#I'LL GET TO THE OTHER PROMPTS SOON

[kytiit0o]

a lil follow up to this

next

[levemetal]

Day 2: Timeloop / Xiao Qi and Jiu Ge

I am cringe and I am not even free

Feel free to reuse this idea but 24 hours are not enough for me to finish an entire comic. I could have taken the simpler prompt but nOOOOOO timeloop is too tempting. Past me why are we like this

[biblically-accurate-dca]

funtime sunshine

[sunlitlemonade]

for @shinyshammie who gave me a bunch of prompts with damian, jason, talia & ra's. sorry i fixated on the "damian & jason getting pizza together" part & this came out.

Damian is upset. 

Jason is exhausted. 

Exhausted enough, in fact, that he has elected to forgo making his way through the city to one of his places downtown and has decided to settle for the Robbinsville safehouse for the night, which happens to be the nearest.  

He eyes the window he has climbed in through wondering if he should retrace his steps back to his patrol route. It would be easier to handle than this for sure. 

The half-broken, half-lit headboard of the ice cream parlour Dick had taken him to when he was fifteen blinks at him across the street. 

He hadn’t expected anyone here for obvious reasons, it being his safehouse and all, and especially not at this hour. 

But Damian is here and Damian is very clearly upset. 

He clenches his jaw, steps away from the window and takes his helmet off. Whatever. It won't be the first time he will face a situation he feels barely qualified for. 

Damian has his back to the windows but he watches Jason’s shadow move around the couch. Jason comes face to face with him and very vehemently tells himself to remain unaffected by the redness in his eyes. 

He leaves the lights off. If Damian thought that was any sort of blanket of comfort, so be it.

Instead, he goes about shedding his armour and weapons till he is left in nothing but a compression shirt, his pants and socks. Sighing, he plops down on the opposite end of the couch from Damian. The boy is jostled momentarily; the line of his mouth goes further annoyed and unimpressed. 

Jason suppresses the curve of his lips. 

A hazy slant of light from the streetlamp outside filters in through the windows, cutting an obtuse line in the middle of the couch, running to stretch across the coffee table Jason perches his feet on. It remains untouched by either of them, each sticking firmly to their side. 

And Jason has very deliberately, graciously even, let him stay seated near the open windows. He wasn't exactly sure if Damian would want to stick around. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your benign presence?”

“People are pathetic,” Damian answers, looking quite pathetic himself. 

Jason sympathises though because yeah, people were generally pretty pathetic. “True. Doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

Damian bristles, his hand coming to wipe his face in a quick back-and-forth movement to clear the tear tracks. It leaves him looking clammy and further flushed, puffing up like an angry kitten. “If you wanted me to leave you could have just said so.” He would have sounded curt if not for the choked lilt of his voice.

Jason lazily holds his hands up. “Hey, lay off the claws, little man. If I wanted you gone, I would make sure of it.”

He sees a tick on his jaw and the near missable clench of his fists. Damian narrows his eyes at him and intones, “I would have liked to see you try.”

Jason clicks his tongue with a raise of his brow. “I know Talia taught you better than to barge into someone else’s place and talk back to them like that.”

Damian looks chastised before he pulls up straight and lifts his chin in that forever challenging way of his. “Do not bring Mother into this. I will not be thrown out of places.”

“Tch, you miss my point entirely. I can bring Talia into this as often as I like and I don’t want you to leave or to force you out. Do you want pizza?”

The grit of his teeth thaws as Jason speaks and turns to confusion when he poses the question. 

What? He was hungry, okay?

“Well? If you’re worried about vegetarian options, don’t worry. This place has a lot of ‘em,” he assures him, wondering if he could offer him anything else to wear. His Robin suit seemed comfortable and efficient, sure, but it could feel better to be in something softer and more…. mundane. Or maybe he felt better with an armour on. 

Damian blinks at him once, twice, thrice before he blurts out, “I was angry at Father.”

“Mhmm.”

“I didn’t want to go to Bludhaven right now.”

Jason opens his phone and thumbs his screen to scroll through his contacts for the pizza place. “Yeahhhh.”

“So I came here.”

“Cool. Listen, I just want to know— yes or no? For the pizza. There's a really good one with mozzarella, mushrooms, olives and caramelised onions.”

“You’re remarkably bad at this.”

“If you wanted Dick, you should have gone to him. I’m not him.” 

“Evidently,” Jason wasn’t sure if that was an appraisal or insult, “Tell them to substitute the mushrooms with tomatoes and add some feta.” 

Now that was something Jason could work with.

[yeonban]

I was thinking there aren't enough memes catered to third parties on this site (ex. two muses talking about a third) which imo make rp flow so much smoother sometimes bc it feels more realistic for interactions to not start & end at only the two people directly involved, but then I realized... blud, you have a meme sideblog. You can literally make your own dreams come true

[lookinghalfacorpse]

omg i didn't realize you were the author of itwall that is one of my favorite fics and i find myself rereading it so often!

holy shit ty :) itwall is my baby, and you can tell because most things i've written after it have been alternate versions of the same plot LOL. it means a lot to me that people are still discovering it and that folks like yourself go back to reread it.

i'm working on a novel right now and i went back to everyone's comments, made a list of what you liked, and tried to develop my own plot that includes a lot of those things. everyone's kind words have meant a lot !!

[apatheticsunday]

Single Dad Dead on Main

AKA "Danny is the ghost-equivalent of a foster parent for de-aged Dani and Dan. Jason's just wondering who the hell these two feral meta children are." prompt idea!

Danny thinks he's doing an okay job at being a single dad of two. They're living in a quaint two bedroom apartment in Park Row, he's managing his Ghost King money well, and the kids haven't died (again). (He's definitely not getting a "World's Greatest Dad" mug anytime soon, but, hey, at least the house hasn't burned down yet!)

...Until he wakes up from his nap to an eerily silent apartment.

If there's one thing he's learned over the last few months, it's that silence is not good. He's scrambling off the couch fast enough to give himself a headache, practically flying down the hallway so he can get to the kids' room. Ellie is wedged halfway under her bunk bed. Dan's also squished under the bed but quickly squirms out when he realizes Danny's standing in the door way. He's holding... a socket wrench??

"...do I want to know what you two are doing?" Danny deadpans.

Ellie scrambles out as well, smears of something oily on her cheek. For a seven and eight year old, they have surprisingly convincing I'm innocent! expressions.

"I dunno," Ellie singsongs while Dan simultaneously barks, "Nothing!"

Danny squints. The kids squint back. Yeah, there's definitely something under the bed that's not supposed to be there. Since Dan's holding a wrench (and where the hell did he get that?? Danny doesn't even own any tools aside from maybe a little rubber mallet he found in the hallway closet), Danny hopes thinks it's not an animal.

It takes a minute of arguing in which Danny promises not to be mad, let them eat ice cream, and let them stay up an hour later than curfew for the kids to even let him near the bed without biting him. (Jokes on them, the ice cream is sugar free and Danny's going to reset the clocks to an hour before. Check and mate, bitch! Parenting is so easy.)

And then Danny pulls out... a tire. No, a rim. Two tire rims. Oh, Ancients. Engraved on the tire rim is a red Bat symbol. His stomach nearly drops to the floor; everybody in Crime Alley knows what the Red Hood's symbol looks like. "Eight Heads in a Duffle Bag," Crime Prince of Gotham with a gang big enough to take over all of Park Row. And yeah, Danny could easily beat the guy, but that doesn't mean he wants to. He doesn't want to uproot Dan and Ellie from their schools, move cities, run from yet another organization that wants them dead.

"How did you get this?" Danny asks, utterly dumbfounded.

"I dunno," Ellie says, just as Dan's saying, "Nowhere."

(Danny takes it back. Parenting is definitely not easy.)

"Danielle. Daniel. Where did you get these tire rims?" Danny asks again, more stern this time, to which he only gets shrugs. And that's when he notices the window is open and the screen his missing. "You're kidding me. Did you climb out the window? We're on the third floor!"

"We flew, duh." Ellie rolls her eyes, only shooting a wide-eyed, guilty look to Dan when he elbows her with a vicious shuddup!

"I-okay. Here's what we're going to do. We'll... just return the rims. It's not like the Red Hood saw you two steal them-," Danny stops when Ellie and Dan give each other a side-eye. He knows that look. It's the same look he and Jazz used to give each other when they had a silent agreement about something. Oh, no. No, no, no.

"...he didn't see you, did he?"

Another side-eye look. Oh, Ancients. At least there's no way the Red Hood knows where they are, right?

(Jason stares at the kids playing with his bike. He's not stupid enough to think they couldn't have been paid to sabotage it, but the way the little girl hikes herself up onto the seat and pretends to rev the engine makes him think otherwise. It's cute. The boy mostly seems interested in the engraved bat symbol on his tire rims, scraping at it like it's a 3D decal.

"I wanna be a bicycle-rider when I get bigger. I'll wear the jacket and everything!" The little girl laughs, deepening her voice before saying, "I'm a bicycle-rider! I'll beat you up!"

Jason snorts. He's leaning against the fire escape balcony overhead and it's dark enough for them not to see him, but they both freeze at the soft sound. When nothing happens, the kids relax again.

"It's a motorist, stupid. C'mon, help me take this off and I'll build you one."

"You wanna take the tire? Why?"

"'Cus of the symbol! It's the Batman symbol, do you know how scared people are of 'em? Show 'em this and nobody'll mess with us."

The kid's got a point. Crime Alley knows Red Hood's symbol like the back of their hand, but somehow Jason doesn't think rolling around a tire rim is going to have the same effect. Jason's about to step in when the kid bends the fucking metal with his bare hand. His fucking bike. It looks like the kid barely broke a sweat, too; just wiped his hands on his jeans and started prying apart front of his motorcycle.

Jason's voice is more biting than he means for it to when he shouts, "Hey!" He swings over the fire escape, landing with a heavy thud, before hauling ass towards the kids. Almost immediately the boy yanks the girl behind him and snarls... and his eyes go Lazarus-green. Jason stops abruptly. His voice is softer, gentler, when he tries again.

"Hey, kid. Don't you know not to go tearing apart people's bikes? C'mon, at least do it the right way."

That makes the boy pause, looking momentarily baffled and the green turning into bright blue. Jason takes that as an in and says, "Y'know, it's a lot faster when you use tools. I've got a wrench in my bag. If you use it like this..."

Jason spends the next thirty-five minutes helping the kids steal his own damn rims. He shouldn't. But he's curious about who these meta kids are and they're almost painfully easy to talk with, they just blabber like they've never heard of keeping a secret before in their lives. They talk about their dad, school, their favorite tv show. And then they talk about "the bad men" and Jason's stomach drops. "The bad men" who drive white vans, capture people, and experiment on them. And that sounds an awful lot like a meta-trafficking ring in his city, dead set on coming after the kids and their dad.

Then he's very, very grateful he's letting the kids take his rims home. After all, what Bat doesn't put GPS trackers in their symbols?)

[todoriin]

can call me obsessed | phainon x gn!reader

clingy, sad, soppy phainon, fluff, sfw, unedited, modern!au

phainon: Good morning baby! phainon: Thinking of you :( phainon: I hope you have a good day!

phainon: I just walked by a cafe that you would like phainon: We should go soon!

phainon: Goodnight my love :> phainon: Sweet dreams phainon: I hope you're sleeping well phainon: And on time phainon: Don't stay up, ok? phainon: I love you

For nearly a week and a half, Phainon has been texting you relentlessly. After you had told him you needed some space, that you weren't feeling like a priority to him and needed a break to gather your bearings, he had agreed with barely concealed disappointment, looking as if you had torn his heart out and stomped it flat.

Phainon was always someone who had one foot in many doors, an overachiever of sorts, and for how busy he was, he did try his best to accomodate and spend time with you. However, one person can only stomach so much before other things start feeling arbitrary, and after many rain checks and late meetups, you didn't want to be the thing to hold him back and drag him down.

You didn't want to lose him, and you still loved him dearly, but sometimes love is not enough. You needed time to see if this relationship was something you and him still wanted.

"You're not breaking up with me, right?" He asks through a wobbly frown, eyes silently begging and saying what he didn't after you proposed some distance from each other.

"No, I just- you're a busy person, Phainon, and I'm not feeling like a priority right now, or like you even want to be with me," you reasoned.

"What? You've always been a priority to me, and I do want to be with you, I don't want anyone else but you!"

"You say that, but it's difficult to believe when it feels like you've put me on the backburner."

"I'm sorry, I'll do better, we can work through it, I promise!"

"It's not your fault, Phainon, life gets in the way sometimes. I just need space to figure things out."

"I don't want space," he frowns, holding your hand even tighter, refusing to let you go. "I especially don't want space from you."

"Phainon..."

"What can I do to fix this?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Give me some time, I'll... I'll let you know when I'm ready."

Eventually, he relents, but he voices his resistance and asks for one last kiss for the road. You grant it, and he pulls you in and breathes you in like air, as if you were the oxygen he needed before diving into deep waters and swimming against tough currents, even refusing to let you go for a moment so he can sneak more than just one kiss, pressing his lips against yours again and again.

He lets you go after that, staring at you like a kicked puppy as you walk away.

You never said he couldn't text you, so here you were, reading multiple texts that he sends a week, most of them detailing how he was thinking of you or missing you. It seems as if you occupied a lot of space on his mind, and he was determined to let you know whenever you did.

You would offer a reply here and there, and he would respond with great enthusiasm, trying his best to keep the conversation going; to prompt more out of you.

phainon: [ photo ] phainon: Look at this cute dog I saw! He had a little hat! phainon: You would have loved him haha phainon: Wish you were here phainon: ... phainon: Like. A lot

At the end of the day, you've realised how much you wanted him around too, and it was tough being without him. It seems as though he feels the same, if the texts were anything to go by.

you: can we talk?

For some reason, he doesn't respond within a close time frame this time. No, your message is left on delivered for a while, and you're left wondering if you've really messed up this time, or maybe you're too late and Phainon is finally fed up. Maybe he realised he deserved better than what you could give him.

Half an hour later, the doorbell to your apartment rings, and it's Phainon's voice that comes through the intercom.

"I'm here," he sounds breathless through the speaker, and you're so overwhelmed by the suddenness of the situation that all you can do is mutter a small 'come in', and hear him slam the door behind him.

You wait by the entrance, slightly nervous as you bite your nails. Why didn't he respond to you? Did he drop everything to come to yours?

A barrage of impatient knocks attack your door.

"Take me back," he pleads as soon as you open it. He has a big bouquet of flowers in one hand and his heart in the other, offering both to you with great desperation.

There are subtle deteriorations to his appearance- his hair is slightly matted, as if he has been running a hand through it, there are barely noticeable eyebags on his perfect skin, along with a few blemishes, and his cheeks are a little sunken. It seems like he hasn't been taking care of himself since you last saw him.

You forgot why you even asked for space in the first place.

Soulmates is a concept made by people trying to justify love and wholeness that being with someone brings you, that needed to put a label on this irreplaceable feeling of knowing you love someone and they love you in kind.

The feeling that Phainon brings you, and it's never been more clear that he's the only one for you.

However, in your daze, he has seemingly mistook your silence for rejection, watching your expression remain unreadable with a sense of impatience that creeps up his chest, squeezes his throat, and begs for an answer.

To your bewilderment, he drops to his knees, the bouquet falling to the floor as he wraps his arms around your hips and thighs, face pressed against your lower stomach.

"Please?" He pleads.

"Whoa, Phainon, stand up!" You exclaim, steadying yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders.

He shakes his head with firm resolution. "Not until you take me back, so please?"

"Phainon-"

"- I'll be good, I'll be everything you need!"

"I love you."

That silences him real quick, and all of a sudden he's jumping to his feet and wrapping you in his arms, keeping you pressed close to his chest until there's no space in between you. Then, Phainon breathes a sigh of relief, as if all is right with the world again.

He's all over you as soon as you let him in. When the bouquet is placed on the table, he's clinging to you like no other, laying on your lap and hugging your waist.

You fear he may burst into tears any moment.

The rest of the day is spent together. You go out for lunch, Phainon pays, you stay in for dinner, one that you cook, and things fall right back into place. He tells you about what he's been up to, you ask to know more, and he does the same, listening with great eagerness, and as his thumb rubs circles into the back of your hand, you realise how privileged you are to be loved by him.

When the moon is high in the sky and most of the lights in homes have been turned off, Phainon lays on top of you under your covers, his cheek resting on your chest and arms wrapped around your sides.

"I've missed you," he confesses while your hands run through his hair, untangling any knots they get stuck in.

"I missed you too, I'm sorry for being distant and thank you for being patient," you say. "You're too good to me."

He shakes his head. "I realised you were right, I've always had a tendency to keep myself busy and never give myself a break, I didn't realise how important that was until you brought it up."

"Still, I think there were better and less selfish ways for us to get there, but I appreciate that you were considerate of me, I needed some time to gather my thoughts. I love you."

Phainon presses a lingering kiss to your collarbone. "I love you more, I'm happy you're feeling better now, my love."

You hum happily, but suddenly, he wails very quietly, wrapping his arms around you even tighter. Before you can ask what's wrong, he speaks up.

"Never do that to me again, never ask for space again. If something's bothering you, we'll work through it together," he pleads. "Being without you was like prolonged torture, I don't want to go through that again."

You can't help but laugh softly. "I'm sorry, but I'm here now, right?"

"And I'm not letting you go ever again."

© TODORIIN 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[szatears]

fashion killa, modernau!stack.

summary: as your man, stack knows his role — give you all you want and make sure you're happy.

parings: modernau!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: mentions of sex, established but not specified relationship, descriptions of reader.

notes: short fic based off of this!

"You got your bag, baby?" Stack called from downstairs, sending a quick text back to Smoke. The two of you were in Miami running a few of Stack's errands, and he brought you along for a little getaway from your busy schedule.

"Yeah, give me a sec." You did not, in fact, have your bag, which is why Stack smiled when he heard your footsteps retreat back to the shared bedroom of the villa, finding it on the bed.

Your sandals hit the floor with soft clacks every time you took a step, and you got hit with that feeling of being on holiday, at peace with the world for a period of time.

He glanced up and pocketed his phone when he saw you come down, his eyes shamelessly eyeing up and down your body.

You wore a beige tube top that complimented your skin perfectly, hugging your body in the right places. You paired it with a brown denim mini skirt, your legs on full show, something Stack was down bad for. You chose a honey blonde dyed wig for today, curls neatly styled in.

He let out a whistle as you approached him, twirling you around by your hips. "Who you lookin' this good for?"

"Myself," you winked as you checked yourself out in the mirror.

"I know that's right."

Stack took your bag in one of his hands, the other reaching for yours as he opened the door, leading you to the car.

Ever the gentleman, he opened your door for you, placing your bag on your lap. Just as he was about to head to the driver's side of the cat, you held onto his bicep, prompting him to turn back to you.

"Wassup?" he tilted his head, smiling when you puckered your glossed lips. He bent down to kiss them, his free hand subconsciously sliding up to your throat. He pecked your lips three more times before he pulled away, heading to his side.

"Where are we going today?" you asked as you opened the camera app on your phone, checking your hair and makeup whilst taking some pictures.

Stack pulled out of the villa's designated parking spot, his hand around your headrest as he reversed. "To Bailey's. Smoke said he got something for us. Then we can go do whatever you want."

Bailey was a common name that you'd learnt since getting with Stack. He was one of the twins' closest friends and partner, so you were used to seeing him.

"Whatever I want?" you smirked, looking up at Stack. He looked back down at you with the same expression, nodding his head.

Music accompanied your conversation with him as he drove through the blazing heat, the breeze barely touching you even with the windows down.

Soon enough, Stack parked the car in a spot in a building complex, one you've never seen before. "Give me a second, mama," he kissed your cheek as he undid his seatbelt, leaving the car. You watched as he crossed over to the office in the parking lot, talking to the man behind the glass window.

Shortly he came back, leaning his arm above your door. "You wan' come up with me or you're good here?" He asked.

"It's okay, the air's cool down here, I'll wait for you."

Stack looked around for a moment, his eyes squinting slightly like they did whenever he was on edge. "Nah," he shook his head, opening your door and undoing your seatbelt. "I'on like leaving you alone."

See? Ever the gentleman.

You wrapped your arm through his, your handing resting firmly on his exposed bicep as he walked you through the building with familiarity.

"'Sup, J?" he dapped someone up as you walked through the double glass doors of the complex, heading for the elevator. Once in, he pressed the button for the sixth floor, standing behind you as the doors closed.

You faced the mirror on the wall of the elevator as Stack faced the doors, like he usually did when you were out together. His arm held the front of your waist as you snapped pictures til the door opened.

Stepping out, he turned to you, holding your hand in his. "We won't be too long, baby. Just gotta pick some shit up."

You nodded, happy to even be in his presence.

Once you entered an office like room, he led you to a couch just outside another set of doors. "Sit here, I'll be back in a bit. Don't talk to anyone." He adjusted his belt slightly, the piece he held peeking through his waistband.

"I won't," you rolled your eyes. Stack always thought you had a tendency to be too friendly, and that it led to a lot of problems most of the times.

"I mean it. If someone looks at you, look the other way. I can't keep letting off bullets in people's places."

You laughed as he walked away, remembering the time he let off almost a whole round in a diner because the waiter kept flirting with you, though you merely saw it as 'holding conversation'.

He was back within the next twenty minutes, a small briefcase and white envelope in his hand. "Aight, let's go baby."

Back in the car, Stack put the briefcase in the backseat. He opened the envelope once he did his seatbelt. revealing a lot of cash.

"Here," he handed it all to you after counting it.

"Huh?" you frowned, seeing that it was at least $50,000 in there. "Why are you giving me this?"

"'Cause you look pretty today," he shrugged like it was nothing, opening up your purse and shoving the stacks of money in it.

"Elias," you smiled. "You don't need to keep giving me money. Especially not for reasons like that."

"Girl, I can do what I want," he sassed back, kissing your lips before backing out of the driving spot.

He spoiled you in so many ways, it never failed to bring a smile to your face. Besides, this wasn't his first time doing it anyways. The other night after an intense session of love-making, he emptied the pockets of the joggers he wore that day, handing you about four bands, telling you to "go buy something nice."

He drove with his hand on your bare thigh, humming along to the Tupac songs playing on the radio. Your arm rested on his shoulders, manicured nails scratching gently at the nape of his neck.

"You keep doing that and I'ma park this car, right now," he glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I mean," you shrugged. "You said we could do whatever I want when you're done."

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten @christinabae @junkie05 @gyattttsblog @jackierose902109 @rose-bliss @jexireads @queenofklonnie22 @tatertooted

[bizarrelovetriangel]

captive.

zayne wants to smash but keeps getting interrupted.

wrote the same prompt for this sylus fic. wanted to do one for zayne also <3

starts off suggestive and flufy and ends with smut so mdni. 18+ only. grinding. oral (m and f giving and receiving). creampie. overstimulation.

Zayne traps you against the closed door, wrapping your legs around his hips while his lips devours yours.

He groans as you tug on the strands of hair just above his neck, where your hands are resting as you hang onto him. His ears are as red as his cheeks, and his breaths are heavy as he kisses you deeper.

DING.

Zayne frowns at the phone notification.

Interrupted yet again. It's the third time this week.

It's like the world is testing his patience.

Zayne is finding it harder and harder to keep himself in control.

You two were only saying goodnight to each other, and somehow the parting kiss turned into a heavy makeout session by the door, as neither of you were unable to pull away so soon.

And so his phone demanded attention, letting him know that it's time to head home so he can finish the reports that have upcoming deadlines.

"Alright, I'll be going home now — for sure this time."

"Okay! Goodnight, Zayne."

As you gave him one last goodbye kiss, Zayne used up all his strength to not kiss back as deeply as before. Otherwise, he'll end up on your bed rather than in his home office, where he should've been about fifteen minutes ago, if only he didn't get distracted.

A peck on the forehead should suffice.

For now.

"Goodnight, darling."

Two days later, you and Zayne agreed to have a quick little lunch date in his office in between work hours.

As you ate your meals, you shared all the interesting moments that happened throughout your day so far. Often, you're the one doing most of the talking, as you love to ramble about your Wanderer encounters and mysterious investigations, which you probably should've kept classified, but Zayne is special so he gets to be in the know.

Other times, such as today, Zayne would have some patients that he thinks you'd like to hear about, so they end up being your discussion topic for half of your lunch date.

Somehow, your conversations led to Zayne feeling up your biceps, for science, he said.

He was standing in front of you, between your legs, while partly bent down so that he could properly feel the muscles of your arms.

You've already forgotten why exactly he's doing that in the first place, mostly because the closeness made you forget every thought in your brain, so you're not making any complaints.

You stared at his pretty eyelashes behind his glasses. Suddenly, his eyes darted to yours, and you watched as his pupils dilated not long before his face leaned even closer.

You weren't sure who closed the distance between you two — maybe it was both of you at the same time, equally compelled to press your lips against each other.

Zayne's hands made their way to your face, just underneath your jaw to gently brush his thumbs against your skin, while your right hand traveled to the back of his neck to keep him in place.

He hummed with content against your lips, using one hand to gently adjust your face so he could kiss you deeper.

Neither of you wanted to break apart, taking only seconds to gasp for air before diving back in to each other's lips.

Your face burned along with your body as your heart races. Feeling just as flustered, Zayne reached one hand up to his tie so that he could loosen it, hoping for his body to cool down even just a little bit.

But he doubts it'll be any help. Every part of him has been ignited, and now he can't help but want you close to him.

He kisses you with a little more force that's fueled with hunger while his hands rest on your hips, just for a minute before they started to slowly slide down to your thighs.

Zayne got on his knees in front of you, still positioned between your now-parted legs. He gazed at you with lustful eyes, cheeks burning along with his red ears.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Doctor Zayne, do you have a minute?"

Your eyes widened at Greyson's voice from the other side of the locked door.

You looked at Zayne with shock before reaching for his tie to straigten it properly.

He blinked slowly for a moment before sighing then clearing his throat. His hand brushes with yours to help you fix his tie before responding to Greyson.

"Just a moment please."

You jumped up and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I guess it's time for me to get back to work too. See you later, Zayne. Have a good rest of your day ~"

You held back a grin as you caught his brows furrowing.

Once you reached Saturday night, it was time for your weekend date. This time, you decided to go to a restaurant that contained billiards and arcade.

Before dinner, you two challenged each other with a few round of pool. It's been a while since you two had played it, so he wanted to see if you remember the things he'd taught you.

You did remember most of his lessons and your skills have slightly gotten better, though Zayne still ended up as the winner.

You tried your best, but you didn't mind being the loser because you got to see Zayne do a whole bunch of poses that showed off his figure quite well while playing, so you were grinning a lot at the end of it.

"What are you so happy for?" Zayne asked curiously.

"Don't worry about it. Shall we eat? I'm hungry now."

"Yeah."

Dinner was perfect.

All the ordered food and drinks were delicious, so you two agreed to get dessert as well. There were a lot that looked good on the menu, so you two just chose the top two that looked most appealing.

It turns out.... that wasn't the greatest idea.

Neither of you read the tiny information that came with the pictures because you were so entranced by their appearance.

Your chosen dessert was a cute little ice cream cake that both of you finished only with a few bites.

Zayne's dessert, on the other hand....

"Darling, why are you so far away? Come a little closer."

It contained liquor.

And now....

It's better to go home as soon as possible.

You called for a taxi and the ride home wasn't so bad, except for the fact that your face was hot with embarrassment because the driver laughed at you two when Zayne buried his face on your neck while mumbling things under his breath.

A quarterway through the trip, he ended up falling asleep with his face still on your neck and shoulder, so you had to wake him up once it was time to get off.

You're technically strong enough to be able to carry him, thanks to your intense hunter training, but you're not confident that you won't drop him or make him vomit with all the shaking you will be doing to him. The right thing to do was to wake him up.

Zayne tried to press the correct code to unlock his door, but his hazy mind and slightly spinning vision prevented him from doing so.

It was just like that one time he got drunk from eating one alcoholic chocolate. Recalling the memory made you grin, and Zayne didn't fail to catch it despite his current state.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked with narrowed eyes, and flushed, red cheeks.

"Not at all."

"Liar."

His attention shifted to you, facing away from the door so that he could look at you closely. The distance between you two was so short, you could smell the chocolate and alcohol from the dessert he had eaten.

Zayne leaned down so that his face is only a hair away from yours.

"And since you lied to me.... I might have to punish you..."

His lips suddenly covered yours with enough force for your body to be pushed back, though his hands made their way to your back to prevent you from roughly hitting anything behind you.

One blink and you found yourself trapped against his door, with Zayne's hands roaming all over your figure while his mouth explores yours in such a rushed manner.

"Zayne..."

He groaned against your lips while his hips grinds against yours. You tasted the sweetness of chocolate and the bitterness of alcohol as his tongue clashes with yours.

Forcing yourself to pull away from the intense kiss, you put a hand on his chest and used the other to fix the glasses that had slipped down to the bridge of his nose.

He slightly shook his head and rubbed his eyes, feeling his vision worsening by the second. He was looking more red too, and you're unsure if it's because he's flustered or if it's from all the alcohol. Either way, it's better if he cools off for now.

"Let's go inside and get you some water."

As you turned around to press the security code for his door, Zayne wrapped his arms around your chest to hug you from behind, resting his chin on your right shoulder.

Once the door finally opened, you had to walk towards his bedroom while he was still embracing you, so that was a challenge that took some time to accomplish.

You sat him down on his bed.

"Stay here while I get you some water and the medicine to make you feel better."

Zayne was quick to grab your wrist just as you were about to leave. "Wait, stay here..."

"I'll only be gone for a few seconds, I promise."

He huffs. "Fine. But if you're not back within three seconds, I'll have to punish you."

Somebody is quite intent on punishing you tonight.

Supressing a chuckle, you nodded and patted his head. "Alright."

"One."

"What?! Already?! I haven't even taken a step yet!"

"Two."

"Oh my god — "

You sprinted to the kitchen to fill a glass of water, then you darted to the medicine cabinet for the pill that'd make him sober up, and the one that would make his stomach calm down, just in case.

Out of breath, you returned to his room and found Zayne lying down on the bed, already sleeping and snoring softly.

It was such an adorable sight, you can't help but sit beside him and pet his head.

"So, is this my punishment?" you brushed some strands of his hair away from his forehead. "I get to watch you sleep like a baby?"

You undressed him and put on his pajamas so that he could sleep more comfortably, then you repositioned his body so that he's lying down properly, in a way that won't hurt his back tomorrow morning. Luckily, he didn't wake up from all the movements.

You took a quick shower and got dressed into your night attire before joining him in bed. As you closed your eyes, you recalled his cute drunk expressions, and so you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

You didn't see Zayne for five days due to a faraway mission. On the day of your return, however, you ended up meeting him by accident.

"No way, Zayne!"

His eyes widened as soon as he saw you waving at him, sitting alone on a table at the back of the busy cafe.

He almost ran into a delinquent-looking highschool boy as he quickly made his way towards you.

"Hey, watch it, old man!" the boy growls, but Zayne paid him no attention as all of it are on you.

Zayne set his iced vanilla latte next to your macchiato and took an empty chair, pushed it right next to yours before taking a seat. Your knees touch at the closeness.

"I didn't know you're back already." he gave you a frown. "You didn't tell me anything."

You shrank down into your seat, feeling a little guilty. "We got back two days earlier than planned since we wrapped up everything quicker than expected. I was just about to send you a message right now! See?"

You unlocked your phone to reveal your half-written text message to Zayne, inviting him for dinner tonight.

"I thought you'd be working right now, so I was going to ask you out later."

Zayne relaxed and nodded his head. "I have some time before my next patient's appointment, so I went out to get something to drink. This cafe's latte is much better than the one that the hospital. I had no idea I'd see you in here."

The cafe is not too far from Akso Hospital, and it was on the way to the hunters' headquarter, halfway from the train station. You saw a woman drinking coffee and got jealous, so you got one as well. And now, you're sitting with Zayne as a bonus.

"So, how did your mission go?" Zayne's eyes scanned your figure to see if you had any injuries that required medical attention. "You came back without a scratch this time. I'm proud of you."

You laughed and playfully bumped your knee with his. "So mean! I'm not always injured after a mission!"

"You're right. Not always. For one out of every five missions, you'd successfully return with only two bruises. This time, however, there's not a single scratch on you, so consider it your greatest achievement."

He was on fire today.

"Alright, I get it." you scoff, though you're unable to stop yourself from smiling.

You've only been away for five days but you missed him.

"So, let me tell you about the guy that was behind the whole thing! You're not supposed to know this but I'm gonna tell you anyways so don't tell anyone that I told you."

As you began to ramble about your mission, Zayne tries his best to listen, especially since he genuinely loves hearing about all the crazy things you do at work. You always sound like a cool superhero that fights monsters and saves the day. He'll always be proud of you.

But right now, Zayne can't help but be distracted by.... you.

His eyes studied the features of your face and his fingers want to caress them, so that he could feel your warmth and softness. Instead, Zayne kept his hands wrapped around his cold drink, as if to stop himself from reaching for you.

As you spoke, your legs casually swayed and would ocassionally bump into his. Once again, his hands yearned to feel them. He wanted to run a hand from your knees to your thighs, recalling how it feels whenever he's between them.

And when his mind went to what's in between your thighs, Zayne exhaled slowly before taking a long sip of his iced coffee.

"...and then we discovered their hideout and — Zayne, are you feeling okay?"

He blinked out of his trance as he felt your hand touch his cheek.

"You're so warm and red!"

Zayne held the hand that was on his face.

"I'm alright. I just.... want to hold you..."

Your eyes softened and your thumb gently rubbed his cheek.

For a moment, you two stayed like that without saying anything. Just for a brief minute, it felt like you two were alone, just appreciating each other's presence.

But soon enough, you got a reminder that you were not alone, at all.

"Oops! My bad, old man!" the highschool boy that Zayne almost ran into had passed by right behind him and his elbow accidentally hit Zayne on the back.

After you pulled back from him, Zayne raised one hand in dismissal. "It's alright, no worries."

He then glanced at the time and let out a sigh before turning back to you. "I have to get back to work now."

"Oh, yeah." you almost forgot. "I'll get going too!"

You and Zayne stood up and walked out of the cafe together.

"The dinner that you have yet to ask me about..." Zayne points at your phone. "Send me the time and place. Let's meet up later."

"Oh!" you lit up with excitement, not expecting him to remember the invitation and actually go through with it. "Yeah, I'll send you the details in a bit! See you later, Zayne!"

This time, Zayne made sure to order his dessert carefully, so you two were able to end dinner without worrying about anyone intoxicated.

After getting another plushie to add to your collection, you two returned to his place. As Zayne finished up a paperwork in his office, you decided to take a shower.

The hot water felt so nice, so you ended up being there longer than intended.

So long that Zayne decided to check up on you.

And join you.

"Wha — Zayne!"

"You were taking too long. I need to take a shower too."

It's not the first time you two showered together, so it's not a big deal. Still, seeing him naked out of the blue did get your heart racing, for many reasons.

"Using my shampoo?" you raised a brow, watching as Zayne grabs the purple shampoo bottle instead of the blue one.

"Only because mine ran out faster than usual, for some odd reason..."

"Hmm... that is weird, hahaha!" you're definitely not guilty, at all. "Anyways, let me help you!" you grabbed his arms and forced him to lower down so that you could reach his hair.

Zayne gave no objection and allowed you to play with his foam-covered hair, chuckling at your level of concentration.

A few minutes later, as you're washing off soap from his body, you got the urge to write a hidden message on his back.

With your index finger, you wrote:

'<3 you.'

You grinned at your work despite having no evidence of it.

"If you have something to tell me, say it to my face, not my back."

Zayne turned around to face you, just in time to watch your grin vanish as you became surprised.

"What?! How did you know?!"

He smiled with amusement. "I'm a doctor who knows a lot of things."

"You are such a comedian."

Zayne disregarded your sarcastic reply and held your hands that reached up to his face to pinch his cheeks.

"So are you going to tell me what you wrote on my back?"

"I thought you know it already, Doctor Zayne."

"I do. But I want to hear you say it."

He leaned down towards your face and your entire body became nervous all of a sudden.

"Wow, look at this! We're wasting water! Better turn it off." you tried to run away by moving to the other side to turn off the shower valve.

Zayne didn't let you go easily.

He came up behind you, spun you around and trapped you against the wall, left arm blocking your upper left side and his right hand pressed against the wall, right next to your hips.

"I'm sorry, I can't let you run away again." he whispered before kissing you just under your right ear. "I haven't seen you for days, but it feels longer." He recalled all the times he'd gotten interrupted every time things are just starting to heat up. "I might just have to.... keep you captive."

You failed to come up with a proper response as his words had your mind melting and overheating.

No, it's not just your mind, but your body as well.

As he starts to slowly leave a trail of kisses from your ear to your neck, your heart skipped a beat and your face heated up along with the rest of you body. Your legs weakened, and your core clenched with excitement.

After leaving a couple of marks on your skin, just above your collar bones, Zayne focused on your lips.

Keeping a slow and gentle pace, he kissed you passionately, over and over again, going in deeper everytime.

Once his tongue slipped betwen your lips, your hands moved from his back to his shoulders so that you could pull him closer while simultaneously keeping yourself steady, just in case your knees give out from the way he's making you feel.

Your thighs burned with desire, especially when something hard suddenly poked you.

Zayne moaned as his cock twitched and its tip had grazed your soft, sensitive skin, hot and wet just for him.

"Let's take this inside, okay?"

You vigorously nodded your head and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while he grabbed onto your legs to wrap them around his hips.

At his movement, his cock once again brushed against your pussy and the two of you failed to hold back a gasp from the pleasant wave of sensation that stuck your bodies.

Zayne carried you out of the bathroom and onto the bed, not caring much about his sheets getting wet from your bodies, still slightly wet from the shower.

He sat you down at the edge of the bed and got on his knees, positioning himself right between your legs.

Just then, his phone started ringing.

He freezes, and your mouth drops.

Interrupted again?

This has to be the worst one of all, you thought.

But Zayne ignored it.

His hands went to your legs and parted them so he could make more room for himself.

"Wait, are you not gonna answer that?"

"I told the hospital that I'd be busy and won't be able to get back to them at all. Whatever it is, it's not important."

You are much more important.

Right now, all he wants to do is make you feel good, so that's what he's going to do.

Zayne buries his face between your thighs and his tongue massages your folds, causing you to gasp and grasp his shoulders.

The movement of his tongue increased its pace as he devoured you deeper. He hummed with satisfaction, enjoying how you taste. At last, he finally gets to have you.

He'll be sure to take his time.

He'll make sure every part of you gets the attention it deserves.

No matter how deep, he'll be sure that you feel all of him.

And so, as soon as you reached your climax and squirted all over his mouth, Zayne licked his lips and moved on to your breasts, taking his time to suck each one and leaving a mark near them.

Soon, he led you farther into the bed, ready to get on top of you. However, after seeing his hardening cock coated with pre-cum, you pulled him down on the mattress and straddled his thighs.

Zayne's breath hitched as you lowered your face onto his hips before taking his cock into your mouth. He groans at the feeling of your lips and tongue enveloping and caressing him so tightly, he can't help but thrust upwards just a little.

RING RING RING.

Your eyes widened as your ringtone blared loudly, causing you and Zayne to glance at your phone on the nightstand, right next to his.

Zayne frowned and took a glance at the lit-up screen of your phone.

"Would you like to answer Andrew's call, darling?"

With his cock still inside your mouth, you furrowed your brows and shook your head.

"Are you sure? It might be important."

One death glare from you, and Zayne chuckles and rejects the call. He silences your phone before returning it on the nightstand.

He was just about to say something, most likely a teasing remark judging by the smirk on his face, so you quickly put all of his length in your mouth, taking him as deep as you could. Zayne flinched and threw his head back, grunting loudly while his fingers cling onto the sheets of his bed.

At that moment, he came inside your mouth.

You swallowed as much as you could, though there had been so much that your lips, and portions of cheeks and chin had gotten painted white as well.

Zayne breathes heavily while his cock remains hard and twitching, just like how your pussy is even more wet than before.

He sat up and captured your lips roughly, with one hand on your neck, holding you just strong enough to keep you in place, but nowhere near enough to hurt you.

His kisses are tender and packed with hunger. He only just tasted you, but he wants more. And you're just as desperate, kissing him back just as forceful while one of your hand run up and down his chest, feeling his fast-beating heart.

You slowly start to sway your hips and grind on his thighs, immediately making him gasp. His cock pokes your entrance, demanding to feel you, so you take it and ease it in you.

Zayne rested a hand on the small of your back once you slowly began to move up and down, matching the pace of his lips that dances against yours.

Every part of him wanted to grab your ass and urge you to move faster, but Zayne wanted to take it slow tonight.

He wants to take his time.

He's not going anywhere and neither will you.

Tonight, there won't be any interruptions.

So, there's no need to rush.

You'll have each other for as long as you want, for as long as you can.

When he reached his second climax, Zayne remained inside you. Even when some had spilled out, he continued to thrust into you.

He kissed you as you cried with pleasure, feeling overwhelmed with the euphoric feeling all over your body.

"Just a little more, okay?"

You nodded as a response, barely understanding his words due to your spinning mind. You gasped for air as Zayne gently nudged down on your stomach before going on top of you, aligning his cock against your ass.

He kissed your ear before entering you once again.

Just as promised, he kept you as a captive.

He took his time with you and stopped at nothing until both of you could no longer keep your eyes open.

"By the way..."

Just before you could fall asleep, Zayne, who was lying down next to you, drew something on your back using his index finger.

'<3 you.'

[buckyalpine]

I LOVE what you wrote for the other ideas!!

This is kind of a dialogue prompt

Reader says something like, "do you know how many times I've imagined you fucking me on this desk?"

Maybe she's sitting on Bucky's lap while she works on a mission report or something for the team. Since Bucky hasn't seen reader in a bit, he is being needy and handsy trying to distract her. (Cue cockwarming?)

Eventually, reader slams the laptop shut and puts it away before she says that line. Bucky just like

Sweeps EVERYTHING off desk

(I'm so sorry for the long ask) much love❤️❤️

Not me answering this 2 years later but I'm weaaaak for the lip bite and this idea, immediate yes (and by immediate I mean I know I took forever, I'm so sorry, also I love you)

-

"I missed you so much baby" Bucky purred in your ear, hoisting you up by your hips to wrap your legs around his waist as soon as you stepped off the jet. You'd been gone for over a month in those 4 weeks, Bucky had been nothing but a pouty puppy, waiting for you to come back. None of the missions he went on were enough of a distraction, all he wanted was his perfect angel back in his arms and he finally had you.

"Missed you too, bub" You giggled at his scruffy beard tickling your neck as he nuzzled into your skin, carrying you off for some much needed cuddles. "I already showered and changed but I just have to finish my mission report and then I'm all yours"

You pecked the frown that made its way to his face, your thumb brushing over the crease between his brows.

"But I haven't seen you in so long" Bucky mumbled, reluctantly detouring away from your shared bedroom, taking you to the conference room instead.

"I promise I'll be quick-Bucky what are you-" You squeaked as you felt his cool arm effortlessly wrap around your waist, lifting you up so he could sit in the chair instead, plopping you onto his lap.

"I'll be patient" Bucky gave you an innocent shrug, not willing to wait for you to finish so he could spend time with you. You giggled at his clinginess, opening your laptop and pulling up the file you had to fill out; of course his patience lasts all of 10 seconds before his hands slowly slip under your shirt.

"Bucky, what are you doing"

"Nooothin'" he ignored the pointed look you gave him over your shoulder while he started to needily paw at your hips, slowly making his way up to your waist, caressing your skin. "Just feelin' you"

"I can see that" you shook your head, returning to your report, trying desperately to recall various details while your boyfriends hands continued to wander around. You could barely type out a sentence, squeaking when his cool metal fingers brushed near the top of your breast, tracing along the outline of your bra.

"Bucky"

"Y/n"

"You're distracting me"

"No, You're distracting me" He countered with another shrug, adjusting his hips, the movement causing you to shift right onto his-

"Bucky!"

"What" He gave you an innocent pout as if his thick erection wasn't about to pop out of his jeans.

"Your not so little friend there is about to stab my ass" You snoted, ignoring the way his hard length pressed against you made your stomach flip.

"Help him out then" Bucky smirked with a raise of his brow, "C'mon, it'll help me keep my hands to myself if he gets some attention"

"Bucky-

"Please baby, I promise I'll behave, just let me put it in you, I won't move, no more distractions, scouts honor"

"You're a little shit" You rolled your eyes, biting back a smirk as you got up to pull down your sweats while Bucky unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his cock out. He groaned as he swiped his thick cockhead through your folds, your slick already making a mess between your thighs.

"Looks like I wasn't the only distracted on, huh" He whispered against the shell of your head as he pressed inside, the both of you gasping at the feeling of him stretching you. He was careful to lower you slowly, inching his way until you were perfectly seated on his lap and entirely full of him. "Mpph, fuck you feel good baby, keep me nice and warm, that's it" He nipped on your earlobe while you took a moment to recompose, your tight walls fluttering against his shaft.

"I-have to finish this-" Your voice melted off into a moan, how were you going to get anything done, it had been so long since you'd felt your boyfriends fat cock absolutely rail you, making you cum and squirt till you nearly passed out, his length fucking your brains out until he was ready to fill you, his moans and grunts all just for you while his cock exploded with thick streams of cum that would drip out-

"You won't get anything done if you keep grinding on me princess" Bucky's strained, teasing voice broke you from your train of thought, not even realizing you'd been pushing your hips further back on him, trying to feel more. "You sure you gotta finish this right now?"

"Y-yes" You tried to fill out the next section, your eyes rolling back instead when Bucky adjusted himself, pushing himself till his tip kissed your cervix.

"You sure baby, I can make you feel really good"

"I-

"It's been so long angel, I need you, fuck, need you so bad" The neediness of his voice only set you off further, a gush of your arousal pooling out of you, getting the patch of curls at the base of his cock messy. It certainly wasn't missed by Bucky, his hands holding onto your hips so he could gently thrust his hips up just enough for you to feel the slightest movement. "Please baby, m'so hard, balls are fuckin' full, swear my cock's ready to burst there's so much cum for you-

All it took was you shutting your laptop for Bucky to swipe his arm and clear the table of its contents, bending you over the table while he was still deep inside you.

"Fuck, I needed this!" He growled, grabbing you hips and setting a brutal pace without warning, his head thrown back, the sounds of skin slapping on skin mixing with your moans.

"OH-FUCK-J-AMIE" You squealed feeling Bucky angle his hips to hit a spot that made a mess everywhere, your juices dripping onto his jeans, the material turning darker making him fuck you harder.

"That's it baby, make a mess on me, make a mess on my cock, give me what I've been missing so fuckin' bad"

You were nothing more than a babbling mess letting Bucky take what he needed, your legs nearly buckling from pleasure.

"Wanna see you" He pulled out and handled you with ease as he picked you up and placed you onto the table, throwing your pants off and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He didn't waste any time as he slipped in again, the both of you moaning and he started to move again, your tummy bulging each time he fucked into you. "Missed you so much angel, fuck you have no idea"

"Missed you-t-too" You hiccuped from a mixture of emotion and your building orgasm, a mix of everything making your vision blur with white spots and tears. "Missed you so much, Bucky"

"Cum for me angel, I want it, wanna feel my angel cum on my cock, please-" Bucky's pace stuttered as his cock squirted precum, his balls growing heavy, struggling to hold on, "m'gonna cum, can't hold it baby, give it to me"

"I-I-OH FUCK" You let out a silent scream as Bucky slipped his hand between your bodies, his thumb pressed onto your clit rubbing gentle circles. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, his own ready to shoot from the base of his cock, the tip already dribbling-

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl, so pretty when you cum for me baby, fuck me I won't last, shit-I-FUCKK" The first burst of cum flooded and painted your walls, his cock throbbing so hard it nearly sent you into a second climax, "Hng, it's so much, mmph"

Bucky clung onto you with his face buried into your neck, shuddering as his body shook from the waves of his orgasm. He held onto you, keeping you wrapped up as he sat back on the chair, his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you"

"I love you too but I need to finish" You sleepily mumbled while Bucky shook his head, carrying you off for some much needed proper cuddles.

"You can finish later after we get some dinner in you and two more orgasms and a nice long shower, maybe a massage and THEN you can-"

"You filthy animals" Tony's voice cut through Bucky's list as he stood at the conference door with an amused smirk on his face.

"Oh my god" You kept your face buried in Bucky's neck, the oversized shirt you were wearing covering up what was going on but there was no mistaking what happened with Bucky's jeans around his ankles.

"Couldn't wait 10 minutes, huh"

"Would you?" Bucky didn't even bother arguing back, raising his brow with a smug smile.

"Can't argue with that" Tony nodded with approval, walking off while Bucky cackled without an ounce of shame.

"You little shit" You stayed pressed against his neck, while Bucky carried you off to your shared bedroom, plopping you onto the bed.

"Now about those two orgasms-"

[inkedinshadows]

Brooding, Cuddly Shadowsinger

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you @pey2618 for this one! It was such a cute idea and I love it! I'm always down bad for soft Az. Note: i just finished writing it (it's 11pm here) after a full day of classes, so forgive me if there are mistakes or typos

Prompts: "You're not so scary after all, are you?" + "You're my new pillow now." + reader and az are out somewhere and he is all broody and scares ppl away but when they are home he is as sweet as a marshmallow

Warnings: none! Just fluff

Word count: 824

The party was going well. For you, at least.

When your friend had told you that you could bring Azriel along, you said you would ask, fully believing he'd decline. Instead, he'd agreed to come with you as soon as you mentioned it.

You were sure he was now regretting that decision.

When you were beside him, everything was fine. His hand was on your knee if you were sitting on the couch, on your back when you stood. But whenever you left his side—to get a drink, to dance, to talk with the other guests—it was like a bubble enveloped him. He became quiet, his brows knitted together, and he looked at people as if they might suddenly turn out to be an enemy he needed to fight. Even his shadows were restless, swirling around his shoulders and wings like a dark tempest, calming only when you joined him again and yet never disappearing completely. The all-black clothes definitely didn't help his case.

You couldn't blame people for avoiding him. And when you passed by two girls on your way back from the toilet, you couldn't help but chuckle as you caught a snippet of their conversation.

“I don't really know how she does it.”

“Well, he's very handsome.”

“Yes, but he's terrifying. Just look at him!”

“Yeah, he kinda is…”

You walked up to Azriel, a smile already on your lips. “You're scaring people off.”

His face softened as soon as he saw you, and he shifted to a more relaxed stance, his shadows settling down. But at your words, he frowned. “I'm not doing anything.”

You crossed your arms and looked him up and down. “You're standing here, just brooding.”

Azriel's gaze swept around the room. Some guests quickly looked away from him.

“Why would that scare people?” he asked when his eyes settled on you again.

“Because you're the big, infamous Shadowsinger?” you replied with a teasing smirk. “The High Lord's Spymaster?”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but his lips curled up at the corners. Before he could say anything, you playfully patted his arm.

“Try not to scare too many people, okay?” you quipped. “I'll be right back.”

His expression fell, and for just a moment, he reminded you of a lost puppy. “Why? Where are you going?”

“To say goodbye to everyone.” You were already stepping away, people parting to let you through after a quick glance at Azriel. “I'm taking you home.”

~~~~~~

Not even an hour later, you were back in your room, ready for the night.

Azriel was already in bed. As soon as you slipped under the covers, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. He rested his head on your chest, right on the soft swell of your breasts, his eyes closed as he let out a content sigh.

You laughed softly. “Are you comfy enough?”

He hummed. “Yes. You're my new pillow now.”

You laughed again, shifting just enough to find a comfortable position without disturbing him. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, while the other hand came to rest on the nape of his neck.

Azriel melted in your arms as every ounce of lingering tension from the day left his body. His shadows vanished, and his wings splayed out above the sheets, covering you like a second blanket. You swore he purred like a cat when you began gently massaging his scalp.

There he was—the big, infamous Shadowsinger who had terrified everyone at the party just hours earlier.

“You're not so scary after all, are you?” you murmured. “Those people just didn't know you like I do.”

He nuzzled into your chest, his voice already groggy as he mumbled, “No one knows me like you do, love.”

You smiled and kissed the top of his head. “That's right. Just me.”

With another soft sigh, Azriel settled against you. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his long eyelashes tickling you every time his eyes fluttered.

The party had drained him, despite the fact that he hadn't danced or interacted that much. But being around so many people could be overwhelming for him, especially when in an environment so different from what he was used to. Yet he had still come with you.

“Why did you come to the party?” you asked quietly.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “Wanted to be with you,” he mumbled, the words blurring together.

He was adorable. Utterly, sickeningly adorable.

“Go to sleep,” you murmured. “I love you.”

You felt his small smile against your skin as he whispered, “Love you too…”

You continued stroking his hair, holding him close to your heart, right where he belonged.

To others, he might be scary. Terrifying, even. The Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, the one no one truly knew.

But to you, he was this—a sweet, cuddly male who needed the comfort of his mate's embrace.

To you, he was just Az.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[nightingale-prompts]

After Image AU- DCxDP prompt

"Do you hate me?" He asked rolling to face Danny.

"No." Danny said simply "Go to sleep."

They had found shelter for the night, it was only temporary though. It was an old abandoned church next to a cemetery.

"But it's all my fault."

"Hush. Hating you would be the same as hating myself."

"They could have separated us."

"That would have killed us both. I may not like sharing a body but we are meant to stay together."

Danny knew they were wrong. That's what happens when your conciseness was split in two. One remained alive the other dead. They had the same memories and emotions but they were so different. The other's logic just diverged when it came to ghosts vs mortals. More then that neither knew who was the original. If there even was an original. Maybe the Danny from before no longer existed and the split made them imprints of what was no longer there.

Now they were Danny. They both had to believe they were the original. Because if they weren't...what were they.

But after everything that happened at least they weren't alone.

"We ruined everything"

"We survived."

"I miss them."

"I'll protect us."

That's all that matters anymore. Survive.

They weren't heros or villains. They were just victims of a situation they couldn't change. They had to figure something out soon though. Gotham was their best bet so far. If there was anywhere where they could live normally it was here. They disagreed about how to do it though.

"Being a goon for a bit might get us enough money."

"And what? We won't be able to get out and who's going to hire a 16 year old?"

"Plenty I bet. What is your plan then?"

"Maybe join the league. We have powers and-"

"And what? Study us? Separate us?!"

"You don't know."

"You don't either."

So who could they go to? They looked like they were nothing more than a homeless mentally ill teenager. Talking to himself wasn't helping his case. At this rate they'll end up at Arkham.

[muzzlemouths]

hey guys. earlier today my mom and dog (Samson) were attacked by someone's off leash dog at the park. My mom had to physically wrestle the other dog off of Samson and as such got banged up. she's already gone to the emergency room and cleaned up with shots and shit so she'll be alright, thankfully. We're at the emergency vet with Samson right now.

She managed to get the dog owner's license plate and we're going to file a report to have him pay the bills for this but who knows how successful we'll be or how long it will take.

My mother is already homeless living out of her car and she can't afford to be saddled with bills like this and I don't have a consistent enough income to offer her nearly enough support on this, so I'm swallowing my pride and asking for help.

I can't open my commissions yet so I have nothing to offer immediately but I'll open requests when I get home and at least see if I can get some small prompt oneshots out in thanks.

I'll update this when we know for sure how much it'll be costing us and just to update you guys in general on the situation. Thankfully Samson is doing alright as of right now (we got the bleeding to stop) and is just trying to rest until the vet tells us what happens from here.

I know times are rough right now so I'm not expecting everyone to give and I completely understand if you can't. Please don't donate if it would put you at risk or if you need the money yourself. I'm only asking for spare change, here. I don't want to put anyone in a bad spot.

Either way, thank you for your support, be it financial or just in general. This happening so soon after having to put our other dog down is obviously putting enormous strain on everyone. With any luck we'll get out of here soon with an affordable bill and a healthy dog.

Thank you thank you thank you

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Nanny Wilson

Little Danny is almost lost in the mall when his parents suddenly run too fast in an attempt to catch up a ghost that their equipment has detected. Young Fenton is not a crybaby at all, but being alone without daddy and mommy is a little scary, so he begins to whimper and run around, trying to find familiar features in the blurry figures around him. Finally, he bumps into the thigh with a gun. It doesn't look much like an ectoblast, but dad is always inventing something new, so Danny quickly hugs this leg as hard as he can and begs loudly.

Danny: Daddy! Don't leave me! Slade: What the hell… Boy, I'm not your dad.

Danny blinks a few times and realizes that this man really doesn't look like Jack.

Danny: Oh. I'm sowwy. Can you help me find my daddy?

Slade: What makes you think I'm going to do this?

Danny: You have a gun and dad has a gun, so you're good. Are you here to hunt too? Slade: Something like that...What's your father's name, kid?

Jack: Danny! There you are!

A huge figure in a hazmat suit rushes towards them and Danny notices that his new friend is hastily hiding the weapon. To cheer up the man who is obviously meeting Jack Fenton for the first time, Danny smiles broadly. Dad may look scary, but he doesn't steal other people's toys.

Jack: Oh, thanks for looking after him. Our goal turned out to be too fast and we didn't even notice when our boy started to fall behind. Slade: No problem, colleague. Maddie: ? Danny: Kind uncle is also a hunter. Maddie: Oh, that's great! Em, sorry, but is there any chance that you have a time to look after our boy for a few days? We'll pay you well. You see, he rarely trusts people so quickly, and we absolutely do not have time to look for a replacement for our old nanny, and we really need to complete the last project as soon as possible.

Looking at the giggling boy trying to see if there are any other interesting things on him, Wilson decides that this will not be a bad experience in case he decides to establish a relationship with his found daughter.

Slade: All right, I'll take your order.

~~~About ten years later~~~

Danny, who is much more familiar with death than in canon, after being freshly ghosted: Damn, nanny will be so mad at me.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey, Slade. Do you want me to show you something cool? Slade: Not now, kid, nanny is cleaning up. Danny: Yeah, about that. *makes a corpse go through the ground* Ta-da! Can we talk now? Slade at the first second: *Surprised Pikachu face*. Slade when he notices a strange glow around Danny, like from ectoplasm in the lab of the boy's parents: >:( … >:( … >:( Danny: S-stop it!

~~~~~ Slade: And take out the bloodstains from those shirts too, they're my favorites. Danny: Oh dude, have you heard that child labor is illegal? Slade: Whoever doesn't help uncle Slade doesn't get a new knife for Christmas. Danny: Pfff…Now I'm my own weapon, come up with something new or I'll find myself a cooler mentor. Slade: Jackanapes!

~~~~~

When Wilson stumbles upon a distraught runaway Robin, he sincerely tries to take care of him as well as he took care of Danny. Deathstroke is an experienced babysitter, so there shouldn't be any problems with vigilante child being around on his missions. All children love knives, workouts and guns, right? Plus, staying alone when they are upset, as Jazz says, is unhealthy.

~~~~A few days later~~~~

Dick's thoughts: He wants to make me his evil sidekick, oh no! Wilson's thoughts: What's wrong with this kid? Batman so fucked up? Wayne needs to be stripped of his parental rights. I'm calling Jazz.

~~~~~

Wilson, who does not understand that he has been hanging out with Fentons too long, looks with perplexity at Grayson, who's running away from flying pieces of Maddie's pizza, then shoots some pepperoni and sits down at the table. It's going to be a long way. Poor boy.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fenton family is visiting Masters for the first time. Vlad tries to flirt with Maddie and then pretends to be good-natured while getting to know Danny.

Danny: I know 54 ways to kill you with this fork. If I were you I think I'd watch my mouth. Jack: He's joking, V-man. Danny: I'm not. Jack: He's just like his babysitter. They have such an unusual sense of humor. I think our boy really likes you! Usually Danny is too shy to talk like this with strangers. Vlad: Babysitter? Maddie: Yes, Mr. Wilson helped us out a lot and often did not even take payment. He's an angel. Vlad: I think I've heard that name somewhere before... Jack: Ugh, I want to introduce you anyway! Danny: Me too. Jack: Great. What about Wednesday? Danny: Dad, uncle might be busy. Let me ask him when he has time to, um, pay your old friend a visit.

[thepencilnerd]

Your Man

thank you very much to @ananonymousaffair, @clubsoft, and @letsgobarbs for including me in the 𝘈 𝘋𝑂𝘊𝑇𝘖𝑅 𝐴 𝐷𝘈𝑌 writing event <3 i cannot wait to dive into the pieces written by my fellow writers (check out the full post for every tagged gem!) prompt: "I think to be so dumb must be nice." | colour: black 🖤 pairing: jack abbot x f!resident reader summary: You and Jack have been bickering your way through night shifts for ages now—until two flying trays, a stitched-up hand, and one too many almost-confessions turn everything into something neither of you can ignore. content/warnings: enemies to lovers (all the banter, jabs, & sarcasm), slow-burn, emotionally repressed idiots to emotionally repressed idiots in love, depiction of harassment towards healthcare workers, protective!reader & protective!jack, fluff, angst, Robby being done with both of you wc: 5.2k a/n: i def could have gone a certain direction *cough cough* but i was overcome with a sudden craving for enemies to lovers / "they're both stubborn and it's complicated tropes," so i present to you this emotionally constipated snippet of my heart 🩺🖤

It was a well-known fact that you always clocked in after Jack Abbot.

Not because you meant to. At least, not exactly.

It started one night during your first week on night shift. You’d been cramming for exams all day, convinced you could fit in just one more practice block before your shift—just one more. But you dozed off somewhere around question 43, mouth open against the back of your textbook, a puddle of drool collecting around what once was a diagram of the cardiac chambers.

You sprinted in at 6:45pm, flustered and un-caffeinated, only to find Jack already there. Leaning against the nurses’ station with a cup of coffee like he’d been born in that spot, annoyingly calm and smirking like he’d seen this coming.

"Cutting it close, Dr. L/N," he’d said, not even looking up from his chart. "Careful. That’s how habits start."

He was right.

At first, you were apologetic—nervous and over-eager, all stammered greetings and shuffled charts. Jack didn’t seem to notice you beyond the bare minimum, and you chalked that up to his status, his seniority, his general aura of don’t talk to me unless someone is actively dying.

But things changed. Somewhere between covering for each other during rounds, tagging out on disaster admits, and a running tally of how many times you each got paged during a single trauma night, familiarity set in. You became colleagues. Then reluctant allies. And somewhere along the line—rivals. Enemies, depending on who you asked and on how bad the night was going.

One time, you were both elbow-deep in post-codes, barely functioning off stale coffee and mutual spite, when he passed you a chart and muttered, "Try not to kill this one with your bedside manner."

You took it without looking up from the board above you. "I'll match your emotional range and we'll both be fine."

You were never late, but it soon became a silent game. He always beat you at it. Whether it was by five minutes or five steps, you never let yourself get there before him. A superstition, maybe. A routine. A rhythm. And because you liked to keep him on edge—just to get a reaction out of him.

Seeing Jack colored with shades of affect, even if it was playfully annoyed, was fun. It made him predictable, addictive, a full 180 from his usual stone-cold demeanor. He’d scowl, grumble something about professionalism, and still let you win half the time. It became a kind of game, and you were very good at it.

Now as a senior resident awaiting board licensure, it was practically tradition.

He was already at the nurses’ station, sipping black coffee like it was fuel and he was a half-full tank, eyes scanning over charts. His voice cut through the hum of bedlam as you approached. "Late again, Dr. L/N. At least you're consistent."

You flipped him off without breaking stride. "And yet, somehow, the hospital hasn't burned down yet. Miraculous, wouldn't you say so, Dr. Abbot?"

He raised a brow, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Not even ten minutes in and already have our claws out, do we?"

"Oh, Jack," you pouted, "this is just foreplay."

"Ah, is that what you call passive-aggressive incompetence now?"

"Bold of you to assume it’s passive," you fired back, picking up an iPad and scanning through your list of patients for the night. "Or that I’m incompetent, considering I actually round with patients instead of brooding in corners like a gargoyle."

"Gargoyle?" he echoed. "I’m flattered you’ve been staring long enough to come up with nicknames."

"Please," you scoffed. "Your aura of gloom is visible from space. NASA actually filed a complaint saying it was interfering with their ability to conduct research."

Jack paused for a beat, gaze flicking over you more intently than usual. "Did you eat before your shift?"

You eyes were glued on the iPad, your only response a single head bobble "no."

He didn’t like that. Robby could tell from the way his jaw flexed slightly—but he said nothing. Just hummed under his breath and looked back at his clipboard.

Robby had been watching through his glasses the entire time, arms crossed and eyes narrowed like a dad wrangling in two over-caffeinated siblings. He blinked at the two of you, then sighed—long, theatrical, the kind of sigh that said he had survived more codes than he could count but this was titrating his patience.

"You two ever gonna kiss, or just keep trying to murder each other with sarcasm?" He took his glasses off to bury his face in his hands with a groan.

Jack didn’t look up, turning the page over on his clipboard. "I prefer homicide. Cleaner paperwork."

"Honestly, I'd take an explosive diarrhea case over having this conversation," you muttered, half to Robby, half to yourself, rubbing at the bridge of your nose like the words might erase Jack from your field of vision. 

Robby would be remiss if he didn't catch the way neither of you clocked his kiss and make up comment. He stared at you both, mouth frozen in a half-smile that said he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or launch you into separate time zones. He gave it two full seconds—long enough to confirm that you were both still hopeless—before shaking his head in defeat.

"I think," Robby hummed, patting both of your shoulders like a tired camp counselor, "to be so dumb must be nice."

You and Jack had the same unimpressed expression locked and loaded—scowls sharp and identical, contempt trained squarely on Robby, both of you about to mouth off in perfect sync.

He walked off before either of you could open your mouths. 

—

By 3am, the fatigue and hunger were chewing holes in your composure.

Too many admits. Not enough staff. Shen being chronically unbothered. Myrna threatening to murder her wife—when you and Jack turned to ask if she had a wife, matching expressions of disbelief already locked in place, she looked at you deadpan and asked, "You wanna get hitched?"

And always—always—Jack.

Fucking Jack.

With his clipboard full of passive-aggressive notes in that damn attractive calligraphy handwriting.

His tone clipped like a warning and welcome all at once.

And his black scrubs making him look like the grim reaper of constructive criticism and deconstructive mental undressing.

"Patient in six?" you asked.

"CT just came back. Small bowel obstruction. Classic presentation, apparently."

You glanced his way. "Told you it wasn’t just post-op gas."

Jack didn’t miss a beat. "And yet, you were already quoting discharge guidelines to the new intern before radiology even called back."

You shot him a look. Walsh would be proud of you for that one. "I was outlining possibilities. It’s called methodical thinking—must not be a concept you’re familiar with."

He grinned, lazy and unbothered. "Chaos works for me. You panic without bullet points."

You rolled your eyes. "You’re the only attending I know who thrives in complete chaos and calls it a ‘method.’"

"And you’re the only resident I know who color-codes her trauma alerts."

The edge of your lip curled. "That’s called being prepared."

He gestured vaguely. "It’s called being uptight."

You arched a brow. "Spoken like someone who thinks organized is a four-letter word that starts with 'f' and ends with 'k'."

He leaned in, voice dropping just slightly. "Spoken like someone who secretly enjoys cleaning up after my messes."

You blinked once. Then grinned wider. "One day, your beloved chaos is going to bite you in the ass."

He tapped your chart as he walked past. "I guess it’s a good thing you’ve already alphabetized the first aid supplies for me."

—

By 3:20, the storm hit.

Lightning cracked the sky. Power flickered. The backup generator hummed to life with a groan. You should've brought an extra jacket to keep in your locker but it would end up disappearing anyway. Jack was in the hallway already, flashlight in hand.

"OR’s shut down. We’re triaging manually. You good?"

You nodded, biting your tongue. This wasn’t the time.

You worked side by side in the makeshift command center. Tension simmered beneath the quiet coordination—until a grabby frat-boy type from bay four decided he didn’t like being told to sit still and wait.

It happened fast.

He flung the tray off his bed, sending instruments clattering across the floor. You instinctively raised your hand to shield your face—just as a stray scalpel nicked the back of your hand, slicing a sharp, shallow arc. The pain didn’t register immediately. Jack did.

He was on the guy in an instant, stepping in front of you, voice low and lethal. "Sit. Down." The words came out all but minced. 

Security had already been called, but Jack looked like he wanted to break the guy’s face just for breathing in your direction. He didn’t even turn back to you until the orderlies dragged the patient away.

Then his hand was cupping your elbow, his voice much softer. "Let me see it."

You hissed as he inspected the cut. "It’s not deep."

"You’re bleeding on my chaos," he muttered, guiding you gently to an empty room.

You snorted through the blossoming pain. "Told you my color-coding wasn’t excessive."

He grabbed a suture kit, pulling gloves on with the kind of care you usually saw him reserve for crics and broken ribs. "Hold still."

"Bossy."

"Only when someone I like gets stabbed in the hand."

Your breathing hitched. "Like, huh?"

Jack’s attention was fixed on your hand. "Don’t make it weird."

You smiled, watching him thread the needle, so close, so focused. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy. Quite the opposite. It felt warm. Easy. He worked methodically, hands sure, touch gentle, eyes flicking up every few seconds to check your expression like it mattered more than the wound. As he cleaned around the cut and prepped the lidocaine syringe, you both said it in unison—

"Slight prick and a burn."

You laughed under your breath, both at his expression of surprise and your synchrony. "God. That phrase is ingrained in my soul. I think I said it to a grapefruit during my 5th year."

Jack’s lips twitched. "I said it to a patient’s plush raccoon once."

You watched his hands move with steady precision, stitching you up like he had all the time in the world. The storm outside cracked again, but neither of you flinched.

"Make sure I don’t scar, Doc," you teased, settling in as he prepped the suture. "I need these hands to make magic and miracles happen. Might even become a hand model if this whole medicine thing doesn’t pan out."

Jack didn’t look up, but you caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I’ll do my best, ma’am. But if you end up on a billboard somewhere, I expect royalties."

You snorted. "In your dreams."

Jack didn’t say anything at first—just gave you a small, private smile like he was tucking something away in the back of his mind. Like he was keeping it just for himself.

And this time, when you looked at him, he didn’t look away.

For a few minutes, the raindrops tapping against the windows were the only sound that filled the empty space. Jack didn't speak. He just kept his gaze on your hand, now bandaged, resting on the edge of the tray table like it had never been hurt. You watched him watching you, your heart thudding quietly in your throat. 

"You always take care of your disasters this nicely?" you mumbled.

He smirked. "Only the pretty ones."

You didn’t speak of it.

Not until later, when the lights came back and the halls emptied and you were alone in the break room.

You noticed it as he leaned against the counter, scrubs rumpled, hair even more so. His scrubs were black, as always—just rumpled enough to prove he'd been moving all night, just fitted enough to be infuriating. You took a sip of water, eyeing him from across the break room table as you both took a seat. Something about the way the fluorescent light caught the curve of his jaw made the words slip out before you could stop them.

"Do you own anything that isn’t black?" you asked, voice light with sudden curiosity. "Or is your off-duty wardrobe just a series of increasingly gothic-toned hoodies that match your work-wear?"

Jack glanced up from his coffee, one brow arched. "It hides blood."

You stared. "You really don’t let anyone in, huh?"

He didn’t answer right away, just sipped his coffee and stared out at the empty hallway beyond the break room.

Finally, with a shrug that didn’t quite match the weight behind it, he said, "You’re one to talk."

That made you laugh, but it came out softer than expected. "Guess we’re both pretty terrible at normal."

Jack’s lips twitched. "Normal’s overrated."

You leaned back in your chair, legs stretched out in front of you, the tips of your sneakers barely brushing his. Neither of you moved. 

Suddenly, Jack got up and yanked open a small drawer by the coffee machine and pulled out a sad-looking granola bar, handing it to you without meeting your eyes.

"Eat this."

Your brow furrowed, suspicious. "Seriously?"

"You haven’t eaten since yesterday," he muttered, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t noticed.

You stared at the wrapper, then at him. "You really had that locked and loaded?"

He didn’t answer. Just crossed his arms and stuck the bar out at you further. "It’s chocolate. Don’t make me regret it."

Instead of prying further, your hand reached out slowly and took it, eyes still narrowed, studying him like he’d just burnt out a fuse in your brain.

Silence washed over you again. Occasionally filled by the sound of you munching on your granola bar and taking measured sips of your coffee. After a few minutes and one crumpled granola bar later, you caught Jack sneaking a glance at you over the rim of his cup.

You didn’t say anything—just raised a brow.

He looked away like he hadn’t been watching you at all.

But the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

The words crept out of your mouth carefully. "Do you think..." 

Jack looked up, gaze intent. 

"Nevermind," you stopped yourself. 

He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking into something almost unbearable. Not quite touching, not even brushing—but the air thickened under the weight of his stare. That kind of eye contact that felt like it could crack glass. Steady. Searching.

You let the quiet spool between you like a thread someone might tug, if they were brave enough.

"It's rude to start things you don't intend on finishing," he stated simply.

You blinked, still caught in the current of that look, then leaned in a little—almost like you were about to whisper a secret. Jack mirrored you without hesitation, like it was instinct.

Your voice was barely above a murmur. "Do you think..."

He waited, gaze steady, maybe even a tinge of hope if you squinted.

"...that the real reason you thrive in chaos is because it matches your personality?" you deadpanned.

Jack exhaled sharply, the ghost of a scoff tugging at his mouth. He sat back, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

You grinned, eyes bright and playful. "What? I finished it."

"Barely," he muttered, but he was smiling too.

A few beats passed. You both sat in the lingering quiet, the kind that settled in only after long shifts and half-spoken things.

Then he leaned in—just a little—mirroring what you'd done earlier. You furrowed your brows, curious.

He lowered his voice, almost conspiratorial. "Do you think..."

You leaned in too, expecting something real, something heavy.

"...that you secretly enjoy being wrong? Because, statistically, it’s seems like your favorite hobby."

Your jaw dropped to let out a puff of air, baffled by his audacity, and pushed his arm. "God, you’re insufferable."

He chuckled under his breath. "And yet, here you are."

You gave him a sideways glance, lips quirking. "I will admit that it’s in my top five favorite hobbies. But it still doesn’t beat ‘annoying Jack Abbot.’ That one’s undefeated."

Jack shook his head, eyes warm and lips softened in a grin. "You’d miss me if I ever stopped letting you win."

Your only response was a coy smile. You nudged his foot with yours beneath the table, and he glanced down at the contact. He nudged back, subtle and sure, like he didn’t want the moment to end just yet—then looked back up at you. Something passed between the pair of you—unspoken, tentative, curious.

The room fell quiet again, comfortable this time. Neither of you moved to leave.

Until Jack's phone buzzed.

He glanced at it, then cursed under his breath. "Room seven. It's that kid who demanded to speak to the 'head doctor' because I wouldn't give him dilaudid for a tension headache."

You raised a brow. "So... a normal Friday?"

"Basically."

You watched him go, expecting a quick de-escalation. Room seven. You knew who that was. Height rivaled only by his ego. Frat letters drawn across his bare chest like illiterate war paint. Barked at nurses like he owned the floor. The kind of guy who made everything someone else's problem, backed by daddy’s legal team and a two-semester record of hazing infractions.

Jack had said he’d handle it. He always did. Especially with these types. It was like they were on a rotation—every Friday night, a new brand of uninhibited pre-frontal cortex, privileged chaos.

But then you heard his voice—Jack’s—sharp and too loud from down the hall. A clatter followed, unmistakable. Tray to tile. A chair scraping. Then another crash. A shout that definitely wasn’t Jack’s.

You were already moving.

By the time you rounded the corner, the frat boy was mid-lunge, fury twisting his face as he hurled a tray toward Jack’s head like he was reenacting some half-remembered bar fight. Jack ducked, barely—but he was boxed in, too close to the wall.

You didn’t think. Just moved.

"Hey!" you barked, adrenaline surging. You threw yourself at him, coming at him like a freight train and making him fall back onto the bed with a grunt. A nurse hit the emergency call. Security swarmed seconds later.

Jack had grabbed your arm and pulled you back—tight but not painful—pulling you just out of the fray. "What the hell?"

You glared at him, chest heaving. "Returning the favor."

He didn’t let go.

"On-call room. Now."

He practically hauled you down the hall, his hand never leaving yours. You were both silent until the door shut behind you. He pressed his palms to the counter and stared at it like it had personally offended him.

"What was that?" His voice was sharp, unfiltered, pissed in a way you didn’t see often—not like this. Not when it was about you. "You could’ve gotten hurt."

"So could you." You leaned against the metal bunkbed frame, still catching your breath. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

His Adam's apple bobbed, slow, like the movement itself took restraint. His jaw was tight, eyes darker than usual.

"You're reckless," he said quietly.

"Takes one to know one," you laughed.

Jack didn’t.

He stepped forward instead, jaw clenched. "You have no regard for your safety and only for that of others."

You took a step back.

"You will go out of your way to treat and protect everyone around you at the expense of your own well-being."

Another step back. Any closer and—

"Do you understand," he said, each word measured, devastating, "how much I worry about you?"

Your heartbeat was a war drum now—loud, insistent, thunderous.

"Do you know how much I think about you? How much I plan for the worst every time you throw yourself between danger and someone else without a second thought?" he added, voice cracking just enough to reveal the truth beneath it. Laid bare.

"When you walk into the ER and you haven't eaten since the night before and I can see it—you're running on caffeine and impulse and whatever scraps of adrenaline are left."

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

He didn’t stop there. "When you give your jacket to a freezing patient and spend the next six hours shivering without saying a word—like that’s normal."

You swallowed. "It wasn’t cold..."

Jack’s voice sharpened. "You forget your umbrella and show up soaked but act like it's fine. Like it’s not freezing. Like you didn’t just volunteer to get sick."

Your fingers twitched against your side.

"And when you blow off your own wound care to finish a chart. Or cover a code blue for someone else even though your shift ended twenty minutes ago."

You looked away. His eyes never left you.

He stepped even closer, willing you to look at him. "When you pretend you’re made of steel. And then crack alone in the stairwell when you think no one’s looking."

It felt like ice cold water had dropped from the ceiling.

"Jack—" you managed to force out. 

He held up a hand and turned around, cutting you off. "Please." 

He couldn’t hear it. Not unless you felt the same. Not unless you'd listened, actually listened, for once. He’d rather bleed out not knowing than survive a rejection he couldn’t patch. Just colleagues. He'd switch over to day shift if he had to. Robby could put in a word for him. Temporary, at least until he found a new hospital. Maybe in a different city. Of a different state.

He looked anywhere but you, turning like he meant to leave, like he could walk it off and pretend none of this ever happened.

"Jack, please..." The words came out desperate, begging, pleading for him to stop.

He didn't meet your eyes—couldn't. "I'll see you at the nurses station." 

"Oh, for the love of God—" You reached forward and yanked him back by his forearm.

And then your lips were on his.

It wasn’t clean or careful. It was a crash—years of tension detonating all at once. He froze for half a second, eyes wide open like his brain was short-circuiting, then kissed you back with everything he had and more. Desperation, disbelief, hunger—it all poured out of him like water breaking through a dam.

Your hands cradled his face, thumbs grazing over the light stubble along his jaw, fingertips brushing the sharp edges of his cheekbones like you were learning him by touch alone. He kissed you like he couldn’t stand to stop, and you held him like you weren’t going to let him. He tasted like spearmint—sharp and stubborn—the gum he always carried in his pocket, and behind that, burnt coffee and something so distinctly Jack it made your limbs tingle.

His hands found your waist, your jaw, your back—grasping like he didn’t trust the moment to be real unless he mapped every inch of you with his fingertips. You were pressed chest to chest, and it still didn’t feel close enough.

Jack had kissed people before. He had slept with people before. He'd been married, for God's sake. But this—this—was unreal. This was heat and gravity and every inch of restraint he’d stitched into place finally tearing wide open. This was the reason human beings fought in wars. Why people wrote poetry and ruined perfectly stable lives for one perfect, maddening kiss. Why everything else material and immaterial suddenly paled in comparison.

Your hands were in his hair, tugging salt and pepper curls just enough to make him groan, low and wrecked against your lips.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, share the oxygen in your lungs, the little gasp you made when his thumb grazed the spot behind your ear just right. He devoured everything you gave him and kissed you like a man who had run out of time and patience.

Because he had.

He’d wanted this too long to pretend otherwise, and he'd sooner die than deprive either of you from this any longer. 

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead resting lightly against his. Both of you were gasping, eyes locked in the kind of dazed silence that usually followed adrenaline crashes. 

"Took you long enough, old man," you whispered, lips still brushing his.

Jack blinked once, twice. Like he couldn’t believe this was real. Like the thought had crossed his mind a thousand times, but the reality of you—this—hit harder than he’d prepared for.

"You feel the same?" he asked quietly, in a tone that was more awe than question.

You nodded. "Since before either of us were brave enough to say it."

Jack let out a breath that shook at the edges. "I thought if I let it slip—if I looked too long, said too much—you’d shut me out."

"I thought if I admitted it, it would ruin everything."

"It didn’t," he murmured, leaning his forehead against yours.

"No," you whispered. "It finally made sense of everything."

Jack blinked again, almost like he hadn’t fully registered it until now. His gaze swept over your face, pausing at your lips, then your eyes, as if searching for the lie he couldn’t find.

"You really mean that?" he asked, quieter now. Not disbelieving—just internalizing.

You nodded again, slower this time. "I don’t do this if I don’t."

Jack let out another breath, but it wasn’t shaky this time—it was solid. Grounded. Relieved. He laughed under it, the sound warm and slightly incredulous.

"You really are impossible," he murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

"And you’re dramatic," you whispered back, smiling.

"Fair," he said. "But you’re still mine."

"Yeah," you said. "I think I always was."

Jack huffed a breath, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Careful. You just kissed your attending. That kind of power could go to your head."

You grinned, still breathless. "Please. You kissed me back like your life depended on it."

"Who says it didn't?" he asked rhetorically, so quietly it almost got lost in the air between you.

Your fingers drifted to the back of his neck, fingertips brushing softly along the hairline, anchoring him there. Jack shivered. Not from cold—never from cold.

"Thank you," you admitted. "For taking care of me while I was busy taking care of everyone else."

His grip on your waist tightened, grounding himself, and then he leaned in again. This time it was slower. Less frantic. His lips found the curve of your neck, warm and reverent. You gasped—quietly—but it was enough. He kissed lower, just beneath your jaw, and your hands curled in the fabric at his shoulders.

"Always." The word left his lips like a prayer.

His fingers traced the hem of your scrub top, ghosting up your sides like he was overriding any and all memories of anything else other than you. No dissonance. Just Jack, desperate to feel something real in a world that never gave him space to.

You pressed closer, kissed the corner of his mouth. "You taste like that godawful spearmint gum."

He grinned against your skin. "You love it."

Another scoff. "If throwing myself in front of a raging frat boy was all it took to get you to shut up and kiss me, I would've done it ages ago."

Jack pulled back just enough to look at you, smug. "If you do that again, I’m going to make you do my charting for a week."

You snorted. "With pleasure."

He didn’t argue. Just dipped his head and kissed you again.

—

You woke in the on-call room, a mess of tangled limbs and haphazardly strewn clothes. Your cheek pressed to the rise and fall of his chest. The storm had long passed, but its echo lingered in the hush around you. Jack’s arm was slung low around your waist, fingers drawing lazy, absent-minded shapes against your hip like he didn’t know how to stop touching you now that he’d started.

"For what it’s worth, I still think you’re a pain in the ass," you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

His chest rumbled beneath your cheek. "Likewise," he said, but it came out softer than usual.

You shifted just enough to look up at him, your hand brushing gently across his ribs, then settling over his heart. "Don’t get used to this."

His brow arched. "This?" If you looked hard enough, you might have seen worry flash across his face. 

"Me being nice."

Relief painted his expression. He smiled, full and rare. "You’re the one curled into me like a particularly mouthy cat."

You buried your face in his chest. "Shut up."

His fingers tightened slightly at your hip. "Not complaining. Just saying... I could get used to this."

You looked up again, caught the vulnerability flickering there before he blinked it away. Your thumb brushed his jaw, and you leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth, a smile blooming in its wake.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Me too."

—

A few weeks and an undetermined number of shifts later, you walked through the double doors of the ER wearing a black hoodie—oversized and unassuming to anyone else, but unmistakable to anyone who knew him.

Robby and Dana spotted it from a mile away. The frayed drawstring, the hole near the front pocket, the faded cuff seams—the one he always reached for when the weather dropped below 60 degrees, too tired to bother, or too raw to pretend. Jack’s favorite and now second most prized possession.

The first being the shirt you wore when you stayed the night for the first time—oversized and soft, probably older than the first year med students—borrowed without asking. He never washed it. Claimed it smelled like you now and he'd keep it that way.

No one said a word.

Except Robby, who walked past and muttered, "Finally." Then, as you and Jack strolled side by side toward the nurses’ station—still bickering, now with smiles tucked behind every jab—he held out a fist to Jack.

Jack bumped it without hesitation.

Robby grinned. "Took you long enough."

"Shut up," you and Jack muttered in unison, but neither of you stopped smiling.

Jack's hand brushed yours between steps, a casual touch that lingered just long enough to say everything he couldn't say out loud in front of witnesses. You let your pinky hook around his for a second before letting go—just a flash of something soft beneath the usual snark.

"Didn't know we allowed pets in the ER," Dana remarked from her chair before looking up through her glasses. "Or are those lovebirds I hear?"

You smirked. "We’re just evolving."

Jack raised a brow. "Into better people?"

"No," you replied. "Into slightly better-functioning disasters. I am, anyway. Jack’s still somewhere between disaster and cryptid."

He bumped your shoulder gently before giving you a playful wink. "Speak for yourself. I was already perfect."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. A smile crept up like second nature. You'd get him next time.

Robby snorted. "God, you two are insufferable."

You turned just enough to shoot him a smug look. "You love it."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I do. But if I walk in on you making out in the supply closet, I’m blackmailing both of you. With photos."

Jack didn’t even flinch. "Make sure you get our good angles."

You could definitely get used to this.