I Miss Him So Much, Even After A Year

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

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Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

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The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

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A/N: this was really fun to write!

LIKE HEAVEN ABOVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After Frank saves your life, you’re there for him through thick and thin.

Warnings: Violence, language, feminine nicknames, implied smut, mentions of death, reader is a teacher, reader wears glasses

Word count: 5.6k (wow)

Author’s note: Omggg y’all, I dug this up from my Pages app, it’s literally almost 3 years old and that’s why I’m a little nervous to post it but I thought it might actually be some of my best writing, so here we go :) It takes place through Daredevil season 2 all the way to the end of The Punisher Season 1, and I have to admit, I honestly feel like Frank was NOT ready for any kind of love interest during Daredevil but I took some creative liberties, anyway. So this is a little out of character on that front. I’m rambling, I hope you enjoy!! I’m gonna get back to your requests soon <3

Frank felt like somehow days passed by in a flurry yet every second dragged on like the worst torture he had endured — which was saying a lot considering the literal war he had gone through, and the fact he was currently lying in a hospital bed; broken, bruised and with a drilling hole in his foot. And yet waiting to see you was the one thing that got his confidence to falter, his brain to shortcircuit.

For a man so stubborn and determined to do things on his own, he had crumbled so fast when presented with the opportunity to see you again. He hadn’t even realized he had ended up caring about you so deeply, not until the blonde journalist had stepped into his room and the words just poured out of him.

”Would ya do me a favour?” Frank asked as the woman was leaving the room, his gruff voice so uncharacteristically meek and vulnerable, and therefore capable of turning her head immediately. ”Please”, he added weakly, ”my girl… I—there’s someone I need to see. Just once. Please.”

Maybe she was curious about meeting the one person who seemed to mean anything to The Punisher anymore; maybe she felt surprisingly bad for him or maybe it was both, but Karen found herself doing as he asked and tracked you down. She reached out and a few days later… you were walking down the hallways of the hospital, uncomfortably shifting the weight of your leather jacket from one arm to the other, your stomach churning in nervous anticipation.

The sight of several armed guards standing outside the room you were being walked to made you gulp, but you weren’t scared of the man inside. You were scared to see the kind of condition he was in, to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, scared of the moment you’d have to walk out in the uncertainty if you’d ever see him again. But not him. Never him.

Something in Frank came to life when you appeared at the doorway; something he thought to be long dead and buried only for you to always revive him. He lifted his head from the worn pillows and sighed in some kind of relief, only for guilt to lodge into his heart when he saw you scanning his body.

He looked awful, no way around it. Littered in bruises so severe you could barely see his face, you struggled not to cry while looking at the multiple machines connected to him and the abundance of bandages on his tired limbs. What really got to you, though, was the handcuffs on his wrists and the straps across his chest and stomach to make sure there was no room for him to move any more than necessary to sit up and lie back down.

”Jesus…”, you sighed breathlessly, your hands beginning to shake as you walked over to him with a frown so deep it hurt his heart. He knew he might have been a selfish asshole for dragging you here, for making you see what he had tried to protect you from this whole time, for letting you get attached right before it would all go to shit, anyway. But he wasn’t strong enough to push you away. He was capable of enduring much, but he was weak when it came to you. He had tried it, at first, keeping you at arm’s length but you got under his skin in a way that was irreversible and it hurt more to resist than it did to give in. For him, anyway.

”Looks worse than it is, sweetheart”, he rasped, and with a scoff, you finally met his eyes only for the depth of them to catch you off-guard and make you choke on your own tongue. He looked just as attentive and kind as the day you had met him — you swore you’d never forget the way he had hid you behind the counter of the diner, looked right into your eyes and promised he’d make sure you’d make it to class tomorrow; what would the kids do without their teacher, after all?

”They said your foot was… that there was a…”, you stammered, hoping to counter his words with an argument that failed as soon as you tried to get it out. He had never judged you for your tendency to stutter, though, and he didn’t do it now, either. Simply nodded and let you process.

”Yeah. Yeah, there was”, he admitted quietly, licking his split lips as he watched you move to the chair next to his bed and slowly sink down. Even with all the pain in your eyes, you looked so beautiful in one of your worn band shirts and the skirt you had promptly tucked it into, your glasses heavy on your nose and the shimmer of your lipbalm like a red thread for Frank to hang onto like his life depended on it. Amidst all the chaos and ache of his recent weeks, he could just close his eyes and think back to you, and somehow he felt at peace. At least for a second.

”I wish I could… make it all better”, you whispered sadly, a lone tear rolling down your cheek as you looked at his bruised cheekbones.

Frank’s hand reached for yours only for the handcuffs to stop him, the noise of the movement alerting the guard outside the door and pulling a swear from Frank. When he settled his hand back by his side, the guard seemed to relax a little, making both of you sigh — the man wasn’t even allowed to hold your hand.

”Oh, sweetheart”, Frank whispered, ”that’s exactly what you do. You make all this shit better.” He managed a small smile as he tilted his head at you. ”I may just make it worse, but you? Christ, you…”, he struggled to put his thoughts into words, keeping you on your toes as he finally decided against it, ”I’preciate you comin’. I just, uh, I guess I wanted to see you before I get dragged into a courtroom and… yeah. Yeah, there’s no happy ending for me. But for a moment there, you helped me believe there might be”, he went on, only breaking your heart with each word.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly. ”You don’t give yourself enough credit, Frankie. You’ve really made things better for me, too. And you deserve a happy ending, however that might look for you”, you swore, casting your eyes at your trembling hands. ”I know it might be weird to say, but I’m grateful I met you. Life-threatening danger and all. You and everyone else may not see it the same way, but you are a good guy. You are”, you continued before sniffling and getting up from your chair enough to press a kiss on his forehead.

You were careful and gentle, unwilling to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. Yet when you moved to pull away, Frank grunted and reached for your wrist, stopping you from leaving. For a moment, you were forehead to forehead, your lips inches away and his breath mixing with yours.

”Sit with me for a bit? Yeah?” Frank pleaded, and when you nodded, he swallowed and smiled weakly. ”That’s my girl.”

He didn’t see you again until the trial. He spotted you right there in the benches, dressed in your finest red shirt that had his thoughts running a million miles while being walked to the stand. He was dressed in a suit, too, and he almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculous thought of a date swirling in his head. Maybe, in another lifetime, that could have been reality — not him being on trial for murder with you trying to tune out the hate speech spewed at him from the other half of the courtroom.

Most of his bruises had healed by then. You found small comfort in that.

You didn’t get to tell him he looked good, though. You didn’t get to say a single thing when he was announcing his guilt with a booming roar, and the next thing you knew, he was being walked out of the courtroom with a prison sentence looming over his head. You didn’t blame him for doing what he did, and you certainly didn’t expect him to choose you over his morals. But nevertheless, you couldn’t help but cry as he was taken out of sight and you were left with the realization you may never see him again.

You were sitting outside on the steps of the courthouse when a strange hand extended a tissue for you. Just as you looked up, nearly blinded by the sunshine, you were glad you hadn’t said your thought out loud when you saw Frank’s lawyer poke his cane at the steps until he figured where to sit. He lowered himself next to you just as you took the tissue and thanked him for his kindness.

”You’re the woman”, he stated matter-of-factly, and when you turned to him in confusion, he chuckled quietly. ”I recognize your perfume. It… stuck to him”, he explained — even if his explanation remained vague — but you had no time to present any further questions when he continued. ”Frank Castle is not a talkative man. But I’ve noticed whenever he does speak, his words carry meaning. He doesn’t do small talk or state the obvious, he… he only shares what he considers important. And if that is the case, then… you are extremely important to him”, he elaborated before drawing in a deep breath and sending a small smile your way.

Your heart both broke and leaped at his words. You hadn’t exactly doubted it, but it meant a great deal to know Frank cherished you as much as you cherished him.

”And he is to me”, you returned quietly, pulling a slow nod from the man — Matt — who then turned his head at you curiously.

”If you don’t mind me asking… how does a teacher find herself with The Punisher?” he wondered, and considering it your turn to chuckle, you turned to your hands and recalled the night that had turned your life upside down.

”He saved my life. I know that’s how all the cliché fairytales go, but he did. I was at my favorite diner to get some grilled cheese after a long day of work. I was so close to making it, too, when these, uh, thugs came in. Looking for him, unsurprisingly. There was only one other person besides us and they managed to escape before the shooting began, so… Frank hid me behind the counter. He told me he’d keep me safe, that I’d get to see the kids I teach again the next day— he’d heard me talking to the cashier. He’d make sure of it. And he did. He took care of those guys and afterwards he walked me home. I—I owed him my life so I figured the least I could do was ice his knuckles. He must have been barely ten minutes in my apartment but it meant everything. We just… couldn’t get rid of each other after that”, you explained, the sunlight suddenly feeling warmer on your skin and the smile on your lips so free of worry. For a second, anyway.

Matt listened intently — not only to what you were saying, but you. And it didn’t take him long to come to a conclusion. ”You love him”, he declared, and with your head snapping towards him, you frowned.

”We haven’t—there’s nothing—”, you began, your stutter seeping through again, and Matt smiled.

”Whether or not you’ve acted on it, I can hear it. You’ve fallen in love with him”, he emphasized before humming, ”and I think, somewhere deep down underneath all that trauma and guilt and unwillingness to face the facts… he feels the same way.”

You stared at him, disbelief all over your face as you thought about Frank and all your brief touches, all your sweet words and reassuring looks.

”Could you tell him I’ll be right here? Please? Just… let him know that even if I can’t be by his side, he’s not alone”, you whispered, and although he seemed to consider it for a second, Matt ended up nodding.

”I’m sure he’s gonna need that.”

And he wasn’t wrong. Prison was no easy feat, not even for The Punisher.

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to you. One moment he was sitting in court, listening to his vigilante of a lawyer speak on his behalf, and the next he was being dragged out in chains with your worried face amongst the angry civilians being the last thing he saw. And the big bad Punisher had gone so far as to beg Karen to let him see you for the second time; let you see him, but before she could even consider making it happen, he had been shoved into a white onesie and sent on his way to prison with his jagged memories trying hard to recall the last words you had spoken to him.

It had been something kind — that much he had decided on while sitting in his cell. You were always so fucking kind, and so understanding, even when he doubted he deserved it. You were a good person; a troubled one but you had weathered every storm and stuck to your morals, and he admired that to no end. You didn’t have a judgmental bone, not a single ounce of hatred for anyone who didn’t deserve it, sometimes not even those who did. He thought that maybe he was unworthy of your friendship and sympathy sometimes, but you gave it to him anyway, without question and without expectation. You liked him for who he was, not who he had been, and you didn’t try to change his mind and steer his path.

At least he had the message Red had passed onto him to keep him going.

It was those unexplainably good-hearted intentions of yours and the unconditional support he hadn’t realized he missed so much, that made him fall in love with you. He struggled with it for a while, wondering if he was ready; if he should have felt guilty, but eventually the desire to keep you safe and the longing to hold you close became too evident to ignore.

And he truly knew when one of the assholes he had put down had taunted him about his lady, only for his mind to go to you instead of Maria.

He had been writing a letter to you when his heart-pouring onto paper was interrupted by a taunting laugh outside his cell. ”Writing a love letter to your lady?” one of the gang members in his block teased, and with a grit in his teeth, Frank forced himself to not pick a fight — a successful attempt until the burly man went on. ”Would be a shame if anyone got their hands on your girl now that you ain’t out there to protect—”, he continued, his words cut off with a wheeze when Frank clamored out of his seat and promptly stabbed the pen into his neck. It was a good thing he had already signed the letter.

Realistically, he knew it may have been an empty threat. Nonetheless, as soon as he was out of prison, the letter tucked in the pocket of his jacket, he made his way to you. Making you were safe was priority number one — and if he’d get the chance to hand over the envelope and open his heart to you… Well, that would just be the cherry on top. He had promised to get out and tell you how he felt, to stop being a coward and admit that he wanted to be there for you, that he loved you, and that was exactly what he planned on doing.

Although, things never went exactly as planned.

He had so much determination and courage in his heart when he knocked on your door, but as soon as you opened it and your short figure appeared right in front of him, it all drained from his system. All he was left with was bare amazement and the reserved hope that you’d still welcome him into your home — he knew he had burned more than enough bridges with his little stunt in court, and he had spent many sleepless nights wondering if he had scared you off, too. That worry only now flared into a genuine fear as he watched astonishment wipe across your face, his own expression meek and his large body trying to shrink on itself to seem less intimidating.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he managed, his voice raspy as ever, his dark eyes scanning your face and trying to make sense of the speechless trance you had been stunned into.

It was justified, of course. Who would expect a convicted criminal on their doorstep?

That wasn’t exactly what was on your mind, though. You had never doubted that Frank would get back up somehow; he couldn’t be kept down — but you couldn’t believe he had come to you. A man like him surely had places to be, people to kill, things to do and somehow… he was right there in front of you in all his glory, not bleeding out and in need of stitches, either. Just… there.

You didn’t realize how emotional the sight of him had gotten you until you opened your mouth and the words escaped you with a choke. ”Is it okay if I hug you?” you cracked, and with a deep, even relieved sigh, Frank let his tense shoulders drop and his head bob in a nod as he opened his arms.

He welcomed you gladly, his big arms winding around your smaller body to encompass you against his entirely. He realized then that you were wrapped up in one of the hoodies he had left behind, his confidence boosting but his heart breaking just a little at the thought of you sitting at home alone in his clothes, comforted by his scent and wondering if he’d ever come back to you. And right there and then, he knew he had made the right choice in doing so.

”I missed you”, you whispered into his chest, your heart doing somersaults at the firmness of it, your eyes fallen shut as you breathed him in and basked in his warmth and all his rough edges that only confirmed he was real and not a figment of your imagination, not a daydream, even if he had occupied nearly all of them for the past months.

”Missed ya too, girl”, he muttered into your hair, and as he held you there, grateful to have you again, the doubt began creeping in and the letter in his pocket started to seem like a bad idea. What if it would simply push you away, just when he got you in his arms?

Swallowing, he then decided maybe it was better not to bring it up.

”Hey, I, uh…”, he cleared his throat when you stepped back to welcome him into your apartment. He treaded carefully, like any second now you’d change your mind and turn him away — and he wouldn’t blame you, either. Trouble followed him wherever he went, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from coming to you every time. ”Look, there’s… a lot going on, y’know? Some shit might go down and I just…”, he continued, uncertain of his own words as his gaze fell to the nervously fiddling hands in front of him, ”I don’t want ya to look at the news and rethink the kinda guy I am, y’know?”

Chuckling, you shook your head at him. ”The news couldn’t change my mind about you, Frankie”, you reassured in a way that had his chest tightening. ”You’re my friend and—and a good guy, even if with… unique methods. But you are. Just because you have blood on your hands, doesn’t make you a bad man”, you went on, but he could tell you were nervous, too. He just couldn’t see past himself enough to understand it wasn’t fear making you tremble.

”I think you are loyal and sweet and protective and… capable of making people feel safe and appreciated. When I’m with you, I feel respected and understood. Never judged or unsafe”, you added, and with an amazed twinkle in his dark eyes, Frank looked up at you. Jesus, that was exactly how he felt around you. His lungs and throat were screaming at him to just tell you, but instead, he gave you a doubtful tilt of his head.

”You’re not scared?” he confirmed quietly, and with a small smile, you gave him a look.

”I’m not scared of you, Frank. I’m…”, you breathed in, hesitating before widening your smile and shaking your head, ”I’m not scared.” What you really wanted to tell was that you were nervous because you liked him — loved him. But you never felt threatened by him.

”Good”, he swallowed, defiance suddenly ablaze in his eyes as he seemed to relax. ”’Cause I’d never hurt ya. Shit, you make me wanna…”, he laughed, unsure where he was going with that thought. ”I just wanna keep you safe, sweetheart. Look after you”, he finished with a sigh, the kind that knew he was officially in too deep. You got him good.

”Then I’ll look after you, too”, you promised, gesturing at his hands, ”starting with those knuckles of yours.”

He was almost amused, but when you seriously dug a small tube of hand cream from your bag and began rubbing the lotion onto his bruised hands, all he could do was stare at you, completely enamored by your kindness and the feeling of your gentle hands tending to his damaged ones.

It was almost ironic, really — you were gentle, he was damaged. In your mind, it was the other way around, and maybe that was why it worked. You were different in so many ways but the bare essentials were still there, making you an undeniable match even if neither of you were brave enough to say it out loud right now. But him being in your apartment and you lotioning his calloused hands spoke in volumes, reassuring you both that it was safe like this.

He hadn’t been wrong, though. Shit hit the fan fast and in a matter of days, Frank Castle was a dead man as far as the world was concerned.

Before that, though, he was coaxed further into the realization of just how important you were to him. He was used to nightmares, in fact, he anticipated them each night. And yet, that night, his hands still smelling like your vanilla lotion, he found himself dreaming of you, your big smile, your sweet laugh and your soft lips.

Jesus Christ, he wanted you so bad. All of you.

It was a little harder to go about his mission then. You occupied his mind constantly now, and he began to resent himself for being such a coward and not giving you the letter, after all.

And when he jumped off an exploding ship, he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you. Once he made it out in one piece, he decided he couldn’t risk losing the opportunity again.

You had just seen the news on the TV, and as badly as you wanted to believe no body meant no death, your stomach was twisting and turning. The idea of Frank being gone, just like that, was one that began chipping at your sanity. Thankfully, you didn’t get to sit with it for very long when there was a knock on your door, and you practically ran to open it, never more relieved to see the hunk of a man.

You tugged him into your apartment and sealed the door behind him before hugging him tight, on the verge of tears as you felt his firm body against yours and consoled yourself. He was there. He was alive. Well? Debatable.

”I’m okay, sweetheart, ’m okay. Can’t get rid of me that easy”, he chuckled darkly, his heart skipping a beat when you pulled away and looked right into his eyes. You looked so beautiful yet so vulnerable, and he couldn’t put his feelings into words when he realized he had gotten you so worked up. He hated to cause you any pain, but to know you cared that much?

”Shit…”, he breathed, licking his lips as he gently placed a hand on your jaw and groaned. ”C’mere”, he whispered before leaning down to kiss you, both your eyes closing as he placed his lips on yours, deep and tentative. You melted closer to him, your hands resting on his vest while he cupped your face and kissed you hard, breathing you in and reveling in the taste and feeling of you.

It was better than he had imagined, all anger and hatred leaving his system for the fleeting moment when he got to have just you, nothing else.

He wanted to take his sweet time with you but the yearning was too great to contain. In no time, you were lying on your back on your mattress with Frank on top of you, trying to hold back some of his weight as he kissed your neck and unzipped your skirt. He muttered words of praise and flattery against your soft skin, eyes blown wide with genuine admiration when he kissed his way down to your thighs and made you repeat his name in desperate begs and pleas.

A part of him was sure he was dreaming again, your head rested upon his bare chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you listened to his heartbeat and basked in the afterglow of the hours spent together. It was the middle of the night by now, the sounds of city never fully gone but toned down, your bed feeling like a safe haven amidst all the chaos around you both.

But Frank knew there was no permanent escape from what he had reshaped his life into. The thing was, you didn’t want to be an escape — you wanted to be part of it.

Nevertheless, he spoke up gruffly. ”Y’know I can’t stay, right?” he was quiet, his words a weak whisper, like a shameful confession he didn’t want the world to know. ”I mean, I’mma be with you tonight if you’ll let me, but I… I can’t leave things unfinished. The world thinks ’m dead, y’know, that’s just… It’s an advantage and I just—”, he went on, but you interjected with a nod and your hand smoothing up and down his chest soothingly.

”I know. I understand”, you promised before kissing his collarbone softly, ”I know, Frank. You don’t need to explain any more than you want to.”

He swallowed then, trying to muster up the courage to say what had been on his mind for so long. ”I, uh, I can’t ask you to hold out hope for me, but uh… I just want you to know…”, he tried to find the right words, licking his lips nervously before sighing and burying his face in your hair with a somber kiss. ”You don’t owe me shit. But you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Look, I gotta do my thing, but I don’t want you to think it’s easy to walk away from you because, fuck… I don’t wanna lose ya, sweetheart”, he explained further, making you smile against his scarred skin.

”I will always hold out hope for you, Frank. My door will always be open for you”, you replied simply, and even though you didn’t elaborate further, it was all he needed to hear. Just knowing you weren’t ready to give up on him.

And that was why he wasn’t going to do it, either.

He kept in touch in whatever small, Frank-esque ways he could. A note on your door, a novelty mug on your windowsill, a comforting message from an unknown number. Sometimes all you had was the remains of his aftershave enveloped in the sweaters he had left behind, or the slander of his name on the news even when he was presumed dead — it was small but it reminded you that he was, in fact, alive, and as long as he was that, then you had faith that one day he’d be back on your doorstep.

Sometimes he felt like an irredeemable asshole for making you wait for him. If only you had the chance, you would have told him to get his head out of his ass — you had fallen for him, and whether he wanted you to be there or not, you would have thought about him, worried over him, longed for him. He could have tried to distance himself from you if he wanted to, but he was so deeply entwined into your life by now that all the roots simply couldn’t be plucked out anymore.

And he may have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Knowing how he felt about you, how being away from you made him ache, he suspected you shared the yearning and he knew that trying to push you away wouldn’t have healed either of you from it. So he kept in contact however he could, but not too close to keep his enemies off your trail.

You checked the news every day. And when you saw Billy Russo’s face plastered across your screen, his arrest making the headlines, you knew it was a good day.

Accordingly, there was promptly a knock on your door, and you felt your heart soar as you peeked through the peephole and saw the only man worth waiting for on the other side. You swung the door open, and in an instant, a smile stretched across his bruised face as he help up a bouquet of daffodils, making you grin, too.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, pulling you into a hug that shut off your senses from everything but him — all you smelled, felt and heard was him, your systems threatening to fail as you clung onto him like your life depended on it and felt his lips leave soft kisses on your forehead and hair. ”There ya are. As goddamn beautiful as I remembered”, he whispered, relieved to be holding you again, even a little proud of himself for making it here.

It wasn’t like he needed the extra motivation on all those long nights away — avenging his family was all the fuel he craved, but knowing that at the end of it all, he had someone to fall back on, encouraged him even more.

”I could say the same about you”, you chuckled while pulling away enough to place a gentle hand on his face and observe all the purple and yellow markings left there. It was obvious he had taken a beating, but if the news was to be trusted, Billy had suffered a fate much worse. And despite all the slowly healing scars on Frank’s sharp features, he was alive, and he was right there for you to admire and tend to.

”This ugly mug?” he snorted while kicking the door shut and pushing his hood off of his head, his hair grown out again and begging for your fingers to run through. Regardless of the mangled appearance, though, he seemed almost hopeful, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He seemed exhausted physically, but mentally, a little less tired. And that made you indescribably happy for him.

”I’m proud of you”, you breathed out, a smile crawling to your own face, ”you did what you needed to do, right? You… you did good. You deserve to rest now.”

Frank looked a little taken aback by your words. Not in a bad way, but it was obvious no one had told him before nor had he expected anyone to. But the quiet chuckle that rose from his throat was genuinely flattered, as was the squint of his eyes as he leaned forward and gave you a tiny nod.

”Thank you, sweetheart. Really”, he rasped before taking in a deep breath, ”any chance I’d, uh, get to rest here? With you?” The look in his eyes was almost boyish, almost nervous, and it made your heart soar the same way his gaze had the first night you had met.

”Always, Frankie”, you promised before placing a hand on his chest and beaming up at him, ”I was hoping you’d say that.”

He licked his lips and looked down at you, hand coming to your neck tenderly with his thumb brushing across your chin. ”I feel like shit for the way I left you back then. I, uh, I hope you didn’t feel like I was just… tryna get in your bed, y’know? It was more than that to me. You are more than that to me. It’s, I dunno, hard for me to put it into words but I care about ya. More than I have about anyone in a long time, I guess”, he explained awkwardly, but you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a single second.

You leaned up to briefly kiss him, and the way he leaned forward to get more made your stomach churn. Nevertheless, you pulled apart to speak your turn, your smaller hand still resting on his bruised cheek.

”I know. I never doubted it. And I don’t expect you to be anyone else but you. I want you as you, Frank”, you reassured, and with a heavy sigh, he dropped his forehead to yours.

”Girl… I want you”, he urged, and you smiled as he briefly touched your lips with the tip of his finger.

”I’m all yours, Frankie.”

i want to comfort sugu 😩

yours, ardently - geto suguru x reader

꒰꒰. SYNOPSIS: suguru crumbles in the presence of genuine devotion

꒰꒰. WARNINGS: reverse comfort, fluff, slight angst (lmk if i missed anything <3)

꒰꒰. NOTE: hello! i'm back (kind of) with my pookie, suguru. i've managed to write this in between dealing w/ school stuff and crying over school stuff. i missed writing sm 😭

Geto Suguru is a man of chaotic solitude. Much like his best friend, he strives in an environment well-lived, radiant and loud. Age and maturity-wise, he could say he’s grown past that childlike impulsivity enough to avoid impending conflicts but he’s still just a man— not immune to the inevitable distraught of life. He used to be a bright-eyed boy with such a positive outlook in all things that come his way. His perspective of the world was reflected in the same sense of warmth that seemed to enshroud his very presence: gentle and kind, full of hope. He was a paragon that even the strongest relied on, his best friend’s moral compass was influenced by him as he was quite sensitive and so in tune to the things around him. 

Though he is not one to talk about the troubles that keep him up at night, you know him well enough to understand that something is wrong. The way he started shutting off anyone else that dares to come close is heartbreaking, even more so with knowing that there is nothing you can do that can fill the void in his heart. He rarely smiles nowadays. His face no longer lights up with glee and when it does, it no longer reaches his eyes— they don't crinkle anymore into pretty crescent shapes. They are both just bleak and empty pools that stare far away into the distance, slowly succumbing to the downward spiral journey of his life, and the possibility of not being able to catch up once he decides to let go, leave and not look back anymore is daunting. 

A soft knock interrupts your musing before you hear Suguru's voice from behind the door. "You awake?"

The sheets make rustling sounds as you hurry to open the door of your bedroom, ready to welcome Suguru in, both in your space and in your arms because it's how you comfort yourself— some sort of assurance that he's still with you. "Can't sleep?"

He only nods his head, making a beeline to your bed and you watch him sigh, his shoulders dropping in relaxation as if the warmth of your bed and your smell that lingers on the pillows are enough to coax him out of his shell. 

"Come, baby." Suguru reaches out to you, hand outstretched in the dark. And even though you can barely make out his figure on the bed, his presence is enough to make up for everything that was lacking when you were alone and wallowing in your thoughts of him.

It does not take you long to occupy the other side of the bed, almost instinctively cuddling up to him and embracing his body so tenderly you feel him slowly easing with you. His arms are quick to wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he’s afraid you would slip away if he doesn't hold you tight. “It’ll be Christmas in a few months.” Suguru mentions, breaking the silence with the low timbre of his voice— soothing as always.

You smile, lifting your head just a bit to get a brief look at his face. “Yeah. Are we still on for that trip we planned last April?”

There is a telltale sign of a smile on his face— through the poor lighting that emits from the barely opened window of your room, you witness the slight upward curves at the corners of his lips, and for a moment you could see a glimpse of hope: a future with him. Everything will be alright.

Suguru doesn’t respond, his eyes just trailing across every feature of your face. Such sad eyes he has, but there is no denying the hints of love in the pretty brown hues of them as he admires you in silence. They even seem a little dim with the absence of it’s usual spark yet it doesn't take away the fact that he's still your Suguru. Your beautiful Suguru.

“Get some sleep, my love.” Your murmur, allowing him to burrow deeper in your arms and lay his head on your chest. The way you caress his hair makes him hum, so tender and full of care that it’s soothing. 

You let the tranquility of the night engulf your entwined bodies under the comfort of your sheets, letting the hours tick by with no care for anything at all but the warmth of your love and the way his breath settles evenly.

“I wish you’d just talk to me, Suguru.” You whisper once you've deemed he’s fallen asleep, your hands still caressing his hair in gentle strokes. “You’re not alone, you know? Share with me your pain.” Your voice falters with the last words you’ve spoken, finding it hard to breathe with the lump in your throat as you try to keep your tears at bay.

“I know you’re strong but you don’t always have to carry all that weight— I’m here. Satoru’s here, Ieri even. We’re always here.” A shaky breath falls past your lips when you feel Suguru’s arms tighten around you, the sound of a conspicuous sob from him almost makes you lose it but not right now. You need to be the one to keep it together and hold him, be his safe space and give him the assurance he needs to be vulnerable.

You resume playing with his hair, pressing a chaste kiss on his crown. "I love you."

And in that moment, Suguru crumbles in the presence of genuine devotion. He feels so ardently cared for, sheltered and utterly weak in your arms. Everything will be alright.

jack is everything i want 😩

SOLID WORK; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 4,700+

content warnings: my minimal medical knowledge, doctor humor, abbot’s filthy mouth, some smut, fluff <3

notes: i am so beyond new to this fandom and to tumblr so please stick with me but i couldn’t not write this🫶

・❥・

”Solid work.”

My breathing slows as I start to process the complexity of the procedure I had just performed. I’d probably be blushing at Dr Abbot’s praise if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me.

“That was your save. Not mine.”

Trust me - I am never jumping to credit a man with my work but that was the truth. I may have physically done everything but the idea and the instructions that made it possible were all Dr Abbot.

I look back down at the patient. I tell myself it’s to make sure this is all real. That I really just did that. But if I am being honest it’s to avoid Dr Abbot’s unwavering eye contact.

“Hey-“

He is not gonna let me. I look up to meet his gaze. So rock solid but somehow so warm all at once. He may as well be staring right through me.

He lightly rests his hand on my forearm to stop me from going for the suture. To stop me from giving him anything other than my undivided attention.

“-you are the smartest person in here. Take the win.”

I can’t help the exasperated smile that spreads across my face. He’s right. I’ve only got a couple months left of residency. I should just take the fucking win for once in my life.

Abbot, much to my surprise, smiles back. And he has dimples because of course he does.

He’s calm under pressure, he lies on official paperwork to get a teenage girl the abortion she has every right to, he’s the actual smartest one here, he’s kind to everyone in this ED regardless of the stress he is under, and…he still has his hand on my arm.

His hand. The veins there don’t hurt the eyes either.

We must both realize his lingering touch at the same time because he is clearing his throat and pulling away. He reaches for a surgical instrument he doesn’t need. Picks it up and then puts it down.

I swear there is a faint blush on his cheeks but if I think about that too long one will appear on my own.

“Let Whitaker stitch this up. Go home - get some rest. Your shift ended hours ago.”

“I love Whitaker but he is so slow we may as well let the wound heal all on its own.”

Dr Abbot laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs as we exit out of the trauma bay. So loud that Robby looks over and asks if he’s okay.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr Abbot has a wonderful sense of humor. A wicked one, actually. But it’s one of those dry, witty kinds. Not the animated, giggly kind.

I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that I’m proud to have gotten a good laugh out of him. That it’s not a bad thing that it gave me butterflies. That’s it’s not a bad thing that I am laying in bed wondering how the hell I am going to get him to do that again.

・❥・

Jack lets out a low moan as he recovers. His eyes are dazed, his head slightly tilted back but not so much so that he can’t keep eye contact with me.

His hand that held the makeshift ponytail in my hair starts to massage my scalp as the other hand reaches for my chin and tilts my head up to meet his strong gaze.

Once he’s got me where he wants me, his thumb travels from my chin to my lips, swiping what’s left of his release off of it.

“My good girl. So good for me, yeah?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at his words. He knows it too. I nod as his thumb presses further into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it.

His mouth quips into a smirk, “Solid work, doctor.”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away. Standing up from my knees on my own. Ignoring his arms trying to gently guide me up instead.

“That! That is exactly what I am talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Jack just laughs as he grabs my wrist, turning me back towards him. He’s quick to have me pinned up against our shower wall - his strong thigh spreading my own apart as he plants long slow kisses across my neck.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Back when I was a resident, otherwise known as a couple months ago, Jack consistently praised what I was doing by saying “Solid work.”

The way he did always made me dizzy. His voice would drop an octave and he’d look me straight in my eyes while he said it. There is nothing inherently sensual about the phrase but it took me a while to realize he was not complimenting the other residents like that.

Him saying it during sex started as a joke. Harkening back to when, as he puts it, I was so painfully oblivious to his flirting. To which I responded, “That was flirting?”.

He said it again to me at work the next day. Being completely and utterly genuine. I don’t even remember what I did but I did it well and he is always the first to acknowledge that. So he was confused when I just huffed in annoyance and peeled out of the room without so much of a glance at him.

I wasn’t annoyed at him. I was annoyed that now all I could think about was him. His hands, his biceps, his tongue. Everything. And I still had six hours of my shift to go.

He followed me into the on-call room I was going to find some refuge in. He locked the door behind him - closed the curtain for good measure.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And then I felt bad. He thought something was actually wrong. That no way I’d ever brush him off like that when he was just trying to compliment me unless something was seriously wrong.

His eyes bored into mine, genuine concern and love pouring out of them. And here I was just being a brat.

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes trailed the veins bulging out of his biceps. I tried to be sly about the way I was imagining my hands tugging on his salt and pepper curls that were just slightly askew from a couple hours work. Unfortunately for me, Jack can read me like a book.

“Did you just stomp out of the ED because you’re needy?” Jack couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face at the realization.

“Well maybe if you weren’t always going Mr Christian Gray on me with the praise-“

“I don’t even know who that is but all I said was ‘Solid work’-“

Jack stops himself as he remembers the past couple nights. When he was saying the same thing in a much different context.

I can’t say I’m entirely innocent. Or innocent at all really. I love throwing in a ‘sir’ every now and again at work to tease Jack. So he does the same to me with other phrases - constantly.

And he said the same thing in that on-call room that he is saying to me right now, “But what I do know is how fucking wet you are for me. So stop pouting and let me taste you, yeah?”

He swipes a finger through my soaked folds before he’s the one sinking down to his knees as I try to keep mine from buckling.

・❥・

“Solid work, Dr Abbot.”

I smile down at my sparkling new engagement ring and then up at the love of my life.

“Seriously? You can tease but I can’t?”

“What’s that saying again? Happy wife, happy life?”

Neither of us can wipe the huge grins off of our faces. No one knows we’re engaged yet. Just how we wanted it.

A couple of months ago, right after I had taken an attending job at The Pitt, Jack had broached the topic of marriage. We’d talked about it before. We both knew we were spending the rest of our lives together. But we hadn’t actually talked about the timeline of it all - the logistics.

Jack was always extremely hyper aware about how our relationship affected me. He didn’t want it to interfere with my career or all of my hard work. So as much as he would’ve walked down the aisle six months ago, he wanted everything to be on my terms.

“Hypothetically - if I were to propose, say within the next month - would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically - if I ever say no to a marriage proposal from you - please get me a psychiatry consult.”

Jack laughed - in an airy way where you could tell he was relieved. I kissed him. There was no universe in which I ever said no to a proposal from him.

He pestered me with questions. He wanted direction but not so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised when the time came.

I told him I didn’t want anything fancy. No big party although I did want to have a small gathering with our friends and family at some point afterwards. A nice sized diamond but not gaudy. No grand gestures - just him being him is all that I wanted.

And he executed perfectly. Because when does he not. It was our first night in the new home we had bought. He said we could get a hotel while we waited for our furniture to be delivered. But I wanted to do one night with no furniture, an air mattress, some candles, and a pizza delivery.

“Like camping.” I had said.

“You hate camping.”

I laughed because he was right but he obliged me anyways. He carried me over the threshold and I made a joke about how he’s got to be careful - being old and all.

Then he carried me right over to the air mattress, said something like “Can an old man do this?” and went on to coax four orgasms from me - one from his fingers, one from his tongue, one from his thigh, and finally one from where I wanted him most.

When we were done, I threw on one of his old tshirts and a pair of boxers. He just had on an old pair of sweats and a white tee. We stared into each others eyes like two lovesick teenagers until he said “Come here - I gotta show you something.”

“Babe, the house is empty.”

“Get over here smart ass.”

Jack picked up a candle and lead us over to the fireplace. He set the candle on the mantle as I read what was now engraved into the stone ‘The Abbots - Est 2025’

“So this is why you were getting all of those random tools from Amazon.”

Ever the handy man he is. Then he was on his knee. His bad one. To which I told him he didn’t have to do that. And then he said he would even if it killed him. And I think I said something stupid like “Not on my watch.”

I don’t even remember what he said after that. He doesn’t either. We both blacked out from sheer happiness. All I really remember is him asking me to do him the honor of being his wife and me pulling him up off of his knee and saying ‘Duh!’ as fast I could before kissing him. Over and over and over again until that air mattress was just a deflated extension of the wood floor beneath it.

・❥・

Dana’s hand rests on my thigh gently. My leg stops shaking. My mind doesn’t stop racing though.

I'm not an anxious person. If anything, I can be relaxed to a fault. But I am an intuitive person - and something is wrong.

Where is he?

“Relax. When is that man ever late?”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You would think I didn't have my own license or car the way Jack insists on driving me everywhere. He tells me it is to keep our insurance from being sky high. I may or may not be a bit accident prone when behind the wheel. I tell him it's because he's obsessed with me. He always huffs a laugh and murmurs something about two things being true at once.

The Pitt makes sense. Ever since Jack started taking on more day shifts to balance out our conflicting schedules, a lot of times we are arriving and leaving here together. But on the off chance we are not, he is still picking me up. Always with some kind of treat in hand - usually a McDonalds Diet Coke much to Jack's dismay.

Jack takes the saying 'If you're not early - you're late' far more seriously than anyone I have ever met. The day shift typically gets off at 7 PM which means he is usually here to gossip with Robby on the roof by 6:35 PM.

“Go - take a case! He’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.”

My dissents are quickly met with Dana shooing me from the nurses station and personally squaring my shoulders to the board.

I haven’t even read the first name when Robby appears at my shoulder.

“Where is your fiancé?”

“Say that any louder and you’re going to be my next patient.”

“Yeah because you two are so inconspicuous with the whispering and the giggling and the big honking rock on your finger and the-“

“-disappearing to 'clean' the on-call room.” Dana finishes Robby’s sentence as they both double over in laughter.

Dana, Robby, and Collins are the only people in the ED that know about Jack and I’s relationship.

Collins knew I had feelings for Jack before I even let myself go there. Robby knew Jack had feelings for me before he let himself go there. So they took matters into their own hands.

Collins had a $100 on Jack breaking first. Robby $100 on me. And he had an extra $100 to spare when he bribed Dr Ellis to ask me to take her night shift for a week. Oh, how that backfired on him.

Three shifts later and Robby was $200 in the hole.

Six months later, I was moved out of my city apartment and into Jack's house.

Dana offered to drive me home after shift one night. Because it was cold and rainy and my apartment was close by. My apartment that I no longer lived in.

Jack wasn’t picking me up - he was out of town at a conference. I insisted on taking an uber, the bus, walking - anything that meant not explaining to Dana why my new address was the same as Dr Abbot's. She wouldn't take no for an answer and yelled "Oh, I knew it! Bridget owes me $100!" when I finally fessed up.

One year later, almost to the day that Robby had to pony up on his bet with Collins, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

Tonight, after he picks me up, Jack and I are going to pilates together.

It was only a matter of time before Robby and Collins gave it another go and I bet Jack that Robby would fold before Collins.

What's the point in betting money when we share a bank account? Seeing Jack in the pink pilates grippy socks he does not know I got him will be priceless.

“Well, when you find him please tell him that he is late for our date on the roof."

"Stop dragging him up there - you already have a date tonight!"

"Yeah, one in which I need his advice on."

"Oh please, you're talking to the wrong Abbot if you need advice on how to woo Collins." Dana interjects. Not everyone in the ED knows about Jack and I but they do know Heather and I are best friends.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you two had tied the knot already. Do you want me to change your name on the board? I can do that right now actually. Does HR know? It'll just take a moment-" Robby teases.

I grab the remote out of Robby's hands as he laughs, "Okay fine - go have your little roof date but do not take long!"

"Well, we'd already be done if he wasn't late. Where is he by the way? He is never late for anything.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I step forward, my elbows on the counter of the nurses station and my head now in my hands as I groan.

“Relax. It’s Jack - we couldn’t keep him away from this place even if we wanted to. Especially with you in here.” Robby squeezes my shoulder and is off to what I assume to be the roof.

I check my watch before I stand back up to scan the board for real this time - 6:50 PM.

Where is he?

I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s no new message from Jack lighting up my home screen but I open up our conversation anyways.

From Jack: I miss you

From Jack: I can’t believe Langdon is getting to hang out with you right now and not me

From Jack: If you stay at that damn hospital any longer we’re gonna have to start forwarding all these packages you order there

Little does he know one of those many packages holds his new pilates socks.

To Jack: Oh please - as if more than half aren’t all your little go bag gadgets

To Jack: And to think our colleagues think I’m the drama queen

“Incoming - Trauma 1!”

I’m happy for the distraction. I’m gowned, gloved, and ready to go before the patient is even rolled in.

The doors to Trauma 1 fly open - but not with a patient. Just Dana.

“I’m going to get Robby! You should not have to do this.” Dana is staring pointedly at me before she’s off. I don’t even get a chance to respond.

Weird. I know I’ve only been an attending for a couple months but Dana had more confidence in me on my first day as an intern than she did just now.

I now understand why as the patient is rolled in front of me.

There he is.

Unconscious. Cold. Clammy. And slightly bloody from a small cut on his forehead.

My world stops.

“Heart attack.” Langdon is here.

Somehow all I can think of is Jack’s text from earlier. I want to laugh but I can’t. What if I never get one again? I’m supposed to see him in pink pilates socks tonight. Not in a body bag.

“CLEAR!”

Suddenly all the pieces from the past couple days are coming together and I cannot believe I didn’t catch it sooner. Can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner!

“CLEAR!”

His dizziness. The increase in massages of his amputated leg. The quick heart beat. The rash.

I hear the commotion around me. But I’m not processing any of it until it’s directed at me.

“I said CLEAR! Move!”

This cant be happening. So I decide that it’s not going to.

“No!” My voice comes out way more feeble than I meant. Way more feeble than anyone in this ED has ever heard me.

“Well I hope you enjoyed being Abbot’s favorite because you’re going to kill him and your career in one go.”

“Langdon - he is not having a heart attack.”

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t - take off his leg!”

“Take off his leg?! Okay, you’re literally going insane. And I’m supposed to report to you?! I know I went to rehab but oh my gosh - CLEAR!”

“I’m going to clear you out of this trauma bay if you do not get out of my way.”

You know how they say a new mom could lift a car off of her new born baby? I’m pretty sure that’s the phenomenon I am experiencing right now. I don’t exactly know what other worldly force is taking over me right now but I do not question it. I am watching myself from outside of my body as I spring into action.

I shove Langdon to the side as I lift up Jack’s pant leg to remove his prosthetic. The prosthetic that noone else in this room would’ve known he had.

He doesn’t keep it a secret but he doesn’t exactly advertise it either. Especially when he refuses to sit down on a double shift. Ironically enough, that’s probably why he is on this table.

I spot what I’m looking for immediately but Langdon is the one who speaks it out loud, “Pressure ulcer - he’s in septic shock.”

“Thanks for finally using your brain Dr Langdon but we’re going to be using mine from here on out.”

“Blood ox is 91.” Someone yells. I don’t know who. What I do know is that 91 is dangerously low.

“Scalpel.” I demand.

“What are you going to do?”

“We need to drain this fluid before his organs start to fail.”

The first and only time Jack taught me this procedure it was his save. Now it has to be mine.

I tell myself that one day we will be sitting in front of our engraved fireplace. Old. Like, actually old. Not the fake old that Jack tries to pretend he is. With kids and grandkids - telling them the story of how Jack saved his own life through the transitive property. So I better get to work.

“Scalpel. Now.”

Langdon slams the scalpel into my hand. I ignore the looks around the room. The looks that say ‘The only person qualified to perform something like this in an ED is the patient’.

“Your funeral. And his.” I ignore Langdon.

I must have cut the most perfect incisions of my life. Performed the most flawless procedure anyone has ever seen from me. I don’t remember any of it.

The loud beeping slows. His blood pressure rises. Then his blood oxygen. Then the bag I drained is full and being disposed of by Dana.

When did she get here?

Robby’s hand is on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.

When did he get here?

I hear him tell Whitaker to get a suture and close up the wound. Oh, the irony. Credit where credit is due - Whitaker has gotten much quicker under Jack’s patient teaching. Thank fucking goodness.

I think of the first real laugh I got out of Jack. My eyes start to tear up but I stop myself. I will hear that laugh again. Over and over and over again. So much so that I would get sick of it if that was even possible.

Robby is apologizing profusely into my ear. He has nothing to be sorry for. But I can’t manage any words. So I just let him move me out of Whittaker’s way but I do not leave Jack’s side.

I can’t seem to register anything beyond Jack’s face that I’m seemingly trying to force into consciousness with my stare alone.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

My head turns to Whitaker at his question but it swivels so fast back to Jack I think I give myself whiplash. Because I don’t speak - he does.

“Solid work, doctor.”

I’ve never been happier to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh my god.” My hand clamps over my mouth as my head dips to Jack’s chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

My adrenaline tank plummets to zero and I am absolutely sobbing into Jack’s chest. Whatever was coursing through my veins during that procedure is coming out in what feels like gallons of tears and hiccups.

I don’t care who’s in the room. I don’t care that everyone is slack jawed and staring and so beyond confused. I don’t care that out of the corner of my eye I see Perlah slapping a $100 into Princess’s palm.

All I care is that Jack’s hand has found its way into my hair and when I place my shaking hand on top of it to make sure it’s real - it is. Even better - it’s warm and dexterous and alive.

He’s alive and he’s here.

He gently guides my head out of his chest. I lift my chin up to look at him - give him the eye contact I know he is seeking. That we both are.

“Baby - I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is as steady as ever. His heart beat matching it. The beat that was so faint what seems like moments ago.

I let it calm me down. I place a kiss to his chest and lean up to do the same to his forehead. My hand tangles in his salt and pepper curls as I hold his sweaty forehead to my lips and then bring my own forehead down to meet his. I close me eyes and breath him in.

He’s alive and he’s here.

“Welcome back, brother.” Robby manages to choke out through a couple tears of his own.

“Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t getting lazy at the end of your shift.”

We all crack a smile but only Robby speaks, “Does this mean I have to work a double?”

“Not if you go park my car. It’s in the ambulance bay.”

I speak a full sentence for what feels like the first time in days, “You drove here?”

“We had a date. Plus, I wasn’t feeling quite right.” Jack nods down towards his amputated leg like it’s nothing but a minor inconvenience.

I dig into his pocket and toss Robby his keys. Robby calls for a CT and a room with a bed before ushering himself and everyone else out to give us some privacy.

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’d like to make the woman who just saved my life my wife.”

My hand immediately flies to the small cut on his forehead. The blood dry and crusty, “How hard did you hit your head? We’re already engaged.”

Jack chuckles, places his hand on mine and squeezes, “I barely hit my head when I fell out of the car. I’m fine - I just really don't want to live another moment without being able to call myself your husband.”

So we don’t. Not really anyways. I make Jack get every fucking scan in the book that I think we hit our insurance deductible in under an hour. He humors me by lying in the bed in one of the ER rooms as I pump a myriad of fluid and antibiotics into him.

After a few hours his blood oxygen is perfect. So is his blood pressure and his heart rate. I don’t think I’ve taken my eyes off of him once. Or my hands. Running my hands through his hair, caressing his forehead, squeezing his forearm. Just to reassure myself he is here.

He understands what I’m doing. Hears what I cannot say. He grabs my hand on its next pass through his hair and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before speaking, “Baby, I’m sorry I scared you. I scared myself honestly. But I promise, I am not going anywhere. Ever. And I am so sorry you had to go through that. You should have never had to operate on me. I don’t know how you did that. I mean if it was flipped. If I saw you come in like that-“

His voice falters, his bottom lip quivers and he pulls me into the tightest hug as we both begin to cry. I think if we could crawl into eachothers skin, we would.

We stay there like that for a while. Until Jack grabs my face, kisses every single part of it, then whispers “I love you so much but I think if you pump anymore fluid into me you’re going to water board me.”

As if on cue, Robby whips the curtain open, “To the roof we go!”

“You can’t be serious.”

Robby holds up some kind of certificate as Collins and Dana round the corner.

In the hours I spent nursing Jack back to health, I went to the bathroom one time. And only because I hadn’t gone the last four hours of my shift and I own a huge water bottle.

In that one bathroom break, Jack had managed to get Robby ordained online and enlisted Dana and Collins to ‘decorate’ the roof.

We’re still gonna have our wedding ceremony and the reception and the whole ordeal. But I agree with him - I can’t go another second not married to him. Not after today.

So we go up to the roof. Jack still in his hospital gown and me in my scrubs. Robby officiates, Dana sings because she can’t help herself, and Collins ‘witnesses’ which really means crying.

Jack is kissing me before Robby can even say, “You may kiss your bride.”

When we come up for air, Robby claps both of us on the back and says, “Solid work, you two.”

I just kiss my husband again. Because he is alive and he is here

Several characters on “how they love you”

fandoms: twilight, pjo, the mortal instruments, Harry Potter, jujutsu kaisen, supernatural, dc, snk, Dune

several characters x reader

characters: tbh I’m not going to list everyone because it’s too many people I’ll try to tag every character 🤷🏻‍♂️☠️

pronouns: none (everything is gender neutral)

It can be read as platonic or romantic tbh

tw: “soft-dark content”, HINTS (keyword: hints) of cannibalism as a love language, obsession/yandere vibes, hints of religious beliefs, food? But not really

a/n: I’m extremely confused about this one tbh, there’s a clearly dark feeling lurking here but nothing is explicitly stated so I think everyone is safe. That said, let me know if I’m missing anything that need a tw

Their love for you is like devotion.

For them, you are the transcendental force, orchestrating emotions that defy the confines of earthly boundaries—a celestial symphony resonating within their hearts. Your voice, a tender melody, and your words, poetic threads weaving into the fabric of their soul, embody the very essence of a law they willingly embrace.

In their gaze, your image becomes sacred, akin to a deity they venerate. This love is a feverish thing, a raw emotion intricately woven into the core of their being—so profound that even if stripped of everything, the extraction of your essence remains an impossible feat, steadfast and unyielding, present deep inside their beings.

They love you with a reverence akin to a worshipper's reverence for their god, for in your existence, they discover a representation of the divine, a depth that eludes the grasp of mere mortal comprehension.

Jace Herondale, Percy Jackson, Edward Cullen, Severus Snape, Yuta Okkotsu, Luke Castellan, Draco Malfoy, Bruce Wayne, Mikasa Ackerman, Paul Muad’Dib Atreides

Their love for you is like starvation

Before meeting you, they were oblivious to the fact that they were undergoing a forced starvation, a void persisting throughout their lives. They felt this emptiness akin to the most profound hunger, a hollow within them that couldn't be filled by anything. It was like the most absolute hunger, an echo of inner deprivation. Always distant, mere spectators of others feasting, watching without ever being satiated.

Unaware that they were in a sentimental and existential fast, until the moment they found you. Only then did they realize the extent to which they had been denied all these years. Their hunger for you is ravenous, cruel, and unjust. It devours every morsel you offer as if it were a three-star Michelin dish, for it is. Everything you do, everything you extend to them, is absolute in their eyes.

They are ready to accept everything you offer, always grateful, always proud to, at the very least, be receiving something.

It’s beautifully ugly, a feeling that unlocks something from the depths of nature. It's a feeding frenzy that blinds them to their surroundings, a tunnel vision propelling them in its direction and only its direction. They were driven to the raw submission of hunger, elevated to the highest point, where, inadvertently, they became prey to a stronger and relentless predator: the hunger for love.

Clarisse La Rue, Dean Whinchester, Jacob Black, Jonathan Verlac/Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, Harry J. Potter, Ryomen Sukuna, Jasper Hale, Jason Todd, Gojo Satoru, Rika Orimoto, Feyd Rautha Harkonnen

the art style is refreshing, the characters are great, the story is brilliant, and okarun is such a sweetheart *i want him*

i want more okarun fics 😚

you will always have me 'toru 🩵

۞ pairing : gojo satoru x reader

۞ genre : hurt/comfort, very mild smut, aftercare !! set slightly before jjk vol 0, but no spoilers <3

۞ word count : estimated 2.4K

۞ summary : satoru has a bad day, and you make it all wash away with a few tender actions and soft words that he’s never had the pleasure of hearing before.

“satoru…” you muttered against his lips, voice sounding similar to that of dripping honey as it reached his ears.

every mumble of his name had him moaning into the crook of your neck, his hands delicately holding your wrists above your head as he lazily thrusted into you over and over again; desperately searching for some form of release to let go of his pent up worries from the day. “just a little longer, dove… hold on for just a little longer for me, alright?” his lips devoured yours, swallowing the heavenly moans that slipped from your tongue like a dagger.

Keep reading

im gonna cry 😩

The loss of light. (Levi x blind!reader)

Summary: In the battle held against Eren, reader loses their eyes. And as they finally starts getting used to a life without sight, someone unexpected reaches out. Levi Ackerman asks them to move into Marley with him.

Cw: uh since reader goes blind forever here, it might be kind of uncomfortable to read?

"...nothing we can do..."

"...did our best but..."

"... never see again..."

"...sight is gone..."

Gone, gone, gone….

It echoed in your head.

Soft murmurs reached your ears. You quietly listened, laying on your side, curled into a ball. You wrapped yourself tighter and tighter with every word, seeking comfort and shelter from you don't know what. Your eyelids fluttered as you tried to open them.

Were you in a dark room?

You blinked a couple times, squeezing your eyes shut harder with every press, but it felt strange. There was no difference. The darkness only felt more heavy, more suffocating. But there was no escape. Not a single ray of light.

Ah.

You really have gone blind, haven't you?

-

It had been a week since the war had ended. You had returned home along with everyone else, to Paradis.

And this past week, all you've known about the world is from hushed whispers.

You have only heard about how strange Paradis looked without the walls. About the ruins. About a lot of things. You hadn't seen any of it though.

You haven't seen a single thing this seven days. Not Paradis. Not the hospital room you were kept in. Not the doctors or nurses. Not any of your friends. Not even yourself.

You haven't seen a single ray of light. You haven't seen the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars–nothing.

And you were never going to see it ever again.

Darkness is your home now.

You cried the first day, as the nurse helped you to the bathroom. You cried when you stumbled against your own leg and almost fell down. You cried when they took off the bandage of your eyes, dabbing medicine but you could feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You cried the second day when you accidentally asked the nurse why she kept the lights turned off and she held your shoulder and gently explained to you as if you're a little kid. You hated it when she wiped your tears and didn't let you wipe it yourself in case you damage the eyes even more as if it's not damaged beyond repair already.

You cried the third day when you woke up and was unsure if you've actually opened your eyes because there was no fucking difference. You cried when you tried rubbing your eyes and instead felt the starchy bandage.

You didn't cry the fourth day. Nor the fifth day. Or the sixth.

You stopped crying.

It was a strange week. You woke up, a nurse would help you eat food, take you to the bathroom when necessary, give you meds, then you went back to sleep. Day and night made no difference to you.

Armin and a few others came to see you somewhere between day 2 or 3. Armin held your hand and told you to not feel bad. That you had done enough. That your role would not be forgotten. But now it was time for you to rest.

You had laughed, blinking back the tears. You will not cry in front of the kids, you told yourself. Then you congratulated him and blessed him, told him to do his best. That you were so proud of him.

And you couldn't see faces but you could have sworn it was Connie who sniffled and it was Jean who rubbed your back.

And then, nothing.

No one really told you anything anymore. The first few days, you'd ask whoever you can find about what's happening and the latest news. But then you started noticing the annoyed tones and you stopped.

Now you know nothing.

And no one bothered to tell you. Why should they, you were no longer a captain were you?

You were nothing.

It was 2 more weeks later, when you were almost well enough to be discharged and you were used to this new dark world of yours to do basic things by yourself. You were standing by a window, trying to make up for the lack of sight from the warmth of the sunlight on your hands and the fresh air on your face. And you didn't know how you knew but when you heard the click and whirr of something mechanical enter the room, you turned around and smiled.

"Captain."

"Kid."

And after 3 weeks of not crying, you thought you might just cry then. But you swallowed it down.

"You're still gonna call me that?"

"You're one to talk. You still call me captain." He grumbled.

You laughed. It had been years ago when Levi used to be your commanding officer. And then you became a captain yourself. But that never stopped you from calling him by the title, for no other reason than to see him irritated.

"Lost a leg I heard? That why you on a wheelchair?"

"Appears so." Levi had replied in his usual dry tone. Then it had turned softer. "Those ever going to be okay again?"

Wasn't it strange? You thought. How you saw nothing but darkness and yet you can feel his gaze on you. You can picture the exact expression that must be on his face right now, bored, half-lidded, eyes fixed on you, his mouth a straight line. A flat, emotionless face because oh he'd never show you that he cares. But his eyes would be warm and they'd tell you all that you'd ever needed to know.

"Nah." You replied airily. Did he know how bad you wanted to run away from the room right now? You might've attempted it, had it not been for the fact that you can't see shit and you would most definitely stumble and trip over.

You wondered how unpleasant you looked right now. You knew your hair was a mess, you hadn't bothered really taking care of it. And you bet the scars on your face weren't pretty either.

"...forever?" He asked quietly.

"Forever." You confirmed.

And fuck the sun and the moon and the sky.

But you were never going to see Levi and his scowl ever again.

-

It had been one month and you were finally released from the hospital. A nurse followed you for two days, helping you to get familiar with the routes so you could move by yourself. Then you were left alone.

But you were a quick learner. You always were. You figured out soon enough how to live without the existence of light in your world.

And you wondered.

Where do you go from here?

-

You stiffened as you reached the hallway leading up to your room, your hands on the wall. Losing your eyesight had only heightened your other senses. And said senses told you somebody was there, at the end of the hallway, right in front of your room.

"Hey."

You relaxed, a smile quirking up. That voice. You knew that voice. You'd always know that voice. That always bored, tired and monotonous tone of his.

"Pleasant surprise, captain."

He sighed. "For the walls sake, please stop calling me that." He said, almost exasperated.

"Oh, why so?" You slowly shuffled your feet, using the walls to draw a mental map and reached the door of your room. You leaned on the wall beside the door where you guessed Levi was right in front of. "It's meant as a term of respect, captain. Maybe if you just stopped taking it personally?"

"Shut up." He grumbled. "We both know exactly why you call me that. Additionally, you are anything but respectful."

"Now that's just offensive. I only mean the best."

"Fuck off. We're the same rank." Levi paused. "Or at least was." He added bitterly.

"Resigned too, have you?" You asked quietly.

"Not much of a choice, was it? I can't do shit in this state. Plus I'm too old and too tired. Arlert did hope for me to be an advisor but I rejected it."

"Figured. You would've done well though."

"Like I said, I've done my part. What happens rest is up to the brats "

"Mhm." You nodded. "Smart brats though, they'll work it out." You reached for the doorknob, twisting it open. Then you guestured him to come in. "Ah, can you move the chair on your own, or do you need help?"

You heard Levi quietly exhale.

You waited a few seconds. Then sighed.

"You need to learn how to ask for help, you know. I know your hand still hasn't healed. So you could just ask." You told him as you walked over, using your intuition and hands to understand his position. Your hands brushed past his hands before it found the metal handles. You walked behind it to push him in.

"I know." Levi said quietly.

"Just your ego or did you feel guilty cause I'm blind now?" You asked casually. "Also tell me if I'm doing it right, might push you against a chair or something."

"That's fine. Leave it here." Levi replied. You reached behind to shut the door, then plopped on the bed.

"Your rooms a fucking stable, what the fuck." Levi muttered, a hint of disgust in his tone. You chuckled. It shouldn't be too messy, you knew, probably just a few clothes out of place. Leave it to Levi to be dramatic.

"Blind kid here remember? Show some sympathy." You said in mock offense.

You could almost hear Levi's eye roll.

"When are you moving out?" He asked.

"Fuck if I know." You sighed. You knew you couldn't stay much longer in the military quarters. Not when you're no longer a soldier. But you had zero fucking idea where you go next. "I mean, I heard someone saying queen Historia was going to arrange like apartments for the war veterans? Maybe I'll ask for one. Pathetically, like a begger." You muttered the last bit under your breath.

You heard Levi shift in his chair. "You're not pathetic." He said calmly.

"Yeah well." You groaned, dragging a arm over your face."What about you?"

Seconds passed. Levi gave no response.

Another thing losing your sight did was make you overthink every little thing that you couldn't see. "Levi?" You called out warily. "You there?"

You heard the whirl of the chair beside you. "..yeah. I'm here."

"God." You slumped back down. "Don't go fucking silent out of nowhere. I don't like it. Specially not when I can't see shit." It was the helplessness really.

"No. Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." Levi said quietly.

You shifted. The years you spent with Levi had taught you to read Levi like no other. Levi never showed it on his face but..you could always tell when his tone would change.

"What's bothering you?"

Levi shuffled in his seat. Oh something was bothering him alright.

"What's wrong? Seriously." You felt the anxiety rise. You sat up straight. "Please, please don't be quiet like that. It freaks me out now. Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Ask something wrong?–"

"No." You heard some clicking sounds, almost as if he was fidgeting. "No. It's not you."

"Spit it out then, please." You spoke quietly and slowly, carefully choosing the words. There was a strange tension in the room, it made you feel suffocated. And you hated it. As if the darkness wasn't suffocating enough. "What did you want to say Levi?"

Another few seconds passed.

"Come with me."

You froze.

Somewhere in the room, a clock ticked away, synchronized with your heartbeat.

"...to where?" You asked softly after a pause.

"Marley. Come with me to Marley."

Heavy, heavy breaths. The pounding in your heart almost ached.

"...I don't understand."

"I.." Levi let out an exasperated breath. "Onyankapon offered me to go to Marley with him. Start new. And I thought.. since there's nothing left for you here either..so you might want to.."

And for a second you forgot to breathe. You could tell the exact moment your heart collapsed and your lungs stopped working. And you felt the exact moment time stopped around you.

"..you want me to go to Marley with you?" You asked in a quiet voice. So quiet you wondered if he could hear it. Perhaps you hoped he wouldn't hear it. He wouldn't hear the crack in your voice.

"..yes."

You felt your fingers clench the bedsheets. Just something to hold on to, anything. Because God damnit.

"Thought you didn't like having me around?"

"I don't."

"Yeah?" You laughed, a little breathless. "Have you considered the fact that now that I'm blind I'd be ten times worse to have around? Since I basically can't do shit."

"That's your concern?" He asked frustratedly.

"A valid concern. I will not be a burden Levi. I refuse to be."

"Shit, no." Levi huffed. "You're not a burden. And you're not pathetic. And before you even go there, no I'm not showing pity on you. So shut up."

You smiled. "No?" No, you knew. Levi was never the type to do things out of pity. And if that's the case.. "And what are we going to be there in Marley, Levi?"

"What?" He asked in a confused voice.

"We're going to live together as in what? Old comrades?" You swallowed, heart hammering against your chest. "Friends?"

Levi stayed quiet.

And you almost choked then, as the realization hit you. The silence gave you your answer. The last answer you thought it'd be. And there was pain, pain, pain. Everywhere. In your head and your heart.

You wanted it. So bad.

But he deserved better than you, didn't he? Someone who could take care of him, not someone who needed to be taken care of.

But he wants me.

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain along your chest. He wants me.

How could someone like him, want me?

But maybe, just maybe…

Just this once. You'll let yourself be greedy.

"I'll go."

"What?" Levi's voice was breathless. There was disbelief in it.

"I'll come with you to Marley, captain."

And for the first time since then, you let yourself cry. You let tears roll down your face and you let the sobs take you. And this time, when your fingers clenched around the bedsheet, his fingers slowly, tentatively wrapped around yours. And it told you everything he never got to say. All the things he didn't dare say.

And when he gently tugged on you, you didn't resist. You let him pull you to him as you wrapped your hands around him, curling up on his lap. And you cried, hands pressed to your face as your shoulders shook, and you cried because it's the first time you felt safe since you woke up in the dark.

It's okay. It was him, wasn't it? How could you not feel safe with him?

He'd die for you.

Levi and you. Levi and you. Isn't that how it always were?

In the battlefields, in trainings, in expeditions..

When have you ever looked over your shoulder and not found him scowling at you?

Levi's hands ever so gently wrapped around your shoulder, another hand smoothing the stray strands of hair out of your face when you felt his lips press to the top of your head. And it was the lightest whisper but you heard it.

"Thank you." He whispered.

And you nodded. Again. And again.

It's okay. You'll be okay.

He'll always be there.

-

"Levi?" You stood by the kitchen doorway, hands planted on the door. Your fingers flexed instinctively, braced for anything unexpected.

"Right here." He called out, and you immediately relaxed at the confirmation of his presence. You reached out your hand, searching for him. He took it, gently tugging you forwards towards him. You grinned when his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

"Hi."

"Good morning to you too."

"I thought I told you to wake me up before you leave the bed?" You pout.

"Sorry. You looked peaceful."

You laughed hearing his answer. But you tipped up to plant a peck on his lips. Missed halfway though, you could never get the kiss right. "Seriously though. I freak out, you know that."

He let you go, ruffling your hair. "Yeah I know, you paranoid little shit. What, did you think I got abducted by aliens or something?"

"One can never know." You say airily. And though it was meant as a joke, you didn't tell him the real answer. It's everyday you're scared that one day, you'll wake up and he won't be there anymore.

"Go sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

"I think I'd stay around here a little while." You listened keenly to the sounds of his steps, the splatter of oil and something being pieced on the cutting board. Your nose perked up.

"Eggs and bacon?" You guessed as you walked over towards the kitchen counter. You used your hands to feel out an empty spot, then heaved yourself to sit there so your legs dangled.

"I'm feeling generous today, so I made pancakes too. Whatever you're in the mood for." He replied, the sound coming just beside you.

"No wonder why I love you." You beamed brightly.

"Because I feed you?" He scoffed.

"Indeed." You winced slightly when he flicked your forehead. "Hey!"

"Brat." He murmered.

You grinned, rubbing your forehead.

"What's the day like Levi?"

It had become an everyday routine of yours to ask the question. And Levi was never very good at making aesthetic descriptions but he tried. For you.

A lot of things had changed in Levi Ackerman's life. One of them was perhaps this.

He never really cared about the appearance of things. Colors were just colors to him, the sky was blue, the trees were green. That's it. It was you who loved it, you'd nitpick every little detail.

"It's not blue, it's like a pastel indigo you know? With a hint of green? Like, like turquoise I don't know-" You'd ramble and he'd scoff.

You loved everything and anything. All of it memerized you. You swooned everytime you saw a rainbow, got giddy everytime it snowed. And it used to be everyday, you forced Levi to look at the sky "cause it's so fucking pretty today!"

Colors didn't matter to Levi much until he met you.

He didn't care about colors but he cared when they were on you.

He liked the color of your eyes, how it'd change shades in the sun and how it went perfect with the color of your skin. He liked the color of your hair, of your lips, of every outfit you ever wore. He liked how the green of Scouts would look on you.

But it was always you who thought colors are the most wonderful thing in the universe.

Sometimes you'd lean uncomfortably close, squinting in concentration as you observed his face.

"What?" He'd cringe.

"You have pretty eyes." You'd mumble.

"It's fucking gray."

"Not quite. It's like silver but with a tinge of blue. Stormy clouds and moonlight."

He found it cruel that the world took away your only source of joy.

So there he was, every morning, trying to explain the exact shades of color that was on the sky today. One time he accidentally called the sunlight yellow and you were mad offended. "It's golden!"

Levi didn't mind though, not really.

Not when he gets to see the way your face brighten up with every little detail.

"Can I help?" You asked after a while.

"Yeah no. You'll burn my kitchen down."

"Please? I'll be careful, promise." You whined, jumping down from the counter. You brought your hands in a pleading gesture.

"Fine." He muttered. "Do the eggs then."

"Oh but I always end up breaking the yolk."

"Well don't break the yolk. Be careful."

He watched you as you cracked an egg in the bowl. You stiffened up immediately.

"Broke the yolk didn't I?"

"Yes" he snorted. "You're eating that one."

"Sorry. I'm such a mess." You mumbled.

Levi sighed. You got insecure when you couldn't help.

"If you want to help you can go wash the dishes."

That cheered you right up.

His eyes followed you as you practically bounced towards the sink.

That was another thing Levi had to get used to. Your energy.

Levi has always been a kept-low person. He's calm and quiet. Never talked unless he had to. Then you came and you were this big ball of pure chaos and he never knew how to quite keep up with you.

He loved it though, he loved how you expressed emotions so freely, how you rambled on about the smallest things so easily. He loved it all and he loved you.

The loss of light in your world had never changed a thing about you.

He often wondered what it must be like, living in the dark like that. At first, it was strange for him, how you'd always seem to notice his presence before he even entered the room. You'd turn around and give the brightest smile. It was strange how your silver orbs looked straight in his eyes yet he was aware you saw nothing. How you'd hear the smallest sounds, notice the barest shifts in the air.

You loved the rain, and you loved the snow. You said it was nice to at least feel the world every once in a while.

But there were things that always broke his heart as well. How you were always so tense, the way you'd start panicking the moment you reach out and can't find him beside you. Sometimes, you'd be so dazed in doing something or perhaps sleeping, and he'd touch you and you'd flinch or jump on your feet. Then on, he learned gently knocking before entering any room you were in so to not startle you.

You were always the careful one. The on your toes one. You never let your guard down. Back in the scouts, your instincts never failed to impress him. So he often wondered what it must be like you for now, now that you lost one of your biggest advantages. When so much of your life you passed relying on your vision. After losing your eyes, you have only become more tense. One little unusual sound and you'd go rigid. He absolutely hated the helpless look that'd take place on your features when you'd struggle with something.

He hated how you never asked for help.

And he hated how sometimes you'd have nightmares in the middle of the night and you'd wake up, overwhelmed when you saw nothing but darkness. You'd forget the loss of your vision and you'd panic when no matter how much you screamed, you can't seem to wake yourself up. And he had to hold you, he had to calm you down, he had to remind you. And he hated, absolutely hated the look that'd take place after the daze passes and you realize there's no escaping the darkness.

Sometimes, you'd ask about your scars. You'd ask if they were hideous. And Levi would press a kiss on your temple, and that'd be an answer in itself. But yet, sometimes he found you going over the torn tissues of your face, expression scrunching with every feel of the ragged surface around your eyes. He'd always take your hand and press it to his own face, as a reminder.

Then you'd trace his ones. You'd go over the scars that ran from his eye to his chin gently. You remember those, you still had your sight when Hange had stiched them up. But it helps you ground yourself.

A reminder that you weren't the only one.

Sometimes you'd go out, you and him. And before Levi had gotten the prosthetic leg, you used to push him around. It was perfect really, Levi were your eyes and so you helped him move.

And then it was Levi's hands entertwined with yours as he'd guide you around the streets. You liked parks, for the feel of bare grass underneath your feet.

Sometimes Gabi and Falco would join. During then, it'd be Gabi who'd enthusiastically tell you little details of the world around you. And she was definitely better than Levi so he'd stay quiet. "A black cat just passed by and it exactly looked like Mr. Levi, like, like with the scowl and everything-"

Sometimes, Reiner, Pieck and Onyankapon would come visit. And those days, nothing could wipe the grin off your face. You liked it when there were people in the house. You liked it when it was loud.

Levi didn't like loud. But he liked that it made you happy. It made you feel safe in that dark world of yours. It reminded you that you weren't stuck in your own head, you were here, with everyone else.

A lot of things had changed in Levi's life, but he didn't mind.

Not really.

He liked how easily you'd reach out to hold him when you'd lose balance or you needed to know where he was. He liked how your kisses were so sloppy and almost always missed and the way you'd get so embarrassed. He liked how your tense shoulders would relax once you realized it was him before you.

How you trusted him with your life.

A lot of things had changed in Levi Ackermans life.

You had brought love into it.

And he doesn't think he'll ever be able to let you go.

happy birthday 🩵

i love you. i miss you. 5️⃣🩵

There is SO much to look at….