downward curl of your lips. It made his heart twinge with guilt. “I thought we were—”

“Going to the infirmary?” You finished for him, turning to fill out of bowl with cool water and pluck a rag from your drawer. Dampening the cloth and wringing out the excess water, you carefully began wiping away at his flushed skin. Levi sank into the pillows behind him in relief, the cool temperature of the rag working wonders against the nausea that spilled over him. “No,” You shook your head. “I’m sure I can care for you just as well here than I can over there. You aren’t the only one who’s tired of that place.”

Levi could only nod, wincing as he fixed himself into a more comfortable position, grateful for the help of your gentle hand guiding him with nurturing touches. “Careful,” you breathed, your jaw ticking. “You shouldn’t have been moving so much without knowing how bad you were hurt.” When your eyes flickered down to his chest, Levi nodded, granting you permission to pull up the fabric of his shirt. Darkening bruises tainted the skin above his ribs, but you didn’t wince at the sight; you merely set your jaw as you inspected the wounds, gracing his tender skin, frowning when Levi’s breath hitched and he instinctively shifted away with a pained look on his face. 

The low droop of your shoulders were a tale-tell sign of your exhaustion, but before he could comment on it, you were carefully rubbing cream onto his bruised skin, the circular motions of your fingers soothing some of the aches rattling his bones. “This should numb the area for a bit,” You allowed for your touch to linger, feeling the jagged rising and falling of your lover’s chest. “Thankfully you don’t seem to have any broken ribs— they’re just bruised.” 

Levi hummed his head falling back, squeezing his eyes closed. Maybe that would help shut the pain out. “Still hurts like hell,” he grumbled. 

Falling back into the task of wiping at his clammy, flushed skin, you spared a lingering glance now that his eyes were shut. The sight before you was enough to drop your heart into a pit of uneasiness. Silver and reddenned scars littered his skin, accompanied by the angry bruises that claimed the curves and planes of his figure; his labored breathing and pinched brows enough to make your jaw tick as you held back your sorrow.

The wounded Captain had barely registered your ghostly touch as you worked to bandage and prop up his injured leg, but he surely felt the silence that swallowed the room like a weight on his aching chest. Cracking his eyes open tiredly, he was met with the sight of your contemplative expression, and though he knew he shouldn’t stare, he couldn’t look away. How could he? How could he possibly break away from the pintoresc view before him? As the sun kissed the horizon, light pooled into the room through the window next to the bed, plunging his surroundings into a golden glow. But you were truly a sight to behold. Warm hues danced over the contours of your face, the gentle streaks of light outlining your figure in the most delicate of manners. He nearly scoffed at himself.

It was only logical that the light from the heavens would recognize you and claim you as one of its angels. It’s the only explanation he could come up with for the way your mere touch could heal an army. 

“You do know you don’t have to be Humanity’s Strongest with me, right?” The melodic sound of your voice pulled him in and he found his fingers fluttering by his side, aching for your acceptance. He sighed in relief once your fingers were locked around his own, and he allowed himself a moment to admire how perfectly your hand molded against the calloused skin of his hold. “Even the strong need to settle for a moment or two every once in a while.”

Levi opened his mouth, but no words came. What was he to say? How could he possibly reply when the butterflies in his stomach have awakened from their slumber, tickling his heart with the fluttering of their wings? How was it possible that a man as strong as an army now found himself defenseless in the face of hushed words full of care and concern? 

He truly hoped the heat rising to his cheeks could be blamed on his weakened health and not on the foreign emotions he’d been ambushed by. 

A reassuring smile pulled at the curves of your lips and Levi nearly slapped himself for wanting to memorize once more the shape of your kiss. Airy pressings of your lips graced the scarred skin of his knuckles, the gentle touch of your love disarming him once and for all. “You are one hell of a stubborn man, my love,” you breathed, a soft breath of laughter fanning against his hand. “And I know your reputation doesn’t give way for moments where you can shake the weight of the world off your shoulders.” His breath hitched, his hand tightening over your own as he found himself pinned by the glimmer in your eyes. “But Humanity’s Strongest is nothing without Levi Ackerman. So please, let me take care of you. Let me protect and care for the man behind the soldier.” The plea in your voice was enough to make his lips quiver; his eyes flickering away in hopes of concealing the tears that threatened to gloss over his silver gaze. 

Never in a million years did he think it would be the sound of your voice that would break him, but, oh, this was much sweeter than anything he ever imagined. Incredible how a few sacred words had broken straight through the walls of a man made of war. Levi was too scared to speak, too afraid of what his voice would sound like if he were to utter a single word under the influence of such foreign emotions. He’d barely recognized his voice when he uttered a trembling “Thank you.” With all his might he tried to keep himself together, and he’d blame his weakened body for it all, but he couldn’t choke back the quiet cry that spilled from his lips. Even though it hurt his sore muscles and irritated his wounds, he was unable to stop the way his body trembled as he cried quietly. 

“Oh Levi,” you cooed, sliding into bed with him. Mindful of his injuries, you rested your head against his shoulder, pulling his trembling body into the warmth of your embrace. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” 

Levi shook his head, letting his chin rest on the top of your head as tears trailed down his cheeks. “Please don’t apologize,” he hiccuped between sniffles. To hell with his injuries, he thought as he pulled you closer to him. He’d be damned if he even toyed with the idea of letting you go. He didn’t want you to go. 

“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe,” you echoed the words he’d whispered to you years before, a sacred promise he had meant to be heard by your ears only now reciprocated within the safety of your embrace. ��I promise I’ll take care of you, fiercely and with every ounce of love I have for you, Levi Ackerman.”

The tears had tired him out by the time his breathing had settled into a rhythm similar to the rise and fall of your chest. Levi could barely keep his eyes from fluttering closed, but his hold around you never faltered. He looked down, snickering softly to see that you were already gazing up at him, your eyes twinkling with adoration. 

“How do you feel?” you whispered. 

Levi hummed. “Physically? Like a pile of shit, still.” He rolled his eyes at the giggle you’d failed to contain. “Emotionally, though, much better than I’ve been in a long time.” 

You propped yourself up, just enough to feather his heavy eyes with a kiss. Pulling back, you smiled at the dazed look that softened his gaze. “I’ll start on some tea for you to wash down the medicine with, okay?” Levi instinctively tightened his arm around you. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“That stuff tastes like shit,” Levi grumbled, quietly hoping you’ll spare him from the horrid taste that comes with the medication. “I don’t want it.” 

“But it’ll help with the pain, love.” You were already pulling away before he could argue.

“I don’t want it.” He tried again, but he knew it was futile now that your mind was set on the task.

Lingering by the side of the bed, you tickled his cheek with a gentle brushing of your fingers over his skin. A cheeky smile curled your lips, and Levi knew he was fighting a losing battle. “Sorry, but as Captain or as my partner, it’s still my job to nurture you back to health, my love.” Your smile widened as he shot you a halfhearted glare. “Seems to me that I outrank you in either case, so my word is law, no?” 

“Whatever,” Levi muttered, tickling your side and pulling back with a smile before you could smack his hand away. “Just hurry back, alright?”

Silver eyes followed your retreating figure, his heart pounding in anticipation for your return. Looking down at his hands, he smiled at the lingering warmth of your touch that still made his skin tingle pleasantly. Maybe forgetting about the steeled burdens of Humanity’s Strongest and giving Levi Ackerman the opportunity to resurface wouldn’t be such a horrendous thing to allow every once in a while. 

It’s not like either could challenge your care and authority.

•

🏷 Levi Ackerman taglist:

@leviackermanmyhero245 @Violet-1999 @celestair @ms-sin-city @ghostly-haunted @andrastesbeard @ikisstoga @izukus-gf

[pityslash]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ BIRTHDAY BOY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Bakugou used to love birthdays.

He’d be the center of attention. With every year being bigger than the last (because, honestly, did you expect his well-off parents to hold back on their only son?). Cameras clicked, kids shouted his name, and adults smiled in awe. He never cared if they liked him or feared him—he was admired.

And for a time, that was enough.

But somewhere along the line, the spark in those birthday candles started to feel dull.

His parents still celebrated, of course, usually with a home-cooked meal, a cake from his favorite bakery, and a gift he pretended not to like but secretly adored. His grandparents would always show up with noisy hugs and poorly wrapped presents, and his mother still made him wear a stupid little birthday crown at the table.

It was embarrassing, but it was also safe.

Familiar.

Then came UA.

By high school, the world cracked open in ways he hadn’t expected.

Everyone was strong.

Everyone had dreams.

He wasn’t the only one aiming for the top, and it was maddening—but also, for the first time, grounding. And he got friends—real ones. Not sycophants or kids scared of his quirk to say anything—so they just stay behind him, but people who challenged him through his shouting, his pride, and his anger.

Shitty Hair was the first to barge into his dorm room on his birthday with a lopsided grin and a poorly wrapped gift. “It’s a protein bar sampler! Thought you’d wanna see which one you could crush with one hand!”

After that, it became a tradition. Racoon Eyes brought handmade cards with glittery explosions. Soy Face made crown cut-outs from construction paper that Bakugou refused to wear but never threw away. Dunce Face bought the same grocery store cake every year with a new dumb nickname written in icing (he gets more creative each year—it’s starting to piss Bakugou off).

It was stupid. It was chaotic. It was good.

It became his day again.

And now—now he was 23.

The world around him had changed again.

He was a pro now. He had his own agency, his own patrols, and his own damn business cards that got passed around in hero circles and used to shut down villains on sight. Dynamight—no, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, they called him, like he was some unstoppable force (and an unstoppable force for a long-ass hero name). Which he was, most of the time.

But today?

Today, he just wanted to come home.

The celebration at the agency had been loud, grand, and grating. His staff meant well. Hell, even his sidekick (wow, surprising, he only had one because he was the only kid with the balls to directly say to Bakugou that he’ll surpass him during a personal interview) had pooled money to get him a custom gauntlet case with engraved initials.

There were banners (too flashy), snacks (pretty good), an off-key song, and a gaudy cake that someone ordered with indoor-safe sparklers instead of candles. He’d smiled (barely), given a thank-you speech that was short and gruff but genuine, and then dipped out the first moment he could without looking like a total ass. Bakugou knew exactly where he wanted to be.

Home.

You were waiting for him there.

Because you are his home.

He inhaled and instantly recognized the scent of soy, garlic, and ginger—it hit like a nostalgic punch straight to his gut. Home cooking. His home. You.

You peeked your head out from the kitchen and grinned. “Took you long enough, birthday boy.”

He let out a long breath, shoulders dropping, mouth tugging into a real smile as he kicked off his boots and unzipped his jacket, haphazardly draping it on the coat rack. “You been cooking this whole time?” he asked, padding toward the kitchen, hands already aching to hug you.

“I had to start late since someone had a fancy party,” you teased, arching a brow.

He caught your waist and pulled you in, burying his face into your shoulder. You were warm. Always warm. Always his to come home to. “Smelled it from the driveway. Thought I was gonna cry.”

You laughed, carding your fingers through his hair. It’s soft. It’s real. It’s what Bakugou, for the longest time of his life, thought he didn’t deserve.

“Well don’t cry. You’ll ruin your grumpy old man image.”

“You keep sayin’ old like I’m ancient,” he grumbled, voice muffled against you.

“You are! Twenty-three? That’s basically the beginning of the end.”

Bakugou snorted, lifting his head just enough to kiss your cheek. “Then I guess you better start takin�� care of me, huh?” he murmured, giving you another kiss on the cheek—and he’s tempted to bite into those round cheeks of yours, but he holds back; maybe later, he thinks. “Gonna live up to your promise?”

“I already do,” you said, smug.

Dinner was spread out in neat portions on your little dining table—fried karaage, miso soup, tamagoyaki, mapo tofu (yes, you finally lived up to surpassing Fuyumi’s recipe), Japanese curry, and a bowl of white rice shaped into a neat little mountain with a pickled plum on top. Comfort food. His favorites.

You even laid out a folded napkin at his seat and put a can of his favorite cold tea beside it.

But it was the bento cake in the center that made him pause. It was small—round and modest, clearly homemade. The white frosting was a little uneven, and there were three stubby candles jammed into the top in a crooked triangle. The frosting on top attempted an explosion shape but looked more like a flower in bloom. He loved it.

“You made that?” he asked, lowering into the seat and staring at it like it was some rare artifact.

“Baked and frosted. Don’t look too close, or you’ll see my fingerprints in it,” you said, sitting across from him. “And before you ask—no, I didn’t buy it from some store. I wanted to make it for you. Even if it’s ugly.”

“It’s not ugly.”

“Liars go to hell.”

He huffs. “Well, I think it’s fuckin’ adorable.”

You two ate slowly. Bakugou didn’t scarf it down like he did in the breakroom or during hero meetings. He savored each bite as you two shared a warm conversation over dinner. You told him how a kid at daycare tried to make you a birthday card to give to him but ended up scribbling dinosaurs fighting a volcano instead. You showed him a crayon drawing folded in your bag. It said, “Happpy Brithdai KATSOOKY.”

He laughed so hard he snorted.

After dinner, you two sat at the table for a while, talking about nothing, hands brushing occasionally, until you leaned forward and lit the candles. When you’re close like this, Bakugou could clearly remember every feature on your face—it’s something he wants to commit to memory every night.

“Make a wish.”

“Hm,” he hummed in thought.

“Make a wish quickly before the fire alarm sets off, dummy,” you smiled, joking.

He looked at you through the candlelight—lips slightly parted, eyes soft and loving. Yeah, he wants your face engraved in the deepest corners of his brain.

Bakugou made a wish. Then blew them out.

“What’d you wish for?” you asked.

He got up, walked around the table, and pulled you to your feet. “You.”

“You already have me,” you tilted your head to the side.

“Then I wished for more of you,” he replied, pressing your foreheads together.

“You’re sappy when you’re full,” you murmured, brushing your thumb across his jaw.

“I’m sappy when you bake me cake and feed me curry.”

You fed each other bites of the bento cake, poking fun at how sweet it was, until he dabbed a bit of icing on your nose. You retaliated by smearing it across his cheek. It turned into a mini war. Hands, faces, even his shirt took frosting damage. He scooped some off his collar and flicked it at you.

“I surrender! Oh my god, we’re a mess.”

“We can always take a shower later,” he says.

...

“Is that a suggestion or a promise?”

“You’re fuckin’ shameless,” he taunted, though showering together after isn’t that far off from what he was thinking.

“Uh huh. And who’s now old?”

“Still not me,” he said, wiping his face clean with a napkin. “And even if I was—if I hit fifty and go bald and need reading glasses and fall asleep at 9PM—if you’re still here with me, I’ll be fine.”

You paused.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

“Even if I go gray first?” you asked.

“I’ll dye it with you.”

“What if I need a cane?”

“I’ll get one with spikes, and we’ll match.”

You laughed so hard you almost fell onto him. And when you looked up again, your eyes were glassy with affection.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki.”

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin with care he rarely showed anyone else.

“Best one yet.”

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