#instead of shutting down he explodes

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Cole!Trip’s anger is different from every other Trip’s anger. I think of it like a blue flame. It’s not as huge and consistent as other Trips’ anger is, which I think of as an orange flame. His Trip’s anger is quieter and more hidden behind a trained facade, but when you get too close or he gets too caught up and consumed by it, it’s hotter and more dangerous. But he works to keep it under wraps. Instead of immeditaly going to violence, he tries to shut down instead. Like in JFT when Marcia gets up and goes to Cherry, he shoves his hands into his pockets and maybe balls them into fists cause he feels the anger coming but he knows it’s best to just shut down. But then suddenly Paul is yelling and Cherry is denying and blaming them instead of the kid who stabbed Bob and it’s like gas is being thrown into what is normally his small and hot flame. Suddenly it’s like it’s exploding. It becomes a huge and blazing fire that consumes and burns everything in its path.

[kizzer55555]

DPxDC: Jarro Adopts an Alien

Ok, so Danny has a space obsession and a protection obsession (I headcanon that as a halfa, Danny has two obsessions like all Halfas do which makes them unique to other ghosts.) and so while he can get his fill protecting people in Amity, he struggles with his space obsession. Sure, he can look up everything he can about space and the stars on the internet. He can stay up until 2 am looking at the stars (who needs sleep? He’s a ghost, he can go days, or even weeks without sleep if he wants, same with a lack of air or food.) but it’s just not enough. He craves to learn more, see more. Just as Dani gets that itch to travel, Danny wonders. What would it be like to see the stars up close? Are they really as hot as a dragons fire breath? Hotter!? Or maybe they are so hot they are cold. What does it look like to see plasma dancing across the surface, or touch the gasses of Jupiter? Does Pluto have ice caves like the far frozen? How many planets are actually out there? What about Mars. There’s a whole species living there with a language and culture Danny can’t even fathom! Oh what he wouldn’t give to talk with martian manhunter or Superman. 

And what’s stopping him from exploring this? He can fly. He doesn’t need air. He can go intangible if it gets too hot and he’s practically immune to the cold. He wants to touch a space rock! See if they are smooth because there is no wind or earth to rub against them and erode the surface. He wants to see what planets they come from. What minerals they might have. He wants to know if there are currents in space. All of these things are right there just above the atmosphere. Surely it couldn’t hurt to take a quick peek. So he does. During a particularly bad day Danny flies as fast as he can until the earth’s gravity looses its effects. Until his hair is floating as of it’s in water even more than normal. Until he can feel when breathing no longer became a choice (still not necessary though). And it…was beautiful. To be surrounded by space. To see the earth like this. Pictures just didn’t do it Justice. He flew across the solar system and as he passed planets, he longed to fly through them. To search every crevice and learn their secrets. But he had a bigger prize in mind at the moment. The crown jewel of their universe. The closest star he could find. The sun. 

Danny was mesmerized. The plasma really did dance across the surface. Like a never ending performance of science and beauty. There were sparks that few in arcs. Danny flew down and played in them, making a game to see how many he could fly under. His ghost core purred in delight. His obsession had never been more satisfied. He spent hours out there. Just exploring what his solar system had to offer. So when he returned? He couldn’t just forget. Pictures and online science theories had nothing on the real thing. He wanted to explore some more. So he did. Every night he would go out and explore the cosmos. Flying from planet to planet. (Either the Martians were still around and Danny made friends with them, even learning their language, or he just looks at their ruins to learn as much as he can). And with both obsessions now being filled, Danny is more settled. More confident. And he can focus better. Everyone notices the change, even his teachers. They just think that he’s paying more attention to his education now. He’s even better during his ghost fights. 

But Danny can fly awfully fast. And he soaks up information even faster. Soon his trips take longer and longer as he flies further out. Sometimes he can barely make it back in time for school. And he can't go every night. Sometimes the ghosts won’t wait for daytime so he has to make sure the town will be safe in his absence. Although he’s been able to take more trips ever since Valerie joined the vigilante ranks. But still, he’s getting farther and farther from earth each night. Until one day he’s visited every planet, every star, every comet or debris in their solar system. Which would be fine. He could deal with that if that was all there was. But it wasn’t. Danny saw the stars just out of reach. He saw places the Milky Way was leaning towards. He saw just the barest hints of new solar systems with new planets and stars. And he knew of legends from lanterns that they had posted online. Heard tales from some scientists that have made better telescopes. And his core itches. It aches to know more. See more. Yet he can't go further. And this puts him in a sort of depression. Suddenly he’s back to his old self. Lagging behind. Distracted. Zoning out. Crashing into a few more buildings during ghost attacks. Yet he tries so hard to be satisfied with what he has. He can still fulfill his obsession…it’s just more like chewing on a granola bar rather than eating a decent meal. He’s almost becoming lethargic. 

So one day he goes to Frostbite to see if there’s anything he can do to lessen the effects. But the yeti just takes one look at him and gives him the infimap. And suddenly Danny is in a whole new universe in seconds. The planets are purple. The stars are blue. He’s pretty sure there are furry blob-like creatures living on one of those planets. And suddenly he gets that itch, but holding the infimap, he knows he had time, so he lets himself go. 

And for a while it’s good. great even. Since he can’t keep asking the yetis for the infimap, he goes over to Wulf to see if he’s up for an adventure. Most of the time he is and they go exploring the galaxies together. And then Wulf had the genius idea of teaching Danny how to make portals. It took a long time but soon, he could concentrate the surrounding ectoplasm enough to weaken it and pull. It took a while since Danny didn’t have ecto claws and would have to use his pure will. But this would allow him to follow his obsession anytime, anywhere. So it was only a matter of time. And once he figured it out? It was like something was unlocked. Danny had never before understood how Ellie could travel so much. But now he did. That feeling when you discover something new. When you add to your reservoir of knowledge. When the patterns in the universe just click. There is nothing Danny could compare it to. And to explore that whenever he wanted? It was so freeing. While Wulf sometimes still joined Danny’s adventures, Danny did most of his explorations by himself. 

He meets various planets and aliens. So many different cultures. He learns thousands of languages. Tries all kinds of foods (and it’s a good thing his ghost self has an iron stomach and he’s basically poison resistant.) even found a whole comet where blood blossoms grew. (Which he most definitely avoided). And wasn’t that fascinating? To find out they were from space. 

And then during his travels one day he met a space alien starfish. 

It was actually a funny story. A meteor shower was about to attack a planet of talking blue monkey creatures with 4 arms. Danny immediately started diverting them and was soon joined by some lantern corps (which his inner fanboy wanted to talk to so bad.). And a tiny starfish in a…Robin uniform? Oh and the starfish could apparently do martial arts which was interesting to watch him karate chop a meteor. He could also talk directly into Danny’s head which the halfa found more interesting. So they got to talking and apparently his name was Jarro. He seemed to be helping the lantern corps as a ‘proxy from earth’ to make better use of his skills. 

Danny would run into Jarro a few more times. Sometimes he was with Lanterns and sometimes he would just be exploring the galaxies. They started forming a pretty strong friendship and Danny would start seeking out the starfish alien to travel with him. He knew all kinds of space facts. Apparently he had an eidetic memory. When they explored, sometimes Jarro would just stick to part of Danny. Wrapped around his arm, his waist, sometimes just sticking to his back like a strange backpack. But they always had fun.

So Danny was happy. He could fulfill both obsessions and got a space pal. Everything was great!

Until the GIW caught him. 

It would probably be the worst day of his life.  There was an explosion in the lab. Something set up by them after they realized Danny frequented that place often. So they set a trap and blew it up. Thankfully, Jazz was at college during this but both his parents were home. When the explosion went off, Danny had tried putting a Barrier around them all. It took everything he had to maintain it. That’s how they found out he was phantom. Danny had a few moments where his parents said they accepted him but he couldn’t hold the barrier for long. His parents said that they loved him and then everything went green. He woke up in a lab, tired and injured. His only saving grace being that he remained in phantom form. And he was determined to remain so. 

Danny’s time at the GIW was a haze but eventually, he managed to escape. Bleeding, and tired, and still recovering from the burns in the explosion, Danny made a portal straight to Amity. Only when he got there, it was a ghost town. Streets were empty, buildings were boarded up. Even the Nasty Burger was deserted. As for his house, there was nothing but a crater left and some scattered debris. Danny looked everywhere but there was no one. No Jazz. No Sam. No Tucker. No one. and he was tired. And everything hurt, and he needed a friend. Someone he could trust. So in a daze he made a portal and tried to just project safe. Safe safe safe. Somewhere he knew he would be protected. And so Jarro got a surprise when his space buddy suddenly popped out of a green portal, bleeding green and clearly passed out. He didn't know what to do. He didn’t know how to help him. But Jarro knew someone who would. 

So with a speed never before seen from a tiny starfish, he flew to earth. Bringing his friend straight to his father. Because surely batman could help!

And with his appearance, the green blood, the knowledge of space facts. The lack of wanting to talk about where he came from (and the nightmares crying out for his parents). This is how the bats became convinced that Jarro brought them an injured alien. 

[athenaluthor]

Golden Boy

pairing: Bob Reynolds/Sentry x fem!reader.

summary: Riding your Golden Boy. Somewhere along the lines, Sentry takes over and has his way with his girl.

warnings: smut, smut and more smut. bob being a soft boy, sentry being self indulgent and taking you within an inch of your life because you asked for it. (i fear i was the one being self indulgent bcs idk sentry is so hot but so is void. but bob has my heart. let me know what yall think. hope yall enjoy this <33)

word count- 2.2k

masterlist

He wants to live inside you forever. Imprint himself on your very soul and on every fiber of your being. You feel good, you feel so incredibly and unbelievably right.

“Oh God, Bob.You’re so big..” you moan as you sink down on his cock. The dangerously adorable man underneath you has the thickest cock you’ve ever had. The stretch overwhelms you and you bury your face in his neck, arms around him, trying to go as deep as possible. Bob hands grip your hips tightly, stopping you from sinking down on his cock too quickly. Mentally, you curse yourself for taking so long to try this position with your golden boy.

Bob feels dizzy too, his head spinning as he watches you. He craves touch, he craves your touch. His entire life, nobody had ever touched him like you, so lovingly and gently, tracing his skin like you were memorising and worshiping him. Instead, he spent a good portion of his years filling this empty space with drugs, getting high out of his mind and doing awful things he wouldn’t even want to tell you.

Leaning up against the headboard, Bob watches you with lustful eyes, his plump lips part as he pants breathlessly. At this very moment, Bob felt like his heart might explode, death would be welcomed since he had truly lived a life worth living, an angel in his arms, wrapped around his cock. Sex before you was meaningless, he had been far too high to care about anything that was happening anyways.

“G-go slow. Don’t have to get it all in.” He whimpers out between moans, groaning at how wet you are, dripping down the length of the cock.

“I-I want to, baby.” you reply shakily before pushing yourself down fully onto his cock. The stretch makes your eyes water, but he feels so good— you could cum right then and there.

Bob’s hands lift from your hips, moving to clutch your head and pull you away from his neck. “G-god, baby. Y-you didn’t– you didn’t have to.” He stutters out, his forehead flush against yours.

You want to ride him, bounce on his cock until you can't remember your own name. Rolling your hips and clenching down on his cock, your legs tremble at how good it feels. Bob, bless his heart, lets out a choked moan.

“B-Baby, baby. You can’t– you can’t do that. I’ll cum too–oh god, too soon!” He moans.

It takes all your might to begin riding your golden boy. Hands on his shoulders you start lifting your hips, then sliding back down in his cock, over and over again. Your pace is slow yet hard and deep. You want to go faster but the blood in your veins feels so hot, you think you’ll explode if you’re not careful.

His head is thrown back, eyes shut, lips parted and face flushed as you ride him. His hands return back to your hips, clutching you like a lifeline. The Golden Boy under you, is unequivocally and irrevocably yours, and fuck— he looks gorgeous under you.

Letting go of his shoulders, you reach to clutch his face. “Bob? Baby, look at me, please.” you whine, wanting those pretty eyes on you.

He blearily opens his eyes, his pupils blown and he looks utterly debased and lustful. His unnecessarily superhuman senses flare, overwhelmed by everything around him. He can feel every touch on his skin, the soft fingertips on his cheeks trying to reel him in, and the drag of your walls around his cock each time you move up and down.

Bob never wants this to end. He wants to be inside you like this forever. His cock pumping deep inside the love of his life.

The sound of your heart pounding in your chest echoes in his ears as he zeros in on you, the way your blood rushes so loudly through your veins.

The pleasure is too much, it throws you off-kilter. Head spinning, your hands drop down to his stomach to steady yourself.Thoughtlessly, his hands move to cup your breasts when yours let go of his face, entranced by each movement they make when you bounce on his cock. The pads of his thumbs toying with your hardened nipples.

His touch spurs you on, the way his eyes lustfully looks at you has you choking on your own saliva. Invigorated by this, you speed up, bouncing on his cock harder and faster. Bob can only take what you give him, mouth parted, moaning and grunting, here and there. You know you shouldn’t overdo it, but God— his cock stretches you out so good and so deep, you know you’ll feel it tomorrow. You want him to wreck you, rearrange you and ruin you for anyone else.

The coil within you winds up, getting tighter and tighter with each bounce of your body. Body tense and hot, you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, higher and higher. Head light and blood rushing, you’re losing yourself to this pleasure, your legs and thighs begin to cramp but you force yourself to keep going.It's like your mind isn’t yours. You don’t want to stop, you can’t stop.

Bob knows you far too well. He can tell when you’re teetering to the edge of going too damn far. The way your eyes glass over, the way your moans spill out like you're about to cry, and the way you shake. His hands clutch your waist, his grip firm but careful, trying to bring you back to him. “S-Slow down, baby. You’re— fuck! You’re t-trembling.” He says shakily trying not to succumb to how good you feel on his cock.

He says your name so softly, so reverently, trying to rouse you back to him. His arms wrap around you, under your arms, pulling you flush to him. Bob’s hand finds purchase on the back of your head, as it falls into the crook of his neck.

Gibberish falls out of your mouth. Something along the lines of “I want to cum, Robert. Let me make you cum too, please.” if Bob’s superhearing is to be trusted.

“I-I know, baby.” he soothes you. “L-let me do this for you, baby. Don’t— you don’t have to p-push yourself f–for me.” he reasons with you, knowing you wouldn’t stop until both of you had been thoroughly spent.

Too far gone to think straight, you wrap your arms around his neck, letting him take over. Holding your hips tightly, Bob’s hips begin to thrust up into you, his pace is steady but deep.

The way you melt into him makes his heart pound out of his chest, how you trust him to take over, when even he didn’t trust himself. The way your soft moans spill out of your lips could make him cum inside your silky walls right now.

You want him to go faster, harder, make you cum so hard, you see stars. Desire has you so deep within its clutches, you can’t escape. So you beg. “Bob, please. Fuck me harder, please.”

“Shh, I– I don’t want to lose control, baby.” he whines back.

“I don’t care, Bob. Please, just fuck me hard.” You beg him, voice needy.

“I need you to fuck me. Just fuck me hard, Robert.” The words leave your mouth desperately without much thought.

Something shifts in the air and you feel it immediately. The sudden influx of unexplainable energy, it feels sharp and strong. Steady and firm, unlike Bob’s hesitance.

Beneath you, Bob shifts, hands gripping your hips even tighter. Then, he plants his feet down onto the bed, angling himself before thrusting back into you, hard. This new angle hits that spot inside you, the one that makes you scream and see stars

The force of his thrusts has you losing your breath, your arms tighten around his neck as you hold on for dear life. Ecstasy flows through your veins, as he begins to fuck you within an inch of your life while your moans spill wantonly from your lips.

This, you think, is new. Bob has never done this. He doesn’t usually fall into your begging, opting to hold back and not let himself lose. Alarm bells ring in your head, but somewhere between his grunts and the way his cock pounds into you, you forget it.

He’s so deep inside you, pounding your pussy like his life depended on it. The pleasure builds within you, the pressure between your legs borders between too much and just enough.

You don’t have a clue how long he has you like this but the coil finally snaps. Intense pleasure washes through you, sending your body into a state of ecstasy,and leaving you moaning and trembling. Your juices leak down Bob’s cock, coating both your thighs. He doesn’t slow down.

His thrusts don't falter. Bob’s pace is unyielding, grunting as your walls clamp down on him. Utterly spent, your body is limp and pliant atop his as you try to get your bearings, letting him have his way with you.

Before you know it, Bob flips the both of you.

The sudden movement shocks you. Suddenly, you are underneath him. Peering up at your Golden Boy, his eyes are shut and his curls fall haphazardly across his forehead, sticking to the sweaty skin.

Without much thought, your hand reaches up to brush away his curls. You think to ask why he stopped when he hasn’t cum yet.

Then, it clicks. The moment your fingers touch his skin, his eyes open. Otherworldly glow shines from his eyes.

Oh. This isn’t your Bob.

“Sentry?” You breathlessly ask.

The being above you doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks at you with the ferocity of a starved man. Fear rushes through you yet your excitement outweighs it. His cock is still buried inside your sensitive pussy, you don’t know whether to be afraid of him or do you want him to fuck you into the mattress.

Sentry speaks to you, “It’s unfair that he gets to keep you all by himself.”

Now, Sentry takes the reins. He pins you down onto the bed before thrusting into you. His presence is overwhelming, like he invades every inch of your senses.

Your previous climax had already made you sensitive. The sheer force of his unforgiving thrusts sends your body into overdrive. Overstimulation has you arching your back and curling your toes into the mattress.

In your fucked out state, you can’t even comprehend the words that spill out your mouth.

Sentry thinks you look so damn pretty like this. A lover fit for a god like him, moaning and writhing under him as he pounds into you. Only he should see you in this state.

He increases his pace, pounding into you harder. After all, you had asked him to fuck you hard. He can feel your thighs tremble and he can hear how hard your heart is beating.

The blood in your veins rush rapidly through your body as you fall deeper into your sex-induced high. Sentry too gets high on you. His focuses his efforts on bringing to the edge again, too feel you clamp down his cock and wantonly moan for him. Only him.

He knows he’s close to the edge when his balls tighten and the pressure low in his belly becomes too much. You feel yourself losing control, his cock is so big and he’s going too hard and too fast. When you tense and your body arches without your control, he knows your cumming again.

Only this time, he comes too.

He ruts into you wildly, grunting loudly while letting pleasure take over as he spills himself into you. He holds you close, letting your pinned arms go.

Somewhere in your haze, trembles and aftershocks you manage to wrap your arms around him as he spills himself inside you. It’s so much, even in your state, you know it’s too much.

The sheer volume of his thick cum feels so good inside you.

When he comes to, he can tell you’re still dazed. Your body is soft and pliant under him, while your eyes are glassy. His touch on your cheek grounds you a little. It’s like you see that it's him.

“Baby?” You call out breathlessly to him.

“Hmm?” He replies back but he thinks you don’t even notice.

You wince when he slides out of you. Thick fluids both his and yours leak out of you. He holds back the urge to push it back in. He knows that tomorrow that you’ll be sore but he hopes you don’t regret asking him to fuck you hard.

He lays beside you, pulling your weak body into his and letting your head rest on his chest. Sentry feels your body tremble under his touch, the aftershock of your orgasms.

He softly strokes up and down your arm, you are safe and sound here with him. He is the Sentry after all. A God in his own right.

When your breathing slows, he knows you’ll fall asleep soon. Your body is practically melting on him.

Right as sleep pulls you into its grasp, a soft sentence slips past your lips. Barely coherent and understandable but he doesn’t have superhearing for nothing. “Love you, my Golden Boy.”

Your Golden Boy. He likes the sound of that.

As Sentry closes his eyes, he hopes you wouldn’t mind him taking over your Bob next time. After all, it is unfair for Bob to have you all to himself.

Sentry lets sleep take him too, knowing that Bob will wake in the morning with only memories of this.

Sentry- 1, Bob- 0.

Yeah, he thinks. He’s a God, so why not keep a fucking tally.

[missdynamighttt]

teehee, shopping with bf! katsuki for the first time is a whole new experience.

you dragged him to the mall under the pretense of just browsing. katsuki grumbles, complains the whole car ride, mutters something about how he'd rather "eat glass" than spend a weekend in a fluorescent-lit hellscape.

but the second you tug on his wrist and smile up at him, he shuts up and follows. what you don’t expect?

how much of a problem he becomes the second you enter the fitting room.

you're barely five minutes into trying on outfits when it starts. you step out, smoothing down a dress, turning side to side in the mirror.

you barely manage a “what do you think?” before he drops the phone he wasn’t even looking at and sits up straighter.

“turn around.”

you blink. “huh?”

“lemme see the back.”

you do. he whistles low, then squints. “try that in the other color.”

you raise a brow. “oh, so now you care?”

“tch. i care when it looks like that on you.”

from then on, it’s over. every. single. outfit. he's like that.

“yeah, do a little spin.”

“too tight in the chest. not that i’m complaining.”

“damn, sweets. you tryna kill me or sumthin'?”

he lounges on the little bench like he owns the place—legs spread, arms crossed, eyes locked on you like you’re center stage and he’s the only judge that matters. the store’s mirror might show you the front, but he’s giving full commentary on the back. and the sides. and the neckline.

he’s unreasonably hot while doing it too. hood half-up, jaw sharp, legs spread like he’s got thoughts about every skirt you shimmy into.

and the worst part? you start playing it up.

slipping out of the fitting room with a little strut. spinning slow just to watch his jaw tighten. running your hands down your sides, real innocent, then pretending not to notice the way he swears under his breath.

“you’re lucky we’re in public,” he grits when you try on a slinky little number that hugs way too close.

you blink. “so you like it?”

he growls. “i like it on the floor of our bedroom.”

you nearly explode.

one outfit later, you try something on that you already know is ridiculous—fluffy, sparkly, way too over-the-top—but you step out just to mess with him.

you expect him to laugh. maybe tease. instead?

he blinks once. then shrugs. “buy it.”

you pause. “wait… really?”

he smirks. “you look happy in it. that’s all i care about.”

by the time you're done, you're practically floating out of the store—arms light, mood lighter, cheeks a little sore from how much you've been grinning.

katsuki?

katsuki is not floating. katsuki is lugging six bags in one hand, two on the other, and somehow managing to balance the weirdly long one that holds the dress bag across his broad shoulders like a damn pack mule.

and the whole time? he looks pissed. jaw tight, bags slapping against his thighs as he stomps beside you.

you peek over at him, smiling sweetly. “you’re the one who said to buy everything, suki.”

“tch. only ‘cause you looked hot in it, dumbass.”

you giggle. “so it’s your fault?”

he stops walking. and glares. hard.

“i swear to god, if you say that again, i’m droppin’ all these bags and draggin’ you into the back of that h&m.”

you blink innocently. “so romantic.”

“try me, sweetheart.”

despite all his complaining, he doesn’t put a single bag down. not when you stop for a smoothie. not when you see a cute little accessory stand. not even when you wander over to look at shoes you’re not even planning on buying.

he just stands there, one foot tapping, arms full of pink and glitter and tissue paper, looking like a man who’s fought gods and monsters and still wasn’t prepared for the chaos that is dating you.

at one point, you lean up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek.

“thanks for carrying everything,” you murmur.

he huffs. “yeah, yeah.”

you kiss him again, this time slower, lingering by the edge of his jaw. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

and that does get a response. his ears go a little red. his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but is physically restraining it.

“hmph. i better be,” he mutters, looking away like a child, shifting all the bags in one hand just so he can wrap the other arm around your shoulders.

still grumbling.

still red.

still the best, grumpiest mall boyfriend in existence.

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

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ bc i love procrastinating and dont write the shit i should write lmao💜 hope you guys enjoyed!!

[simonbrain]

it doesn't matter how quietly you attempt to get off at night; your lieutenant is always listening, always grumpy about the pretty sounds disturbing his slumber.

you were embarrassed when he brought it up to you (keep it down, can't fuckin' sleep with oll tha' racket), so you opted to not use your vibrator the next night, instead using your fingers like some lady from the 1800's. it wasn't as efficient, but it did the job, and you were knocked out after a few orgasms.

you think you're doing good, as he doesn't confront you about your nightly activities for a few days after that. not until one morning when he pulls you over to an obscured area outside, not paying any mind to your stumbling and hissing.

even with the mask on, you can tell he's scowling. "how many times do i 'ave to tell you to keep it down?" he grumbles, peering down at you through golden eyelashes. his head tilts as he speaks, and you have to force yourself to not squeeze your thighs together in front of your superior officer. "i can hear tha' wet cunt through the walls every night—are you tha' thirsty for it, pet?" a finger clips onto your belt loop, and you're being tugged closer, a chuckle rumbling from him when he takes notice of how flustered you're getting.

you've never wanted to explode into tiny pieces more in your life than this moment. your cheeks feel hot, and you can only stare up at him and watch as his gaze roams down your body. heated. predatory.

"i— i don't want—" you try to deny what you know is inevitable because ghost always gets his way, but it's thrilling to watch how he pushes his body against yours, the smell of him overpowering your rational thoughts. he only peels the mask high enough to free his mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat, a gloved hand finding its way to the front of your pants.

that night, when you crawl into bed with a fully charged vibrator, warmth already swirling in your belly, you think about how ghost's hands felt on your body. how he so meanly nudged the fat head of his cock in until he was fully sheathed, stretching you so thin you swear he was going to split you apart.

("there we go," he coos—or rather snarls at you, thick fingers filling up your mouth because you were whining too loud for his liking. "knew you wanted this fuckin' cunt stuffed full o'me," he groans while pawing at your chest, harsh pants hitting your ear. "tha's why you're so loud, innit? nasty fuckin' thing.")

how he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, licking into your mouth with such fervour, you were surprised he hadn't already burst into flames. he resembles a brick more than an actual human sometimes, but patience has always been his strongest quality.

you really shouldn't be surprised when ghost pours into your room while you're making yourself dizzy with thoughts of him, your brain liquifying on the pillow from the constant delicious vibrations against your throbbing clit. the sound of the door being kicked shut behind him startles you as he stalks over to your bed.

"i'm starting to think you like pissing me off." he growls softly, the bed squeaking underneath his weight. the vibrator is still buzzing against you, and you swallow when his eyes drop down to the soft, wet mess between your legs. "get on your fuckin' knees, girl."

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?

fuck no.

those are not the only reasons.

if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.

when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this – a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.

and then... your eyes.

eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.

the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.

"f-fuck..."

toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it – a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break – the shame fades.

the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.

you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.

he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it – how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all – he's obsessed.

but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want – it's not enough.

you want more.

taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.

"toji?"

your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.

"look at me."

he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.

"please..."

his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.

"look at me, baby."

it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes – if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.

his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.

you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it – you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.

you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands – his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.

you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.

curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him – he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it – he's officially dying.

taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.

"fuck, come here."

his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.

he needs to give you his all.

[sai-int]

[ pt 1 ] fwb!simon pt 2

--

you blink at him. once, twice, four times over, trying to make sense of the words he just said.

i’m in love with ya.

the words hang heavy in the air, thick enough to choke on.

“oh,” is all you manage at first. then, when the silence stretches too long and he’s still looking at you like that—like he’s waiting for something, hoping for something—you force yourself to shake your head.

“simon, i’m sorry,” you say, voice quiet, careful. “but i don’t feel the same way.”

you think saying it plainly will be best, will make it hurt less. but you watch his face, watch as the flicker of something in his eyes dims, and you realize there’s no easy way to crush a man like him.

he merely shrugs. nods. like you just told him it’s going to rain later.

so you nod, too, because what else can you do? you reach for your shirt, slipping it back over your head, shimmying into your shorts with hands that shake just a little. the silence is unbearable now, a thick, suffocating thing, and it only gets worse when you clear your throat and ask, barely above a whisper—

“do you want me to leave?”

his answer comes immediately. “yeah.”

you freeze for a second, embarrassment creeping up your spine, then you nod again (you’ve seriously got to stop just nodding) and scurry out of his room and to his front door, yanking it open and slipping out into the hallway. your heart is in your throat, your face burning as you rush across the hall to your own apartment, slamming the door shut behind you before pressing your back against it.

fuck.

fuck, that was so embarrassing.

you spend the night drowning in self-pity, staring at the ceiling as everything replays over and over in your head like a bad movie you can’t turn off.

why didn’t you stop it sooner? why didn’t you shut it down the second he started calling you baby instead of slut? why didn’t you flinch when he pressed his forehead to yours, when his hands stopped gripping and Çstarted holding?

you didn’t just let it happen—you basked in it. soaked it up like a sponge, let it fill you—let him fill you—and now you can’t tell if that was just muscle memory, a latent yet insatiable reaction to being wanted, or if it actually meant something.

fuck, if you weren’t already embarrassed, that would do it.

meanwhile, across the hall, simon doesn’t sprial. doesn’t even wallow in the face of rejection.

he pours himself two fingers of his finest bourbon, sits back on his couch, and sparks up a cig. inhales deep, lets the smoke curl through his lungs before exhaling slow.

he's got a plan.

the next evening, your phone buzzes.

simon: come over. door’s open.

you stare at the message for a long minute, heart thudding, stomach twisting itself into knots. this is it. this is where he tells you it’s over, where he curses you out for being a selfish cunt, for leading him on, for taking all he gave without giving anything back.

and you deserve it.

so you brace yourself, tugging on a light sweater, slipping into your shoes. every step across the hall feels heavier than the last, and by the time you’re standing outside his apartment, you have to take a deep breath before pressing your palm to the door.

you push it open.

instead of anger, instead of harsh words or something hauled at your head, you’re met with the warm, rich scent of something cooking.

what the fuck?

your brows pinch together as you step in deeper, looking around cautiously. “simon?”

no answer, but then you see him—standing at the small table in the center of his apartment, just finishing setting it. two plates, two glasses, candles flickering dimly in the low light.

what the actual fuck?

your stomach drops. maybe he poisoned the food. maybe this is how you’ll die.

“what’s going on?” you ask, wary, eyeing the plates like they might explode.

simon pulls out a chair. just looks at you, waiting.

you hesitate, then slowly pad over and sit. your hands fold in your lap, your throat feels tight.

he lowers himself into the chair across from you, elbows on the table, fingers laced together.

he watches you.

you both eat in silence.

the only sounds are the soft clinks of silverware against plates, the occasional scrape of a chair as one of you shifts. you force out a weak, “this is good,” because it is—really, it is—but also because the silence is suffocating.

simon just grunts. keeps eating.

so you do too. fork to plate, bite after bite. the food is great, but you barely taste it past the tight knot in your throat.

when you're both done, he wordlessly stands, gathering the plates and taking them to the sink. you watch him move—watch the way his muscles ripple under his fitted t-shirt, the way his blond hair is perpetually tousled, the way his face, bare of any mask, is set in quiet concentration as he rinses the dishes.

you don't even realize you're staring until—

thwap.

you flinch as he flicks your forehead, his thumb and middle finger snapping against your skin just hard enough to jolt you back to reality. you blink up at him, startled, as he stands in front of you, hand extended.

you hesitate, then slip your fingers into his.

he pulls you up, and before you can register it, he's on you—his hands firm on your waist, his lips swallowing yours entirely

you squeal at first, but his lips are so soft, so sweet and full of something heavy, something deep.

you melt into him.

and that's just stage one of simon's plan, to woo you.

that night he fucks you so good you can’t even think about leaving his bed, let alone moving. He splits you open on his cock, ravishing you to the nines. he takes his time, makes you feel it, makes sure you can feel every ounce of his devotion each time he makes you cum (6 times in one night, a new record)

by the time he's done, you're ruined. wrecked in the best way possible

when morning comes, you're knocked, body heavy and sore, limbs tangled in his sheets. you don’t even stir when he rolls out of bed, grabs your phone from where you dropped it the night before.

he types out a quick message to your boss

you: sorry, got covid. can’t come in for two weeks.

sent—delivered—read—probably fired, too (you won’t be needing a job with him around, silly)

you shift slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but you don’t wake.

simon smirks to himself, tossing your phone onto the nightstand.

(don’t ask how he knows your passcode)

stage two is integration.

the next time beckons you over to his place, you notice something’s… off.

your favorite coffee beans are sitting next to his cheap instant shit. your shampoo, your conditioner, your body wash—all neatly lined up in his shower. there’s a hoodie you thought the building’s dryer must’ve gobbled up weeks ago, just neatly folded on his dresser. The chapstick he’s tasted on your lips countless times now sits atop his bedside table.

you blink at the sight of it all, brows furrowed. you pick up the chapstick, turning to him with a questioning look.

he doesn’t even try to deny it.

“figured you’d be 'round more often,” he says, completely casual, completely simon about it.

like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like you’ve already signed a lease and are moving in next month (you are, you just don’t know it yet, doll).

you should argue. you should tell him ‘no, we’re not doing this’, but you don’t. instead, you swipe the chapstick over your lips, put it back where you found it, and pretend you don’t feel his eyes on you the whole time.

he smirks to himself, taking your silence for what it is. acceptance.

stage three of his plan? move out!

oh, but not him. 

you wake in your bed (for once) to find simon standing in front of your dresser.

your dresser.

he’s holding one of your shirts—some thin, worn-out thing you only sleep in—twisting the fabric between his fingers.

you rub the sleep from your eyes, voice groggy when you ask, “what the hell are you doing?”

he doesn’t even turn around. “doin’ you a favor.”

“a favor,” you repeat, voice flat.

he glances at you over his shoulder. “yeah. consolidating.”

and that’s when you notice—your drawers are open, half-empty, your closet missing key pieces. your things are gone.

panic flares in your chest. you throw the blankets off, stomp over to him, grab the shirt from his hands. "simon. where the fuck is my stuff?"

he shrugs, completely unbothered. "my place."

“your—” you cut yourself off, taking a deep breath, hands clenched into fists.

“figured it’d be easier this way,” he continues, like he’s explaining something obvious. “y'know, since y’spend all your time there anyway.”

you gape at him, dumbfounded. “you stole my shit?”

he tilts his head, considering. “nah,” he says finally. “just moved it.”

“without asking me.”

he steps closer, towering over you, eyes heavy-lidded and knowing.

“would you ‘ave said no?”

you want to say yes. you should say yes.

but the truth is, you don’t know. because when you think about it, when you really think about it—you never liked sleeping alone. never liked waking up to an empty bed.

and simon—your simon—he knows that. knows you better than you know yourself.

so instead of arguing, instead of pushing him away, you let him tip your chin up with two fingers.

“mine. got that, pet?,” he murmurs.

you nod.

{ people that expressed interest/taglist }

@pyxrin @xxrsi @skeletonsucker @spaceinvadernelly @coeurbrule @forgotmypasswordagain

[kashverse]

inspired by @freakycore's post here!!

sukuna was convinced you were trying to seal him away.

the moment the package arrived, he narrowed his eyes at it, his arms crossed over his chest as you ripped the box open with excitement. when the pink and black plush was finally freed from its plastic prison, you squealed, hugging it to your chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. sukuna, on the other hand, looked like he was about to commit homicide. "what the fuck is that?" he demanded, stepping closer to snatch the plushie out of your hands.

"it's you!" you beamed, completely oblivious to the way he was scrutinizing the poor thing as if it was some cursed object about to explode. "you made a doll of me?" he growled, shaking the plush slightly. "what kind of half-assed sealing method is this? you trying to imprison me in this ugly thing?"

"first of all, rude," you huffed, grabbing it back. "second, no, it's just a cute plushie. i spent so much money on this, you have no idea."

"stupid," sukuna muttered under his breath, but he didn't let it go. instead, he grabbed the plush back and began an extensive examination.

he poked at its belly. he pulled at its little stubby arms. he flipped it upside down, shook it, and even sniffed it.

"did you just smell the plushie?" you asked, horrified. "shut the hell up," he snapped, grabbing the plush by the head and staring directly into its beady little eyes. nothing happened.

he scowled.

"stop looking at it like you're waiting for it to start talking," you sighed, reaching for it again. sukuna yanked it out of reach, clicking his tongue. "if it does talk, i’m tearing it apart."

"you’re going to make me cry."

with great reluctance, he finally let you keep your ridiculous purchase

but later, while you were at work…

sukuna stood in front of the mirror, holding the plush up to his face. "tsk. ugly," he muttered, rotating the plush so it was nose to nose with him.

he stared into its beady little eyes. it stared back.

he squinted. it squinted back—no, wait, that was just his reflection.

frowning, he propped it up on the bathroom sink and crossed his arms. "go on. say something," he ordered.

silence.

his eye twitched.

he grabbed the plush again, shaking it slightly. "i know you're in there, bastard!"

silence.

sukuna scowled harder, throwing it onto the bed before storming away. but twenty minutes later, he was back, sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, glaring at the plush like it had personally insulted him.

this wasn’t over.

[seumyo]

a softie for sentimentality, bakugou katsuki.

Bakugou wears a bracelet. You’ve known about it for as long as you could remember, but only decided to acknowledge it now that you’re in your third year at UA, two weeks before graduation.

It wasn’t flashy or adorned with any kind of logo—just a simple, sturdy piece of metal with a stainless clasp that he seemed to wear all the time. You tilted your head as you studied it.

“You’ve had that bracelet for as long as I can remember,” you said, sitting down on his study chair. It’s a privilege to even set foot inside of his room without immediately being told (yelled) off, really.

Bakugou looked up from his book and glanced at you. “Yeah, and?”

“Is there, like, a story behind it?”

“No story,” he said with a shrug, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

“Really? That’s so bland. I thought there’d be like a gut-wrenching or life-changing story for it.”

He sat up from his bed with a huff, his eyes narrowing at you. “It’s just somethin’ I wear. What’s it to you?”

You raised your hands in mock surrender, a playful smile on your lips. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious. Keep your secrets.”

“Fuck off, dipshit.”

“Again with that! Why can’t you be nicer now that we’re graduating?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

-

But the conversation stuck to you.

It’s the day of graduation when you presented him with a small, handmade box. It was simple, made of sturdy cardboard decorated with his signature colors and an orange ribbon to match. Bakugou rose a brow.

“What’s this for?” He asks, holding it up like the box might explode at any given moment, though there was no bite to it.

“A box.”

“No shit,” he scoffs, “what’s in it?”

“Open it to find out!” You egged him on.

Bakugou sighs, opening the box with a focused pout. He went quiet when he saw what was inside.

“Ta-da! A bracelet,” you said, smiling. “For you. Thought you could use something new to switch things up.”

He held the stringed bracelet in his hand, looking at the material as if it would erupt in flames if he glared hard enough. It was a stark contrast to his metal one—brightly colored warm complementary beads with little charms that somehow still managed to feel like him. There was a red charm shaped like an explosion, a black bead with a skull design, and a small silver charm with an engraved kanji for “strength.”

“I’m not wearing this,” he said flatly.

It’s like your cartoonish heart balloon had suddenly been popped with a prickly needle.

“What? Why not? It’s cool!” you argued. “I even made it myself to really match you!”

“It’s not my style.”

“Sure it is. Look, it’s got black, silver, and even a little red—it screams Bakugou Katsuki.”

“I didn’t get you anythin’ as a parting gift,” he tells you.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s fine,” you replied, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just thought this’ll go with your metal bracelet.”

He nodded, though there was a somewhat frustrated pout on his expression, muttering something under his breath a soft “thanks,” and placed the gift back in the box, never actually letting you see him wearing it during that moment.

-

Years later, during a photoshoot for the yearly hero gala, Bakugou stood in front of the camera in his full Dynamight suit. The photographer adjusted the lights, snapping rapid shots as Bakugou struck his signature confident poses.

“Hold still,” the stylist said, adjusting his gauntlet slightly. Her eyes flicked to his wrist, and she paused. “Oh, that’s cute. Is that handmade?”

Bakugou blinked, following her gaze. Wrapped around his wrist, right next to his ever-present metal bracelet, was the colorful string bracelet you had made him all those years ago.

He stiffened slightly, but instead of taking it off, he shrugged. “Yeah. What about it?”

The stylist smiled warmly. “It’s a nice touch. Makes you seem... approachable. And quite frankly, it matches your suit.”

Bakugou snorted. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

-

When the photos surfaced online, fans quickly noticed the bracelet. Social media practically exploded that day.

Is Dynamight wearing a friendship bracelet??

A HANDMADE BRACELET ON DYNAMIGHT??

Guys, he’s worn this thing for YEARS. Check the old pictures! 🙂‍↔️

You, of course, caught wind of the news—because honestly, who wouldn’t when it took all social media platforms by storm? You saw the posts one evening while scrolling through your phone. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the photos. It was unmistakable—the bracelet you had made all those years ago.

Long after your UA days were behind you and your lives had taken you and Bakugou down different paths, the all-too-familiar bracelet made you smile sadly—more nostalgic happiness than actual sadness, really.

You stared at the screen, sighing quietly. You thought back to the last time you’d spoken, to the unspoken decision that had pulled you in different directions. You never thought something as small as a bracelet would still mean anything to him.

You didn’t even think you’d live to see the day he wears it, much less keep it after the years.

But there it was, bright and unapologetic on his wrist, a subtle reminder of a bond that hadn’t completely faded with time.

Somewhere across the city, Bakugou stood on a rooftop, the evening wind tugging at his hero uniform. He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist, running his thumb over the frayed edges of the string. He smirked to himself, a quiet acknowledgment of the past and the person who’d given it to him.

“Guess you were right,” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. “It does scream Bakugou Katsuki.”

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[cinnxmxngxrl]

can you do one where abby tortures reader instead of joel?

“Strong one”

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

Summary: What if it had been you Abby tortured, instead of Joel?

WC: 7k

Warnings/Tags: minors DNI, lots of fluff, violence, blood, smut, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected piv, pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage, age gap, established relationship.

You came to slowly, pain throbbing at the back of your skull like a war drum. The world spun before it sharpened into something bitterly real—wood-paneled walls, the scent of wet earth, rot, and snow seeping through the cracked window.

You were feeling dizzy, unsure of your surroundings. Then you heard him—Tommy—groaning, maybe ten feet away, on his knees with a gun pressed to the back of his head. Someone had already worked him over—blood poured from his nose, one eye nearly swollen shut.

You shifted. A boot slammed into your ribs.

“She’s awake,” a voice said. One of the others.

You coughed, vision blurry. You turned your head—and there she was.

She stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable. You saw the tension in her jaw. Rage, leashed just enough to keep her steady.

“So you’re the girlfriend then?” she asked.

Your throat was dry. “What?”

“Joel Miller.”

You didn’t answer fast enough. She strode forward and punched you—hard. Your head snapped back, stars exploding behind your eyes.

The force knocked the breath from your lungs, your vision swimming in bursts of light and shadow. Pain radiated from your jaw down to your neck like fire. You tried to steady yourself, but her fury was relentless.

Abby stepped back, breathing hard. “You think I came all this way to let it go? He killed my dad. And you—what? Played house with him? Helped him sleep at night?”

“Go to hell,” you spat, blood dribbling from your mouth.

“She had nothing to do with it,” Tommy growled. “You want revenge, take it out on—”

Abby cracked him across the face with the butt of her rifle.

The sharp crack echoed through the room like a gunshot. Tommy’s body jerked violently, a grunt of pain escaping his lips as he crumpled slightly. The air hung heavy with tension—no one dared to move.

“No. I want her.”

You tensed, the fear rising thick in your chest.

“You know what he did?” she asked, voice hollow. “He took everything from me. So I’m gonna take you from him. I’m gonna watch his whole world crumble first. And then, when he has nothing left, I’ll kill him.”

She stepped closer again, close enough you could smell the sweat on her skin, see the wild look in her eyes—untethered fury wrapped in flesh.

The golf club swung. Pain exploded in the back of your head—shattering, blinding. You screamed, the sound ripping through the walls.

Tommy shouted your name, but someone slammed him back down, held him there.

She didn’t stop. The club came down again. And again. You sobbed, gasped, tasted metal and blood.

A desperate, piercing shout.

“No—NO! Stop!”

The door slammed open, and Ellie stood frozen in the frame, eyes wild, breath ragged, gun trembling in her hands. Ellie’s voice rang out like a shot, desperate and breaking—but before her foot even fully crossed the threshold, someone was already on her. A blur of movement, and she went slamming to the floor, her gun clattering away as some guy pinned her down, his forearm crushing against her back.

“Ellie!” you tried to scream, but it came out broken, wet. Blood bubbled on your lips.

She struggled beneath him, snarling like an animal. “Get off me! GET THE FUCK OFF—”

But Abby didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up. She only adjusted her grip on the golf club.

You try to focus, but everything swirls.

Abby doesn’t hesitate.

“She’s mine,” Abby snarls, raising the club again. Her voice was shaking, but not from fear—from a rage that had fermented too long. “This isn’t for you,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is for him.”

And then—it came down again. A sickening crunch. The sound of bone breaking echoed like a gunshot, white-hot pain exploding through your shoulder and collarbone. Your scream tore from your throat, raw and desperate.

Your vision flashed white. Pain lanced through your shoulder, your collarbone—something cracked, and a scream tore its way out of your chest.

Ellie wailed. “Please—please stop! PLEASE!”

Abby paced around you, breathing heavily, blood spattered across her face now—your blood. Your arms were shaking, trying and failing to protect yourself.

You turned your face toward Ellie, teeth chattering. “It’s… okay,” you tried to say, voice mangled. “I’m okay.”

But you weren’t. Your chest was caving in with every breath, your limbs spasming from the shock. Your vision tunneled, shrinking to a pinprick where only Ellie’s terrified face remained.

“Let me go—fuck, let me go!” Tommy bellowed, fighting against his captors. “She didn’t do anything! GODDAMN YOU!”

The desperation in his voice was raw, filled with a furious helplessness. You wanted to tell him to stop, to be careful, but your own strength was fading fast.

Your vision blurs. Suddenly, a guttural howl slices through the silence—something not human.

A horde of runners burst through the windows and door, snarling.

The chaos was instant. Screams. Gunshots. Blood. The wet sound of teeth tearing flesh.

You hear Tommy cursing, hands ripping at your bindings.

“Come on, stay with me!” Ellie’s voice cuts through the haze.

You feel yourself being lifted—arms pulling, fingers fumbling at knots.

“Almost there…” Ellie breathes, her voice steady but strained.

You try to open your eyes but only see shifting shadows. The world tilts, then rights itself briefly.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Tommy grunts, his voice close.

The sounds around you—Ellie’s frantic movements, Tommy’s curses, the snarls of infected—fade in and out like distant thunder.

At one moment, you feel the snow cold against your cheek.

The next, warmth—Ellie holding you, whispering.

Then the world slips away again.

The door to the medical hall slammed open.

Joel didn’t wait to ask. He’d heard the shouting, the panic in the hallway, the word passed like wildfire:

“Let me see her. Now.” Joel’s voice was raw, trembling with a desperate edge as he pushed forward, eyes burning with frantic urgency.

“No. You can’t. Not yet.” Maria’s hand shot out, firm and unyielding, pressing heavily against his chest, stopping him in his tracks like a dam holding back a flood. Her face was pale, lips trembling.

Joel’s brow furrowed, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. “Why the hell not? I need to see her. I have to.”

Maria’s voice wavered, almost breaking. “She’s unconscious. Joel… They barely made it back alive. If it weren’t for the runners—” Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to hold back tears. “I don’t think she would’ve—” Her voice cracked like fragile glass. “She’s in bad shape.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his chest tightening with a suffocating mix of fear and fury. He shoved past Maria’s hand, his movements rough, reckless, propelled by a force he couldn’t control. The nurses’ hurried footsteps echoed behind him, the sterile smell of antiseptic thick in the air.

His arm was wrapped in a ragged sling, blood darkening the fabric. His shirt was torn and dirt-smudged, his face drawn and weary. Tommy’s eyes lifted slowly, heavy with guilt and exhaustion. He didn’t say a word at first — just stepped back, silently making way.

Joel’s whole body shook. “Tommy.” His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything.”

The words landed with crushing weight, suffocating Joel’s lungs. His legs wobbled, his vision blurred for a moment, and he gripped the doorframe to steady himself.

“How bad?” Joel forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Just tell me.”

Maria swallowed painfully, eyes flicking between Joel and Tommy. “She wasn’t breathing when they got her out. Dislocated shoulder. Head trauma. Internal bleeding—probably more.”

Her voice softened, breaking the silence like a fragile thread. “But she’s alive, Joel. She’s still alive.”

The word hung in the air, trembling with hope and fragility. Joel’s hands trembled at his sides, fingers curling into fists as if trying to crush the impossible.

But it didn’t stop the images flooding in. He imagined your face bloodied, your eyes swollen shut, your body limp in Ellie’s arms. He imagined you calling for him—and him not being there.

“What the fuck happened,” he breathed, jaw tight, voice trembling.

Tommy’s voice cracked. “We were ambushed—It was a setup. They wanted information… about you.”

Joel’s eyes slowly lifted. “Me?”

Tommy nodded, broken. “A girl wanted revenge. Said she was…the daughter of the doctor you killed in Salt Lake City.”

Joel blinked. And then it hit him.

The Fireflies. The daughter of the surgeon he’d killed in Saint Mary’s hospital to keep Ellie alive.

Tommy’s voice was lower now. “They… they beat her to hell, Joel. We got lucky, a horde came through the woods. I don’t know how, but… it saved us. We wouldn’t’ve made it out otherwise.”

Joel stood straighter, his fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms.

“You saw who did it? What about the girl?” His voice was low, deadly calm.

Tommy hesitated. “Yeah. The girl… she got bit. Some of the others too. The rest ran.”

Suddenly, the door burst open, swinging wide.

Ellie and a nurse stepped out.

Ellie’s face was a mask of exhaustion and pain—her eyes red-rimmed and swollen, hands trembling like leaves in a storm. One sleeve torn and dirt-streaked. She stared at Joel, speechless.

You’d been a key part in trying to bring Joel and Ellie together.

You loved her, and Ellie loved you just as much. She was your favorite patrol partner—brilliant, brave, endlessly curious. She made the quiet hours pass with jokes and stories that veered wildly from tragic to hilarious. Somewhere along the way, she’d started treating you like some kind of strange hybrid—a big sister on good days, a stand-in mother on bad ones. You never asked which one she needed. You just gave what you could.

She trusted you. Which was why she didn’t push back too hard when you started nudging her toward Joel again. It had started small. Quiet comments like, “I think Joel’s trying, even if he sucks at showing it,” or “He asks about you, you know.”

Then it’d be dinner invitations—casual, no pressure. Making excuses to watch old movies together, trying to spark conversation. You’d sit between them on the couch like a buffer, nudging Ellie to ask Joel a question about some ancient actor, or joking with Joel until Ellie cracked the tiniest smile. Sometimes it felt like pulling teeth. Ellie would barely say a word. Joel would sit rigid, as if afraid even breathing too loud might piss her off.

But it was working. Slowly. Bit by bit.

Joel’s chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“Where is she? Let me see her,” he demanded, voice rough, desperate.

“Joel—” Ellie tried to stop him.

The nurse held up a hand, calm but firm. “She’s sedated. You can’t see her yet. But she’s stable. She’s going to pull through.”

Joel swallowed hard, the tightness in his chest deepening.

Then the nurse added quietly, “The baby’s okay too. It’s a miracle she didn’t lose it after all she went through. She’s a strong one.”

Silence slammed into Joel like a physical blow.

The word baby echoed through his mind, thunderous and impossible.

He blinked, voice barely audible. “What…? What baby?”

The nurse glanced at Ellie, then back to Joel. “You didn’t know?”

Joel shook his head, barely perceptible, voice breaking. “No. She—” His throat tightened, and a wave of guilt crashed through him. “She didn’t tell me.”

“She’s about ten, maybe eleven weeks along,” the nurse said softly. “We almost missed it. She lost so much blood. But we checked. The heartbeat is strong.”

Joel stared blankly, as if the words were foreign.

Baby.

The cold numbness in his limbs faded, replaced by a sudden, piercing ache.

Ellie moved to him before he could fall. She threw her arms around him, tight, clinging like she was the only thing tethering him to earth. Her small frame shook as she cried into his shoulder, her tears hot against the worn fabric of his jacket.

“She was protecting her stomach,” Ellie whispered, voice trembling. “They kept hitting her and she didn’t even cover her head, fuck— just kept pulling her arms down around her stomach like—like it was all that fucking mattered.”

Joel made a sound—half gasp, half sob—that barely escaped his throat. His arms wrapped around Ellie, squeezing her to him, grounding himself with the only comfort he had left. His chest heaved as his world tilted.

He’d thought he’d felt every kind of agony—guilt, rage, fear.

But this was different. This was everything.

He’d almost lost you.

And the child he never even knew.

“Please… can I see her?” His voice was so low it barely broke the silence.

The nurse hesitated, then nodded.

“Just for a moment.”

The room was dim, cast in the muted glow of a single amber lamp tucked into the far corner. Shadows stretched long across the sterile walls. The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound — a fragile, steady echo of your pulse.

Bandages wrapped your forearms, thick and clean against bruised skin. Dried blood streaked along your hairline, your temple swollen and marred. One eye was sealed shut with purple-black bruising, the other just barely fluttering beneath the weight of exhaustion.

And still… you looked too still.

Joel sat hunched at your bedside, the chair pulled close, knees spread wide, elbows braced atop them. His hands were clenched together so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He sat like if he let go of himself for even a second, he’d come apart at the seams.

He hadn’t spoken.

Not a word. Just stared.

Your face — bruised, bloodied, unfamiliar — was nearly unrecognizable. But it was you. He knew it was you. Knew it in the way something deep inside him cracked every time he looked at you and remembered that he hadn’t been there.

Hadn’t protected you.

His hand moved, slow and uncertain, until his trembling fingers brushed against the back of yours. The contact was featherlight — scared, reverent. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t stir. Just breathed.

That alone nearly brought him to his knees.

He cleared his throat — a harsh, raw sound that cracked in the stillness.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough as gravel, like it had been clawed from his chest. “I’m here.”

Silence answered. But it was deafening. Not peaceful. Not calm. It ached.

“I… I didn’t know. Bout the baby.” He rubbed his face, the gesture full of exhaustion and disbelief. “Jesus, sweetheart. Why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice trembled. So did his shoulders.

“I woulda—fuck, I woulda lost it. Yeah.” A strained laugh broke through his lips. But it was hollow. Pained. “But not ‘cause I didn’t want it. Not ‘cause I didn’t want you.”

He leaned in closer, his thumb brushing the unbruised edge of your knuckles — the only untouched part of your hand.

“You’re the strongest damn woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered. “But you didn’t have to do this alone.”

His gaze dropped to your stomach — now gently bandaged beneath the blanket. The rise and fall of your breathing was barely perceptible. But it was there. Alive.

“You saved that baby,” he rasped. “Even with your head cracked open and your body shattered, you still fought. For it. For us.”

“I shoulda been there.” His voice thickened, near breaking. “It shoulda been me they wanted. Not you. Never you.”

Your eyelids twitched.

A flicker. Barely there. Like a breeze brushing over dying embers.

Then again.

Slowly. Painfully.

You blinked.

Your eyes felt like they were glued shut, lashes sticky with dried tears and blood. But through the haze, shapes began to form. Blurred outlines. The dim lamp. The sterile white ceiling. The smell of antiseptic.

You turned your head — just barely. Every muscle screamed. But then you saw him.

Joel.

Slumped forward in the chair beside your bed, his forehead resting against the back of your hand like he was praying. Or begging. Or trying to breathe without breaking.

Your fingers twitched. Just a small movement — a whisper of touch. But it was enough.

Joel’s head snapped up, eyes wide and bloodshot, rimmed red with exhaustion. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Like he couldn’t believe it.

“…Baby?”

You blinked again. Your lips parted, cracked and dry. It took every ounce of strength, but a sound emerged.

“J…Joel.” Your voice was barely audible. A dry rasp, ragged and thin — but unmistakable. And at the sound of it, something inside him crumbled.

He was up in an instant — not rushing, not smothering you, just leaning in close, hands hovering over your face like he was afraid to hurt you with touch.

“Oh God. You’re—hey. Look at me.” His hand cradled your cheek, barely pressing against your bruised skin. “You’re okay. You’re awake. Jesus, sweetheart. I thought I lost you.”

You winced, your ribs flaring with pain. A soft whimper slipped out. In one moment, as your senses slowly began to crawl back to you through the haze of pain and exhaustion, your hand instinctively flew to your stomach.

“Is… is the ba—?”

Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper, your palm pressed against the soft curve of your belly like you could somehow feel for a heartbeat through skin and muscle. Like you could will the baby back into being with just a touch.

“Easy, easy.” Joel’s voice dropped again. “Don’t move too much.” His hands never left yours. “You’re banged up real bad. But you’re safe now. You hear me? You’re safe. The baby’s safe too. Breathin’.”

You blinked slowly, chest rising in shallow waves. “Hurts.”

“I know.” His thumb swept under your eye, brushing away nothing, but needing to touch you. “I know, baby. But you’re here. You’re okay. I gotcha.”

His gaze drifted down to your stomach, his hand resting there with reverence. Even with your skin bruised, your abdomen tender — he touched you like you were holy. Like you were the sun returning after a hundred winters.

“I was gonna tell you,” you murmured, voice cracked. “About the baby.”

Joel didn’t speak.

You looked away, ashamed. “I just… didn’t know how.”

He waited.

“It’s not like it was some big secret. I wanted to tell you. I just… I thought about what the world looks like now. About what it did to you. To Sarah.” Your voice wavered. “You’ve already lost so much, Joel. I didn’t want to put that weight on you again.”

Joel flinched. Slight. But enough.

“I didn’t want to give you one more thing to be afraid of. One more thing to lose.” You said, swallowing back tears.

He closed his eyes slowly. Like your words were knives carving across his heart.

“I thought maybe you’d think it was selfish. Or stupid. To bring life into this.” Your throat closed, voice nearly silent. “I didn’t know how you’d react. If you’d be angry. If you’d feel… trapped. You’ve carried so much, Joel. And I just—I didn’t want to throw a new baby at you and expect you to carry that weight again. Especially at your age.”

Joel exhaled — a sound like air rushing from a collapsing structure. “Thanks f’that.”

You gave him the faintest smile. “You know what I mean.”

He nodded slowly, leaning in. His eyes locked to yours, warm and full and broken. “A child with you… that’d never be a burden.”

He kissed your forehead. Then your temple. The corner of your mouth — so gently it barely registered as contact.

“I am scared,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “Shitless, if I’m honest. This world ain’t made for soft things anymore.”

His hand moved back to your stomach.

“But I’d fight tooth and nail to make room for one. For ours.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I want this. Not just the baby. You. All of it. The good. The bad. The ugly. Whatever’s comin’ next.”

“Good,” you whispered. “’Cause I don’t think I can get through this without you.”

He cupped your face again, more firmly now. Grounded. Real.

“You won’t have to,” he said. His voice didn’t shake this time. It was steady. A promise.

Your eyes fluttered shut again — not from pain this time, but peace.

Safety.

Joel pressed his lips to your forehead one last time, holding there.

“I gotcha, mama,” he murmured. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up again.”

Even after the conversation. Even after you’d drifted again for a short while. Joel stayed there — unmoving, unblinking — his fingers wrapped tight around yours like a man clinging to the edge of a cliff. Like if he loosened his grip for even a second, the earth might open up and swallow you whole.

You stirred softly.

Your eyelashes fluttered, lips parting on a shallow breath. The light above was dim now, flickering faintly, but enough to illuminate the slouched shape beside you.

Joel’s head was bowed, broad shoulders hunched like he was carrying the full weight of what had happened — and still carrying it badly. His brow was furrowed deep enough to carve a canyon, and his jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it hurt to breathe.

“Joel,” you whispered, voice paper-thin.

He lifted his head slowly. His eyes were red, glassy. But he didn’t wipe them.

“I need to say somethin’,” he said. His voice cracked mid-sentence, like something inside had finally split. “And I need you to let me say it all.”

You nodded. Barely. “Okay.”

Joel leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees again, his entire posture that of a man on trial — like he’d already found himself guilty and now just needed to speak the verdict out loud.

“’M sorry,” he said, voice low and thick and ragged. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You blinked slowly, pain thudding somewhere behind your eyes.

“I shoulda been there. I shoulda known.” His hands wrung together like he was trying to throttle the guilt out of his bones. “I’ll never forgive myself for you gettin’ dragged into the shit that was meant for me.”

His voice dropped, rough with self-loathing.

“You went through hell. And I wasn’t there to stop it. To protect you.”

You opened your mouth — your breath caught behind the ache in your throat — to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That it couldn’t have been. But he pushed through.

“I know you’re gonna say I couldn’t have known. That it ain’t my fault. But that doesn’t matter. I shoulda made damn sure nothing ever got that close to you. Not ever.”

His eyes found yours. And for a moment, it felt like he was trying to etch himself into your memory, like he needed you to see every drop of guilt in his soul.

“You were tortured,” he said, voice shaking. “F’me. And I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even close. And I don’t know how to live with that.”

Your bottom lip trembled. “Joel…”

He shook his head — firm, broken, desperate.

“You are the strongest person I’ve ever known,” he said, his voice rough but reverent, like it hurt to say it out loud — like it was sacred. “And if that little girl or boy grows up to have even half the heart you do…” He faltered. His throat worked around it. “They’ll be somethin’ fierce. Just like their mama.”

The tears came faster now — yours, not his. Hot streaks trailing down your cheeks, every drop a release of pain and love and everything in between.

Joel leaned in, kissed your hand — soft, reverent, like it was the only thing in the world that made sense.

“You didn’t just survive what they did.” His lips hovered above your skin. “You protected our child through it. You kept them safe. You held on — for both of you.”

He pulled back, just enough to look at you, thumb brushing a fresh tear from your cheek.

“You’re already a better mother than most ever get the chance to be.”

Your whole body trembled with a soft sob. Joel moved carefully, gently, sliding closer onto the bed. His arms came around you slow — cautious of every bruise, every bandage — and yet strong, anchoring, like he could hold you together with just his touch.

He cradled the back of your head and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed.

“‘M here now,” he whispered, the words more vow than comfort. “And I’m gonna spend the rest of my life makin’ sure you never have to go through somethin’ like that again.”

You buried your face into his neck, your fingers clutching weakly at his shirt. You could feel his pulse under your cheek — strong, steady, alive.

“I love you,” you breathed.

“I love you too,” Joel said, voice breaking again. “So damn much.”

The room had gone quiet again. You’d drifted off, the pain meds finally taking root, winding through your bloodstream like silk — pulling you into the kind of sleep that didn’t feel like surrender, but mercy.

Your breathing evened out, lashes resting soft against your cheeks. The pain still lingered in your features, but the fear was gone.

Joel didn’t move.

He stayed right there, one hand resting lightly on your belly — over the soft swell that now held more than bruises or wounds. It held hope. And something else entirely.

His hand was rough, weathered. It dwarfed the small curve beneath it, but trembled just slightly, like he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch something this fragile. This sacred.

He leaned down, close enough that his lips nearly brushed the blanket.

“Hey, little one,” he murmured. “Reckon we haven’t properly met yet. I’m your daddy.”

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle over your stomach.

“You don’t know it yet, but your mama… she’s the strongest damn person I’ve ever known. Carried you through somethin’ no one should have to survive. And she did it without ever lettin’ go of you.”

His voice hitched.

“She protected you. Even when I couldn’t protect her.”

He swallowed thickly, lips pressed tight.

“I don’t know what this world’s gonna look like when you’re old enough to see it for what it is. But I swear to you — I’ll make a place for you. I’ll fight for it. I’ll bleed for it. You and her… you’re it for me now. I’ll give everythin’ I got to make sure you get a chance at somethin’ better than what I had. Better than what Ellie had. Better than what Sarah had.”

Joel heard someone coming and turned quickly, rising from the bed instinctively—half-guarded, half-concerned—but relaxed when he saw Ellie standing in the doorway, hoodie sleeves bunched at her elbows, hands stiff at her sides. Her eyes were bloodshot, rimmed in bruised exhaustion, and dried blood still clung beneath her nails.

She looked shell-shocked. Frozen. Younger than usual. And older.

Joel rose, slow, careful.

“She’s asleep,” he said softly. “But stable. They said she’ll make it.”

Ellie’s eyes shifted to the bed. To the tubes and gauze and bruises that painted your body like a warzone. Her jaw clenched.

“I thought she was gonna die,” she whispered. Her voice broke on the word “die.”

Joel’s own face cracked.

“Me too.”

“She protected the baby. That’s… fucking insane.”

Joel didn’t look away from her.

“She’s always been brave,” he said. “You know that.”

Ellie’s throat bobbed with something unspoken. Then she nodded. Quietly.

Joel hesitated — then stepped back, nodding toward the chair beside you.

“She’ll want to see you when she wakes up.”

Ellie didn’t move at first.

Then, slow as a tide rolling in, she stepped forward and sank into the chair. Her hand reached out — hesitant, unsure — before closing around yours like she was afraid she might break you.

She pressed her forehead close to your arm, breathing shallow.

Joel watched them — the woman he’d almost lost and the girl who’d saved him from being lost long before that — and for the first time in days, maybe weeks, he let out a breath that didn’t shake.

And for just a moment, the weight didn’t feel so impossible to carry.

When you woke up the next morning, the harsh white light of the hospital room was already creeping in through the blinds. Your body ached in every part—every breath a reminder of what you’d been through. You blinked slowly, trying to focus, and realized Joel wasn’t there. Instead, the faint scrape of fabric caught your attention.

Ellie was there—collapsed into the chair beside you, her body folding into itself like she’d been there for hours. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, the dark circles under them stark against her pale skin. Her hands rested limply on her lap, trembling just slightly.

You lifted your head just enough to meet her gaze, a weak but genuine smile touching your lips. “Hey, kid.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She just blinked at you, like she was trying to find the right thing, but the words got stuck somewhere deep.

Finally, she cleared her throat, voice rough and low. “Joel went to get a shower. He didn’t want to leave you, but I insisted.” She let out a humorless chuckle that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Told him he was gonna start stinking if he didn’t.”

You gave her a nod, your lips twitching into a half-smile that was more tired gratitude than amusement.

Ellie’s hands clenched tightly in her lap, knuckles turning white beneath her skin. Her voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“I didn’t know if… I didn’t think you’d…” She swallowed hard, biting back a sob. “Shit.”

Your chest tightened as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I’m here, Ellie,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I’m still here.”

Her gaze dropped to the worn hospital blanket covering your legs. Her jaw clenched so hard it looked painful, and when she finally spoke, it was with a rawness that broke your heart.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve—I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve done something.”

You reached out slowly with your good arm, your fingers trembling as they brushed against her wrist, grounding her. “Ellie, there was nothing you could’ve done. Nothing.”

She shook her head, her voice catching like she was swallowing a storm inside her.

“I was so scared. When we got here and they said you weren’t breathing… I didn’t know if I’d lost you.”

Your throat tightened, tears blurring your vision, but you forced the words out. “I’m fine. I’m here. You got me here.”

She swallowed again, voice barely above a whisper.

“And the baby—I didn’t… I didn’t know.” Her eyes flicked back up to yours, wide and shining. “Congratulations, by the way.”

A soft smile broke through your pain. “Thank you.”

“Can I…?” Ellie’s voice was hesitant, eyes flicking to your belly as she made a small, uncertain gesture.

“Sure,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

She moved her hands closer, like she was afraid to cause you even the smallest discomfort. When her hands finally reached your stomach, she placed them there with a tenderness that made your heart ache. You weren’t showing at all yet, but Ellie swore she felt something warm beneath her palms, a quiet pulse of life.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Congratulations. I’m… really happy for you. For both of you.”

A soft, tired laugh escaped your lips. “You should tell Joel too. He’s scared shitless of being a dad at fifty-eight.”

Ellie’s gaze lifted to meet yours, fierce and unwavering. “He’ll do good… And the baby… it’s lucky to have him as a dad.”

You reached up and squeezed her hands gently, letting the weight of her words settle between you.

Without another word, Ellie leaned her forehead gently against your arm. You felt the tremble in her breath, the tears soaking quietly into the hospital sheet beneath her. She stayed like that, silent, close, as if holding onto you would keep the world from falling apart.

The house was quiet.

For the first time in days, it was just you and Joel. The sunlight stretched across the wooden floorboards, casting slow, lazy warmth through the windows of your shared home in Jackson. The hum of distant voices outside was barely audible, muffled by thick walls and thick memories.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pulling your sweater down over your ribs — the bruises had faded to something yellowish now, the deeper aches dulling with each passing morning. You were walking fine. Breathing steady. Healing.

But Joel hadn’t touched you. Not really.

You’d noticed it first the night you got home. The way he helped you into bed like you were made of glass. The way his hands hovered near you instead of resting on your waist, how he kissed your forehead and not your lips. Every time you reached for him, he would pull away — gently, but completely.

And it was happening again now.

You stood in front of him as he folded laundry at the end of the bed. You stepped into his space, reached for his hands.

“Joel.”

At the sound of your voice, his shoulders twitched — a reflex he couldn’t hide — and slowly, he turned.

His features softened the moment he saw you.

“Hey, darlin’.”

“I’m fine,” you said, voice low but steady. “You know that, right?”

His jaw flexed. “Yeah. I know.”

But he didn’t sound like he believed it. Not really.

You slipped your fingers under his shirt, just a little, just enough to feel the heat of him.

He flinched. Not like you scared him — more like he was scared of himself. Of what touching you might do.

You looked up at him. “You haven’t kissed me in three days.”

“I kissed your forehead.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Silence fell like a weight between you, heavy and aching.

He didn’t answer.

You moved even closer, resting your palms on his chest now, over his heart. It was thudding. Fast and heavy, like he’d been running.

“I need you, Joel.”

He let out a breath, rough and shaky. “I know. I just—”

“You think I’ll break.”

His silence was your answer.

You stepped back a little, hurt stinging sharper than any wound.

“You won’t even look at my body anymore,” you said. “You won’t touch me like you used to. You see me like I’m something still bleeding.”

Joel turned away, hands gripping the edge of the dresser, knuckles white.

“You almost died,” he said. Voice low. “They could’ve killed you, and our baby.”

“But they didn’t.”

“I wasn’t there,” he snapped, then softened immediately. “I wasn’t there to stop it, and now I—now I don’t know how to touch you without seein’ what they did.”

Your chest cracked open.

“Joel…” you crossed to him, slowly this time, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You pressed your cheek to his back, listened to the way his breath caught.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you whispered. “You’re the only place I feel safe.”

He exhaled through his nose, his hand covering yours where they rested on his stomach.

“I want you, Joel. I want to feel you close again. I want to feel like we’re still… us.”

You turned him gently, your eyes pleading as you reached up to brush a thumb over his jaw. His eyes flicked to your mouth.

Your lips brushed his — tentative, testing. And when he didn’t flinch this time, when his mouth moved with yours in something soft and real, the ache in your chest began to loosen.

He tasted like breath held too long. Like guilt. Like hunger starved for too many nights.

He held you close. Still careful, still trembling. But his mouth was hungry now. His hands buried in your hair. A low, desperate sound left his throat as he deepened the kiss, all that fear bleeding into the press of his lips.

“Christ, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “Missed you so bad it’s killin’ me.”

You broke apart just enough to breathe, forehead against his.

“You tell me if it’s too much. You promise me that.” He said.

“I promise,” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes dark with something deeper than lust. And then he started undoing your clothes.

Gently. Carefully.

He peeled off your shirt with trembling hands, eyes raking over every new scar and fading bruise with something like reverence. His fingertips brushed your skin like it was sacred.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, voice thick. “They didn’t take this from me. They didn’t take you.”

When he kissed down your chest, his hands slid to your hips — not possessive, not greedy. Just needing to hold you, to feel you were real.

“Been dreamin’ about this,” he murmured. “Bout how you taste, how you sound when you cum on my tongue…”

Your breath hitched.

Joel moved down the bed, kneeling between your thighs as he gently helped you out of your underwear. His gaze was molten when he spread your legs — and fuck, the way he looked at you then, like you were a goddamn feast he’d been starving for.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he muttered, eyes locked on your slick folds. “You’re drippin’ already. Missed this cunt so goddamn bad.”

You felt his breath against your core before he even touched you.

Then—

His tongue licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, and your whole body arched.

“Joel—!”

He groaned like he’d just tasted heaven. “That’s it. Lemme hear ya.”

His grip on your thighs tightened, spreading you open with a possessive strength now. His tongue flicked your clit once, twice — then he flattened it, dragging it up with a wet, obscene sound that made your hips jerk.

He licked you again, slower this time, letting his tongue swirl around your clit before pulling it into his mouth with a soft suck.

You cried out, hands flying to his hair, hips twitching against his mouth. He moaned like you were his last meal, tongue working faster now, more insistent.

He buried his face in you, beard scraping your thighs, and the lewd sounds he made — wet slurps, groans vibrating against your pussy — made you flush all the way to your chest.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet, darlin’,” he murmured between licks. “Could stay here all night…buried in this pussy.”

Your hips rolled against his mouth, and he moaned, sucking your clit harder as one thick finger slipped into you — so gentle, so damn careful.

“That feel okay, baby?”

“Y-Yeah,” you gasped. “More, please…”

Joel gave you what you wanted. He added a second finger, slow and deliberate, curling them just right until your back arched. His mouth never left your clit, his tongue lapping and sucking like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

He fucked you slow with his fingers, tongue working your clit until you were shaking, thighs trembling around his head.

“Cum f’me,” he murmured. “Wanna taste you when you fall apart.”

You felt it building — white-hot pressure curling in your spine, your belly, your thighs. Your breath came in ragged little sobs.

Your orgasm hit like a damn freight train — you cried out, thighs clamping around his head, cunt pulsing around his fingers as he kept licking you through it, swallowing everything you gave him.

When he pulled back, his beard was soaked, eyes wild and tender all at once.

“You good?” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Need a second?”

“I need you now.”

That pulled a low growl from him.

He stripped quickly, climbing over you with a new kind of urgency. His cock was thick and heavy between you, flushed and aching, precum leaking through his tip, and when he finally slid it through your folds, he shuddered.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, rubbing the head through your soaked slit. “You’re so wet, makin’ a fuckin’ mess—gonna slide right in, yeah?”

“Joel—fuck, please—”

He pushed in slow, inch by inch, stretching you open so carefully it almost hurt with how tender it was.

“Shit,” he breathed, burying his face in your neck. “You’re still so tight, baby—fuck—so warm…”

You moaned as he bottomed out, your nails raking his back.

He trembled on top of you, hips stilled, letting you feel every inch. His voice was wrecked.

“I missed this… missed bein’ inside you. Thought I’d never get to feel this again.”

“Joel. Move, please—”

He started to thrust, slow but deep, grinding his hips into yours like he needed to feel every inch of you clench around him.

Each stroke was deliberate — filthy and reverent. His cock dragged along your walls, thick and stretching, making you moan into his mouth as he kissed you like a man starving.

“I gotcha,” he whispered. “I’m here. I ain’t ever lettin’ go again.”

You kissed him hard — sloppy, desperate — and he responded like he was drowning in you.

It was romantic. Filthy. Desperate.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your heels dug into the small of his back, urging him closer, grinding his cock impossibly deep into your soaking cunt.

The slick sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, obscene and perfect. Each wet slap of his hips was a promise — I’m here, I’m yours, I’m not going anywhere.

“Shit—feel how you’re squeezin’ me?” he gasped, voice fraying. “Your little pussy’s so fuckin’ greedy, baby. She don’t wanna let me go.”

He panted into your ear, hips pistoning now, his balls slapping your ass as he fucked you harder, dirtier. His thrusts lost their rhythm, turning rough, frantic, like he needed to fuck the memory of almost losing you out of his bloodstream.

He hissed through his teeth. “Fuck—feel you milkin’ me, baby, you really missed this cock, didn’t ya? Feel your pussy clinging to it. Can’t hold— won’t last much longer…”

Your cunt fluttered around him, clenching, desperate — and when you came again, crying out his name like a prayer you’d almost forgotten, Joel broke with you.

“Oh fuck—fuck, baby—I’m comin’—” he groaned, voice wrecked, thick with relief and need.

Joel cursed and followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with a ragged groan, burying himself deep.

You could feel it — hot spurts of his release filling you, cock throbbing inside your cunt as he grunted into your neck. His whole body jerked with every pulse, like his soul was pouring into you along with his cum.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, forehead against your skin. “Fuckin’ needed that. Needed you.”

“I needed you even more.”

His body trembled over yours.

He didn’t move for a long time — just stayed there, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard. His hands cradled your face like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And maybe you were.

Because for the first time since that night, Joel didn’t feel like he was breaking.

He felt whole.

A/N: To the person who requested this—and to everyone else reading—I truly loved writing this, and I really hope you enjoyed it. Tysm for the request🩷🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[sakuraszn]

ft. katsuki bakugo

party’s over, dumbass.

“Katsuki, you absolute menace, put me down!”

“Not a damn chance.”

The flashing lights from paparazzi cameras were relentless, but Katsuki Bakugo didn’t give a single shit. What he did care about was getting your stubborn ass out of this damn party before the sun came up.

He had warned you. Multiples times. First, with a simple, “We’re leavin’ soon.” Then, with a pointed, “Oi. It’s almost one.” After that, he even tried the dreaded, “You’re gonna be a pain in the ass tomorrow if you don’t sleep.”

But did you listen? No.

Instead, you were still here at almost two in the goddamn morning, laughing, drinking, and somehow ignoring every single one of his sharp glares.

So, he handled it the only way he knew how.

By throwing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of rice and marching out of the venue while cameras flashed and onlookers gawked.

You were kicking and flailing over Bakugo’s shoulder like some kind of feral raccoon, and he was handling it with all the patience of a sleep-deprived babysitter. Which, to be fair, is exactly what he felt like right now.

“You’re a tyrant,” you huffed, smacking his back.

“And you’re a goddamn liability,” he shot back, tightening his grip as you squirmed like a toddler avoiding bedtime. “You think I got the patience to deal with your drunk ass at three in the morning? Hell no.”

People were staring. Cameras were flashing. Paparazzi were practically frothing at the mouth.

—Dynamight’s Mystery Date Held Hostage?!

—Pro Hero Bakugo CARRIES Lover Away From Exclusive Party—Relationship Drama?!

Meanwhile, Kirishima and Mina were losing their minds on the sidelines, filming the whole thing like it was premium content.

“BROOOO,” Kirishima wheezed, “you look like a dad carrying his screaming kid out of a toy store!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!” Bakugo barked, already regretting everything.

You, however, took full advantage of the attention, draping an arm over your forehead dramatically. “Someone save me! I’m being kidnapped by Dynamight!”

“Oh my god, do that again, I need another angle,” Mina cackled.

Bakugo swore he was going to explode something—preferably this whole night—as he stomped toward the car.

“You’re the worst,” you groaned.

“No, dumbass,” he huffed, finally dumping you into the passenger seat. “You are. Now shut up and put your seatbelt on before I do it for you.”

And just like that, the door slammed shut—sealing your fate as the most dragged out partygoer of the year.

© sakuraszn! xoxo

[writeriguess]

neemaaa

can i request a katsuki x reader where they are secretly in a relationship? they get caught making out by their friends and then get teased the whole time

Unveiled

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness thrumming through your veins as you pressed yourself against Katsuki Bakugo. His lips were hot against yours, moving with a fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. One of his hands was gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, while the other cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nails grazing the nape of his skin, earning a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your entire body.

This was risky. So damn risky.

Your friends could walk in at any moment. Hell, they were supposed to be here already! But the adrenaline, the sheer thrill of sneaking around, made it impossible to care. You had been keeping your relationship with Bakugo a secret for months, slipping away in between training sessions, sneaking into each other’s rooms at odd hours, exchanging heated glances across the common area when no one was looking. It was exhilarating, having this little secret between just the two of you.

"Tch, you taste good," Bakugo muttered against your lips before diving back in, deepening the kiss. You couldn't help but melt into him, fingers tightening against his skin as you pulled him closer.

That was when it happened.

The door to the empty common room slammed open with a loud BANG.

"OH MY GOD!" Mina’s voice practically echoed through the room, followed by the distinct sound of Kaminari’s laughter and Kirishima’s deep chuckle. You barely had time to react before the two of you jerked apart, but it was too late.

You were caught.

Bakugo's face was a mix of horror and absolute rage, his entire body tensing as if he was about to explode—not figuratively, but literally. You, on the other hand, were frozen in place, eyes darting between your very smug-looking friends.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" Kaminari wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. "I THOUGHT YOU HATED EVERYONE, BAKUGO!"

"Shut the hell up!" Bakugo barked, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

Mina smirked, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway. "Secret relationship, huh? Oh, this is juicy. You guys have been sneaking around this whole time? How long?!"

"None of your damn business!" Bakugo snapped, but his reaction only seemed to fuel their amusement.

Kirishima grinned, slinging an arm around Bakugo’s shoulder despite the clear and present danger of being blown to smithereens. "Man, this explains so much! You've been way less of an asshole lately."

"The hell I have!"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we just pretend you guys didn't see anything?"

Mina gasped dramatically. "Oh, absolutely not. This is the best thing that's happened all week!"

"Yeah, we're never letting you live this down," Kaminari added, grinning wickedly. "So, tell me, Bakugo, how long have you been secretly making out with our dear friend here?"

Bakugo twitched, his fists clenched, and for a moment, you genuinely feared for Kaminari’s safety. "You wanna die, Dunce Face?"

"Relax, man, I think it’s kinda cute!" Kirishima piped up, and Bakugo turned his death glare toward him instead.

Mina was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others! You know this means the whole class is going to grill you, right?"

"Don’t you dare," you warned, but it was futile.

"Oh, I dare," she teased, winking. "I give it five minutes before everyone in 1-A knows."

Bakugo groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "I swear to god, I will kill all of you."

But the teasing didn't stop there. By the time the rest of your classmates found out, it was pure chaos. Sero and Kaminari wouldn't stop making exaggerated kissing noises every time you and Bakugo were in the same room. Todoroki, in his usual deadpan tone, commented, "I always assumed Bakugo was incapable of romance. This is surprising."

Momo and Iida, on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy for you both, though Iida did remind you that public displays of affection should be kept to a minimum.

It was insufferable. It was embarrassing. It was never-ending.

And yet, despite all the teasing, Bakugo still found ways to sneak you away, to press you against the walls of empty hallways, to steal quick, heated kisses when no one was looking.

"They can tease all they want," he muttered one night, his lips brushing against yours, "but that doesn't change a damn thing. You're mine."

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[scarletmika]

Always : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

PART TWO OF Stay With Me : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Ex-Widow!Reader

Summary: Bob stayed with you, just as you asked, and life couldn't be better. But the past always has a way of catching up with you, no matter how hard you try and push it away and leave it behind. Now, it's Bob's turn to save you.

Warnings: fluff, angst, idiots in love, violence, death, gore, mental health talk, language, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, Bob maybe SLIGHTLY OOC (he's making progress)

Word Count: 5,269 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here A/N: @violentrayof-sunshine you requested a part two, and who was I to say no!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

The team was sick of you and Bob, and it had only been 2 months since they’d broken into that room of rubble and fire to find the pair of you crying and wrapped in one another's arms. It wasn’t that they were sick of seeing you two together and being together so much as the added level of affection at any time of the day had John and Ava in agreement over wanting to hurl at every corner.

You both refused to talk about what had happened in that room after the bomb had exploded, choosing to keep it to yourselves so as not to worry the team. But whatever it is that had happened had changed the nature of your relationship with Bob forever, and the team was honestly thankful that it had finally happened. What they didn’t like was that Alexei got closest to guessing when you’d finally end up together, winning their entire pot of money they’d gambled months ago when they’d moved into the tower on that nature of your relationship.

Yelena saw it before anyone else did. It was almost instantaneous after they’d come back to the Watchtower from the mission, the way that Bob wouldn’t leave your side, and you didn’t seem to be pushing him away anytime soon. It wasn’t shocking, seeing you both together, but the sly hand holding under the tables didn’t go unnoticed by Yelena, and she couldn’t help but feel at peace knowing you both had found one another. You’d lived a hard life, she knew it best as she’d been there for all of it. Knowing you’d found someone you so clearly loved gave her peace.

It began that first full night back after the mission. You’d finished reports with the team, debriefing on what had happened but holding back the details of what went down in the control room. The sun had finally set, moonlight streaming through the windows of your room and highlighting the outline of New York City before you as you laid in bed. The ache in your bones was present now, more so than it was before, and you were already mentally preparing to tell Bucky that you were sitting out the next mission in favor of letting the feel of the explosion leave your bones. A soft knock on your bedroom door interrupted you as you slowly drifted in and out of consciousness, barely there. You didn’t hesitate to tell whoever it was to come in.

“I’m sorry…you’re usually up late so uh, I didn’t think you’d be asleep,”

The sound of Bob’s voice, still laced with hesitation after what had happened just hours before, brought a smile to your face. You turned your back on the windows, leaving the city behind you as you faced him instead.

“Just sore and tired from the mission, and the paperwork,” you joked lightly with him, voice like a whisper in the quiet of the bedroom. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Bob hesitated for a moment, seeming to be dancing on the line of entering flight mode. He looked back at you, at the serene and calm look on your face before choosing to shut the door behind him, wringing his hands together as he took another step toward you.

“I…I didn’t want to be alone,”

“Then come here,”

There was no hesitation from you, so for once, there was no hesitation in Bob’s own actions. He crossed the room in a second, slowly and cautiously maneuvering himself down onto your own bed as you lifted the comforter for him, allowing him to climb in and rest his head on the pillow opposite of yours. You tucked the comforter back overtop of him, fingers gentle as they glided lightly back up his now covered arm, hand moving itself up to his cheek as you cupped it. He leaned into the touch as if on instinct, eyes never leaving yours.

“Hi,”

“Hi,”

“Nightmares?” you guessed in a hushed tone, and Bob nodded slightly, not trusting himself to truly answer with his own voice. Your thumb caressed his cheek, rubbing comfortably up and down the skin. “I get them too.”

“I wish they’d stop,” he whispered back, unable to look away from you. “Sometimes it’s uh, it’s dad. The screaming, the fights…the hitting. There’s uh, moments from when I was…still doing drugs. The vault too…I-I’m scared this time I’ll see…earlier.”

Sometimes, Bob did a good job of hiding how he was feeling. Around you, from the very first meeting, he was terrible at it. You could see it clear as day in his eyes, the terror in them and the slight tremor in his bottom lip as he spoke, the shaking of his hand underneath the covers.

You retracted your hand, not missing the way he chased after the grounding feeling of your skin on his. You took his hand instead in your own, bringing it to you chest and placing it over your heart. You held him there, both of you listening to the feeling of it beating in your chest, pumping blood through your entire body.

“I’m here, and that’s because of you. You came back from the edge,” he nodded very slightly at your words as you gave him a comforting smile in return. “The nightmares will always be there, they never leave. But they’re nothing but bad dreams, they aren’t reality.”

Bob’s eyes followed your intertwined hands, locking onto them for a moment as he listened to the steady beat of your heart once again.

“...how do you deal with yours?”

“I wake up,” it brought a very small huff of a laugh from him, which was all that mattered. You gave his hand a squeeze, bringing his eyes back up to you. “You tell yourself they’re just bad dreams, and then you push them away. They can’t hurt you unless you let them.”

There was a beat of silence in the room once again, a question hanging off of Bob’s lips as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips, the flush that had appeared on his cheeks still obvious within the darkness of the room.

“...can uh, can I kiss you?”

Taking his hand still in yours, you brought it up to your own cheek, laying it there with a grin.

“From this moment on, you never have to ask again,”

There was no hesitation from Bob the second he had your consent, pulling ou to him and slotting his lips against yours. His movements were slight, cautious, but firm. The tremble in his lips was still there as you pressed back just as firmly to him, moving against him just as you had hours before as his hand managed to slip to the nape of your neck.

From that night on, neither of you ever slept alone again.

Bucky and Yelena were the first to know, having gone to wake you up for an early training one day, but instead opening the door to you and Bob tangled together in a mess of limbs as you slept. It wasn’t long until Alexei was celebrating upstairs over the news.

Bob’s bedroom soon became simply storage for his things, finding himself on the other side of your bed every single night. Curled around you with your back to his chest, his head resting against your collarbone, you name it and he’d fall asleep in any position possible as long as he was with you.

He thought the world of you. But it wouldn’t be long until he realized that you were never as “okay” as you seemed to portray yourself as. Sleeping together seemed to keep Bob’s nightmares at a bare minimum, but it hadn’t done much to stop yours.

Bob could still remember the first night he’d shot awake to your own screams. You were sweating profusely, heat essentially rolling off of your body. Bob scrambled under the covers, sitting up beside you as you ran your hands down his face, trying desperately to calm your breathing as you glanced at Bob quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you,” your breathing was still heavy, your heart beating out of your chest. “It was just a bad dream, I’m sorry.”

“...was it her?”

As awkward as Bob could be around others, he’d found a way to read you like a book in certain moments together, and now was one of them. The Mistress, the same woman from that day in your own personal shame room of hell, of course Bob knew it was her.

“She…wasn’t just a teacher in The Red Room. She was my mother,” you paused your own explanation, mulling over your words. “Well, as much of a mother to me as Alexei really was a father to Yelena and Natasha back then. At least he cared for them. Yelena got peewee soccer teams, got to go to school…I got hit, thrown around the room…she ruined my life in every way possible. Sometimes it’s hard to keep her out of my head.”

There was another beat of silence in the room, before Bob’s hand cautiously found yours. He threaded his own fingers through yours, giving your hand the lightest of squeezes in what he hoped was comfort. He’d grown used to receiving comfort from you and the others, but giving it himself wasn’t something he was used to.

“In the vault, Yelena tried to tell me that uh, that you just have to take that darkness and…push it down. It was…it was uh, you when you came into the Void that told me I couldn’t do that. Being with you, being around you…it helps me. I lean on you a lot, I know I do…y-you can lean on me too,”

No other words were spoken that night as Bob laid back down on his back and you slotted yourself into his side, head laid on his chest and letting the beat of his heart and the heat his body emitted lull you back into sleep.

For awhile, you never spoke of it again. The nightmares seemed to slow every night you and Bob spent wrapped up together, and you smiled around the team just as you typically did. On the outside to most, you were perfectly fine, but Bob could see through it. You were masking your thoughts and your pain, just as he always had. But you never pushed him to talk about things with you, so he didn’t push you to talk to him either about those dark thoughts that floated around your head.

Life moved on in the tower. Missions were run, dinners together were had, occasional movie nights even made their way onto the docket every week, once again courtesy of Alexei.

The first time the Red Guardian had managed to wrangle you all together in a shared space for a movie had been…chaotic. John and Ava argued over who could sit where, Yelena tried to convince her father that “old home movies of the glory days” did not constitute a movie night with the team, and Bucky shook his head quietly from the couch like a disapproving father.

One of the couches was already claimed by you and Bob. You’d slotted yourself into the corner by the armrest while Bob had found himself laid out across the cushions, his head finding it’s place in your lap as your fingers gently combed their way through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as he closed his eyes and leaned into the feeling.

“You look like you’re going to fall asleep down there,” your voice opened his eyes once again as he looked up at your grinning face, the noise beyond you two from your friends drowned out in the moment. “Careful, fall asleep during Alexei’s movie night and you might not hear the end of it.”

“I-it’s your fault,” he mumbled back in the moment, cheeks flushing. “Your hands…they feel nice.”

That familiar four letter word was hanging in the back of your throat as you looked down at him, practically dying to crawl out of you the longer you looked at him. Instead of saying it, you leaned in, placing the gentlest of kisses on his lips, before pulling back with a smile at the awestruck look that had crossed his face in the moments after.

“God, Alexei, you’ve taken so long to pick a movie the lovebirds have already checked out!”

“Ah ah ah! Don’t be so harsh on young love, Winter Soldier! Two very strong, capable heroes these two are, I think they are perfect together. Imagine the super babies that could be had-”

“ALEXEI!”

Bob could still remember your laughter that night as the entire team yelled at the Russian super soldier, the carefree smile on your lips. He wished that smile would never leave your face, no matter what.

He loved your smile most in the moments where you were alone, though. Laying on the common room couch together, one of your heads lying in the other’s lap as one of you had your nose buried in a book. Or the moments he watched you flit around the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you made something for the two of you to eat.

Bob loved you. He’d known it for awhile, even when he was so broken he didn’t believe he could be loved, or even give it. He felt loved by you, cared for, and he knew he loved you.

It’s because he loved you that he could clearly see that you were struggling inside. You’d never blame him, but that day in that HYDRA control room had done irreparable damage to you mentally, and he could almost see you beginning to come undone.

He saw it most when he watched you spar with Bucky or Yelena in the training room. He’d kept up with practicing control of his powers, but physical hand-to-hand combat was something he shied away from. That never stopped him from watching you, though.

Yelena ducked from the swing of your leg, sliding between your legs before landing a kick to the back of your knee. With a hiss of pain you dropped to your own knees, throwing a leg back and launching it into Yelena’s shoulder, giving you time to spin around and face her again as she bounced back to her own two feet.

Bob sat quietly in the corner, legs crossed under him as he wrung his hands together for something to do in his lap, just silently watching the two former Widows go hand to hand.

You made a lunge at Yelena, trying to knock her feet off the ground, but slipped, missing. Yelena took advantage, landing a swift punch to your jaw. You flew to your stomach, catching yourself with your hands on the ground as your jaw tightened from the pain.

“Sloppy, but you knew that. Come on, that mistake would’ve gotten you killed back in the room,”

Even Bob flinched at the comment, knowing what he knew about your past, having witnessed your greatest mistake with his own two eyes. Maybe Yelena couldn’t see it, but Bob did. The way your shoulders immediately tensed from across the room, how your entire body seemed to react to that statement, the memories you were probably enduring.

He knew the feeling of falling apart at the seams, having done it enough himself. He could see it happening to you right before his eyes, even if others didn’t notice, but he had no idea how a broken man like him could help the woman he loved.

Then, the mission came in.

“Intel suggests the base is held somewhere deep on the outskirts of Мирный, in the heart of Russia…” Bucky paused his explanation of the mission as the digital map behind him zoomed in on the coordinates outlined in the packet before him. His gaze flicked to Alexei for a second, before settling on the two former widows sat at the other end of the table. “Whoever is running it…they’d been kidnapping children, young girls, between the ages of 4 and 6. They’re…training them.”

Yelena managed to keep a straight face at Bucky’s words, even as her fists seemed to tighten. You didn’t do as good of a job at hiding it, everyone able to hear the sharp intake of breath from you. Bob could feel the way your hand tightened around his under the table as Yelena turned to look at you.

“Someone is trying to restart The Red Room,” you gave a stiff nod at Yelena’s words as you both came to the same conclusion. “Alright, what’s the plan? Dismantling, intel, what’s the job?”

“Rescue,” Bucky answered back, the digital board behind him showing the faces of a hundred or so young girls that were reported missing around the world. “They’ve got at least a hundred kids that we know of. Contain any agents around, if we can gather intel, then great, but they want us to go in and simply get these kids out of there. This is all hands on deck, no one is sitting this one out.”

You and Bob were alone before the mission, wheels up on the jet in less than ten minutes, according to Bucky. You adjusted the tactical gear that Bob had gotten himself into, the same one as last time, making sure that Bob protected for what was to come. While your hands were busy fidgeting with the buckles and straps on his tactical gear, Bob’s eyes never left your face.

“Are you…are you okay?”

“Well, someone is trying to restart the organization that ruined my life and many others, so…as good as I can be, I guess,” you tried to joke, stopping your movements as you looked up at Bob, hands sliding up until they rested on either side of his face. “I’m okay, I promise, it’s just…it’s a lot. Do me a favor, though? Let’s try not to have any Void related incidents today.”

“No promises,” you quirked an eyebrow at Bob’s words as he faltered. “T-that was supposed to uh, to be a joke.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, at the small smile that crossed his lips, and that four letter word was dying to spill past your lips and out into the open. You held it in, instead pulling Bob into you, molding your lips to his. His arms wound their way around you, albeit still cautiously, as you reveled in the small moment in the arms of the man you loved more than anything you ever had before.

The warehouse deep in the forests of Russia was quiet inside as the team moved through it. John and Bucky led the way through the falls, checking each and every room as Ava and Alexei looked over the files in front of them and gave directions to the area within the warehouse where the girls were said to be kept.

Yelena, Bob and yourself hung by at the back of the pack. Bob was quiet, simply looking between the former Widows as they glanced to one another every single time John or Bucky yelled out a “clear” after checking another room.

“Something is off about this, there’s no one here,” you commented quietly to Yelena and Bob. “Think they knew we were coming?”

“Maybe, but moving that many girls isn’t easy,” Yelena shot back as Bucky gave a nod back to the trio in the back, who moved to the next door. Bob stood behind you as you and Yelena raised your guns to the door, preparing to move through and check the room.

A single kick threw the door open, but the room was empty of anyone inside, just like the other ones were. You reupholstered your gun as Yelena took the right of the room, and you and Bob moved through the left side.

“It’s…kind of creepy down here,” Bob mumbled to you as you rifled through the papers on the desks before you, trying to find anything that could be useful to finding the girls. You laughed lightly at the comment.

“Well it’s not as creepy as The Red Room itself, but you aren’t wrong,”

“Widows, Bob, think we got something!”

John’s voice from the hallway brought the team back together. John quickly passed off the papers he found to you and Yelena as you rifled through them together.

“These are different from the intel we have on the girls,” Yelena shook her head, still flipping through the paperwork. “This talks about an entirely different holding cell for the girls, but it’s on the opposite end of the building.”

“We can’t be sure that information is even accurate,” Ava tried to argue back, looking around at the group. “Our intel clearly outlined they were being kept on the East end of the warehouse, there was nothing about the West end.”

“Easy, we’ll split up,” it was you that cut in, taking the papers from Yelena to look over the information. “You guys follow the original intel we received from Valentina’s team and Yelena and I will go and check out this new information.”

Bob bristled at the thought of splitting up from you, of not being with you for every second of the mission. He couldn’t help but think back on that fated HYDRA mission, of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there with her. In a moment of confidence, but what was probably pure terror in his heart, Bob’s hand shot out to grab onto yours as the team watched in silence.

“We- we can’t split up. What if- what if something happens and we- we aren’t there?” your face softened at the familiar look of terror glistening in Bob’s eyes. “What if…what if you get hurt?”

You leaned in quickly, not caring about your friends as you left a soft kiss on his lips, squeezing his hand once before backing away.

“I’ll see you in a bit, I promise,”

Not another word was shared between the ground as you and Yelena made your way back down the hallway toward the West end of the warehouse to check on the new information, while Bucky clapped a hand on Bob’s shoulder, trying to bring him back with them toward their original goal. Bob couldn’t help that his eyes followed you until you fully disappeared down the hallway.

The former widows were quiet for a moment before Yelena cleared her throat, looking over at you with a smirk.

“So…you told Bob you love him yet?”

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you both entered back into one of the larger, open rooms of the warehouse. 

“Yelena-”

“I’m just pointing out how sickeningly cute you two are. It’s nice to see Bob come out of his shell around you,” she passed by you, gun at the ready as she checked the room, bumping her shoulder with yours just slightly. “It’s nice to see you so relaxed, too. You’re different around him, lighter. After the life we’ve had…I’m glad you’ve found someone to care about like that, to make the darkness a little lighter.”

You smiled to yourself at her words, adjusting your grip on your own gun for a second as you looked around the room, still moving across the floor.

“Let’s just save these little girls from living through hell like we did so that maybe I can tell him I love him-”

The sentence was barely out of your mouth before an alarm blared, all exit doors in the open room of the warehouse being shuttered immediately. Both you and Yelena whipped back to the doorway you’d just come through, shooting toward what looked like a glass doorway that had come down, but your bullets simply ricocheted off without leaving a single mark.

“How nice it is to see two of my star pupils again,”

You and Yelena whipped around again, guns still trained high as you turned to the woman now standing behind you. Yelena’s grip on her gun tightened as she glanced between the woman and yourself just ten feet from her.

You faltered the second you laid eyes on the woman, grip on your gun loosening for just a second as she stared across the room at you.

The Mistress. Your mother.

“What, no words for your long-lost mother?” there was a smirk on her face as your grip on your gun tightened again. The smirk left her lips as she glared straight at you. “Stand up straight, have I taught you nothing-”

“There’s no girls here, are there,” Yelena cut in, stating her words instead of asking. There was no doubt in her voice. “It was all a setup to get us here.”

“Well not you,” the Mistress pointed her finger toward Yelena, before trailing it to you once again. “More so for my daughter-”

“I’m not your daughter,” you sneered back, finger resting over the trigger of your gun.

There were shouts behind you, the rest of the team seeming to have heard the alarm and running back to find the pair of you. They were stopped behind the glass-like barrier that had been shut. You looked back, seeing Bucky, John and Alexei all trying to break through, but whatever it was made out of was something that it didn’t seem super soldiers could even break that easily.

Your eyes locked with Bob’s terrified ones, and your grip on the gun tightened again.

“What do you want with us?” Yelena called out to the Mistress, who shrugged her shoulders toward her.

“Well, I’m not exactly here for you,” before anyone could react the Mistress had raised her arm, the familiar glow around her wrist of what had been nicknamed “Widow Bites” lighting up before shooting toward Yelena.

You called out for her, throwing yourself between the woman as your gun stayed trained on her and Yelena, who was now writhing on the ground in pain, the electrocution from the device obviously having been increased from the groans that sounded from your closest friend. You could hear Alexei from behind the barrier call out for her.

“This is between us,” you seethed at the Mistress, every second in her presence fueling the anger deep inside of you. All those memories, all those years, all that pain.

“That it is,” she called back. “I needed to see my girl in the flesh. My little deadly assassin, my perfect project, turned into an Avenger. What a joke. This isn’t who you are-”

“You know nothing about me,” you sneered back at her as she laughed.

“I made you, I know everything about you. Just rejoin me, my girl. Train the next generation of Widows at my side,”

“They only place I want to see you is six feet under,”

The Mistress sighed, shaking her head as she reached into the waistband of her pants.

“So sad…my perfect project…and you turned out to be nothing but a mistake,”

The calls from your team, your friends, to stop went unheard as the Mistress pulled a gun, shooting toward you. You dodged with ease, launched forward and grabbed her around the waist, slamming her onto the concrete ground below you as you sat over top of her.

The team was stunned from beyond the glass, all they could see was the wailing of your fists into the woman’s face. She slashes at your arms with a knife from her waistband, but you never even flinched, grabbing the weapon from her hands and launching it across the room before resuming your punches.

“She’s losing it…” Ava whispered loud enough for the team to hear. “Who…who is that woman?”

Bob knew, but it wasn’t his place to tell. From what you’d all explained to him, what played out before them was eerily similar to that day in New York in the Void, in the shame rooms. The way that Bob wailed punches on the other side of himself, desperately trying to free himself from…himself.

You were trapped in your own head, in your own memories and your own pain. You needed him.

Bob shoved through his friends, not wasting a second in placing his hand on the glass no one could break. The second his fingers touched the glass it shattered on impact, thousands of pieces falling to the ground. And he didn’t waste a second before rushing to your side.

Your vision was blurred from your own tears by the time that Bob’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, tugging you backward off of the bloody, beaten shell of a woman now barely breathing below you.

“NO! No, let me kill her! Let me kill her!”

The rest of the team helped Yelena to her feet as they watched on as you screamed and cried, falling into a heap in Bob’s arms as he simply held you, letting you cry as the sound echoed around the room.

Hours later, and Bob was still pacing outside the medical wing of the Watchtower back in New York. You were just on the other side of the door with Yelena, and all he wanted was to be in the room with you. His hands wrung together, his pacing increasing by the minute until the door finally opened.

“She’s okay,” Yelena told Bob with a small smile, holding up a hand to stop him as he rushed up to her the second she was through the door. “Well, physically at least. But she’s okay. She’s asking for you, though.”

“...are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just go in there and see your girl,” Yelena placed a hand on Bob’s shoulder, squeezing it with a smirk on her face, but there was a softness behind it. “And maybe…tell her, if you know what I mean.”

You were stood at the windows within the confined space of the medical wing, looking down on the streets of New York. You could hear the door open and close behind you, the footsteps crossing the room lightly, and coming to stand beside you. You knew who it was without a second thought, reaching over and taking Bob’s hand in your own.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,”

“W-well I’m pretty sure you all uh, you all have seen me worse than that, so…”

You let out a short chuckle at the comment, turning up to look at him as tears pooled in your eyes.

“All I saw was red…she called me a mistake and all I saw was red. I’ve spent so long trying to push it all away, push my childhood away and be this strong person…and all it took was seeing her once for my walls to come crashing down,” a lump formed in your throat as you swallowed it. “I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t push it away anymore, and I…I don’t know how to get better this time.”

Bob seemed to hesitate for a second, before shaky hands came up to cup your cheeks.

“J-just stay with me,”

You smiled, leaning into his touch.

“Stealing my line now-”

“Just stay with me because I…because I love you. A-and I need you,”

You froze for just a moment at his words, and you could see the momentary panic in his eyes before you surged forward into a kiss. It was light, sweet, and the fluttering within your chest mirrored the one happening in his own.

It was you that pulled away, but just barely. Lips just an inch apart, noses brushing as another tear ran down your cheek, but this time not in sadness.

“Always…because I love you too,”

[inseobts]

Jealousy in the Switch

trafalgar law x fem!reader

you and sanji keep bickering so law swap your bodies but this just makes everything worse, especially for his feelings

tags: jealousy, body swap with sanji, annoying sanji

word count: 2.9k

masterlist || ko-fi

It all starts because you and Sanji won’t shut up.

Dressrosa is a warzone—Doflamingo is still alive, everything is on fire, and Law is this close to snapping.

And yet, instead of staying focused, you and Sanji are locked in a full-blown shouting match.

"Sanji, I’m not a damsel in distress!" you yell, hands on your hips.

"You're not running off into danger alone!" Sanji retorts, jabbing a finger at you.

"They need backup!"

"They need you to not get killed!"

Law’s headache triples.

"Both of you—shut up."

You don’t.

Sanji steps closer "You're being reckless—"

"I'm being helpful!"

"Room."

Your stomach drops.

"Shambles."

The world twists. Your vision blurs, your whole body feels wrong.

And then—

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

That’s your voice... but you didn’t say it.

You turn toward the sound, only to see… yourself.

Sanji—inside your body—is clutching his new arms, eyes wide.

Which means...

You whip your head down.

Black suit. Long legs. A cigarette in your mouth.

Oh... Oh no.

Law doesn’t even look up "Problem solved."

Sanji-you hyperventilates "Nononononono—WHAT DO YOU MEAN PROBLEM SOLVED?!"

"You were annoying me."

Sanji-you gasps and looks down at his *new* chest. His—your—eyes go huge.

And then — BOOM!

His nose explodes with blood.

Law stares.

You, inside Sanji’s body, shriek "WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING?!"

Sanji-you collapses on the ground, twitching "I—I—this body—it’s—" His eyes sparkle. He grabs your face with both hands, trembling.

"I’m… I’m beautiful."

Law watches in horror as Sanji—you melts into the pavement, swooning over himself.

"My skin is so soft…" He rubs your hands up and down your own arms, practically whimpering.

"STOP TOUCHING ME." You grab him by the collar—Sanji in your body—and shake him "GET A GRIP, COOK!"

Sanji-you beams "Oh, my dear, delicate hands! What a treasure you are—"

"I SWEAR TO GOD."

Law hates this.

Sanji-you sits up, dazed "My legs… so smooth. My waist—so elegant—" He grasps your sides, twirling like he’s been blessed by the heavens.

Law’s jaw clenches.

Sanji, in your body, is fawning over himself and Law wants to strangle him.

At first, it’s even a bit bearable.

Sanji spends most of his time adjusting your clothes, fixing your hair, checking his reflection. Every time he accidentally touches his own chest, not used to it he screams, nosebleeds, and collapses again.

Meanwhile, you—in Sanji’s body—are having the time of your life.

"Damn, I feel so strong..." you say, rolling out your new shoulders, punching the air and then eyeing a wall to punch.

Sanji-you gasps in horror "DON’T BREAK MY BODY! MY HANDS ARE TOO IMPORTANT! OKAY? USE THE LEGS IF YOU REALLY HAVE TO!!"

You grin, throwing a casual punch at a wall—it cracks.

Sanji-you shrieks "STOP THAT! YOU’LL RUIN ME!"

Law almost smirks. But then.

Then it gets worse.

Sanji—you starts flirting with literally anyone.

At first, it’s harmless prank he's doing at you. He compliments himself in reflective surfaces and swoons at his own voice.

But then—he starts hitting on people as you and Law watches his own personal hell unfold.

The breaking point comes when Sanji—you sidles up to Zoro, he knows your close to him, that he's your closest friend in the crew. Sanji can't miss on this opportunity.

Law watches as your body—possessed by Sanji—leans against Zoro’s shoulder.

Zoro barely glances at him "What do you want?"

Sanji-you twirls a lock of your hair "Oh, nothing~"

Law’s eye twitches.

Zoro frowns, clueless about the body swap "The hell’s wrong with you today?"

Sanji-you giggles. Actually giggles.

"Zoro~" Sanji—you practically purrs, pressing closer while eyeing you with a diabolic smirk "Have I ever told you how… handsome you are?"

Zoro freezes.

Law chokes.

You, in Sanji’s body, start wheezing.

Sanji-you bats his lashes "So rugged. So strong. Those arms…~"

Zoro looks deeply disturbed "Are you having a stroke?"

"Only a stroke of love."

Sanji—you trails a hand down Zoro’s arm, sighing dreamily.

Law feels something deep, primal, and violent ignite inside him.

Zoro yanks his arm away "You’re being too weird todey, stop it."

Sanji—you gasps, hand on his heart "Oh, Zoro, how cruel—!"

Law is going to kill him.

You, inside Sanji’s body, are losing it "PFFFT—Sanji, STOP—"

Zoro turns to you-Sanji with a confused frown "who?"

Sanji-you ignores you, still clutching his chest "Rejection… while I was in her body! My beauty is wasted on you!"

Law snaps.

"Room."

Sanji-you blinks "Wait, hold on—"

"Shambles."

Your stomach lurches and just like that, everything shifts back.

You stumble, in your real body again.

Sanji grabs looks at his hands, sobbing in relief "Oh, my beautiful hands, I missed you—!"

You stretch your arms "THANK GOD."

Zoro glares "I don't know what that was, but if you ever do it again, I’m killing you."

Sanji sniffles, clutching his own shoulders "That was the worst rejection of my life."

Law doesn’t say anything, because now, he has a problem.

A real problem.

The fact that switching you back means he just admitted he couldn’t handle it.

That watching Sanji in your body —flirt as you—made him want to rip someone’s throat out.

That he was jealous.

And now?

You and Sanji know.

The aftermath of the switch doesn’t settle as smoothly as Law might’ve hoped.

It’s awkward, and frustrating, and now, Law’s beginning to realize—he’s in way deeper than he ever thought.

You, back in your body, try to ignore the little fluttering discomfort in your chest. Maybe it’s just because you saw Sanji like that in your body. It was... weird. Unsettling.

Law stands a few feet away, arms crossed, his jaw still tense. He says nothing as the group begins to move on. You can feel his eyes occasionally drifting toward you. And maybe it’s your imagination, but his glare seems to sharpen whenever Sanji gets too close to you.

You glance at him.

The guy is still sulking.

"Quit glaring like that" you say, crossing your arms "You did it. I didn’t ask for this."

"Just focus on the mission." His voice is clipped, clearly irritable "And don't fl—"

Don’t flirt?

You cock an eyebrow at him "Don’t flirt with who? Sanji? Zoro?"

Law’s eyes flicker, but he doesn’t respond. He just keeps walking, gripping his sword hilt tightly.

But you catch the slight tension in his shoulders. You wonder if he’s feeling something.

Sanji, as usual, seems completely oblivious to how much Law is suffering. He’s back to his flirtatious self but now, it’s getting more out of hand.

"Y/N~" Sanji calls your name, almost sweetly, with that infuriating grin plastered on his face. He sidles up beside you, running a hand through your hair "I miss you, you know?"

You can see Law’s eye twitch, though he’s trying to hide it.

Sanji’s flirtation continues unabated. You’re almost certain it’s his way of messing with Law now—perhaps even pushing his buttons on purpose. He gives you a sideways look and adds "I think we should grab a drink tonight. You, me, and my own handsome body~"

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose "Why do you have to be like this now?!"

Sanji leans in, a few inches from you face "Well, darling, I saw how you kept looking at my body when you where in it, no?"

Your eye catches Law’s from the corner of your vision.

His expression is frozen—but the tightness in his jaw is unmistakable. His eyes flicker, but they never leave you. He watches intently, his gaze turning more stormy the more Sanji leans into you.

"You're just as bad as he is," you snap, shaking off Sanji’s arm "Seriously, cut it out."

Sanji smirks "Oh beliece me, I know what I'm doing, you should just play along and see" his eyes shift toward Law, noticing the tense energy in the air "Oh? What’s wrong, Trafalgar Law? You look like you're about to bite someone's head off."

"Focus." Law’s voice is icy, his words clipped. He doesn't even look at Sanji "We’re almost at the rendezvous point."

But it’s too late.

Sanji suddenly gets a brilliant idea. He winks and steps in front of you "You know, I think Captain Law might have a thing for you. Did you see the way he looked at you earlier? And the way he swapped us back to our bodies right when I...You were flirting with Mosshead?"

You feel your face flush, but you quickly mask it with a sassy smirk "Sanji, are you trying to start something, again?"

Sanji chuckles "Maybe. I think Captain Law's just a little too shy to admit his feelings. What do you think, Y/N?"

You are just about done with the teasing. Law, however, looks like he’s about to murder someone.

"I’m not shy" Law says, cutting into the conversation with a sharp tone. His eyes narrow, and the tension in his expression is enough to send a chill down your spine. You dare glance up at him.

His eyes lock onto yours for a moment, and then—he grinds his teeth. He quickly averts his gaze, clearly embarrassed by the situation but not wanting to admit it.

Sanji, however, is enjoying every second of this.

"See? I told you!" he says, practically singing in triumph "He’s just too cool to say it, but we all know it. Come on, Surgeon, why don’t you just admit it already? You’re jealous."

Jealous?

You can see Law’s irritation growing, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword with such force you think it might snap "Don’t talk about things you don’t understand."

"Oh, I think I understand perfectly" Sanji teases. He steps closer to you again, placing a hand on your shoulder and sending a look over his shoulder at Law "Maybe I can just take her out for a proper dinner then."

And that’s when you feel it—the crushing weight of Law’s jealousy.

He glares at Sanji’s hand on your shoulder like he wants to tear it off, and you notice his eyes seem to follow every single move Sanji makes around you. Every touch, every smile.

It makes you… uncomfortable?

Or maybe it’s just the fact that Law doesn’t hide his feelings well—at least, not this time.

"You’re annoying, Sanji," you mutter.

"I know," he replies smugly "But you like it." He leans in and whispers "Admit it. You like the attention."

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you "You really don’t quit, huh?"

You feel a presence behind you, and before you can turn around, Law steps in, looking like he’s ready to throw Sanji into the nearest wall.

But then, to your surprise, he doesn’t.

He just stares at Sanji with an intensity that makes you swallow nervously "I’m not jealous, Sanji. Just stay away from her."

Sanji smirks, crossing his arms, fully aware of what’s going on "Aww, I see, Surgeon. So you do care. How sweet."

You blink, still trying to wrap your mind around what just happened. Did Law just admit something without saying it out loud?

Law says nothing more, but his gaze locks onto yours again, sharper than ever. He clenches his fists, clearly at his breaking point.

"Focus on the mission" he orders again, and this time, his voice holds a faint edge of something almost like embarrassment mixed with irritation.

And as much as you want to ignore it, you can’t help but feel something shift. Maybe it’s because you did notice the tension between you and Law—something you didn’t want to admit. Or maybe it’s just the constant teasing from Sanji that’s making you realize that Law’s feelings are right there, in plain sight.

But neither of you say anything.

You both just walk on, with the strange weight of unsaid words hanging between you.

Sanji, on the other hand, sings quietly under his breath, clearly having the time of his life.

You can feel his frustration rolling off of him in waves, his movements stiff, his usual scowl even darker than normal. Meanwhile, Sanji is practically glowing with satisfaction, walking beside you with an insufferable grin.

Zoro, who has been watching in mild confusion, finally speaks up.

"The hell is wrong with you three?"

Sanji throws an arm over your shoulder, smirking "Nothing, nothing. Just enjoying the fresh air, right, Y/N-chwan?"

Law glares daggers at the cook’s hand.

You sigh, shrugging Sanji off before Law actually explodes "Let’s just get back already. I feel like I’ve lost a whole year of my life today."

Sanji grins but relents, walking ahead. Zoro eyes the two of you for another second before shrugging and following behind, but Law stays beside you.

You don’t say anything at first. Neither does he. But the tension between you is impossible to ignore.

Finally, you risk a glance at him "You okay?"

Law’s jaw tightens "I’m fine."

You hum, unconvinced "You sure? Because you look like you’re five seconds away from committing a murder."

Law exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose "I should have left you both like that."

You snort "Oh, please. You hated every second of it."

Law stiffens slightly but doesn’t respond.

A teasing thought crosses your mind before you can stop it.

"Wait…" You smirk, nudging him with your elbow "You weren’t jealous of Sanji in my body, were you?"

Law stops walking.

Your smirk falters slightly as he turns his head toward you, golden eyes locking onto yours with an unreadable intensity.

For a second, neither of you speak. The air between you suddenly feels heavier.

Then, finally, Law scoffs "You’re insufferable," he mutters, shaking his head as he continues walking.

But you don’t miss the way his ears turn just a little bit pink.

And for some reason that makes your heart beat just a little faster.

Sanji, who supassed you long enough, is waiting at the camp when you and Law arrive, arms crossed, smirk still in place.

"Oh? Took you two long enough" His grin widens as he scans the both of you "Did I miss anything interesting?"

Law ignores him completely, moving to the other side of the camp like he wants to be as far away from this conversation as possible.

You roll your eyes "Nothing you'd enjoy."

Sanji chuckles "Oh, I doubt that." Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he leans in slightly "But listen, Y/N… If Law keeps dragging his feet, you know I’m always here, right?"

You blink "Huh?"

Sanji winks.

Law, from across the camp, slams something down a little harder than necessary.

Sanji grins wider "Oh yeah. He’s done for."

And honestly? You’re starting to think he’s right.

The camp settles down for the night, but Law is still clearly brooding.

You pretend not to notice at first. It’s actually kind of funny, watching him sulk on the far end of the camp while Sanji keeps throwing you knowing looks.

Zoro, thankfully, stays out of it. He’s already asleep, arms crossed, snoring lightly by a tree.

Sanji, however, is not done.

"So, Y/N," he starts casually, way too loud on purpose "What kind of man do you like?"

Law, who had been sitting with his back turned, freezes.

You glare at Sanji "Really? All this time you were never interested in such things"

Sanji just grins "What? It’s an innocent question!" He leans in "Tall? Strong? A little broody, maybe? Medical expertise a plus?"

You kick him in the shin.

"Ow—!" Sanji staggers back, but he’s laughing.

Law stands up abruptly.

"We leave at sunrise" he announces, voice clipped. Then he turns sharply on his heel and walks off toward his tent.

Sanji whistles lowly "Oof. I think I struck a nerve."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair "I swear, Sanji, you are the worst."

But part of you wonders if Law’s reaction means exactly what Sanji thinks it does.

Later that night, when the fire has burned low and most of the camp is asleep, you hear footsteps behind you.

You glance up—and freeze.

Law is standing there, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

You sit up slightly "Couldn’t sleep?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, after a long pause, he sighs.

"You and Sanji..." he mutters "You enjoy making my life hell, don’t you?"

You smirk "It’s a bonus, yeah."

Law huffs, shaking his head. Then, after another pause, he says—so quietly you almost miss it—

"I didn’t like it."

Your breath catches slightly "...What?"

He looks away "The switch. I didn’t like it."

You blink. That’s… honestly a more direct confession than you expected "Well, yeah, I figured, but you did it yourself so—"

"Not because of the chaos," he cuts in, finally meeting your eyes "Because of him. Because of the way he—" Law exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair "I didn’t like seeing you and him. Like that."

Oh.

Oh.

Your heart skips a beat.

Law seems to realize what he’s admitting, because he quickly looks away again, shifting awkwardly "Forget it," he mutters "It’s late."

He turns to leave—but before he can take a step, you grab his wrist.

"Wait."

Law stiffens. Slowly, hesitantly, he turns back toward you.

You swallow, pulse racing, but you manage a small smile.

"You could’ve just said you were jealous, you know."

His face flames.

"I—I wasn’t—"

You tilt your head "No?"

Law glares at you, but it’s not as sharp as usual. If anything, he almost looks—flustered.

You squeeze his wrist gently before letting go "Next time, just say something," you murmur "Might save you a headache."

Law doesn’t move.

For a long moment, he just stares at you, something unreadable flickering in his golden eyes. Then, finally, he mutters under his breath—

"Idiot."

But the way his fingers linger near yours before he pulls away tells you everything you need to know.

And as he disappears into his tent, you realize—

Sanji was absolutely right.

[littlelamy]

𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽-𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮

parings: rafe cameron x reader

synopsis: in the title

warnings: 18+, smut

the tension finally snaps: it’s been simmering forever....his lingering stares, the way his hand "accidentally" brushes your thigh. you both know what’s coming, but neither of you wants to be the one to say it. instead, it explodes. maybe it’s after a fight, his voice low and dangerous as he steps too close. or maybe it’s a quiet moment that turns electric, his lips hovering over yours before he finally snaps.

it happens somewhere reckless: the backseat of his car, fogged windows and desperate hands pulling at each other’s clothes. or his room, with the door barely shut, your moans spilling out into the hallway. wherever it is, it’s not planned, and that makes it hotter....messy, unrestrained, all-consuming.

his desperation is overwhelming: his kisses aren’t sweet....they’re rough, wet, all tongue and teeth. he grabs you like he can’t get close enough, big hands wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. “fuck, you have no idea what you do to me,” he growls against your skin, his lips leaving a hot, messy trail down your neck.

he’s so fucking possessive: his hands roam your body like he owns it, gripping your hips, your ass, sliding between your legs like he’s been waiting forever to do it. “you’re mine,” he mutters, dark and low, while his fingers dip inside you. “no one else gets to touch you like this. no one.”

messy, hungry, and completely unhinged: your clothes are everywhere, half-ripped, half-forgotten. he’s muttering filthy things into your ear, like, “you feel so fucking tight,” or, “god, you’re so wet for me.” his thrusts are relentless, almost frantic, the bed creaking under his weight as he fucks you like he can’t hold back anymore.

he takes control, but he’s watching you fall apart: he tells you how to move, what to do.....“ride me, baby, just like that.” but it’s the way you moan his name, the way your body arches, that drives him insane. he can’t help himself, gripping your hips harder, guiding your movements until you’re both losing control.

he can’t stop touching you after: even after it’s over, he’s not done. his arm stays wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, his lips brushing against your temple. “fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. the cocky smirk is still there, but there’s something softer in his eyes when he looks at you.....something that makes your chest ache.

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[lqveharrington]

hii, i would love for you to do ‘the prophecy’ with fred weasley and ravenclaw reader!! thank you so much 💓

The Prophecy | F.W.

summary: fred’s starting to feel insecure in your relationship, and trelawney’s reading doesn’t make it any better.

pairing: fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader

includes: use of Y/N, insecure fred, a lot of overthinking, angst, fluff at the end

a/n: for some reason, this prompt stumped me so bad. so sorry if it’s not up to the usual standards ��

One, two. One, two, three, four.

You impatiently counted how many times the alarm on Trelawney’s stupid clock would go off until she realized it wasn’t a crystal ball predicting a Hufflepuff's future. All you wanted was class to be over and be in the arms of your loving boyfriend, but they changed the house pairings for electives. Instead of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, it was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Luckily, you still had all your core classes with Gryffindor.

As you lazily blew on the small braid you gave yourself in your boredom, a crack of lightning struck right outside, causing Trelawney to jerk in surprise with horror etched into her face. It looked like she had just seen the grim itself.

She whipped her head around and looked directly at you, taking your hands in her shaky ones. She read your palm like the lines had magically changed since last class, muttering quietly to herself until cleared your throat in confusion.

“My dear, you will receive ill-advised news by the end of the week.” She whispered and pulled your hand closer to her buggy eyes, furrowing her brows when she saw your life line. “Expect your spirit to be broken and rebuilt by the one you trust the most.”

Your lips kissed you teeth in an unsettling manner. Was this your punishment for not listening to her and sometimes making fun of her? Did she want to make you feel bad about your life choices? Sure you bored out of your mind in class but that didn't mean you wanted a horrid reading.

Your eyes flickered toward the dark sky outside again, watching as the lightening struck louder than the last. Trelawney sighed and patted your hand shut, dismissing everyone with a quiet wave. Everyone looked at her in bewilderment before slowly leaving the tower, murmuring amongst themselves.

Furrowing your brows and flexing your hand, you took your things and hastily made your way down the ladder, narrowly avoiding your face splattering on the stone floor. You always believed in everything factual — Ravenclaw, through and through — and you weren't actually sure why you chose Divination as your elective. The crystal balls and tea leaf readings never seemed credible, always predicting the same things over and over again.

However, the Weasley Twins loved Divination. They often made up their readings and passed with Outstandings. George believed he had a natural aptitude for the class whilst Fred said he had unlocked his inner eye. But what they both heavily believed in was Trelawney's words — which you thought was utter rubbish.

When you had Divination with them in sixth year, she told them that they would encounter a horrible noise, sending someone they love plummeting. That same week, Harry retreived his golden egg from the first task and revealed it to be screeching merpeople in the common room, causing the twins to drop him from their shoulders to cover their ears. From that day onward, they clung onto her every word like it was the sacred truth.

Which it wasn't.

Shaking all thoughts of Divination out of your mind, you made your down to the Great Hall. It was your potions study hall with the rest of the sixth years, and you needed time to decompress after whatever stupid prophecy Trelawney read off you.

You scanned the hall and smiled when you saw the twins, Lee, Alicia, and Angelina already working on their forty-inch essay for potions. Well, the girls were working on their essays. The twins and Lee were playing Exploding Snap — although they weren't very subtle with it.

The look on your face meant nothing but trouble. You shook your head and messed with them, putting your hands on the twins' shoulders and holding back a laugh when you saw them jump and pretend to work on their essays. Lee looked up at you and shook his head in amusement, nudging the two Weasleys to look behind them.

George was the first to turn and rolled his eyes when he saw you, scooting over so you could sit in between him and Fred. He took your bag and put it beside his on the ground, still grumbling under his breath.

"Blimey, Y/N. I thought Snape was going to take points off and give us detention again." George nudged your side with his elbow, ruffling your hair in the process.

"Again? What did you lot do in the few minutes it took for me to get here?" You tease and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own parchment out with only ten-inches left for your essay.

You quietly worked on your essay while ensuring the mischievous trio stayed on task, every so often glancing up to make sure they were doing anything stupid. As you wrapped up your essay, you looked up to your right and met Fred's eyes. You gave him a soft smile but only earned a half-hearted, tight-lipped nod back.

Parchment crinkled under your hold before you released a breath. You pursed your lips and went back to your essay, forcing back the tears of frustration from spilling out. For the past two weeks, Fred began to grow more and more distant from you. You weren't sure what exactly prompted him to do so, but he wouldn't give you an answer and the rest of your friends... Well, they didn't know if you wanted to know from them.

You felt like you were slowly sinking further away from him and you couldn't do anything. Biting your tongue to stop anymore thoughts, you turned in your essay to Snape and swiftly left the Great Hall with no spare glances toward the Gryffindors.

The states of pity from your friends only made you feel like you were crumbling into forever broken pieces.

You sat with your back against a great oak, throwing another stone into the Black Lake. The ripples echoed and repeated until they settled, the small bubbles diminished.

The rays of the sun hit your eyes, causing you to wince softly. You turned to the side and fully expected Fred to be sitting next to you, a small frown etching its way to your lips when you saw nothing but the Hogwarts castle.

Fred usually came with you whenever you needed to relax, but thinking about the past few weeks only hurt your heart.

As the whispers from the Forbidden forest grew stronger and the sun slowly descended behind the trees, you shut your eyes and leaned your head against the tree. You wished you didn’t have to leave your spot; you were only just beginning to clear your mind.

Frustratedly, you rub your closed eyes with the palms of your hands, freezing when someone spoke from behind you. That someone having an all too familiar voice.

"Love, you're going to irritate your eyes."

Your head whipped around to stare at the boy you fell deeply in love with last year at the Yule Ball. The glare you threw at him could’ve petrified him. "You have no right to call me love after ignoring me for two — almost three — weeks.”

Fred swallowed thickly and sat on a boulder beside you. He knew he was in the wrong for avoiding you for so long without telling you the truth. He believed that it was better for you not to know, but what good was it in the long run?

"I know, I'm sorry." He mumbled and bit his lip, looking down at his tattered shoes rather than meeting your eyes. "It's okay if you never want to see me ever again or choose to hate me, but I avoided you because — " He paused and squeezed his eyes shut. Godric, he was going to sound like such a stupid prick. "Because of a prophecy Trelawney gave me."

Your mouth parted ever so slightly before you threw a small rocks at his legs. Your voice rang out clear and loud, reminding him of his own mother. "Are you kidding me? Frederick Gideon Weasley! You've been avoiding me because of a stupid reading?”

"I'm sorry! But what she said about me made it seem like you needed someone better!" He let your rocks hit him and huffed, frustration bubbling within himself. He took in a breath before looking back over at you. "She told me that the something I love will succeed but only if a great weight of unstableness no longer burdened it."

You crease your brows in confusion and drop the rest of your rocks onto the ground, shaking your head as he clenched and unclenched his fist. "What are you talking about?"

"Love, you're bloody brilliant." Fred met your eyes for the first time in days. All he wanted to do was have you in his arms again and press kisses everywhere he could, but he still owed an explanation to you. "You've passed all your OWLs with flying colors and you've studied so hard for you NEWTs." He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "I'm the burden that will hold you back if you choose to stay with me."

Your initial annoyance and anger melted away at his words, eyes softening at the sight of his dejected state. "Freddie, you're not a burden to me or anyone — “

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "I have no money. When you need support, you wouldn't get any from me. I'm not good enough for you."

Five seconds of utter silence took over. The fluttering of the owls delivering mail overhead and the sounds of the curfew bell were the only things that were heard.

Before Fred could even register what was happening, you flung yourself into his arms and rested your head on his. He froze before wrapping his arms around your midsection, burying himself into your chest. He breathed in your scent, body releasing all the tension he had stored inside.

This wasn’t the first time Fred has ever felt insecure about your relationship. There had been other times where he felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, but you were always there to reassure him whenever he voiced them to you. It was horrible to see him act like someone other than his usual self. You loved who he was and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Freddie…” You rub his back gently and feel him melt into you. “I don't need any money. Your words are enough support for me.”

He only nodded in response, missing your touch after days of avoidance. Fred felt your move around so you were sitting beside him, your hands moving to turn his head toward you.

You smiled at him and thumbed his cheeks. "And didn't I tell you not to believe everything Trelawney says? I doubt she was taking about our relationship." You pressed a light kiss to his lips before pulling him into another hug, "I love you, Freddie. Don't ever forget that."

When he didn’t say anything, you pulled away and looked over his features, brows furrowing as you saw his teary eyes.

"Fred —?”

"I love you so much, woman." He murmured before capturing your lips in a mind-searing manner, feeling you smile into the kiss. Fred pulled away for a breath before placing another tender kiss to your lips, thumbing the bottom lip when you pulled away in a daze. "You're my soulmate."

You grin shyly and lean your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. "No more overthinking, okay?" You watched as he nodded at you, his face flushing a deep shade of red when you began to pepper kisses on his neck. Each kiss meaning the same thing.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Fred took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, chuckling when you got flustered over a simply gesture. "You might make me fall even deeper in love with you."

You hummed and pressed one last kiss to his lips, both of you grinning like idiots in love. "Have I changed the prophecy yet?"

"Hm, you'll have to let me check again." He said softly and gave you one final breathtaking kiss, squeezing your hip. "I think so."

"I love you, Fred Weasley." You sigh happily and kiss his cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

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