formerly @simp41ida, now @skittles-reblogs , can also be found on @skittles-secrets (still interact from here)
request status: indefinitely closed (i retired :( )
sorry for any asks people sent that i never answered :(
writing about bnha doesn't really bring me the same joy at it used to and i feel like i need to leave that part behind me to i can write about things i enjoy more (switching fandoms on new account so if you don't like dc don't follow 🤷♀️)
my masterlists can no longer be found by clicking here because the links don't work anymore, i'll see what i can do about it but it's unlikely that i'll try very hard.
Summary: No one knows at the Pitt that Jack is married. They finally get to meet her...when she walks in as a patient. She cut her finger needing stitches. Jack can handle blood and chaos what he cannot handle is his wife on an ER bed.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Female!Reader
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Descriptions of blood, needles, and Guillotine Cutter.
Jack Abbot wore his wedding ring on a chain beneath his shirt.
Not because you were a secret. Never that. If he wanted to, he would proudly declare that he somehow managed to marry a young, beautiful, sharp-tongued second grade teacher with the softest heart he’d ever known.
But he liked to separate his work life with his private one.
The hospital was known for bright fluorescent lights, blood, and grief. Which he carried all in silence. When he stepped foot into your guys home, saw the dinner you prepared for him, your slippers by the couch, and the fridge covered with drawings made by your students he felt weight leave his shoulders.
He didn’t want those worlds colliding. So you never met his coworkers. You wanted to of course you did but you respected that he moved at his own pace. Especially when he worked at an ER.
He never told you details about the shifts he worked, just the surface things.
“Someone passed away.”
“A kid broke his arm when he fell off the bike.”
“Drunk patient."
You never pushed details out of him. You saw the way his jaw would tighten when he didn’t want to talk about it.
You were preparing for the next day's assignment for your students at home, when you sliced the tip of your pointer finger on your left hand with a guillotine cutter. You had been rushing, trimming laminated worksheets, when the blade came down wrong. You didn’t register it right away. Not until you saw the blood. A lot of it. You reacted faster now grabbing a hand towel and wrapping it around your finger.
Jack had warned you about that damn cutter before.
You ordered an uber instead of driving yourself. You wish Jack was here to help but he was volunteering for the SWAT as a medical personal. You believed the last thing he needed was you panicking him mid-shift over something you thought was small.
You pressed your injured finger to your chest as the car pulled up to The Pitt. You walked through the metal detector and stood in line to talk to the front desk lady. You could ask for him and skip the wait. But as you looked around you could tell there were people here who needed treatment more than you did.
When you finally reached the desk, the woman behind the glass glanced up. Her name tag read Lupe Perez.
“Hi–” you started. Then you were shoved hard from behind. A tall man stormed forward, yelling to Lupe about wait times and incompetence.
“Hey! Don’t you see everyone else is waiting? They’re busy. Sit down and wait your turn instead of causing a scene.” Your teacher's voice came out without noticing. The man looked down at you eyes wide with anger but you stood your ground then, unbelievably, he backed off.
Lupe smirked and then looked up at you smiling. “Thank you, sweetie. Name?”
“Y/N Abbot.”
You watched as her fingers paused over the keyboard at your last name. She then brushed it off, she's met thousands of people. Could just be a last name.
“What brings you in?”
You lifted your left hand that was still wrapped in the bloody towel. “Guillptine cutter. It’s..not cute.”
“Alright, here is a packet you will give to them. I will call your name when ready.” She explained handing you the packet.
“Thank you.” You smile softly then take the packet with your good hand. You looked around and saw a seat in the corner. You sat down and waited to be called. You thought about what Jack was doing.
Three hours later, you were a little sleepy and your hand was aching from constant pressure.When your name was finally called, you stood up stretching your legs. A nurse met you at the entrance of the double doors, he swiped his card and led you inside.
That's when you saw the chaos. Nurses and doctors running around everywhere. You saw white boards set up all over the floor.
“Dana, are there any rooms available?” The young nurse asked, a blonde woman holding a clipboard looked up.
“Room 5!” She points in the direction, the nurse nods his head and walks you to the room.
You were ushered inside.
“Is it always like this?” You asked softly. The nurse starts taking your vitals.
“No…our uh systems are down.”He said softly then a doctor walked in.
“Hi,” She took your packet and read through it. “I’m Dr. Santos…Y/N Abbot huh..any chance you’re related to Jack Abbot-” Dr. Santos smirked softly; she couldn’t help but joke around.
The curtain snapped open again.
“You called,”His eyes met yours immediately. He froze, all color from his face drained.
“Y/N?! What are you doing here-what happened!?” He quickly walked towards you, eyes dropping to the bloody towel.
Dr. Santos looked between the two of you, a grin already forming.
“So..how do you two know each other?” Dr. Santos said with a smirk on her face, enjoying this far too much.
“She’s my wife.” He said softly his focus still on you.
Santos' mouth fell open then she turned and bolted out of the room like she’d just been handed the gossip of the century. The nurse followed her out not long after when he finished with your vitals.
You winced slightly as Jack gently took your hand.
“How did this happen?” He asked as he started to carefully unwrap the towel, it looked like he was mentally preparing himself.
“I was cutting some assignments using the guillotine cutter-” You admitted.”What are you doing here, I thought you were with the swat team-”
“I told you to wait for me when you use that thing,” He muttered, worrying through slight frustration. “Someone got hurt and we brought him here..” You frowned softly and placed your good hand on top of his to calm him.
“Jack.” Your voice is steady and grounding. “ I'm okay, I promise.”
“I know, but seeing you hurt in the ER I can't–I don’t like it.” He said softly, you watched as his shoulders slumped seeing your bloody pointer finger.
“See not that bad!” You said your tone positive, trying to ease the mood.
“You’re going to need stitches.”
“Good thing I married a talented Doctor.” You said. That finally earned you a faint smile. He looked at you and let out a deep breath. He then kissed your forehead standing up.
“Stay here, I'm going to get the supplies” He kissed your good hand and you watched him turn to leave.
The moment he stepped out, the curtain flew open again.
“There she is! Jack Abbot’s young hot wife!” Dr. Santos announced far too loudly. Behind her was Dana and two other doctors. You read their name tags, Rabby Robinavitch and Dennis Whitaker.
You straightened automatically, a little embarrassed. “Hi.”
“Well I'll be damned.” Dana said, smirking. “So you’re Jack's wife.”
“Right! I didn’t even know he dated.” Trinity whispered to Dana.
“Nice to meet you Y/N.” Robby, the tall one with the beard said, he gave you a small smile. Jack has told you about him.
“It’s really nice to meet you all. I’d shake hands, but uhm..” You lifted your injured finger. Your wedding ring glinting under the lights.
“And how did that happen?” Robby asked.
“Oh It was a huge paper cutter, I was prepping worksheets.” You said softly lowering your hand a bit embarrassed. They looked curious so you explained why. “Oh I’m a second grade teacher.”
“Of course he would bag an elementary school teacher.” Trinity said, grinning softly.
The curtain opened again. Jack stepped in and scooted past the audience with a tray of supplies. He took in the scene in one glance.
“Is there a consult I missed, or are you all just interviewing my wife?” Jack said evenly. He set the tray on the small table next to your hospital bed and then sat on the stool.
Immediate silence fell as they had been caught.
Trinity was the first to leave, dragging Dennis with her. You could hear them whisper but couldn’t make out the words. Dana excused herself shortly after giving you a warm smile. Robby just smiled.
“We’ll talk later, Jack,” He said softly, crossing his arms. “Nice meeting you Y/N” he walked out of the room leaving you and Jack alone. He was quiet and prepping your finger.
“They were nice.” You said softly. He picked up a needle and your eyes widened.
“This is going to numb your finger..One..Two–..” He poked your finger and you winced. He had all his focus on your finger but you knew something was off.
“Jack.” He doesn’t look up as he strings the thread through the needle. “What’s wrong?” Your voice was soft and warming which only stung Jack’s heart more.
“Nothing,” he said quietly.
“Jack.” You said more firmly, he started stitching your finger, but your eyes were just on him not your finger.
“I just,” He finished one stitch. “I don’t like seeing you here..in these rooms.” He finally admitted.
You took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.” You said softly while watching him work. He stitched carefully,methodical, and controlled. His thumb brushed your knuckle like he needed to confirm you were real.
“Don’t be sorry,” He said, finishing the last stitch. “Just be more careful.” He finished the stitch and then added some neosporin and started wrapping it in gauze.
“I will be..” You said assuring him. He was cleaning up the mess. You placed a hand on his cheek, leaning forward and kissed him. This kiss was soft at first, he melted into it and his shoulders relaxed.
“And please next time,” he murmured against your lips. “ You tell them you’re my wife and you’ll get the special treatment you deserve. No more waiting for hours.”.
“How did you-”
“I asked Lupe,” he said softly. He looked tired already. You could see it in his eyes this was a long shift that had just begun.
“Okay, I’ll follow your orders,” You kissed him again this time a little more slowly and deeper. His hand slid to your waist all the way to your hips. you pulled away from the kiss then whispered in his ear. “And maybe when you get home..I’ll reward you for taking such good care of me”
Jack cleared his throat trying to keep his thoughts clean…he was working for fucks sake he had to keep his thoughts clear. His grip tightened slightly on your hips.
“I called you an uber.”
“You don’t have to–”
“I do.”
His forehead rested briefly against yours.
“I'll take care of your injury when I get home.”He said in a firm but protective way. “You rest and wear that thing you bought on Valentine's Day.”
“Doctor's orders?”You asked teasingly.
“Always, Darling.”
When he got home he definitely got special treatment…and a lecture because Jack forgot to tell you about the bullet that grazed his back.
Summary: 1.3k words. Some residents at the Pitt try to get Doctor Abbot's attention, but he only has eyes for you.
Warnings: controversially younger wife (unspecified age gap), suggestive material, canon-typical mention of medical stuff, minimal editing
a/n: this is literally so stupid lmfao but I just need to get it out of my drafts. Enjoy xoxo
master list | divider credit
It was no secret that Doctor Abbot was easy on the eyes, especially for a couple of burnt-out residents with a minor praise kink. Despite several attempts at flirting, Abbot never reciprocated or acknowledged the efforts.
It started off subtly. The residents would offer playful remarks and praise to the senior attending, but he barely paid it any mind. After weeks of no reaction from their mentor, they got bolder. The trauma bays could often have the residents crowded around the attendings in the close quarters, but it seldom required them brushing their body against his steady form for longer than was necessary.
The residents’ advances to follow would definitely make HR raise their eyebrows—although many happenings in the Pitt were not HR-approved. They practiced “cowboy medicine”, as it had been referred to more than once, especially by Jack & Robby’s supervisors.
The week after that, one of the residents managed to corner Doctor Abbot in the staff locker room.
“Hey, Doctor Abbot, I was hoping I could get in some extra practice hours sometime?” The resident bit her lip. Maybe working well over 80 hours a week and running on fumes—plus a noxious mix of energy drinks and shitty black coffee—was beginning to affect her, because the attempt to look sultry came across as deranged.
She’s in his personal space in an unnecessary way that had Abbot scrunching up his nose. But again, he ignored it, and instead took a wide stance and stepped back, preventing the resident from getting any closer without being desperately obvious.
The resident didn’t care about being obviously desperate as she moved toward her attending again. Strike one. Jack had to suppress a smirk. This wasn’t his first resident to push a boundary, and this certainly wasn’t the ER cowboy’s first rodeo.
“No can do, doctor. I have plans outside of work, and I suggest you make some too. Get your mind off this place.” Jack suggested without ever looking away from his locker.
“I know something that would take my mind off of things.” He casted a wary sideways glance at her. There was bold, and then there was borderline harassment. Strike two.
She’s deflated at his lack of interest. She’s put herself, her ego, and dignity out on the line. All risk with no reward. As a last ditch effort, she took a peek at the inside of Jack’s locker to see a couple of photos, all of them featuring you.
“Are you hanging out with your niece? Daughter?” She hummed, trying to strike up conversation. Now that got a reaction out of her tragically attractive attending, just not the one she expected. He’s visibly pissed off when he turns to look at her directly for the first time all evening.
“That is my wife. You have patients to see, I suggest you go do your job now.” His tone is icy and leaves no room for argument.
Strike three.
Before she could formulate an apology for her mortifying misstep, Abbot turned on his heel to dive into Pitt’s chaos.
The universe has a sick sense of humor, at least according to Doctor Abbot’s resident fan club, who witnessed you walk into the Pitt like you belonged there. The resident who was considering requesting a transfer after her grave error clocked you immediately, and the rest put the puzzle pieces together when Abbot’s face lit up in a rare smile as you enveloped him in a healing hug.
“Hi baby, what are you doing here?” Jack smiled and pulled you tighter against him. He’s always happy to see you, but an unprompted visit to the emergency room is enough to have any good husband worry.
“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d bring you something to snack on.” The baked goods made Jack’s mouth water, but he knows what’s good for him, so he made a mental note to save some for Robby and Dana in the morning. Jack shamelessly ate your brownies in front of a line of NPO patients, earning a chorus of muffled complaints.
The simple and unabashed display of love between you and your husband caught a resident’s eye from across the ED. She couldn’t see too many details from afar, but she definitely saw how the harsh artificial lighting reflected off the rock of a ring on your left hand.
There’s a brief lull and Jack is able to pull you away from the center of the chaos, while still having a full view of the Pitt, in case he was needed somewhere. You two were comfortable in the localized silence. Through all the havoc of his shift, Jack treasured his moments of quiet with you; though it never stayed quiet for long.
“You wanna hear somethin’ funny?” His words are muffled around the second brownie he’s shoved in his mouth.
“Hmm… a patient slipped in the shower and that’s genuinely how they got a bottle of shampoo up their ass?”
“Ha. No. One of the residents asked if you were my niece or daughter,” Jack deadpanned, looking at you through his eyebrows.
A bout of laughter spilled past your lips and your hands briefly met your knees before you wiggled your ring finger in between your bodies.
Long ago, in the early stages of your relationship, both you and Jack could get insecure about your age gap at times. Now, it was entertaining to tease Jack by calling him “peepaw” and “gramps” out in public when people imposed assumptions about your relation to each other.
If the nosey bystanders found you lightly making out in the wine aisle at the grocery store—the one you consistently got carded at—then any discomfort was their problem. Afterall, who were you to deny yourself and your husband a sweet, romantic moment?
Doctor Abbot knew it was mean and perhaps unethical to make fun of his resident, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to his wife. He subtly nodded towards the treatment area bordering the opposite end of the nurses’ station. Your gaze wasn’t obvious or glaring, but the resident felt it burning into the back of her head. Your eyes were merely curious, not lethal. If anything, you were amused.
You turned back to your husband with a Cheshire grin and shrugged. “I don’t know… she seems a little old for you.” Jack had half a mind to envelope the tongue stuck out between your teeth in his lips, but he figured this wasn’t the time or place. Instead, he rolled his eyes and pinched your hip.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Which wasn’t really true, Jack could never get enough of his wife, but he unfortunately had a job to do. “I have to go back to work with some overworked and under-laid residents. Who are making the latter my problem now.” Abbot finished pointedly.
The situation was far more amusing to you than it was to him.
“I could get you a cool flashing neon wedding band for you to wear at work. Or you could get another tattoo of my name that can be seen with your scrubs on, though I do prefer them off…” your mind trailed off to the positions your husband was flipping you into just a few hours ago.
A sense of pride filled Jack, knowing how much he affected you.
“That’s not a horrible idea,” Jack muttered with a quiet groan as another resident from the fan club turned the corner, looking for him.
“I’ll see you at home,” he promised with a chaste kiss to your lips, that was much too short for your liking.
“Come home soon, the kids miss you.” Your pout was convincing to an outsider, but it just got a chuckle from Jack.
‘The kids’ being the German Shepherd Jack rescued several years ago and your cat who “refused to die” according to your neighbor who unfortunately met the wrath of Taco the senior cat after she denied him treats.
Even still, Jack hummed as he begrudgingly moved away from you, losing contact with your warm body in the cold ER. He surrendered himself to the rest of the shift, comfortable with the fact that while he was surrounded by blood and guts, you would sleep surrounded by fur and love.
a/n: This is so astronomically far from my magnum opus,, but please accept this crumb of content. Reblogs & comments are so super duper appreciated!
scenario: your roommates finding out the hero in your posters, the one you seemingly clearly idolized so much was actually your man.
life in college was pretty tame aside from the occasional meltdowns on assignments, late nights studies for tests, pressuring presentations, and more than strict professors. plus the existential dread in addition to whatever else it may be but really it all came down to just getting it done and coasting through the days just like everybody else.
though in your opinion everything would have been ten times harder without your surfeit amount of dynamight posters on the wall, hanging mini explosion keychains on your bag, and chibi magnets of your boyfriend wearing a rather evil grin stuck on the fridge.
you were glad your roomies didn’t mind your obsession being splattered all over the place but you just couldn’t help it. anytime you came across any kind of merch of his whether it be official or not anywhere online or in physical stores you just had to get your hands on them no matter what. one of your favorites was even a derpy looking grenade one that definitely did not come out right from the factory, yet you kept it because he was so cute. so so cute.
so, yeah to them it only looked like you were a fan, a massive one at that of the great explosion god murder dynamight and well it’s true so you didn’t bother correcting them. though you should’ve added that he was also your boyfriend.
just to y’know save them from the hospitalizating whiplash of seeing the six foot, top five hero, villain fearing, three time champion in a row bachelor of the year and probably even more to be listed, sitting at their sofa that definitely was too small for the hulking hero’s figure.
“who are you?” he gruffly asked barely glancing at the two as his arms layed lax behind the soft cushioned seats, feet kicked back as if he owned the place.
“we live here??” one of them hesitantly answered, both feeling kinda interrogated as if they were the one’s stepping out of line.
before anyone could get another word you graciously popped up from the unlocked door.
“oh you guys are here?” you asked in surprise since they don’t usually end at this time.
but neither had answered you, too busy staring at something or rather someone. a blonde ruby eyed man named—
“kats!” you called out excitedly after seeing him rise up from his seat, still in his hero uniform.
“THAT’S KATS??!!” the stilled girl asked in shock as your other roomie physically left the earth as their ghost spiritually ascends to the heavens.
because damn all this time the “sweet” guy you’ve been yapping about was the infamous dynamight. the pro hero known for having an explosive attitude towards the paparazzi and actually quite literally everyone. they never realized that the guy you were always in a call with at some point in the day without fail was him of all people.
“he’s you’re boyfriend?!!!!” she queries in absolute confusion as you greeted bakugou who returns with his own bear hug.
“yeah!”
“you said he was cute!????”
“mhm!! isn’t he adorable?” you nodded with a smile.
she turned to check what you might be seeing, only to find him already staring at her in agitation like they were interrupting something precious and they should therefore cease to exist. in contrast to your beaming grin of unawareness.
“w-well we actually have to go somewhere.” she mumbled trying to reason a way out.
“what— but you just got here right? c’mon it’s perfect! you two can finally meet him.”
“no! no, it’s— the…uhhh our teacher just sent a message and she’s actually here today so we gotta head back!” she hurried nervously, viciously shaking her head and then spilling a bunch of other half baked excuses before dragging your other friend with her out as well since she was still passed out on the floor, quickly shutting the door with a slam.
“wow, she wasn’t even holding her phone. maybe she has two quirks right?” you joked as he leaned into your neck in agreement, letting out a satisfied hum from getting what he wanted.
however you thought he might’ve felt insulted so you reassured him patting his hair gently as the soft spikes puffed out from his gear.
“they really wanted to meet you though, promise.”
“s’ fine. only wanted you anyway.” he voiced, pushing his face deeper in your neck as you shyly leaned away slightly.
✦ ⋆ ࣪. about : kids were always excited about christmas, even more so when they were really little. but waking up johnny at the crack of dawn definitely wasn’t the best idea his kids ever had.
ㅤㅤ ㅤ. related to this anthology (can be read alone)
Nature was still silent as the sun slowly crept above the horizon. The early winter morning was quiet—just like the Mactavish house. Every child was sleeping soundly in their bed—or so Johnny thought as he pulled his wife’s body closer, nuzzling into her neck, ready to drift back to sleep.
He had woken for no particular reason. The clock read 6:38 a.m.—too early to rise on a Sunday, especially a very cold one.
But soon his peace was broken by the patter of several small sets of feet in the hallway, running toward the bedroom. Johnny sighed into his wife’s neck, already knowing what was coming. She remained blissfully unaware, still lost in her dreams. His hand came to rest on her round, full belly, where their third bairn slept safely within her.
Just then, the door creaked open, and who he assumed to be Angus—the eldest—shushed his brother. Giggles filled the quiet room, drawing a soft smile from Johnny, though he kept his eyes closed.
“Too high, ‘Gus,” whispered the voice of his second child into the stillness. “I’m too small…” he added, not giggling anymore.
Johnny could hear the tears gathering in Colin’s voice, frustration building as the boy struggled to climb onto his parents’ bed. The sound tugged at Johnny’s heart, and he almost turned around to lift him up himself, until he heard a small groan from Angus and felt the mattress dip slightly behind him.
Of course. He should have known the eldest would help his little brother. Johnny had always tried to teach them that family mattered—that helping one another was important. He’d raised them right.
At only five years old, Angus already understood that. Once the youngest was safely on the bed, Johnny could feel the small weight leaning against his back, sitting patiently, likely waiting for his brother—another, deeper dip followed as Angus climbed up beside him.
Then four little hands began shaking his side.
“Daddy,” they whispered, careful—just as their dad had taught them—not to wake their mother. “Daddy, wake up!” they urged, putting all the strength two boys of five and two could muster into their effort.
“It’s too early, moppets. Go back to sleep…” he mumbled, though he turned toward them anyway.
“We can’t sleep!” Angus said, his voice rising with excitement. “We have to do the tree!”
Oh.
It was the first of December, of course they’d be excited for Christmas. It was Colin’s first real Christmas, after all last year he’d still been just a wee baby. Angus had spent days telling him about the shining lights on the tree and the pretty glass balls that sparkled in the dark.
Johnny had bought the tree a few days ago—early enough to avoid the crowds and the ugly leftovers. It was his youngest bairn’s first Christmas, and he was going to make it count. Still, it was far too early for his liking, he could’ve used a bit more sleep.
Especially after how insatiable you’d been the night before.
“Well it's still pretty early, baby. We can wait a bit,” Johnny groaned, wiggling around to gather his bairns in his arms, hoping to warm them up and lull them back to sleep.
But he was stopped when Angus placed a small hand on his cheek, giving it a little slap.
That certainly made Johnny open his eyes, startled that his son had struck him, no matter how lightly.
He sat up, settling Colin on his lap to keep him from crawling toward his mother the moment his back was turned. The wee one, thumb tucked in his mouth, snuggled into his father’s chest, his bright blue eyes gazing sleepily up before fluttering closed again.
“Why did ye dae that?” Johnny asked, looking directly at Angus. His hand moved gently over Colin’s hair, soothing the boy as he drifted back to sleep.
“We need to do the tree,” Angus whispered, barely above a breath, his head bowed low.
“Is that a reason to hit me?” Johnny asked quietly, his gaze steady on his son, who still wouldn’t look up.
For a few moments, silence hung between them. The slap hadn’t hurt—of course it hadn’t—but Johnny couldn’t let it pass. He wouldn’t. He didn’t want his boys growing up thinking they could use their hands to get what they wanted. He’d seen too many lads like that in the army, and he refused to raise his children the same way.
Angus stared down at his small, chubby hands, fidgeting with his fingers—a habit he’d picked up from his mother. He knew he had done something bad.
“I asked you a question, Angus,” Johnny continued, his tone calm but firm. The use of his name made it clear he was serious.
With a shaky breath, the boy finally whispered, “No,” his voice trembling as he tried to hold back tears.
Nodding at his son’s answer, Johnny glanced down at the little one that was now fast asleep in his arms, breathing softly. It was far too early, especially for wee bairns.
“Exactly. We dinnae hit people just because we want something, aye?” the Scot said calmly, gently tilting his son’s chin up so he could meet his teary eyes. Angus nodded, finally losing his battle against the tears.
“Now, it’s too early, baby, so we’re goin’ to sleep a bit more,” Johnny murmured, nodding toward Colin, who was sleeping soundly against his chest. He knew Angus didn’t like waking his brother. “Then we’ll get breakfast, and when Mama wakes up, we’ll dae the tree, yeah?” he explained clearly, mapping out the day in a way his boy could understand.
“Okay, Daddy,” the little one sniffled, rubbing his eyes to chase away the tears. “Do I go back to my bed?” he asked quietly. Johnny could see the worry in his eyes—the fear that his father was still angry and wanted him gone.
“If you want to,” Johnny said softly, easing himself back down and settling Colin beside him without waking him. Opening one arm wider, he smiled at Angus. “Or you can stay here.”
Johnny didn’t have to wait long before his eldest launched himself into his arms, curling his small body against him and clinging tightly. Johnny could still feel the faint, damp patch on his cheek where his son’s tears had fallen as he settled him close. Leaning forward slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Angus’s head.
Pulling both his sons closer and tugging the comforter higher to keep them warm, Johnny closed his eyes again, ready to steal a few more hours of sleep. He felt you stir behind him, turning over until your face nestled against his back, seeking his warmth even in your dreams.
The arm Angus wasn’t resting on stretched back toward you, settling over your hip with a soft squeeze, a quiet reassurance that he was still there.
With his whole family gathered in his arms, Johnny finally began to relax, the last traces of wakefulness fading. Just before sleep took him, a small, weary whisper reached his ears.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
When Johnny opened his eyes again, he was in the same position as before—his sons still lying in his arms, fast asleep, and you curled up against his back. He could feel your soft breath on the back of his neck, and the gentle press of your bump—growing bigger every day.
A small smile tugged at his lips at the thought of having another wee one soon.
Speaking of babies, he looked down at the two already in his arms—safe and warm. Glancing toward the clock, he let out a quiet sigh of contentment when he read 8:49 a.m. A decent time to wake up on a Sunday—and about when he usually roused the boys, if they didn’t wake on their own.
Stretching his arms above his head, he sat up and rubbed his knee. Angus must have knocked into it a few times in his sleep, the lad never stayed still for long. The movement startled both boys, and they blinked awake at the same time.
Angus always took a moment to come around, but Colin was alert the instant his eyes opened. He sat up quickly and crawled into his father’s lap, wrapping his small arm around him. His thumb was still tucked in his mouth, and Johnny gently eased it out. He knew it was a comfort thing, but he was trying, softly, to help him stop.
“Tree time, Daddy?” Colin asked, looking up at him with sleepy blue eyes. He turned his gaze toward his mother then, and Johnny could see the longing there—the pull to snuggle closer to you.
“Breakfast first, baby,” Johnny said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.
Getting up with the little boy in his arms, Johnny lifted Angus into the other and slipped quietly out of the room. He was actually a bit impressed with himself—still able to carry both of them without his knee protesting too much.
When you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised not to find your husband beside you. Usually, on Sundays, he’d stay curled up with you all morning—especially now that you were pregnant again. That could only mean one thing : the boys had come to wake him.
You reached for your phone and saw it was nearly ten. Still, you felt bone-tired. This pregnancy had taken a toll on your sleep, and weekends—when work couldn’t distract you—made the exhaustion hit harder.
You were just about to close your eyes again when the date caught your attention. The first of December.
Oh. That explained it.
The boys had been talking about the Christmas tree non-stop for a week. Of course they’d been too excited to wait. A small pang tugged at your heart, and you sat up, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You’d slept in. They’d probably done the tree without you. It wasn’t a big deal, but your hormones had other opinions.
Wiping your cheeks, you made your way downstairs, quietly hoping it wasn’t too late.
As you passed the living room doorway, more tears welled up—though this time for an entirely different reason. Johnny sat on the sofa with both boys cuddled in his lap, all three of them watching a Christmas movie on the telly. The tree still stood bare, the boxes of decorations waiting patiently beneath it.
The moment Colin spotted you, his face lit up. “Mama!” he squealed, wriggling off his father’s lap and waddling toward you.
You scooped him up, pressing a kiss to his warm chubby cheek as you stepped closer to your husband and eldest. Your brow furrowed when you noticed the untouched tree—and the little round bellies that betrayed tummies full of breakfast. Johnny smiled softly up at you, and Angus turned, grinning, before running toward the tree.
“We were waitin’ for you, Mama!” he declared proudly.
Colin began wriggling out of your arms the moment he saw his brother opening the boxes. As soon as his little feet touched the floor, he ran toward Angus, eager to help.
Johnny rose from the sofa and walked over to you, his movements slow and gentle. When he reached you, he lifted his hands to your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped down your cheeks before leaning in to kiss your lips softly.
“Dinnae think we’d dae it without ye, eh?” he murmured with a smirk, the emotion clear in your eyes. He pressed another quick kiss to your lips before guiding you down to sit on the couch.
Turning back toward the boys, he crouched beside them with a quiet groan as his knee popped, earning a giggle from Angus.
That was how you spent the late morning and early afternoon—decorating the Christmas tree. The result was, admittedly, a bit of a disaster : mismatched ornaments everywhere, clashing colours, and far too many tinsel strands in one spot. But the proud, admiring looks on your children’s faces? Worth every second.
You were sitting on the couch with Colin in your lap. The little one was far too sleepy to keep helping and had been snuggled against you for the last half hour, fighting to stay awake until Angus finally placed the star on top.
And that moment was now. Angus sat high on Johnny’s shoulders, clutching the star tightly in both hands.
“Mama, watch!” he shouted, twisting excitedly in his father’s hold—nearly toppling off.
“I’m watching, baby,” you laughed, running your fingers through Colin’s soft hair.
And then it was done. The Mactavish Christmas tree stood proudly—crooked, crowded, and perfect. It would stay up and grow fuller as the month went on. A happy smile tugged at your lips when Angus ran to you after Johnny set him down, throwing his little arms around you in triumph.
“Pretty tree,” Colin murmured through a yawn, curling closer against you, seeking your warmth.
Catching the look of sleepiness in both boys, Johnny declared it was nap time. Once again, he scooped them up—one in each arm—and told you he’d be back soon. Angus was still buzzing with excitement, but you both knew how it went : he’d crash soon enough.
Normally, he’d play a bit in his room or with his brother if he was awake, then tuck himself in for a few hours of well-earned rest. And after decorating the Christmas tree? A nap was practically guaranteed.
You rubbed your growing bump, glancing toward the tree with a laugh. It was… unique, to say the least. You were sure Angus would bring home more handmade decorations from school soon—and that would only add to the chaos. But it didn’t matter. Whatever made them happy was all that counted.
When Johnny settled beside you on the couch, immediately pulling you into his side, you couldn’t help the concerned look in your eyes as he rubbed his knee with a weary sigh. You were about to say something, but he cut you off with a kiss—his own way of reassuring you he was fine.
Which, of course, he wasn’t. His knee was throbbing, but he didn’t want you to worry.
“Thank you for not doing it without me,” you said instead, genuinely grateful he’d waited.
“Of course. Wouldn’t dream of it,” Johnny murmured softly, brushing another kiss against your lips. “Wouldn’t be the same without ye.”
For a few moments, you both sat in comfortable silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, your eyes fixed on the tree, taking in every mismatched ornament and crooked ribbon.
“Ugliest tree ever,” Johnny said at last, dead serious.
a.n. : that's day one motherfuckers!!! so excited, here we go! dad johnny returns for the first day on this, cause i've missed him and he just had too...
“So i’m doing the washing up and you’re going to make my cups of tea for the rest of the evening then yeah?” You said walking over to the small kitchen area, there were only a few cups and plates. “Yeah, don’t like doing it, makes my hands itch.” Simon said, now googling if there were any good films on, Harry Potter and the Chamber of secrets was on again but the two of you had watched them all a few weeks ago.
You and Simon hadn’t been together long just 6 months, you’d decided once you liked each-other that because of his job you’d just take things at a slower pace, so Simon didn’t feel overwhelmed and leave and you wouldn’t get hurt if felt like he should leave, plus, his job demanded a lot of him, relying on him being mentally fit and feeling secure, you weren’t sure what exactly he did, you knew he was in the army but he never spoke too much about it.
“And if I want a drink every five minutes?” You asked while waiting for the bowl to fill up, “thats fine by me.” Simon was now on the TV listings website, having been on the same website before you knew why he was looking at his phone like it had offended him. Very glitchy and full of adverts that seemed to load without even touching them.
“Theres nowt to watch.” He spoke again, slapping his phone on the arm of his leather sofa, “go on Netflix or something then.” You said turning to face him, “We could watch something new.” You added, smiling hopefully, Simon had to be in the mood to watch something new, even when he did he’d go straight to wikipedia to read the entire plot within the first 5 minutes of starting it, said he just wants to kinda know what goes on. Simon continued to flick through the tv channels, hoping something would catch his eye, everything was either half way through or nearly finished and he didn’t want to watch half of a film, he’d decided he’d just waste time by putting the news on for a bit until something new started, Shrek was going to start soon on the same channel, there wasn’t really anything else to watch.
You were halfway through Simons small amount of washing up, you only had the cups left, nobody likes washing up but you could do it if it meant somebody made your tea all night. How he already had stained it with tea wasn’t shocking, Simon drank tea like it was going out of fashion and if he had tea, he had biscuits too, he’d probably look like biscuit if he didn’t have the job he did.
“Simon look at the moon!” You said excitedly, still scrubbing the tea stains from Simons mug, it was massive, you’d bought it him for christmas because he dropped his a few weeks ago when he fell asleep with it in his hand while watching Harry Potter, “Its so pretty, I love the moon, don’t you?” You said lowering your head to get a better look outside the window above the sink.
“I know you love the moon, you remind me every time you see it.” He replied now looking out at the moon too, “Starting to think you’d swap me for the moon.” He said smiling, he’d quite like being a moon he thought, only coming out at night and just existing, though he wouldn’t like everyone looking at him. “I could never.” You said matter of factly, “the moon wouldn’t be able to fill the gap you’d leave me with.” You added not thinking too much of what you said as you started drying the mugs with a tea towel.
Simon stilled, he felt himself stiffen. A small amount of blood rose to his face, his stomach did a small tiny flip, the same one it did when you two kissed for the first time, he liked it. Nobody had ever really said anything that nice to him, not in such a domestic setting, you were drying mugs, in his flat, that you’d washed and you’d just said the most poetic thing he’d heard since his English lessons at school about him. It occurred to him that he just hadn’t replied to what you said, he had to think of something to say, he knew he wouldn’t be able to come up with something as nice as that, so what should he say? You turned to him, he panicked and replied the only way he really knew how to in a situation like this, in any and every situation really, how to reply to a compliment or your dying team mate in the middle of a highly dangerous secretive mission? Turn it into a joke.
“You callin’ me fat?” He said flatly. You laughed and sat next to him, the kettle beginning to make a noise, “No Simon I’m not, however if you see some small yellow things with denim dungarees on you should probably hide.” You said grinning at him, he looked confused for a split second but the realisation soon hit him and he laughed. “The kettles boiled, I even put it on for ya! I did my part, your turn Si.” You said placing a kiss on his cheek.
Simon did in fact make you your tea for the rest of the night and you got through a lot of biscuits together, you didn’t even really watch Shrek you just laughed and messed around like idiots, you didn’t know it at the time but this night would be written into your wedding vows.
A few months later…
“So she said you were bigger than the moon?” Soap asked smirking, Simon had tried to explain what had been said but Soap and Gaz being, well, Soap and Gaz found it hilarious, “Well yeah but in a nice way.” Simon said getting fidgety, he thought about what you said all the time while he went away, he had written it on a piece of paper that Soap had now seen, so Simon explained. “She said you were bigger than the moon in a nice way?” Gaz asked while picking the peas out of his mash, “It was a nice moment, go away the pair of you.”
“And what did she say about Minions?” Soap asked, now taking the peas from Gaz’s plate because he liked peas and didn’t like waste. “She said if i saw them I should hide.” Gaz and Soap looked directly at each other and burst out laughing, “Our Halloween costumes are sorted.” Gaz said in-between laughs.
“I am not dressing up as the Moon.”
“Why not? You dress up as a bloody ghost all year!” Soap and Gaz said at the same time, once again erupting into a fit of laughter, Simon rolled his eyes but hid his smile in his cup of tea before he took a sip.
—————
I thought this was funny, it’s late and everything’s funny to me, not sure how i’ll feel about it tomorrow though. Gaz, Soap & Price are next even if nobody reads it, i enjoy writing them.
You had a habit of staring at anything you found pretty. Like, staring staring. Like not-taking-your-eyes-off-a-sunset-even-if-you’ll-trip staring. (It’s fine, Soap caught you).
So when you see Simon without his mask for the first time, and you stare without even blinking once…everyone knows what you’re thinking.
Thinking about Simon loving back scratches.
Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader
⋆˚࿔
It was just another regular night, you and Simon had been lounging on the couch watching TV. A yawn escapes your lips, giving a final squeeze to his hand before standing up from the couch. He knew what that meant: you were tired.
“M’gonna finish this episode, love,” he said softly to you as you walked out of the living room, an “ok,” leaving your lips in reply as you walked to your shared bedroom. You made your way to the bathroom, dragging a makeup wipe across your face, getting any remnants of makeup off of your skin.
A soft sigh escaped your lips as you rubbed your eyes, relishing the rare sensation since your lashes were usually coated in mascara. You dragged a damp washcloth across your face, the warm sensation soothing over your skin. Soft footsteps against the carpet could be heard as you rubbed moisturizer onto your face, hearing Simon plop down onto the bed.
Turning off the bathroom light, you headed back into the bedroom, rummaging through your dresser for some pajamas. Grabbing an oversized shirt, his shirt and a pair of shorts, you discarded your other set of clothes into the hamper.
“Nice view,” a gruff voice spoke from behind you as you slipped on the shorts. You huffed out a laugh at his words, slipping on the t-shirt before making your way over to sit down on the other side of the bed. “Y’look good in this,” he said quietly, his calloused hand gripping lightly on the edge of the t-shirt.
“Thanks, Si,” you replied, watching as he released the fabric and rolled over onto his stomach. Your eyes narrowed slightly at the sight, amused at his actions. “That's how you’re sleeping?” You questioned teasingly, seeing his head turn to the side to look at you. “Back’s itching, could you scratch it a bit?” He said, his voice slightly muffled from the sheets.
He spoke so casually, as if this was the first time to ask you of this favor. You moved over, sitting down on your knees as your hand began to scratch slowly along his shoulders. You could see how his muscles tensed under your touch, hearing him let out a faint groan.
“Seems like I do this every night now,” you said softly, nails continuing to scratch slowly along his skin. “Yeah? S’nothing wrong with that,” he murmured out quietly, eyes fluttering closed. “You got some kinda weird rash going on back here or something?” You asked jokingly, hearing him let out a faint chuckle at your words.
“Your hands feel good, so soft,” he murmured quietly, your hand moving lower, scratching down his spine gently. You smiled softly at his words, your other hand going up to run through his short blond hair, fingers playing with the strands by the base of his neck. “Is-“ you were cut off by a loud snore erupting from his throat, seems like you put him to sleep.
Hope y'all enjoy this re-upload of this writing that I did earlier this year! I've decided to try and get back into it as I really did use to enjoy it :)
Sometimes you’ll be lying in bed and still be completely tense. You don’t know what it is or why it happens. You tell yourself to relax and manually release your muscles multiple times, but they always just tense again when you stop paying attention. It’s really not great when you’re trying to fall asleep.
Eventually, Simon takes notice. How your shoulders are hunched high into your ears, your jaw clenched, arms taunt. Obviously he doesn’t understand why you would be so tense in bed…with him. He worries it’s his fault.
Maybe he’s making you uncomfortable? Is he too close? Were you not ready for this? Does he smell? What if—
Finally you get fed up with your own body, flopping around and groaning, ending up shoving your face into his chest and flinging your arms around his torso.
“I can’t relax!” The complaint is muffled by his chest, but he understands.
“Is…is it me?” He ventures, even though it would be kind of weird if you thought he was the problem and then flung yourself on him anyway.
“Nooo, my muscles just won’t let go.”
He thinks for a moment before maneuvering you. He slips his arms under yours and entwines your legs so he’s basically supporting all of your weight. The effect is actually perfect. With him holding your limbs, your shoulders are able to relax, any tension leaking out as you become putty in his hands. The bonus is he’s also incredibly warm and comfy…so you’re definetly not complaining.
“…mmmhmm that’s nice, thank you…” you’re already trailing off into sleep.
Simon just likes the weight of you on top of him. It’s an irrefutable reminder someone is there with him, that you’re there with him.
You both sleep soundly after that, far better than you usually sleep alone.
I think that Simon has a Maine Coon cat. He paid a pretty pound for the big lug to always lay by his window and sun bath and shit outside the litter box. He'd give him to someone for free but he keeps insisting that he paid too much to just give him away. He's actually in love with the big dumb idiot cat.
He's suprised when you show up with a tiny kitten you'd found by the dumpster outside of your work. You'd been friends forever, you knew Simon better than you knew yourself. You also knew that he was a sucker for lost things.
"I can't pay the pet deposit to keep her." You say as he carefully dries off the kitten. He's given it 3 flea baths already and it looks like a little drowned rat clinging to his leather gloves.
"I dont need another bum living in my house." Simon's dark eyes flicked to the big cat sitting on the back of the toilet observing the little meowing mass in Simon's hand.
"Simon, please, look at it's sweet face." He pulled the kitten up by the scruff of it's neck. It looked a little ugly actually with it's bulging eyes and wet fur. "I'll take her when I move. Promise. Just hold onto her for me."
"I shouldn't-" he says as he wraps the little shivering baby in a towel he's warmed in the dryer. The kitten immediately snuggles into him and you know you're never getting that kitten back.
𖥔 ✴️ . ノ His brothers like to crash at your place . . .
with JASON TODD ◜ content ⸝⸝ short n' sweet . i didn't mention the girls :( ! ୧ head empty just batfamily ♡
It's quiet when you both turn in to sleep ― warm, comfortable ... shielded from the filth of Gotham. His heavy duty and your deep-rooted fears, far from your guys mind. Your face is turned towards his, head nestled comfortably under his chin, and ... Jason breathes softly, in n' out ... It's calm ... quiet ... Maybe even a little too quiet ? You hear the faint noise of the city below your apartment complex and all the way down the streets. Traffic, sirens ― it's all a familiar sound that would usually lull you right to sleep. Even the light rumbling of your partners' chest ― not quite snoring, but something close ― normally has you knocked out in under five minutes. But ...
The doorbell. It's a sharp tone in the otherwise silent apartment, that has your eyes wide open again, and Jason on his last nerve. You hear him sigh. Annoyed, yes, but also in a way that tells you ― he has an idea of who that might be. It's still dark, and you can barely see just what he's really doing, but you feel how he peels his side of the blanket away, muttering something like 'jus' sleep, i'll check' which is barely audible by how sleep drunken he sounds. Then, he's already out of the bedroom, lazily walking towards the door, already dreading which bat will greet him at such an hour ...
When he finally opens it, it's ... Richard Grayson, grinning. The sight has another heavy sigh escape him. "Yeah?" Jason liked to pretend that it was unusual for his brothers to show up ― which it wasn't. He also liked to pretend that he never lets them stay ― but he does. And it ― embarrassingly so ― never even takes that long to convince him. When asked, though, Jason claims it's because he rather gets right back to sleep than argue with any of his brothers.
Everyone believes him. Not.
So, Jason just steps aside and lets a much too triumphal looking Dick crash on the couch.
You hear them talk, hushed, comfortable, and soon enough, Jason is back in your bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him as he crawls back to you and underneath the sheets. "S' he okay?" You ask softly, shifting back into your previous position, flush against his chest as you breathe out, content. You're used to Richard coming over and crashing, so you're more concerned on why. Wouldn't be the first time he came over bloodied and beaten, much more eager to let you patch him up than have the batman give him a lecture. "He's fine. Will be gone in the morning."
'He doesn't want to deal with Bruce today' is what he wants to say, but he doesn't want his father to be the last thing he thinks about before going back to sleep. So he just presses a kiss against your forehead and tells you to go back to sleep.
You do, for maybe a minute, then there's a loud crash somewhere, and you're obviously wide awake again. This time, Jason doesn't even pretend to 'go check' because it's one of two people ― and he has this vague idea that it must be Tim, by how stupid his landing was. Probably came through the wrong window and fell right into that new Vase you bought.
Great.
You quietly follow behind when he leaves the bedroom again. You carry a blanket and a smaller pillow that you know is more comfortable than whatever pillows you keep in the living room, handing both to a drowsy Dick when he opens one eye ― not even bothering to check what caused such a loud noise in your guys' apartment. He just thanks you, turns around and goes right back to snoring. It's sweet, you think, how he feels more at ease here, than the large Mansion of his father...
"Go home, Tim," You hear your boyfriend mutter and follow his voice to the kitchen. His brows are furrowed as he watches the boy ― still glad in his suit ― try and puzzle the vase back together. "It's fine, we'll clean it tomorrow..." you find yourself saying, offering the kid a reassuring smile when he sheepishly lets it all fall back together. You know why he's here ― Jason knows too... and it goes without saying that he, too, is always allowed to stay. Even when Jay plays the annoyed older brother, grumbling and huffing when you show Tim the foldable sofa in your bedroom ( the one you guys bought specifically for nights like this ... )
He gets the last spare blanket, and a pillow, and he's good to go, bright smile and rosy cheeks when he thanks you so genuinely, you almost tear up a little. Your boyfriend grunts something about it being 'the last damn time' and Tim just nods. It won't be the last time. Jason acts like his brothers are intruding ― you know better.
Then everything slowly settles. It gets quiet again, there is the occasional shifting of blankets and pillows ― but, everyone seems asleep. Jason is cuddled against you, you can hear the faint snoring of Dick, and even Tim smacks his lips in deep content.
Yet, you can't help but feel like something is still not right. And like the universe agrees with you because ― of course, someone is still missing ― you hear the noise of your window being shoved open, with careful, skillful little hands... and soon enough, a smaller body wedges itself right between you and Jason as if it belongs. You don't say anything, and neither does he ― Damian Wayne fits right in the middle, barely three apples, yet he gets comfortable as if he owns the place. And you know Jason is rolling his eyes, deeply annoyed and beyond done with having so many siblings seeking him out when he just wants to spend time at his apartment with his partner. But even he is quiet and settles easy, his arm lazily thrown over his youngest brother and you, shifting the blanket so that all three of you are warm.
It's the sounds of a full apartment that finally lets you find comfortable sleep ― the warmth of two bodies right next to you ( of which the smaller keeps his hand laced with yours, as if you would ever even dare leave during the night ).
When morning comes, your sofa is empty, the vase glued back together and one demon child can't even look at you because he knows you're aware he's been clinging. He's embarrassed, you ruffle his hair, and together with Jason you bring him back to the Manor. You know it won't be the last time... and you honestly don't mind.
someone take " ... " away from me / i wrote this for myself honestly ―
I USE ALIGHT MOTION!! you can actually create icon masks on ibispaint or other app i just use alight motion beacuse thats where im more comfortable in, i havent do icon masks for month so i was curious about making tutorial
thinking abt being scared to be too clingy w katsuki...
"jisu you seem like you think abt being too clingy a LOT. didn't you just recently write this fic and that fic that are basically the exact same prompt?" no you can sybau.
you’re standing in the doorway of his dorm, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
he’s sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, legs spread just enough to be inviting without trying. hoodie half-zipped, sweats hanging low on his hips, phone in one hand, completely relaxed.
you are not.
you want to sit with him. in his lap. be tucked in, held tight, kissed maybe once or twice until you melt into him like sugar in hot tea.
but your feet don’t move.
you feel like if you climb into his space first, it’ll make it obvious how badly you want it. how you’ve been thinking about it all day. how when you woke up this morning, a part of you was already aching for his arms.
and what if he doesn’t want that right now?
what if he’s tired, or busy, or just not feeling it?
you shift from foot to foot.
his eyes flick up for only a second before going back to his phone.
“you comin’ in or just gonna stand there lookin’ like an idiot?”
your cheeks flush a little.
“shut up.”
he hums. doesn’t banter. just sets his phone aside, like, completely, not even face-up, and looks at you properly now. tilts his head a little.
and you see it. the way his gaze softens. the way his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile, because if he does, the world will probably collapse or something.
he opens his arms. slow, easy.
“c'mere.”
you hesitate. not because you don’t want to. but because you do, and that’s the part that always scares you. you want him so much. you love him with your whole heart and soul and would spend every second being close with him if you could. but does he? are you being too much? too clingy? your own insecurity and self-doubt eats at you.
he catches that in your face. always does. so he adds, voice lower now:
“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make me ask twice.”
maybe the nickname does it. or maybe it's his tone, or the look in his eyes. either way, it does you over.
you pad over quietly, still a little unsure, until you’re standing between his knees. he reaches for your hips, not rough like how he does most things, but careful, like he doesn’t want to rush you.
“lemme hold you, yeah?”
you nod.
and that’s it.
he pulls you in, smooth and easy, guiding you into his lap like you’ve always belonged there. one arm wraps firm around your lower back. the other slides up under your hoodie to settle warm against your spine.
he exhales deep, like tension he didn’t even notice was there just fell out of his chest.
“fuck. there you are.”
you melt.
your face tucks into his neck. your arms go around his shoulders. your whole body curls up like it knows exactly how to fit against him now. no more guessing. no more hovering.
he rubs your back, slow and steady, fingers dragging ticklishly but soothingly along skin.
“you don’t gotta wait for me to say it every time,” he mumbles into your hair.
“if you want this, just take it. always want you close.”
you nod against his neck, lips brushing warm against his pulse.
and he holds you tighter, just for a moment, like he needs to be sure you believe it.
being the only hero to ever score a merch collaboration with the dynamight, those products resell at an upwards of ¥285,000 on different websites, if not for more in overseas stores. hoodies, mugs, plushies— you name it, and it’ll have people mass-hoarding them.
the downside, though, is that the press loooves asking you how you managed to accomplish such a feat: “how does it feel to be the only woman to work with dynamight?” “why do you think dynamight chose to work with you? is there something beneath the waters that the fans aren’t aware of?”
it’s stupid, tiring, and dynamight shut that shit down within two seconds of the reporter opening his mouth. in bakugou’s words, “it’s fucking dumb to attribute your credibility as a hero and partner to either being a woman or to seducing me.”
and what he says is very much true— you’re a regular occupier of the top 10 hero ranks, with one of the highest (if not the highest) success rates in your solo missions. you’re consistently rated “most versatile hero” by the public month and month again. but…
“well, katsu, you can’t blame them, we are married.”
