#Heavy duty skip bags

[dollyichi]

LATE SEND . . . todoroki shouto x f ! reader / fluff / both of you are pro-heroes ! / not proofread

note : this is within the universe of my drabble ‘three peas in a pod’ shoutout to anon for helping me name katsuki’s kids (katsuro & suzuki) they’re super cute ! i hc that katsuki lets his kids just run around the agency and getting to hang out with the other heroes.

katsuki’s wife was busy, and he had to tend to an emergency. so today, ‘uncle shouto’ was tasked to pick them up after their kindergarten class.

the two ran up to him, already seeing his two toned hair getting closer. “uncle shou!” katsuro says hugging his leg. suzuki waves happily and hands him her bags, “is too heavy.” she says with a pout.

he helps them with their bags. carrying katsuki’s little girl while his little boy is holding shouto’s hand. but he stops before he could even leave the gates.

“oh! it’s auntie y/n!” suzuki says pointing at you. you had momo’s kid in your arms. apparently the both of you had god parent duties today.

you stand there in shock, before giggling. your niece held onto you tighter because she felt a little shy. “little zuzu and suro, and shou huh?”

“the bakugou’s entrusted me today.” he mentions, and the little ones keep quiet, listening to your conversation. you close the trunk of your car and walk closer to him. you try to bring down momo’s kid on the ground but she wouldn’t let you go.

“and this little one’s mama got sick. but she’s taking good care of her, right baby?”

“yup! i’m gonna be mama’s doctor later!” she beams, and shouto knew his heart skipped a beat from how good you’re handling her.

however, what the both of you didn’t know was that katsuki’s kids are really observant. they knew everything about their mother without her having to tell them—this goes the same with the people they care about.

how their uncle shouto’s hands shake slightly, or how his cheeks get pink. just like how their father gets nervous around their mother.

he didn’t even know he was blushing till little zuzu presses her cheeks against his, “uncle shou is pink!” she says while giggling.

you take a moment before looking at him, you laugh slightly getting shouto feeling a bit abashed, “well i’m getting her home, i hope you guys have fun!“

you turn around and called out to him, “oh shou! i’ll be at the agency later, need some helps on the reports m’kay?”

“got it.” he says with a nod.

you both wave goodbye and shouto walks over to his own car parked a few steps away. helping them at the backseat and then driving off to the agency. “your dad’s probably back right now.”

“i love when uncle shou picks us up!” one of them say, “but we’re not gonna play today right?”

“maybe another time.” they cheer in unison.

“uncle shou?”

shouto sees bakugou’s children from the rearview mirror. they were giggling to themselves and whispering before he responds. “yeah katsuro?”

they continue to whisper and laugh, causing shouto to smile himself, “what’s funny?” it was just a short drive. it was over before they knew it and he parks on the side of the building. he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door to the back, that’s when they dropped the question.

“do you like… do you like auntie y/n?” shouto freezes. already recalling how katsuki told them that they’re ‘too smart for their own good ’ when he called him.

shouto smiles curiously, “what made you say that?” together they entered the building, holding them in each hand. the three of them greeting everyone they passed by. how their backpacks made clings and clangs as they skipped.

they went into the elevator and didn’t bring you up for a bit. only until you reach to the top floor and knocked on katsuki’s office. “come in.” his kids already pushing inside and ran up to him. placing down their bags before they jumped in his arms.

“did you have fun?”

they hum and nod, “i think uncle shouto likes auntie y/n!” katsuki grins, already ready to tease his friend, “yeah? tell me more.” as if the blonde didn’t already know.

shouto is internally groaning. he’s seated across them from the couches in the office. they telling their dad about how much shou would blush or how he’s so ‘careful’ when speaking with you.

they got all that from just a conversation?

“really now?” they’re nodding so much from excitement. “ah i think you should help him then.” was what katsuki says before laughing at the fire and ice hero who’s about to short circuit from the embarrassment.

katsuki’s little girl walks over to him. squinting her eyes and making a camera with her hands, “uncle shou is good looking!“

“i think uncle shou should get a girlfriend! maybe auntie y/n likes him too!” katsuro says.

“likes him too? huh?” was what all shouto could think.

suzuki is giggling again, telling her uncle to come closer, “auntie y/n let me play with her phone one time.” she says whispering to him. “don’t tell her! i saw you message her! your name had a heart beside it.”

shouto remembers when you called him the other day but it ended up being suzuki through the other line.

katsuki was definitely enjoying this. shouto tried really hard to leave their little conversation but they wouldn’t let him. eventually they were sleeping a few minutes later.

“haha! they watch romcoms with their mother after all.” katsuki pats him on his shoulder. “just try it out. i think you got a chance. or stay stupid i don’t care.”

it was probably an hour later before you text shouto to meet you at the meeting room.

he takes a deep breath and walks in, seeing you on your laptop with a pile of documents. “oh shou hey!” you motion for him to take a seat beside you.

you two caught two robbers the other day, you just needed him to add in more details that you missed. “those two dumbasses didn’t have their quirks registered right?” you ask him. he nods and scanned through the rest of the report on your laptop. you handed it over to him while you checked on your phone.

however shouto had something he wanted to confirm for himself. and when that familiar ting! from a text goes off from your phone, the notification syncs to your laptop and pop up in a small window of his own text showing on the side of the screen.

shou ❤︎ : i’m on the way. see you. :)

was what it said. he planned this himself, scheduling his message on this specific time, thinking he’d be using your laptop or you’re letting him read off from the screen, ready to use an excuse that his message sent late.

suzuki wasn’t lying when she said he had a heart on his contact name. mentally thanking her for being on his side. (classic god parent favoritism, sorry eiji!)

your eyes widen when you see him shocked himself, sliding your laptop your side and closing it.

“a-ah! the report’s already done by now right? i’ll send it over soon. thanks for your help.” you hurriedly gather your things and try to leave but he stops you.

“hey. let’s talk.” you couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot, so you nervously sit back down to your seat. it’s now or never.

“i… i liked you ever since.”

a small gasp comes out of your lips, “ever since when?”

“during our last year in UA.” you looked at him in shock, but your face softens. realizing he liked you before you did, and you’re the one embarrassed about a little thing.

“i’m happy about the contact name.”

“so what are you gonna do about it?”

“dinner at my place?”

you smile, “alright. but i need to see my contact name on yours first.”

shouto has some good news when he picks those two up again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : it’s definitely a dry ass contact name pleaseee but don’t worry he has game when he texts cause you text every day >< (i will not elaborate)

[haikyu-mp4]

Classroom duty

word count; 1317 – f!reader

Iwaizumi was on classroom duty this week and he used to hate that. It meant that he got to volleyball practice late and didn’t even have time for a healthy snack. In addition, he had to make some kind of small talk with whoever he was paired with. It goes by the pairs in which the desks are placed and he was never the best at socialising outside of the athletic world.

However, classroom duty wasn’t so bad this time around, because ever since last break, he was paired up with you. Iwa didn’t notice you that much before, he just knew you were bright and kind. And of course, he couldn’t deny to the universe that you were nice to look at, but he would still keep trying to deny it to his friends. 

He knew he was fond of you. You with the cartoonish drawings of the teacher on the sides of your notes so you could make him smile in class. You with the lipgloss that looked like it might not taste good, despite how it made your lips look so biteable. You with the evil little laugh every time your paper ball would hit the trash and his didn’t. Yeah, Hajime Iwaizumi was very fond of you.

“Iwa?”

“Sorry,” he shook his head and chuckled awkwardly, glancing around at the pristine classroom. “What did you say?”

You snorted a laugh and turned around pointing to the garbage bags collected by the door and ready to be thrown away. “I said, let’s go?” Hajime spurred into action, happily finishing up here and putting those muscles to good use.

Usually, there was this thing where the people on classroom duty did rock paper scissors for who took the trash, letting the other off. No one knows who started it, but it stuck. Oikawa seemed to believe you and Hajime were the only ones who didn’t follow tradition.

“Why does she even go with you when all she does is hold up the lid on the trash can while you do all the heavy lifting?” Oikawa complained now that his best friend was finally back in his volleyball uniform. Some might say he was jealous.

Iwaizumi shrugged, about to answer when someone else did from behind him, making him turn around and causing Oikawa to lift a brow at the interruption.

“Sounds like she likes you.”

“Mad dog?” Oikawa exclaimed dramatically with a gasp. Kyotani glared at the setter.

“No, we just do it that way, you know?“ Iwaizumi said, sounding a bit like he was fishing to hear it again. Hear that you might like him.

“Okay, whatever,” Kyotani grumbled. Charming as ever. His two per cent of extra respect for Iwaizumi went into that effort and now it was spent.

They went back to practice, and Oikawa forgot about the interrupted gossip as soon as the practice game started, leaving Iwaizumi to mull this over himself. When this week was over, would you stop talking to him so much?

The next morning, you’re both there early to prepare the classroom, and Iwaizumi greeted you with a shy nod. “Last day!” you cheered. Iwaizumi’s eyes followed you for a few seconds as you skipped over to the teacher’s desk, where you picked up the note left by the teacher and then walked over to the chalkboard to prepare it. He liked how you were always so bright, even as you had to be there earlier than everyone else. And then he was happy to see you weren’t invincible, when you looked a little more tired in the evening while walking out with the trash, stubborn smile still directed at him like you refused to give up.

But for now, it’s still morning. “You sound excited, any plans this weekend?” he asked, leaving the mop in the corner after mopping the floors. Then he strolled up beside you, picking up the sponge to go wet it. You turned to glance at him exactly when he turned away. Maybe he’ll ask me out if I say no?

“Not much. Just happy it’s the last day we have to do these chores,” you said, seemingly carefree in adding little hearts and stars around what the teacher wanted. It made Iwa smile as he placed the wet sponge on the little edge beneath the chalkboard.

Wait, she’s happy we’re done? Maybe Kyotani is totally clueless. “Oh,” he said, not meaning to. “Me too.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” you teased, putting the chalk down and turning to him. “You like taking the trash out?”

“Maybe…” he said defensively, clenching his fists and then unclenching them again. “I like hanging out with you.” There, at least he said something.

“Iwaizumi…” He looked at you hopefully but glanced away quickly when he realised his face was burning. “You know we still sit beside each other when the week is finished, right? It’s not like I’ll stop talking to you.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened, embarrassment sinking into every nerve of his body because he hadn’t much thought about that. “Of course,” he said first like it was instinctual. I just like hanging out with you alone. That’s what he should have said. Instead, he stuttered out meaningless sounds for a second before the bell rang and students started rushing to their seats, meaning you had to move too.

Oikawa sighed from the entrance to the classroom, in absolute disbelief at how his best friend, the ace of all aces, in his opinion, could fumble so badly for a girl.

“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi closed his eyes at the agitating, grating voice that interrupted his peaceful lunch on a bench outside in the sun.

“Shittykawa.”

“Hey! I’m here to help you.” He sat down beside his best friend, opening his bento and stuffing some food in his mouth. Iwaizumi was chewing slowly and waiting to hear more with a disinterested look on his face.

“With?”

“Your love life.”

Oikawa went on a rant about grand gestures, making some very grand gestures himself while explaining, and Iwa could just not figure out why the girls swooned for him when he looked so stupidly invested in his stupid plan for his stupid love life.

“Are you even listening?” Oikawa asked, angrily stuffing another spoonful of food into his mouth.

“Absolutely not. I will not be renting a horse and armour.” And even though that was evidence he had in fact listened, Oikawa was not pleased that his best friend didn’t seem to understand what an expert in love he was. “She’s probably not even interested.”

“Iwa!” Another voice said, making him turn around and almost knock over the water bottle beside his bento.

“That you listen to.” Oikawa mocked from his side, but anything he said went in one ear and out the other once again, when his eyes fell on you.

“Hey,” Hajime greeted you, somewhat awkwardly as you hadn’t chatted much outside the classroom or on the way to the trash containers. “What’s up?”

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” you asked, your words sharing space with a sigh as you had jogged over.

“He’s not,” Oikawa answered, and while that would normally make him annoyed, he just repeated it while still looking at you.

“I’m not.”

“Maybe we can go out for some ice cream? Or a coffee?” you asked further, and it was obvious that you were nervous despite trying to seem confident, not smiling like you usually did. He didn’t answer right away, so you involuntarily went into a word vomit. “I was waiting for you to ask, but then you didn’t and if you’re not interested then we can just forget this, but…” You stopped and looked at him hopefully, one hand on either hip.

“Take him, please.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even need to look to plant his hand over Oikawa’s face before giving you an endearing smile. “I’m interested. Coffee sounds perfect.”

masterlist

/a special thanks to @cottonlemonade for helping me with my writer's block for this one

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel. 

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun. 

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off. 

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end. 

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

DC Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @Faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria

DC

@snedhdh @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8 @honkytonkbabe @kobaltdragon  @amarillyssnowdrop

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 11✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, ANGST, Fluff

Word Count: 8149

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

By the time Jack brought you back to the bunker, the place felt eerily quiet. You hadn’t expected that—usually, there was some noise, whether it was Sam typing away on his laptop or Dean working on the Impala. But tonight, it was different. As you stepped through the door, the silence seemed almost oppressive, heightening the unease that had settled in your chest.

You took a few steps further into the bunker, glancing around as you called out, “Hello? Anyone here?”.

The sound of your voice echoed slightly in the empty space, but there was no immediate response. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that there was an energy in the air that you couldn’t quite place. You set your bag down on the nearest chair and wandered deeper into the bunker, the quiet starting to make you feel a little on edge.

Then, you heard a door open and close down the hall, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps. A moment later, Dean appeared, stepping out from the hallway that led to the showers. His hair was damp, and he was still rubbing a towel over his head, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans. The casual look contrasted sharply with the tension that seemed to radiate from him.

“Hey”, you said, your voice a little softer now, as if the quiet of the bunker demanded it. You tried to gauge his expression, but Dean’s face was carefully neutral, making it hard to read what he was thinking.

“Hey”, Dean replied, his voice just as soft. He finished towel-drying his hair and slung the towel over his shoulder, trying to act as casual as possible despite the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside him. He glanced around. “Sam’s out for the night”.

The information took you by surprise. “Oh”, you said, glancing around as if expecting to see Sam somewhere nearby. “Did he say where he was going?”.

Dean shook his head, trying to keep his tone light. “Nah, just said he had something to take care of. But… it’s just us tonight”.

The way he said it made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the tension between you and Dean thickening the air. You weren’t sure what had changed, but something about the way he was looking at you felt different—more intense, more focused.

You took a deep breath. “Is everything okay?”, you asked, your voice laced with concern.

Dean’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he hesitated. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many emotions he needed to get off his chest, but finding the right words felt impossible. He could see the concern in your eyes, the same concern that had been there for weeks.

Dean hesitated for just a moment, the weight of the conversation he knew the two of you needed to have pressing down on him like a heavy stone. But as much as he wanted to be honest, to finally clear the air between the two of you, the fear of what might happen if he did was too strong. The last thing he wanted was to make things even more complicated, to risk saying something that would push you further away.

So instead, he forced a smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes—and shook his head, brushing off your concern. “Everything’s fine”, he said, his voice a little too casual. “Just a long day, you know?”.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second. You could see the tension in his posture, the way he was avoiding your gaze, but you knew better than to push. If Dean wasn’t ready to talk, there was no forcing it. But the unease in your chest didn’t go away, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Dean, noticing the lingering concern in your eyes, quickly changed the subject. “You probably want to take a shower after being out all day”, he said, his tone lighter. “There’s plenty of hot water left”.

It was such a mundane suggestion, such a clear attempt to shift the focus away from whatever was really going on, that it almost made you laugh. But instead, you nodded, deciding to go along with it for now. Maybe a hot shower would help clear your mind, give you a moment to collect your thoughts before figuring out what to do next.

“Yeah, that sounds good”, you replied, offering him a small smile before turning to head towards the bathroom.

After taking your time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe your muscles and clear your mind as best as it could, you finally stepped out and dried off. You dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a tank top, trying to shake off the lingering unease that had settled over you since you returned to the bunker. You knew something was bothering Dean—something that went beyond just having a long day—but you also knew how stubborn he could be when it came to opening up.

When you emerged from the bathroom, the faint sound of clinking bottles drew you towards the kitchen. As you rounded the corner, you saw Dean leaning against the counter, a beer in hand. It was his third, judging by the two empty bottles beside him. He stared down at the bottle in his hand as if it held the answers to the questions swirling in his mind.

The sight of him like that—alone, brooding, and clearly lost in thought—made your heart ache.

“Hey”, you said softly as you entered the kitchen, your voice gentle so as not to startle him.

Dean looked up, surprised to see you standing there. His eyes flickered over you for a moment, taking in your relaxed appearance, before he offered a small, tight-lipped smile.

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. The silence between you had stretched on for far too long, and you knew it was time to address it, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to him, the concern in your eyes reflecting the weight of the past two months.

“We haven’t talked in over two months, Dean”, you finally said, your voice quiet but firm. “Today’s the first day you’ve actually talked to me”.

Dean winced slightly at your words, the truth of them hitting him harder than he wanted to admit. He had been avoiding you, avoiding this conversation, and now it was all coming to a head. He looked away, his grip tightening around the beer bottle as he tried to find the right words.

“I know”, he muttered, his voice thick with regret. “I’ve been… avoiding it. Avoiding you”.

You could see the guilt etched into his features, the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of it all. The tension between you was palpable, and your heart ached as you watched him struggle with his emotions.

“It’s okay, Dean”, you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pain you felt. “I know you don’t feel the same way I do”.

Dean’s head snapped up at your words, his eyes wide with surprise and something else—something that looked almost like fear. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared at you, the conflict in his eyes deepening.

“You don’t have to explain”, you continued, trying to give him an out, to make it easier for both of you. “I get it. Whatever happened between us… it was a mistake. You’ve been avoiding me because you didn’t want to hurt me, and I appreciate that. But you don’t have to keep pretending, Dean. I understand”.

Dean’s grip tightened on the beer bottle, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to find the right words. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he didn’t care, that he didn’t feel something. But the fear of what those feelings meant, of what they could lead to, had kept him silent for too long.

“It’s not that simple”, he finally managed to say, his voice rough with emotion. “It’s not that I don’t feel anything. I do. But… it scares the hell out of me, (Y/N). You mean so much to me, and I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to hurt you”.

The sincerity in Dean’s voice made your heart ache, but it was his next words that truly unraveled you. As you looked at him, the depth of your feelings shining through in your gaze, you saw something crack in his expression. His usual tough exterior seemed to falter, revealing a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before.

Your eyes, wide and filled with unspoken love, seemed to be more than he could bear. Dean’s face twisted slightly in an expression of near-pain as he brought a hand up to rub his face, almost as if trying to shield himself from the intensity of your gaze.

“Don’t… don’t look at me like that”, he said, his voice a rough whisper, laced with a whine that you’d never heard from him before. It was as though your gaze alone was enough to break him down, to make him face the emotions he’d been desperately trying to push away.

The way he reacted—the way he seemed almost pained by the love in your eyes—made you hesitate. Your heart was pounding in your chest, torn between wanting to comfort him and the fear that you were only making things worse. You had never seen Dean so vulnerable, so raw, and it scared you as much as it tugged at your heartstrings.

You took a slow, cautious step closer to Dean, your heart pounding in your chest as you closed the distance between you. Every inch felt like a mile, and with each step, the tension in the room grew thicker, the air charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. Dean’s breath hitched as you moved closer, his body going rigid as if he were bracing himself for something he couldn’t quite handle.

When you finally stood in front of him, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, Dean froze. His eyes were locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was as if time had stopped, leaving you both suspended in the moment, teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.

Dean’s chest rose and fell sharply, his breath shallow as he battled the storm of emotions raging inside him. His eyes stayed locked on yours, searching, questioning, fighting the pull he felt deep in his gut. He could see the vulnerability in your gaze, the quiet plea for him to let go, to stop fighting something that felt so inevitable.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears, before you finally found the courage to speak. “Dean”, you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, “with the life we live, no one would judge. We don’t even know that many people. This… this is between us”.

For a long moment, Dean stayed quiet, his expression conflicted. The weight of your words hung in the air between you, the truth of them undeniable. The world you lived in was unpredictable, dangerous. There wasn’t time for regrets or what-ifs. You knew that, and you were asking him to see it too.

But what truly undid him wasn’t just your words—it was the look in your eyes. The love, the trust, the unwavering belief that this was something real, something worth taking the risk for. He couldn’t fight it anymore.

Without another word, something inside Dean shifted. The tension in his body melted away as he closed the gap between you in one swift, decisive motion. His hands cupped your cheeks, rough and warm, grounding you in the moment as he drew you closer. And then, with a tenderness that nearly broke your heart, he pressed his lips to yours, featherlight at first, as if testing the waters of a moment he had tried so hard to deny.

The kiss was soft, tentative, and filled with the weight of everything unspoken between you. Dean’s lips lingered on yours, warm and gentle, his touch both reassuring and filled with longing. You responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers gripping his shirt as you leaned into him, the feeling of being this close to him sending a shiver down your spine.

Dean deepened the kiss slowly, his hands sliding from your cheeks to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as the floodgates of emotion finally opened. There was a rawness to the kiss, an unspoken promise that everything had changed in that moment—that neither of you could go back to the way things were before.

With one swift motion, Dean tugged you closer, lifting you effortlessly and placing you on the edge of the counter without breaking the kiss. Your breath hitched as his body pressed against yours, the heat between you intensifying as he stepped between your legs. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your heart raced as Dean's hands slid lower, gripping your hips before settling on your ass, pulling you even tighter against him. The intensity of the moment made you dizzy, your entire body reacting to the heat and desire that was building between you. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped your lips as the friction between your bodies ignited a fire deep inside of you.

Dean’s lips moved with a newfound urgency, the kiss deepening as his tongue teased yours, and you melted into him, letting the wave of passion take over. The hunger in his touch was palpable, and you could feel his restraint slipping away with each passing second. His rough hands caressed your body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they roamed.

As he pressed harder against you, your body instinctively arched into his, seeking more of the delicious friction. You could feel his erection straining against his jeans, pressing insistently against your core, and the sensation was almost overwhelming. Your breath hitched again, a soft moan escaping your lips as the intensity of the moment threatened to consume you.

Dean broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me to stop”, he whispered, his voice low and hoarse with need. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop”.

But stopping was the furthest thing from your mind. You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I don’t want you to stop, Dean. I want this. I want you”.

That was all the permission Dean needed. With a growl of raw need, he captured your lips again, his hands roaming your body with a newfound urgency. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as the world around you disappeared.

The heat between you and Dean was overwhelming, almost too much to handle. Every touch, every movement sent your senses into overdrive. You could barely think, barely process the flood of emotions and desire that had built up over the months. It was like everything you had felt for Dean was coming to a head all at once, and you could do nothing but surrender to it.

Dean’s lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, leaving a hot, tingling sensation in their wake. The rough stubble of his chin brushing against your skin made you shiver, adding to the intensity of the moment. His lips moved to your neck, finding that sensitive spot just below your ear, and the second his mouth touched it, a moan escaped your lips, unbidden and raw.

No one had ever touched you like this before. No one had ever kissed you in a way that made you feel like you were coming undone. Every brush of Dean’s lips, every press of his body against yours, was electric. Your whole body felt alive in a way it never had before, and you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs as desire coursed through you.

Dean’s hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to leave an imprint of his need. You could feel how much he wanted this, how much he wanted you, and the realization only made your own desire burn hotter. He groaned softly against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands clung to him, desperate for more contact, more of him. The way his body pressed against yours, the way his lips moved over your skin—it was everything you had wanted for so long, and now that it was happening, you could barely contain yourself.

“Dean”, you breathed, your voice shaking with desire. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, only that you needed him to know how much you needed him.

Dean’s hands moved up, tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips now at your collarbone. He kissed you there, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of your skin.

Dean’s lips continued their slow, deliberate trail across your collarbone, his kisses growing more fervent as he marked you with his touch. Each brush of his lips was like a spark against your skin, igniting a deeper flame of desire within you. The moans that escaped your lips were soft, almost involuntary, as the sensations overwhelmed you.

With a sudden surge of need, Dean picked you up effortlessly, his strength and urgency clear as he began walking towards his room. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, and you clung to him, breathing heavily, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you both moved, you took the chance to press a kiss to his stubbled jaw, your lips brushing against his rough skin. The contact was tender but full of your own desperate longing. Dean groaned softly, the sound of your touch making him tighten his grip on you.

When you reached his room, Dean kicked the door open with a firm nudge of his foot, the creaking of the hinges echoing slightly in the quiet room. He moved with a purpose, his focus solely on the intense connection between you both.

As he carried you inside, you could feel the solid strength of his body against yours, the warmth radiating from him almost overwhelming. Your heart raced in sync with the thudding of his chest beneath your hands.

Dean carefully lowered you onto the bed, his movements tender despite the urgency of the moment. The mattress gave softly beneath you. He didn’t break the kiss as he maneuvered you both into a more comfortable position, his hands still gripping your hips with a mixture of passion and reverence.

Once you were settled, Dean’s hands moved to your waist, gently yet firmly guiding you to lie back against the pillows.

Your fingers tangled in Dean’s hair as he began to kiss down your throat, his lips brushing against your skin with a mixture of tenderness and urgency. Each kiss felt deliberate, as though he was savoring the moment, and you couldn’t help the soft, breathless moan that escaped your lips.

Dean’s hands moved with the same careful precision, gripping your waist firmly yet tenderly, holding you in place as his lips traveled lower.

Your back arched slightly off the bed, pressing yourself closer to him, needing more of his touch, more of the warmth that was spreading through you with each kiss. Dean responded by tightening his hold on you, his fingers trailing along the curve of your waist, his touch grounding you in the moment.

He kissed the hollow of your throat, then the curve of your collarbone, taking his time as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

“Stop me if you don’t want this”, he said, the words coming out almost as a plea, a last attempt to make sure this was truly what you both wanted.

Without hesitation, you gently pressed him tighter against you by the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The action was a clear answer, a silent confirmation that you wanted this, that you wanted him, without any more reservations or hesitations.

As you reassured him with your actions, Dean’s movements grew more confident, more deliberate. He gently pulled your top over your head, a sharp intake of breath escaping him as he took in the sight of you.

Seeing you there, your bare skin exposed to him, stirred something deep within Dean. It wasn’t just desire—it was admiration, awe, and a profound appreciation for the beauty and trust you displayed. You started to instinctively bring your arms up, a natural reaction to cover yourself, but Dean was quicker. He gently caught your wrists, lowering them back down as he leaned in, his lips pressing a warm, reassuring kiss against your collarbone.

“They’re small”, you mumbled, a trace of shame in your voice. “I know you usually prefer them… bigger, but—”.

Dean’s expression softened, and he cut you off with a tender touch. “Don’t”, he said, his voice low but firm.

“You have no idea how damn perfect you are”, he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

His eyes moved from yours down to your chest, his gaze full of admiration and desire. “Doesn’t matter what I’ve liked before. You’re it for me”.

Dean leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he carefully cupped one of your breasts with his large, warm hand. The contrast between his size and the delicate curve of your body was striking, and he marveled at the sensation of your skin beneath his fingers.

His hand enveloped your breast completely, the pads of his fingers reaching nearly up to your collarbone as he explored the softness with a gentle, reverent touch. He kneaded your breast slowly, his fingers applying just the right amount of pressure, and a deep, appreciative groan escaped him.

The feeling of his touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your breath hitched, the sensation of his hands exploring you making your body respond instinctively. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on the overwhelming pleasure and the warmth of his touch.

Dean’s own breath growing heavier with each passing second, as he watched your reaction.

As he gently brushed his thumb over your hardened nipple, the simple touch sent a shiver through your entire body, eliciting another soft moan from your lips.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this?”, he asked, his voice deep and quiet, the vibration of it mingling with the warmth of his breath against your skin. There was a vulnerability in his question, a cautious curiosity about your past experiences, as if he was both afraid to know and needed to hear the answer.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of desire and sincerity. “No”, you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips as you responded to his touch.

Dean’s actions intensified, his touch skillful and purposeful as he delicately rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation built slowly, a growing heat that made your breaths come quicker, each exhale a soft moan escaping your lips. His attention to your response, his focus on giving pleasure was evident in his every move.

As he dipped his head lower, his breath hot against your skin, he kissed his way across your chest. The anticipation built with each gentle kiss until his lips finally enveloped your right nipple, sucking gently while his fingers continued their delicate work on your left. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, the pleasure sharp and sweet.

You shook under his touch, a cry escaping your lips as a sudden rush of intense pleasure washed over you. It was unexpected, powerful, and left you trembling. Dean’s eyes, locked on your face, held a look of awe and surprise, mixed with a deep satisfaction at seeing your uninhibited response.

As the wave of your climax ebbed, Dean gently eased the intensity of his touch, his lips softening as they lingered on your skin, his fingers easing their pressure, allowing you to catch your breath. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the quiet hum of the bunker’s distant machinery.

“You’re quite responsive”, he murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion.

Despite the tenderness of the moment, the physical intensity of his desire was undeniable. He could feel the throbbing ache of his arousal, constrained and increasingly uncomfortable within the confines of his jeans. He made a subtle adjustment, trying to ease the pressure without drawing too much attention to his state.

He maintained eye contact, his gaze never wavering from yours. There was a question in his eyes, a silent inquiry about how far you wanted to go, what you were comfortable with.

To make your intentions clearer, you reached up and gently cupped his face, pulling him towards you. Your kiss was soft but insistent. The way your lips met his, the gentle pressure and the warmth, was meant to reassure him that you were fully present, that you wanted to continue.

Dean responded to your kiss with a deep, satisfied groan, his arms wrapping around you more firmly. The pressure of his arousal was palpable, and he shifted slightly, trying to manage the intense need he felt. As you gently tugged on his shirt, he took the hint, his hands moving to assist you.

He began to lift his shirt over his head, his gaze locked on yours as he did so.

As Dean sat back on his heels, his gaze never leaving yours, you took a deep breath, summoning your courage. The moment felt fragile, a delicate balance between desire and nervous anticipation. You hesitated for just a moment before slowly placing your palm against his chest.

The feel of his skin beneath your hand was different from anything you had experienced before. The warmth of his body, the solid muscle, and the slight texture of his chest hair were all new sensations. You moved your hand cautiously, exploring the contours of his chest, tracing the defined lines of his muscles with a mix of curiosity and reverence.

Dean’s response was immediate. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his breath catching as he felt your touch. The sensation of your hand moving over him, so tentative yet full of intent, elicited a low, appreciative groan.

He leaned into your touch, his hands resting on your hips, encouraging you to explore further if you wanted.

Your hand trailed lower, tracing the contours of Dean’s ribs down to his stomach. You were acutely aware of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest more pronounced as you approached the edge of his v-line.

The intensity of the moment spiked as you moved your hand lower, guided by curiosity. But just as you were about to venture further, Dean’s hand swiftly caught your wrist, his grip firm yet gentle.

Your heart skipped a beat, fear flickering through you as you worried you might have crossed a line. You looked up at Dean, your cheeks warming with a blush, but his expression was not one of reprimand. Instead, his eyes were dark with desire, his breath uneven.

“If you gonna touch me there”, he mumbled, his voice thick with arousal and a hint of amusement, “I’m gonna fucking come in my damn pants”.

His candid admission, raw and unguarded, made you pause—a mix of surprise and a deep, thrilling rush of excitement washed over you.

“Okay”, you whispered, your voice laced with a teasing tone, acknowledging the boundary he had set with a newfound understanding of the depth of his arousal. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”.

Dean let out a breathy laugh, the sound mixed with relief and desire. His fingers loosened around your wrist, but he didn’t let go, choosing instead to guide your hand back up to safer territory. As he placed your hand over his heart, you could feel its rapid beat beneath your palm.

Dean’s touch was reverent as he approached the waistband of your shorts. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, a rhythm you could feel under your palm as your hand still rested there. The moment was charged with a mix of excitement and nervous energy as you felt him begin to gently pull down your shorts and panties together.

As the fabric slid down your legs, exposing you further, a wave of vulnerability washed over you. Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, an involuntary reaction to the sudden exposure. The blush that spread across your cheeks deepened, a mix of desire and a shy apprehension filling you.

Dean’s touch was gentle as he brushed his fingers slowly up and down your thighs, his movements soothing yet filled with intent.

His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Wanna open up for me, sweetheart?”, he murmured. The way he said it, so softly and respectfully, made your heart skip a beat. His words, combined with the tender way he was touching you, made your entire body respond instinctively.

A deeper flush spread across your cheeks, and you could feel a flutter of nervous excitement mixed with a powerful, undeniable arousal. With a slow, deep breath, you gave a nod, your eyes meeting his with a blend of trust and desire.

Dean’s touch was gentle as he spread your legs slowly, his eyes dropping to your glistening folds. The sight of you, so vulnerable and exposed, made his breath catch in his throat. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he bit his tongue to hold back the flood of feelings rushing through him.

His gaze locked with yours. “You want me to touch you?”, he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with anticipation.

With a soft, breathy reply, you nodded slightly.

Dean’s eyes stayed locked on yours. His fingers traced lightly along the inside of your thighs, starting at the top and moving slowly downward. The sensation of his touch was warm and almost tickling, sending shivers across your skin. He paused briefly, letting his fingers linger just above your folds, giving you time to adjust to the sensation and to the growing tension.

When he finally touched you, his fingers made a delicate, tentative exploration. He started with gentle strokes along your outer lips, feeling the softness and the heat of your skin. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if he was savoring each moment. He could feel the way your body responded to his touch, the way you quivered and your breaths quickened.

As he continued, he applied a bit more pressure, his fingers gently parting your folds. The sensation was intimate and intense, a new kind of pleasure that made your body respond in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

He used his thumb to trace small, deliberate circles around your clit. You could feel the growing heat and moisture, the pleasure building gradually as his touch became more confident, more attuned to your reactions. Your breathing grew uneven, each exhale a soft moan of pleasure that was met with Dean’s quiet, encouraging hums.

“You’re so damn wet”, he murmured, his voice low and laden with desire. He took a moment to spread your wetness around with his thumb, ensuring his touch was as smooth as possible. The sounds of your arousal were evident, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

You mumbled an apology, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. Your voice barely audible amidst the heavy breaths and quiet moans.

“That’s a damn good thing, Sweetheart”, he said with a cheeky grin.

With a deliberate slowness, Dean positioned himself above you, his body close to yours. One hand remained beside your head, offering support and stability, while his other hand stayed between your bodies, a comforting presence as he began to gently push a finger inside you.

The sensation was both intimate and overwhelming, a new kind of pleasure as Dean’s finger slowly entered you. He was careful, his movements measured and deliberate, feeling the tightness of your body around him. The sensation of just one finger, the way you enveloped him, was intense for both of you. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he felt how incredibly tight you were.

You could feel the stretch and the pressure, the way your body responded to his touch. The initial invasion was slow and carefully controlled, a gentle introduction to the new sensations. Dean’s eyes remained locked on yours, his expression a mix of concentration and deep affection.

He took his time, allowing you to adjust to the sensation of his finger inside you.

His finger moved with deliberate intent, slowly stretching and exploring as he sought to open you up. His touch was gentle but persistent, aiming to make you as comfortable as possible while preparing you for more. The sensation of his finger working inside you was a blend of pressure and pleasure, a new experience that made you shiver and gasp.

Despite the careful and attentive approach, your body remained incredibly tight around his finger.

As Dean continued to gently work his finger inside you, the pleasure built to a peak, causing you to climax once again. The wave of pleasure hit you with such force that you shook beneath him, your body trembling as you clung to his biceps.

As the waves of your climax began to recede, Dean gently withdrew his finger, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he pulled away. He resisted the urge to lick his finger clean, not wanting to scare you just yet, but damn, the urge was there.

Your eyes were fixed on Dean as he opened his belt and the zipper of his jeans.

When Dean finally freed his erection from the confines of his jeans, it was larger than you had anticipated. The sight of him was both awe-inspiring and intimidating, the size of his dick catching you by surprise. Your eyes widened slightly, a mix of curiosity and nervousness playing across your face as you took in the sight.

Dean positioned himself above you once more, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort.

He took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he asked quietly, “Are you sure about this?”.

You could feel the intensity of the moment building, your breath growing heavier as your heart raced in response.

Despite the nerves and the racing of your heart, you nodded.

Dean positioned himself at your entrance, his hands were steady and gentle as he guided himself slowly.

He began to ease into you, the initial contact was slow and tender, allowing you time to adjust to the feeling of him. The sensation of his head pressing against your entrance was a mix of pressure and warmth, a new and intimate experience that made you both shiver.

Dean’s eyes moved between your face and the point where you two were connected. Each inch he progressed was measured, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible. His own breath was ragged, the effort of holding back his own pleasure evident in the tension in his jaw and the way he gripped himself to maintain control.

He pressed forward gently, his breath caught as he felt the slight barrier. His hand, which had been steady and supportive on your hips, tightened slightly.

As Dean finally breached the barrier of your hymen, a soft cry escaped your lips, your grip on his biceps tightening instinctively for support. The sensation was intense, a mix of sharp pain and the profound connection that was unfolding.

Dean’s eyes were locked onto your face. He let out a deep, throaty groan as he continued to slide inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. The tightness around him was overwhelming, and he could feel every inch. The pressure was almost too much for him to handle; he had to hold tightly to himself, a struggle against his own burgeoning climax.

Dean’s breathing grew more labored as he finally bottomed out, fully sheathed within you. He remained still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his full presence.

His hands, which had been gripping your hips gently, now caressed your sides, providing a soothing presence as he watched you closely. You could feel the heat and the firmness of him inside you, the sensation both overwhelming and deeply intimate.

“You good?”, he asked, his voice heated and thick with emotion, the words barely more than a whisper as he searched your eyes for reassurance. .

You bit your lip, trying to manage the pressure and discomfort. Despite the overwhelming fullness and the intense pressure you felt in your lower belly, you nodded. The sensation of his size was indeed considerable, but you were willing to endure it.

Dean felt the tightness around him, the way you clenched involuntarily, and it made his struggle to hold back even more difficult. His body was reacting strongly to the pressure and the warmth of you. The sensation of you being so tight around him was both incredibly stimulating and a significant test of his restraint.

He remained still for a moment longer, his hands gently caressing your sides, offering comfort as he tried to ease the intensity of the moment. His focus was on you, on making sure you were okay, before he began to move.

Once he was confident that you were managing the sensation and that you were comfortable enough, he began to move.

He slowly withdrew from you. He took in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort of maintaining control.

Dean’s gaze remained fixed on his dick. He could see how tightly you were gripping him, how each movement affected you.

Dean’s voice was filled with a strained reverence as he spoke, his breath heavy and uneven. “You feel so damn amazing”, he grunted, his gaze locked onto the sight of his dick surrounded by your folds.

As he continued to move, he remained attentive to your responses. His hands were tender on your sides, occasionally brushing your skin to offer reassurance and comfort. His eyes flicked between your face and where you were connected, watching for any sign of discomfort or pleasure.

As Dean continued his careful, deliberate movements, the pressure and fullness you felt remained intense. Soft, strained moans escaped your lips with each thrust, the mix of pleasure and discomfort evident in your sounds. Your nails dug into his biceps, the pain and the sensation of him stretching you causing a continuous, deep reaction.

Dean´s groans grew deeper, strained with the effort of holding back his own climax. “I’m—fuck”, he started to say, the words breaking off as he struggled to keep his composure.

Just as he was about to tell you how close he was, you whimpered his name, the sound so sweet and vulnerable. The way you spoke his name in that moment was enough to push him over the edge. With a deep, shuddering groan, Dean came inside you, his body tensing and shivering with the release.

His hot cum filled you. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin, while he was pulsing inside you.

“I.. Sorry”, he mumbled quietly, his voice muffled but sincere.

He felt a mix of embarrassment and disappointment, his quick climax not something he was accustomed to. The sensation of being inside you, combined with your incredible tightness, had proven overwhelming in a way he hadn’t anticipated. His usual control was tested to its limit.

You, on the other hand, were relieved that the intensity was over. The pressure and discomfort you had felt were significant, the brief duration of his climax had spared you from further discomfort.

As Dean lifted his head to look at you, his eyes were full of concern. His brow was furrowed slightly, the depth of his emotions clearly visible. “You okay?”, he asked quietly, his voice laced with worry. “Any pain?”. His hand moved gently to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and cautious.

You managed a small smile, appreciating his concern. “I’m okay”, you reassured him, your voice soft. “It was a lot, but I’m alright”.

Dean let out a breath, the tension easing from his body as he heard your reassuring words. However, a hint of shame lingered in his expression, since he hadn’t lasted as long as he had hoped. He was used to being in control, and the intensity of the moment had overwhelmed him in ways he hadn’t expected.

He glanced down between your bodies, taking in the sight of the mess you both had made. A mixture of his release, your wetness, and a few drops of blood. “Fuck”, he grumbled softly, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and guilt.

Carefully, Dean began to pull out, his movements slow, not wanting to cause you any more discomfort. As he withdrew, more of the combined fluids dripped down your thighs, the sight making him bite the inside of his cheek. He had wanted this moment to be perfect for you, but now all he could think about was whether he had pushed you too hard, too fast.

As he absently moved down his waist, to pull off a condom—a habit that should have been automatic— his fingers brushed against bare skin. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, his face instantly going pale as he realized there was no condom to remove.

A wave of panic crossed his features, his eyes widening in shock. “Shit”, Dean muttered under his breath, his mind racing as the gravity of the situation hit him. Dean’s eyes met yours, wide with shock and guilt. His lips parted, but it was clear he was struggling to find the right words. You could feel the shift in the atmosphere, the sudden tension between you, and it made your stomach knot with unease.

“What?”, you asked softly, your voice tinged with confusion and concern as you searched his face for an explanation.

Dean swallowed hard, his hand still frozen near his waist. He looked down briefly, then back up at you, his face pale and tight with worry. “I—I forgot”, he mumbled, his voice rough with guilt.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, your voice still soft, but more anxious now, unsure of why he seemed so rattled.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. He glanced away for a second before looking back at you. “I… didn’t use protection”, he said, the words coming out in a rush, as though saying them faster would lessen their impact.

You blinked, trying to process what he meant. And then it hit you.

The realization flooded your mind, the implications crashing down all at once. Your heart started racing as the understanding settled in.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him, eyes wide. “Dean…”, you whispered, the anxiety in your voice clear now.

Dean could see the panic setting in your eyes, and his heart sank even further. “I… I’m gonna get you the pill in the morning”, he said, his words coming quickly, trying to offer some sense of reassurance. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. But for now, let’s just… let’s just take a shower”.

A few minutes later, Dean turned on the shower, the sound of the water filling the small bathroom seemed to drown out the heavy silence between you. He stood with his back to you, his broad, muscular shoulders tense as he quickly typed something into the search bar of his phone. You watched as his fingers moved across the screen, his brows furrowed in concentration, clearly trying to find the information he needed.

You felt vulnerable standing there, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. Without thinking, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to shield yourself, both physically and emotionally, from the gravity of the situation. The warmth of the room felt stifling, and the sound of the water splashing against the tiles did little to ease the tension building inside you.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at you, his expression a mix of concern and focus. “When was your last period?”, he asked quietly, his voice steady but filled with urgency. He turned back toward the phone, continuing his search while waiting for your answer.

You hesitated for a moment, the question pulling you further into the reality of the situation. Your mind raced, trying to remember. After a few seconds, you answered, your voice quiet, almost uncertain. “Three weeks ago, I think… I’m not sure exactly”.

Dean nodded, absorbing the information as he continued scrolling through the phone. His muscles tensed further, the weight of responsibility clear on his face. He let out a small breath, clearly trying to maintain his composure.

“We’re okay”, he said, his tone measured as he tried to reassure both you and himself. “Small chance I got you pre-… We’ll get the pill tomorrow. Just to be safe”.

You nodded slowly, Dean’s words bringing you a little bit of relief, but not completely erasing the anxiety that still lingered. You bit your lip, trying to process everything. The tension in the room hadn’t fully dissipated, but Dean’s attempt to take control of the situation and offer reassurance helped a little.

Dean finally put his phone down, his shoulders still tight as he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly feeling the weight of the situation too. After a moment, he turned to face you, and despite the seriousness of what had just happened, he gave you one of his familiar, boyish grins—though it was a little weaker than usual.

“Sorry”, he said, his voice soft and laced with regret. There was an awkwardness to the grin, a quiet acknowledgment of how badly things had gotten out of hand, but also an attempt to lighten the moment.

You managed a small, nervous smile in return, appreciating the effort. His smile had always had a way of calming you.

He stepped closer, still cautious, as though he wasn’t sure how to navigate the aftermath of everything. His hand was warm as he reached out for you, and his eyes softened with a mix of tenderness and reassurance. “C’mere”, he mumbled gently, his voice low and soothing as he pulled you towards the shower.

You hesitated for just a moment, the weight of the situation still hanging heavily between you. Even though Dean had already seen every part of you, there was something different about the vulnerability you felt now. But the way he looked at you—caring and patient—helped ease the anxiety swirling inside you.

As he led you under the warm spray of the shower, the water cascading over both of your bodies, you felt his hands gently rest on your hips. His touch was reassuring, not demanding, and he gave you space to settle into the moment at your own pace.

“You really okay?”, he asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water, his gaze steady as he searched your face.

You nodded, even though your heart was still racing. The water felt warm against your skin, and it seemed to wash away some of the tension that had built up in your muscles. You could feel Dean’s hand lightly trace up your back.

“Good”, he whispered, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, soothing strokes. “Don´t worry. We got this". Dean’s arms tightened around you, pulling you gently against his chest, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

———————————

A/N: Ugh, guys, I'm so sorry. I hate this chapter. So much. This was one of my worst smuts and I'm so sorry because I was so excited about their "first time".. I have no idea what happened.. but I promise, it'll get better again.. I'm so fucking sorry *cryingintosleep*

-

Part 12

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs @emily-winchester @star-yawnznn @noell666 @averagedenjienjoyer0290 @impala67rollingthroughtown

[nouearth]

autumn reminders.

bruce wayne x male reader.

summary: in the start of autumn, you surprise bruce with lunch because he hasn't been taking care of himself.

wc: 1.3k. warnings: fluff, kinda angst(?), comfort! fic, established relationship, mentions of food, bruce is overworked, he's also horny, worried!reader, touchy!bruce, husband!bruce.

a/n: a short little one-shot because i miss writing for bruce! and autumn is finally here, so i can finally wear my sweaters!! idk, i feel bad for not updating as much, and i also didn't want to only update with smut, lol. but i hope you guys enjoy it! <3 maybe i'll write something about pumpkin spice coffee soon!

the building absorbed the heavy clacks of your suede oxfords as you ambled along the halls. tall windows lined by your side, illuminating you in the afternoon with every step, and occasionally, you’d pause to snap a photo at the autumn vista. it was approaching quick: the cooler weather, the stronger gales, and the changing leaves. while you loved the season most for bringing out your sweaters and coats—most importantly, the autumn season brought in curated festivals, decoration, and your favorite: the autumn menu.

“oh—mister wayne, do you need help with that?” an employee was quick to turn on his heel as you passed by him, but he caught in in four steps, wide-eyed when you turned at the sound of his voice.

“no, it’s all right! figured this would be my punishment for skipping out arm-day!” though you struggled maintaining the weight of several paper bags in your arms and two coffee cups, a smile of assurance and a thumbs up, barely visible in between the grasp of the cup and the height of the bags, reluctantly sent the employee on his way to his duties.

the smile on your face was radiant, much more than a few seconds ago. it’s been almost a year, but it hasn’t gotten old yet—being called mister wayne.

it only took a few more minutes, a fresh bruise to the elbow when you bumped into a wall, and then a scare when you almost dropped your coffee before you were at bruce’s door. before you could put the bags and cups down to open it, it flew open with a confident swing and you jolted from the gentle ambush, hugging the paper bags closer to your body to still the weight.

“why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” the ache in your arms was immediately relieved once you stepped inside bruce’s office, the latter taking a bag for himself and setting it on his coffee table after locking the door closed.

“were you watching the security cameras again?” you followed, setting the other bag next to it, as well as the two coffee cups before then stretching your arms above your head, a pleasurable groan kicking a strum from your throat.

“well, yes—wanted to see if you could make it up here without getting lost.” bruce chuckled, reaching out to firmly squeeze your tense shoulders twice. “but the secretary also told me you were heading up.” you groaned again, at the confession and the aggressive touch, playfully flicking his hands away while you were bent over to disperse the takeout from the paper bags. but bruce persisted with a firmer grasp, massaging your shoulders when he lined behind your figure. 

“you’re kidding! she promised me she wouldn’t!“ the rigid touch of bruce’s hands eventually wandered off into gentle squeezes to your sides, waist, and bottom. your chest rose for a deep inhale, glancing at the locked door as you stood straight again, and then deflated, exhaling, when a single hand found its home on your stomach, warm and heavy on the layers of clothing, only to escape when it took slow dive to the compress of your belt, nudging the sturdy leather with his fingertips.

there was a sudden weight on your left shoulder. he hooked his chin over the narrow muscle to peek over at his hands fiddling with the leather strap, kissing your neck in midst of the fidgeting. “shouldn’t have bought you this—it was easier when you had that cheaper belt.”

“I knew you’d come around to the idea of second-hand clothing!” the surge of veins in your neck as you laughed vibrated against his lips, and bruce joined you in quiet chuckles, his arms holding you tight when he finally unbuckled your belt.

there was a satisfied sound from bruce, sinking into your skin as he continued on kissing your neck, when he removed your belt, and as much as you wanted your husband right now, the ache down south aiding this frustration as it demanded you to ignore the smell of the cooling takeout, your stomach grumbled when the aroma of the sandwiches was resolute and stung your nostrils. the smell of deli meat unfurled in the air to claim its next victim, and the sound of bruce’s stomach groused after.

“lunch first.” you rolled your head back into his shoulders, matching his doting gaze with a smile as you admired his looks for the nth time since you’ve met him. “year is ending soon, so i know you have a lot of late meetings to attend to.”

bruce’s slicked-back hair revealed more of the fine wrinkles on his forehead and emphasized the sharpness of his features. you were embarrassed to admit that upon first meeting him, you were too intimidated by his presence to revel in his beauty like everyone else did. even when you’ve gotten to know him, it had always been his story that had stoned you by his side.

“i know, i’m sorry. I’ll try to come home early, but i can’t promise that.”

now that you’ve read every chapter of his life up to this point, you could finally take the time to appreciate how handsome he was. beyond surface level features, you could allude every small detail on his face to the novel of bruce wayne, down to every page, because you were a part of his life now. your hand cupped his cheek as your thumb laved over his eye-bags, tender in its warm stride. bruce hummed, leaning into your palm and watching you silently as seconds went by.

“don’t apologize! i’ll visit you when you have time, yeah? don’t overwork yourself too. alfred’s been nagging at me to bring you meals, so consider this part of your daily routine now! and you’ve been skipping out on dinner because of—”

it was like he knew what you were about to say, about his double-life as a vigilante. your gaze grew concerning. he had noted how your brows knitted together when you were reluctant to say something, when something had been bothering you. 

when the words caught in your throat, bruce seized the opportunity to kiss your worries away instead. it made him feel better—knew it made you feel better—even if it was temporarily, and he pressed harder into your lips, kissing every corner of flesh until his own worries regarding your safety had briefly perished.

bruce was never good with his words.

he pulled away with a delighted sigh, leaning his forehead onto yours once he turned you back around, and his palms immediately found themselves warming your flushed cheeks. "i'll be okay."

but he was willing to try, for you.

"i have no doubts about that. i just need you to be extra, extra okay." the image of a bloodied bruce months ago still haunted you in your wake, but it only took a gentle press of bruce's palms to reel you back into the haven of his arms.

bruce laughed, and upon noticing that it only raised another level of fret within you, a deeper ribbon threading your eyebrows closer, he pressed the tip of his nose to yours like he did the very first time he held you, and kissed your lips again.

"i'll be extra, extra, extra okay." he assured with your tired murmurs, and you sighed into them as if they were a lullaby, sinking into his arms completely.

your lips danced with his in a slow and calming waltz, and you shuddered when the breeze from the acceleration of your pulse surged though your chest. bruce held you closer to his body, pressing the swell of your heart to his own and puzzling every individual beat until they fused as one, pulsated into one another.

“so, sandwiches, huh? does alfred know that i’m eating terrible? something that isn't from his own hands?"

“not if you tell him, asshole.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, finale

part 8 | new years

🥟 | dumplings

Kara was not having a good time.

Sure, she loved her job. Yes, she adored her staff. Absolutely, she found her role as editor-in-chief worthwhile and world-saving in its own way.

But today was a holiday and her staff was absent and her role as editor-in-chief was only kind of worthwhile given they’d gone to print three days earlier. 

Today was a day meant to be surrounded by friends, new beginnings, and maybe the slightest tinge of a hangover nursed by a staggering stack of Danvers world-famous pancakes. 

It was a day to slip into cozy sweats; an evening unburdened by Supergirl duties or an upcoming deadline; a series of uninterrupted hours where she could collapse onto her couch, bask in the blue glow of her television after consuming far too much post-brunch take-out, and, if she played her cards right, idly massaging the too-tight calves of her very best friend who was stretched out across her lap.

The tips of her fingers crawled between her glasses and face and pressed with a heavy sigh against her eyes because today was not one of those days. Kara wondered if she’d ever have one of those days again.

Not the blue glow or take-out or cozy sweats: those were always within reach. It was the best friend she wasn’t quite sure about. 

Because things were kind of different now. Things were weird and awkward, and Kara didn’t know if it was her or them. Either way, she was one supersuit short of feeling brave enough to do anything about it.

So she was at work. On a holiday.

“You know,” came a voice that nearly sent Kara flying into the next floor, “when Alex told me you were skipping New Year's brunch, I almost didn't believe her.”

“Lena,” Kara choked. She looked up and locked eyes with a very soft, very pretty, very smirking Lena Luthor and felt a rush of weird and awkward all over again. “I didn't, uh, hi.”

“Must be important work,” Lena replied, nodding toward the glasses propped on Kara's nose. They'd been a gift earlier that summer: improved and Lena-Luthor-approved to cut out even more noise and distraction than her last pair. 

“Just… just wanted to focus,” Kara replied.

“On next month’s issue?”

“Never too early to get ahead,” Kara offered lamely.

“Well, is it too early for lunch?” Lena asked, lifting a plastic bag overflowing with take-out containers.

“I thought that was my job,” Kara said, eyeing the strained bag and feeling her stomach betray her with an oversized growl.

“Sometimes even heroes need saving,” Lena chuckled, setting the bag onto Kara’s overflowing desk. “And I’m very good at giving.”

The tease, the flick of an eyebrow, and the confident smirk would have normally sent Kara’s cheeks on fire and stumbling for words and trying very hard to keep strictly platonic, best-friend thoughts at the forefront of her mind, but today was not one of those days. 

“Mhm,” Kara said with a labored smile and a strained chuckle and a fiddle with her glasses. 

Because today was awkward and weird-feeling just like every day since cuddles didn’t feel like something just best friends did.

Lena, ever astute and thoughtful and considerate, noticed the wave of discomfort radiating from Kara, and for that Kara winced even more.

“Are… are we ok?” Lena asked, fingers playing with the edge of her sleeves. It was the exact opposite of the teasing confidence spoken moments earlier; this came out shy and hesitant.

“Sure,” Kara replied automatically in a way that sounded forced, sounded fake, sounded like a lie. Because it was. It was, and Lena knew it. 

“Ok,” she nodded back, and that made it feel worse. Because Kara knew that Lena knew. “Well, I just wanted to drop this off-”

“Stay,” Kara rushed. “Uhm, please? Please stay?”

What followed wasn’t the most awkward lunch Kara had ever had, but it sure was close. Conversation lagged and Kara, lost in the labyrinth of thoughts and doubts and concerns that had played on repeat for no less than two weeks rattled around louder and louder and -

Kara blinked, realizing she’d missed whatever Lena just said. And Lena noticed but, with generous tact, looked down and quietly poked at her food and gosh this was going terribly.

“I’m sorry,” Kara said unprompted. “I’ve been distracted and… and it’s not fair to you. You skipped brunch and brought all of this delicious food and I’ve been terrible company and a bad f-friend,” she said, her throat choking around the last word.

And then a smile flashed across her best friend’s face. It was tiny and wistful. “You could never be, darling.”

And it made Kara’s stomach flutter and twist. It made it flutter and twist, and Kara clung to the tiny thread for dear life and jumped.

“Do you, uh… do you want one?”

“You’re offering me a potsticker?” Lena asked, the faintest tone of disbelief at the chopsticks floating in front of her with a perfectly pan-fried dumpling pinched between them.

Kara nodded, her outstretched, chopstick-holding hand shaking in a very unhero-like way.

And she only barely managed to snatch it, her chopsticks, and the floating potsticker back in time when Lena’s hand rose to meet the literal best pillow of food on the entire planet.

“You can’t use your hands,” Kara said - yelled - and then silently begged the earth to split open and swallow her whole.

“I… I can’t?” Lena asked, hand flinching back in surprise.

“We… there uhm, there aren’t any napkins,” Kara explained like a lying four-year-old. 

Because there absolutely were napkins. 

In plain sight. 

Directly next to Kara’s half-eaten egg roll.

Before Lena could challenge the blatantly bizarre lie with her confused scowl and keen, impossibly brilliant, and scientifically perfect observation skills, Kara blindly rambled ahead while her elbow did the inelegant task of plopping across the desk onto the stack of said napkins.

“And these are, uh, greasy? Greasy,” Kara continued, sliding her elbow with the subtlety of a firework to the edge of her desk and, just as subtly, knocking the napkins to the floor. 

“Greasy,” Lena parroted, eyes distracted by Kara’s elbow’s antics.

“I-in a good way,” Kara clarified. The moment was only briefly interrupted by the squeak of her chair rolling to the left.

To cover the stack of napkins.

The napkins which were definitely there.

“I wouldn’t offer one if they were bad, but since we don’t have napkins then,” Kara explained, “then you’d need to- to…uhm.”

“To what?” Lena pressed.

“To… wipe them on your shirt?” Kara finished feeling mortified and like the most incapable alien on the planet. 

Which was why, when Lena’s head tilted to the side and her gaze fell to where the napkins were most definitely scattered around on the ground then darted back to Kara’s and sparkled in that special way, Kara felt her heart swell and her stomach flutter just a little bit more. 

“Well,” Lena began, leaning forward with the focus of a predator, “we can’t have that.”

And Kara, the weakest, most inept prey in a five hundred-mile radius swallowed against the parchment that had become her throat, shook her head weakly, and kept the freefall going.

And it might have been something.

Could have been something.

Was nearly something. 

Lena was hovering forward. 

Lips parted. 

Eyes locked on Kara’s. 

Which was exactly when Kara’s big giant nerves took over and sent her chopsticks splintering and the potsticker slipping out of her grasp with all the grace of Flubber before zipping across the office to land with an unceremonious splat against the glass partition.

All of which turned that ‘near something’ into one giant ‘swing and miss'. 

But before Kara could articulate her feelings as ‘mortified’ and ‘crestfallen’ and ‘like a giant himbo’, Lena burst out into the kind of bright laughter that made her dimples show and smile beam and Kara wonder if how they were was enough.

Because this could be fine. 

They could be fine.

So distracted was Kara that she didn’t notice Lena swipe the last, un-splatted potsticker from Kara’s plate, and she definitely didn’t process when Lena, ever so casually, asked Kara for a napkin to wipe her fingers off, and she was lightyears from self-awareness when she automatically snatched one from the floor.

That’s how lunch continued and ended: with Lena smiling her special smile and Kara lost in a sort of daze, inhaling the spread of options Lena brought.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Lena said when the final remnants of lo mein were polished off. “Can’t have Cat Grant accusing me of derailing her Editor-in-Chief.”

“Oh, ok,” Kara said, rising to join Lena and crashing back to earth while simultaneously knocking her knee against the desk and sending a stack of proofs sliding like Niagra Falls to the floor.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” Kara said, waving Lena away. She clambered around the desk and intercepted her with a bashful grin and outstretched arms. They wrapped comfortably around Lena like they always did, and it made her feel all tiny sorts of warm and happy. 

This could be fine.

“Thanks for lunch,” she muttered into the side of Lena’s head.

“What are friends for?” Lena said, hands falling to Kara’s upper arms and disarming Kara with a practiced smile.

Kara nodded, her own smile feeling tight and confused. 

It faltered only slightly when the door clicked shut and she crouched to pick up the disheveled proofs. 

This could be fine. 

Kara could be totally normal and cool and collected, and Lena could be her usual pretty and perfect and kind and thoughtful self. And everything could be great and par for the course and completely and totally… 

Normal. 

Kara rolled back onto her heels and pondered that thought: normal. She pondered and pondered some more. A whole minute passed while the idea braised in her brain, and it kind of didn’t sit right.

It didn’t sit right one bit.

And then the most obvious thing on the whole giant existence of everything occurred - no, re-occurred: Kara didn’t want normal. She definitely didn’t want to go back to normal. She wanted the opposite of normal. In fact, she didn’t want normal for another second of her whole entire life.

Unless that not-normal was Lena hating her guts for the rest of eternity. That was not a not-normal Kara had the stomach for, but before she could let that worry petrify her from action, she jumped to her feet and clambered toward the stairwell. 

It took only a second; a perfectly timed second that synchronized with the elevator doors opening and Kara’s very best friend appearing in the ground floor lobby.

“Kara,” Lena said, jumping at what was probably a borderline crazed expression on Kara’s face when two muscular arms spread across the elevator’s threshold, blocking Lena’s exit. “Wha-”

“Mistletoe magic,” Kara stammered inelegantly.

“Mistletoe-?” Lena began, her surprise turning to a flash of hurt.

“With you,” Kara clarified. “I wanted… I wanted mistletoe magic with you.”

“With… me?” Lena asked slowly, cautiously - nervously.

“I wanted… I wanted you - want you. I didn’t mean to, you know,” Kara clarified poorly, “but then I got so nervous. And then Andrea was there and, and I just… I thought you didn’t want it. And maybe you don’t which is - that’s fine, but I can’t stop thinking that maybe you do? Because I do. I really do and, and when you… with the frosting? And the dress? You were just so, so… Rao. And you’re so so brilliant and kind and my best friend-”

“Me too.”

“- and I don’t want to ruin any… any…thing,” Kara trailed off, the tiny echo of Lena’s confession rattling in her ears. “What?”

Then something even louder started rattling in Kara’s ears because her rambling had gone on long enough to trigger the lift’s alarm.

Then came a tug against Kara’s shirt.

Then Kara felt herself being pulled into the lift.

Then she felt the warmth breath against her cheek.

“I wanted mistletoe magic with you, too.”

“R-really?” Kara asked, her eyes darting down to Lena’s perfectly painted lips.

“Really.”

“Like…” Kara continued, glancing back up to double check Lena’s eyes were serious. “Like real-”

They were. They were dead serious. And Kara registered it only a millisecond before Lena’s lips cut off what was definitely going to be another babble-fest. Lena’s lips cut her off and all of her thoughts and words disappeared and instead every sense was engulfed by soft, warm, gentle and - oh wowsers.

“Like really, really,” Lena whispered before the elevator lurched upward and before Kara could register the sparks of gold magic and green leaves flickering above them and before recapturing Kara’s mouth and setting fire to Kara’s core.

// sixty-three floors later //

“So, you liked the dress?” Lena asked.

- - - - - - -

ko-fi and other ao3 reads

[itstheghostofmypast]

Help me, Help you.

Highschooler Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: Sometimes, its nice to help others, sometimes, its even better when someone helps you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7K

Est. Read Time: 8 min

Warnings: None

Rating: SFW

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: @edenesth if you know, you know

Of all the days it could've rained, it had to be today. It all had to happen today, the one day she overslept, was late to school, forgot her project back at home and had to run to the school infirmary after lunch- who knew that milkshake had gone bad? Either way, the moment the final bell rang, she was about to bolt out, only for her teacher to call her over, wanting to talk about something- That something had her grumbling to herself as she came to a standstill, staring at the empty grounds, only the fresh scent of wet soil had her whining to herself, it had to happen today, didn't it?

Bag over her head she jumped onto the step of the bust stop, skipping a step in a hurry, though her muddy shoe ensured to ruin her day even more. A small yelp escaped her as her world tilted, eyes clenching shut, waiting for the blow, hands instinctively letting go of the bag to grab onto something, anything-

"Careful there." His words had her eyes snapping open, only to realise that the warm, fuzzy sensation came not from the anxiety, but the warmth of his hand in hers- oh. 

The two sat quietly, the rain filling in the empty silence as she wiped the mud off her bag pack, still too dazed to even speak up, though she'd give him quick glances, only to find the blonde glancing back, before quickly looking away covering his not so discreet behaviour with a fake cough.

Choi San, the great athlete of their class. Choi San, apparently the sweetest guy in class. Choi San- Honestly she had no other information about him other than those two things and - oh yeah, he had just gone blonde recently, so that was new. Wasn't a bad change though, just caught her off guard. Not that she'd be gawking at him, but he did sit in her line of vision, and the hair change did cause news to flutter around, curiosity being an innate human nature had her peaking up from her book that day, glancing in his direction; only to be feel the world around her come to a stand still, focusing on that dimpled smile, twinkling feline like eyes, only to gasp when she realised those eyes were now focused on her, causing her to fumble with her book, lifting it to bury her nose in the textbook once more.

Sighing he leaned back against the bench, his bag seated between them. He had been sitting here for almost an hour before she had arrived as well, it turns out that due to the heavy rain, the bus schedule was disrupted, which meant he had to sit here, without an umbrella and hope either a bus arrive or the rain stops. How would he know he would end up saving the girl he'd been pinning over for the past term. It wasn't always like this, he didn't notice her right away, she was but part of the background of his world, but that was because San was busy making sure his world was perfect, and his world was happy, which meant making sure everyone around him, teachers, friends, classmates, all were happy. So, did he join the football team because someone asked him? Yes. Did he join the baseball team because the coach asked him? Yes. Did he end up staying back on cleaning duty most days when his friends asked? Yes.

It was ironic how he would help everyone, or everyone would come to him for help, he liked helping, it made him feel valued- but she was different. He'd never helped her, not because he didn't like her, no, but because she didn't ask. That is until last term, on the last day of class, after the final bell had rung, he walked back to class, yet again on cleaning duty, only to freeze at the door when he saw her in class, asleep at her desk- why had no one woken her up? He had walked over to her, deciding to wake her up, only to freeze mid-action when she abruptly sat up, blinking at the empty classroom and then up at him. To avoid looking like a creep he cleared his throat, "Class finished...you should go home."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Me? Oh...I uh...I got cleaning duty."

"Oh...need some help?"

That was all it took for Choi San to fall to his knees, for his chest to feel all warm and fuzzy and for his heart to go pitter-patter, bouncing around to the symphony of her presence, wanting to escape the confines of his body and nestle in the pocket of her coat, all because she offered him help- no because she was the first person to ever offer to help him, rather than ask him for help. A 'yes' had escaped past his lips quicker than he could stop himself, and fotunately for him, she had quietly begun to clean the class with him, brooming one side quietly, leaving him standing there in all his jittering nervousness. As soon as he had grabbed the other broom, the two had begun to sway to their own mundane symphony, one so simple, one so quiet, one so natural. From that day onwards, he had done almost everything to get her attention, even going as far as going blonde- Hongjoong did say go long or go home and his forever home was only with her, no matter how delusional the highschooler sounded, his friends had agreed and only encouraged his extremely unsuccessful efforts of attracting the - as Wooyoung had dubbed her- orange cat of the class.

"I like your hair."

The words sliced through the hissing rain, causing him to turn around and look at her, all wide-eyed, all flustered, all a nervous wreck. She gave him a small smile, at the sense of his unease, great, he probably thought she was a creep, clearing her throat she corrected herself, "Thank you...for earlier...I was dead sure my day was only going to get worse, but then you came!" she smiled, only for the words to settle in, oh god, why did she say it like that, judging by the way he was now shaking, she was sure he was trying not to laugh at her, trying not to run away.

Okay, one more try, "W-what I mean is...thanks...I was having a bad day, and you made it a bit better."

"I...can't tell if you're flirting with me or..."

"I really am not...it's just coming out this way-" she paused, noting the way he had averted her gaze, a small pout gracing his features as he let out a small huff like a grumpy cat- oh- nodding she continued, "Unless...you're...okay with it?"

Letting out a dry laugh he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, an act that had her heart tingle with a strange sensation, "No...I mean...I finally thought you picked up on my advances...I've been trying all term."

"What?"

"I...you really didn't know, did you?" he whined, turning to face her completely, "I tried all term to get you to realise I have feelings for you- I even dyed my hair so you'd notice me more and talk to me!"

"But I do notice you," she mumbled, "Though you're often surrounded by people so-" cutting herself short she changed topics real quick, letting the intrusive thought win- mind you, this was a pressing matter, " hey, do you know anyone who doesn't have a partner for the history project? Mr.Kim said there was someone but he couldn't remember who."

"You're looking at him." he pointed to himself, "I wanted to ask you but everyone kept asking me so I got busy saying no to....oh..." Her first half of the previous statement rang in his ears, hitting him like lightening, she wasn't in the background because she wanted to be, she was in the background because he was always surrounded by people.

"So uh...if you need a partner, I'd love to help-"

"Yes." he cut her off, "Yes, I need your help, yes, I'd like to partner up with you, yes, we should start working on it right now." Standing up, he wasn't going to waste any more time, he wasn't going to let anything or anyone distract him anymore. Grabbing his bag he took a step closer to her, giving her a dimpled smile, which she returned with an adorable little smile of her own, making it difficult for the lad to not squeeze her in a hug.

"Gimme." with that he took her bag from her, ignoring her quizzical look when he swung it over his other shoulder, before turning to look at the rain pouring down on the earth, much like his feelings, well then, no more fooling around then. Turning back to her he smiled, "Ready to help me out?"

"Jee...I guess if you're that desperate," standing up she dusted off her skirt, then looked up at him, "Sure, I'll help you."

"Good, remember, no takesies-backseies," He announced, offering her his hand, his smile growing into a boyish grin, eyes crinkling with glee when she placed her hand in his, nodding in agreement,

"No takesies-backsies."

The two looked at each other, she never really did get a good look at the sharp-featured softie, while he'd be lying that this was the first time his eyes had wandered across the face of her map, drinking in every feature so pleasant and pretty. An air of something new settling between them, merging with the scent of the summer rain, like a rainbow waiting just around the corner, like a little bud ready to bloom and flourish once the clouds decided to part, letting the sun shine down on it, helping it grow and prosper, to embrace its simple, yet, unique potentiality.

With that, he sprinted out of the bus stop, her right behind, hand in hand, as the two ran towards whatever was on the other side. Her squealing and his laughter complemented the droplets dancing around them, gracing them with a new beginning, watching them run into the new chapter, to find their happy ending.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @spooo00oky @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp

[e-leohiss]

"Here lies..." || A John Price fan-fiction

Author’s note: This is drama and my first fan-fic of Peepaw. As of now I'm not sure if I'm worth taking requests. Personally, John Price is the most comfortable character to write but I do want to write the others too.

Others being Konig, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle.

**PLEASE DO NOT translate, repost, or in any way reformat my work on this site and on any other social media

~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~~***~~

Title: Here lies...

Main characters: John Price x F!reader Contains: Drama, heartbreak, broken marriage Wordcount: 2.2k Song link: My Mind (slowed & reverb) - Yebba

~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~~***~~

Exposition:

John returned home with a new woman that his wife hardly knew about.

But she’s heard of her husband’s affair with another.

Her husband is a busy soldier, constantly absent due to his line of duty. He would only be home for 2 weeks at most–once almost nearing a month. To think the day had come that he would bring his new lover to their home. Did John even consider this as his home? 

His poor wife doesn’t think that he does. Not when he had just returned only to be leaving with duffel bags in hand filled with the rest of his portable belongings that he packed minutes ago.

As she gazed at both her husband and his muse, innards boiled whereas her exterior was passive.

She blamed herself the most, the ruin of their marriage. 

~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~

Who knows how a woman would react if she saw the personification of her heartbreak before her person.

‘How do you kill your lover without killing yourself?’ A woman thought to herself. She stood still, and so did her heart. What could possibly be going through her head to become so still? 

It didn’t appear to be the “calm before the storm” kind. No. She was the unsettling aftermath of the disaster. 

Jonathan Price stood in front of her–stood between two women. John wasn’t looking at her. Instead he firmly stared at the floor. He chose to be a coward than to look her in the eyes as he spoke blunt blades of poison.

She broke her stillness to cut him off, “Jonathan.” He paused, but still refused to look her way. The new woman behind him shifted her eyes between the couple, discomfiture transparent on her face.

The heartbroken woman continued to focus on the visitor’s face; a tinge of satisfaction sparked in her when she noticed the new woman’s shoulders caving in from unease. ‘At least this one is looking at me,’ she thought.

Her low, toneless voice spoke again, “End this.” Jonathan’s head dipped down and heaved a generous amount of air through his nose. It took him a few seconds, but she saw the white sheets of paper in his grasp. Her limbs moved on their own accord. She lightly took the sheets from his hands and walked to the study to get a pen. Jonathan followed her a couple paces behind, his steps heavy and slow. As if it were the ticking seconds of a clock counting the duration of the dying home.

She placed the documents neatly on the desk as she sat feeling her muscles lose their strength by the second. Hell, the words seemed alien-like. She couldn’t read the damn content of the sheets. Her eyes skipped to regard the blank lines that remained unsigned. From within, more fragments fell off that made her chest more hollow.

She felt herself perish further.

Why would she sign it first?

She didn’t want this marriage to end. She did her best to nourish it. Thoughts of her husband always filled her mind. She would never seek feelings from another, not when she had Jonathan as hers.

But Jonathan did not think of her the same way. He did not think of his wife’s awaiting arms back home. He didn’t think of the constant worry his wife would always endure while he was away.

He did not remember his loving wife. 

There were no lies in their marriage and it was only now that she came to terms with those odious facts. Jonathan didn’t love her, not anymore.

And so it is.

Jonathan entered the study wrapped in solemnity. His face, however, stoic. Well, he was drenched to the bone with a captain’s ego, one of the traits she respected about him, and she still did up to this moment.

She placed a pen on top of the sheets. Jonathan understood immediately–a signal for him to make the first move. With three long strides he stood by the desk, pen in between his strong fingers. Her body stilled again when Jonathan’s hand raised but stopped midair. He readjusted the pen in his hold, his mind ran which caused him to falter.

“Dear–” he began, but his words got caught when he finally looked her way. He took in the sight of a broken woman. He couldn’t recognize his wife anymore. It’s like the color from her body faded into shades of gloomy greys. She would’ve looked serene in the yellow glow of the desk lamp weren’t it for the apparent wreck in her eyes and posture. Then her eyes laid on his. There it flickered: resentment. The tired look on her face crumpled as the corner of her lip raised.

“You should damn well treat her far better than you did me. Do you understand me, Jonathan?” Her silvery voice is tight. There it was, spoken anger. “She doesn’t deserve to feel this way–failure as a wife.” 

She placed her wedding ring on the desk with such care that it looked graceful to the speechless Jonathan, who had yet to sign the papers first. “In another life, I could have probably given you the family you deserved,” her voice cracked and her chest swelled with gradual pain at the sensitive topic. 

“How I wish I could provide that for you right now, John. But, nothing. I’m sorry.” 

She wanted to yell at the woman standing in the threshold of their home that she would not take him away from her. She refused to let another muse earn Jonathan’s attention; her role as his wife, as his equal. ‘You won’t take him away from me,’ she wanted to swear. ‘May these promises be written on stone, how much I want to remain by his side, by my John.’

Her mind went off alarmingly, ‘Damn her. I won’t leave him. Not John.’

Yet no such arguments came out from her.

How could she, when she blamed herself the most for her shortcoming as a wife.

A defect, unable to make John a father.

“I’m sorry we ended up like this. I’m sorry for hurting you so much when I vowed to put your happiness first.” Jonathan spoke thickly. He gulped, then surprisingly took a knee by the seat she sat on. “Our marriage may not have worked the way we promised it would, but I will take our memories together till the end of the line. I’ll always be grateful for your constant patience and effort. In another lifetime, we…” Jonathan’s words hung in the silence of the night as the endless possibilities ran in his head. Anything could have happened.

“If it makes you feel any better…curse, yell, scream, hurt me,” he said instead. “You can do whatever to lessen the pain–”

Her hand cupped his bearded jaw softly. With words full of conviction she said, “I won’t do that to you. Never you, John.” She smiled. She had the audacity to show him a smile.

The stoic mask of Jonathan Price fell apart the longer he looked at his wife. The longer he observed her the more he was convinced that a saint sat before him.

His left hand found itself atop hers to place it against his cheek. His rough digits massaging her smooth ones. “I don’t…” John whispered, his voice wavered with no trace of the soldier they knew him to be. He groaned, expressing his displeasure.

However, with a new-found purpose he stood and signed the papers quickly. He held up the pen for her to take, his face facing the other direction. Again with avoiding. She took the pen delicately. It took her a moment to follow-through but, at last, her signature appeared on the opposite side of John’s.

Her stare locked on the sheets that John collected hastily, his feet rooted to his spot. ‘Move. Move. Move.’ He chanted in his mind. 

“John,” the meek voice of his ex-wife called to him. He peered down at her seated form. Maybe it was the glass paperweight on the desk, or the picture frame, but something shattered. 

John bent down to capture her in his arms. Her body racked with pure heartbreak. Tears of blood could’ve been mistaken for the thick tears that cascaded down her cheeks. She cried so bitterly the back of his eyes boiled as he cradled her head on his collar.

Words tumbled out her mouth, “I hate you. You lied. Don’t leave me, John. John, please,” she begged, fisting his shirt. He pulled her tighter against him.

“I’ll always protect you, love. I’ll always put your safety first. Remember that. This, I swear. Don’t forget that.” He said to her with intensity as she kept calling him a liar.

“I have to go. Always take care of yourself. Put yourself first. I’m so sorry, dear.” And with one last kiss to her wet cheeks he unclasped her hands on his shirt and left the house, signed sheets crumpled in his fist.

He left her again, only this time it was painful. It was the last.

The woman waiting outside the door recoiled as the door slammed shut. John stood with his back to her and his head low with the doorknob forcefully in his grip. He didn’t wait for her as he began to walk towards the car. The woman felt the atmosphere shift when he walked past her. It was burning, and menacing. 

He hurriedly threw his bags to the backseat before stepping into the passenger seat. The woman moved swiftly, getting on the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life. She’s taken by surprise when he suddenly pounded the side of his fist onto the door. John’s breathing was deeply filled with aggravation as he tried to forcefully control his temper. 

“John?” She addressed the soldier without looking in his direction. “Step on it.” He seethed roughly as he glared out the window. With no further questions, she does as she’s told and stepped on the gas. 

John Price was known for being stoic most times, flashing a close-lipped smile occasionally, but how that changed when a silent tear trailed down his cheek. He had just left the love of his life back home drowning in despair. She wasn’t his wife any more and that made the damage in him a thousand times worse. 

================================================

An umbrella in hand, the sky wept sorrowfully as you.

Your mind flitted back to when Laswell appeared once again at the threshold of your home.

“I’m sorry we hid the truth from you.”

Who would’ve thought that the woman from before would be standing outside your home–your new home of almost a year–saying the most shattering news to you. You swallowed thickly. Mind still not fully comprehending the amount of information that Laswell had told you. 

“It was never supposed to be this way. However, a previous enemy had threatened to hunt you down in exchange for John executing his wife,” Kate took in a breath. “For the life of me, I don’t know how he knew that John had a wife. Turns out we had a mole who found John’s file and broke into his office.” Kate pulled out a picture from the folder she brought, a picture of a foreigner and a soldier wearing the familiar U.S uniform. The words began to construct in your head and they got heavier the more you listened.

“He managed to threaten John a couple of times but we weren’t convinced, calling it a bluff. Roughly a year before John and you…he was threatened once again, but this time we couldn’t risk it. Which led him to decide that cutting ties with you would be the best diversion.” Kate’s voice became softer as she continued. 

“We also had to convince you, so you wouldn't set foot at base. Rumors were spread about John having a different woman back at base so the mole wouldn’t discover your real location–” 

“Where’s John?”

Kate’s eyes snapped to yours when you spoke up. She noticed the atmosphere around you had changed. “When will he be coming here? No – when can I see him? I’m sure the mission’s done because you’re here.” You held your hands together, begging Kate to see how much you want to see John again. 

“I want to see my husband again. Please, Kate.” 

You continuously begged, and with that Kate’s shoulders appeared to sag from the pressure. She did not know how to tell you the terrible news. 

“You are a liar,” you said to John. “A horrible one.”

Chin quivered with another sharp intake of air. Nose is clogged, cheeks tear-stained, skin cold, eyes swollen and red rimmed. You kneel on the wet ground, sitting on the heels of your feet. You rearranged the flowers by your knees.

“You don’t like flowers, dear. Nothing to worry about this time though.” A choked laugh slipped through but vanished as another set of sharp breaths racked your lungs. John’s dog tags clinked against each other from the motion. 

“How I miss you, my love, it hurts.” Your fingers dig into the soft soil, reflecting your vulnerable state. “Wait for me. This time I won’t let you leave me so easily.”

The handwritten letter that came with all of his belongings burned in the back of your mind. The last paragraph you could recite word-for-word.

‘This is the only way, love. How I wish it wasn’t. But for you, I’d do anything. Even if it means leaving you in exchange for your protection.’

‘HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY 

CPT. JONATHAN PRICE 

BRITISH SAS

1985

PRESENT YEAR’

And soon, a new gravestone settled right beside it, with your name, year of birth and death. The promise written in stone.

‘WIFE OF CPT. JONATHAN PRICE’

~~end~~

[megabag]

Are you looking to hire Skip Bins? MegaBag offers various types of skip bags, trash bags, rubbish bags for residential or commercial construction sites at best price. Contact us on 1300-097-928 to book a service.

For more details visit our website: https://megabag.com.au/

[hhighkey]

Decode // Chapter Two, Seeing Red

Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female)

Rating: mature

Story Contains: live action characters, related and non-related one piece plots, unspecified religion, OC is a nun on sabbatical, trauma, violence, age gap (40 v 23), insecurities and self doubts, possessive / protective behavior, kidnapping, true loves, eventual smut

Masterlist

-

Her fingers trembled as they ran along the dusty ensemble from the bottom of her trunk. What possessed her that morning to pull the once forgotten fabric out was beyond her. Her habit felt like it weighed a ton as her hand desperately patted the ivory dressings to get wrinkles out, letting woolen fabric rhetorically burn her skin. Like words were printed out in bold that made her grow ill- duty. 

Nami had left, bag in hand. As Sabine awoke with heavy eyes just before sunrise, she'd seen the girl sneaking out on tiptoes and hushed whispers— Nami's actions only further cemented the danger of the upcoming situation as Sabine couldn't stop her. 

For a moment Sabine doesn't recognize herself as she glances in a passing mirror. Was she putting on her habit out of her duty as a nun? As the oldest person on the ship? Towards the fact Zoro might not survive? Or that she truly felt her faith guiding her to remain strong? 

Questions. They swirled. Hurled at her as she dressed for the coming duel, as if it were a mournful occasion. Ringing. High pitched vibrations lived in her ear canals as she exited the quarters of the ship, feeling the morning sun bore upon her clothed figure. 

Maybe she'd always been too emotional— too empathetic for her own good letting those around her will her very life. Maybe it was how years of sermons and tears made her heart lurch closer to The Father as her empath state grew impressionable and easily moved. So it explained the tears that misted her eyes. Explained how her fingers fidgeted and welcomed the pain as her nails dug into part of her skin. She cared for Zoro in a short matter of time, cared for the entirety of the Straw Hats like the nurturing nature of the burdened oldest sister. 

Oh seeing him again in all his glory- it took her breath away. His proud stance with the larger than life sword on his back. Mihawk stood on the other side of the dock, making her heart skip with anticipation as they drew closer. A stratus field of tension, of a tractor beam like air— one whirlwind pushing her feet forward as her fingers went numb. The sound of footsteps on the wood reverberated like the boom of soldiers marching. 

Sabine placed herself behind Luffy and Usopp, with a false hope their bodies would protect her from his gaze. Because his golden eyes were glued to her, uncaring towards the boy he'd be dueling as he only agreed to duel him to see Sabine once more. Chills went down her spine as she let her mind retreat into itself, to black out the coming bloodshed. The scene around her soon blurred from the sound of Zoro's swords unsheathed...

The azure sky above was fitted with puffy white clouds- the sea calm in contrast to the blood that seeped onto Baratie's front dock. How Nami and Usopp raced behind their captain to Zoro's side. How Luffy's cries for their bloodied crew mate to live were deafening. And how Sabine stood firm as if stuck in cement, fingers turning white from the grip on her rosary. 

Her heart hammered in her chest. Blood rushed to her head, blurring her vision with black spots. And an incessant ringing echoed in her ears. 

Time felt frozen as she watched him glide to her, his heavy footsteps creaking on the dock. Closer. And closer. She couldn't move, not with the way tears pricked her waterline and bile rose in her throat. Eyes flickering between the two swordsman as a frigid breeze of alarm made her entire body shiver. 

"My dear," Mihawk spoke calmly, as if he hadn't just struck down Zoro in a battle he needn't break a sweat. Only inches from her, Mihawk removed his hat, holding it over his heart as his mouth ran dry. His eyes ate her petite figure up and his stomach lurched from how her beauty struck him. Everything from last night came rushing back and if he'd known a simple conversation would be life changing, he'd have never let her walk away. 

Sabine opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She craned to look up at him. In daylight she was captivated by him. Last night, at the bar, hadn't done him justice. How the air was robbed from her lungs as all she could do was shake her head hearing his timbre voice, "Why.."

Mihawk had no answer as he re-situated his hat back upon his head, then running a hand to brush along her headpiece down to her veil. She flinched in return as his large fingers caressed her shoulder, "Sister Mary Sabine, last night you changed my trajectory for better and for worse. And I'm a man who knows what he wants, then gets it."

"I don't understand," She squeaked out, their surroundings fading. Yells of her friends as they carried Zoro to the boat, how she should have been with them tossed to the back of her mind. The panicked looks as they saw how close Mihawk was to Sabine, someone with no ability to fight an enemy off. But trust was left that Mihawk had no business with a nun as they carried the green haired swordsman out of sight. She was alone- with him.

Mihawk showed no change in emotion, only an unsettling and uncommon softness to his gaze, "However I am not cruel. I understand your situation, so I'll tell you this- after your sabbatical I will come find you. And I'll respect either decision you make, but I plan to make you mine if you choose to leave the sisterhood."

An inhuman gasp stifled in her throat, her eyes widened, "M-Mihawk."

In a slick motion, Mihawk removed the thick cross branded (Mihawk centric branded) ring he adorned. Suddenly grasping her dainty wrist he forced the piece of jewelry into her palm, "So a piece of me is with you. Think of me until we meet again in many months time, little one."

"You can't- you can't just say that! You- Zoro might die because of you!" Anger finally bubbled over. Sabine snapped from her trance as her fist tightened around the ring, she took a step closer to him before he could turn away.

"You felt it last night, no?"

His question took her aback. Just as quick as she found the confidence to get mad, it subsided as her shoulders dropped. Because she felt it. She'd told herself last night as she laid in bed tipsy from the wine, that if that was how true love felt, she'd never want anyone else. She'd want him. But that was before Zoro challenged him- Before Zoro was struck down with such ease. 

"Answer me my dove," 

"Yes.. I did," She whispered as tears brimmed her eyes, "I felt it. But- you're a warlord of the sea- one of the strongest- it doesn't matter what I felt." Words stumbling one over the other as she struggled to articulate the emotions swirling within her, "Walk away."

"Oh? You really want me to?" A low chuckle from the deep of his throat tickled her ears. Mihawk felt amused from the deflation of her chest, the whirlpool of fervor in her eyes as she shuffled in place. 

"I-" The ring weighed down her hand. It felt hot as a branding iron fresh out the charcoal, dropping to her side as her nails dug into the skin, "Don't know."

The sudden feeling of his fingertips tracing along her jaw, thumb stroking her cheekbone- made her mind go fuzzy. Subconsciously they drew closer. Eyes connected with neither able to break away, further imprinting each other into permanent association. 

"I don't know you." Sabine mumbled as her loins burned, a dizzying heat creeping up her skin. A lightheadedness began to prod at her as a thick hand grasped her shoulder to steady her. 

Suddenly, Mihawk swooped down and pressed a light yet chaste kiss on her forehead. The heat of her skin numbing as he pulled away to ardently beam down at her, masking any inch of excitement from Sabine to see, keeping it for himself to feel. 

A shuddered breath left Sabine's lips, eyes closing as a shiver blew through her extremities from the electricity colliding with her. Every nerve on fire, lightning striking over and over just from the ghostly feeling lingering on her forehead. A cruel twisting awake in her stomach that had her nauseas and on cloud nine all at once, a feathery painful tickle inside her skull as she lulled in place. 

"Take care of yourself Sabine, until next time." Mihawk bade a gentle goodbye- as much of one as he was capable of. 

"But.." Sabine whimpered, forced to stare at the large sword strapped to his back as he turned away. She wanted to chase after him, to flag him down and shove the ring back onto his finger. Yet all she could do was stand there dumbfounded, gaze soon downcast to stare at the jewelry in her hand. A gorgeous gold ring with intricate designs, well worn too. 

"How will you find me?" But Mihawk was too far to hear her question, confusion replacing her shocked self. 

Silence. Then lurching waves knocked anchored boats against the dock to and fro. Then scattered voices dragged her back to back to reality as all her senses kicked back in. Salty seawater air, thick, coating her insides to where it suffocated her breaths as her chest rose and fell shakily. 

Sabine struggled as she shoved the ring into her under-dress's pocket. The sudden emptiness in her hand was momentous in a way she couldn't comprehend the weight it would bear on her.

Wherever her feet took her she went. Stumbling over the dock as her heart raced, gasping for breath as she pushed through a door into Baratie. Needed to get away. Needed to breathe air that Mihawk hadn't. The ring left an imprint, her palm red and indented with a thick circle at the center. 

Crumpling to her knees inside a lone hallway meant for staff of the floating restaurant. Back flush against a plank wall with peeling forest green wallpaper, water damage causing it to bubble at dingy corners. The world felt as if she were viewing it from another person the way her thoughts raced, making her vision streak as heavy tears began to fall. Head fell to her hands. Deep breaths. Guilt wracking her. Sabine wanted to think about Zoro and how she should be by his side offering a prayer. Selfishness, something no good nun was supposed to have, was taking over. 

"I cast this circle of flowers round, in calling for a love meant for me, to find me."

She hadn't thought of that night in about three years, not since the unruly Deacon traipsed through her life. While it'd all been fun and games at sixteen- a harmless little game that now had come back to haunt her for the second time. 

Flashes of a scene— four giggling girls with stolen communion wine, special flowers scattered on the tiled floor. 

"Forever will my true love bind,"

Sabine felt an intense pounding in her chest, as if her heart was about to beat out her ribcage and splinter the thin bones through her skin. Death would have been kinder for the poor girl, a sobbing trembling mess. 

Oh she'd done it now. More specifically her sixteen year old self had. It was foolish to think the chicken scratch chant they found in an old book was anything but real. Because with an existence of devil fruits and sea monsters, was anything too far out the realm of existence? 

Tears continued to slide down her cheeks as she sucked ragged breaths in. Sabine knew what this was. It was obvious. Not a ridiculous love at first sight story, Mihawk was her person as she'd set the stage for him to find her all those years ago. He had to be! Or else she believed too firmly in sudden happenings of the butterfly effect. All this was, was sudden infatuation, an ironic suddenness happening during her sabbatical. Of course. 

Sabine's fingers shook as she went to grip her rosary, head bent down as her lips moved but with no words escaping. 

-

posted : oct 26 2023

edited: july 12 2024

taglist : @zzbloody-animezz @honeybeezgobzzzzz @mythical-goth @iraaiitz @moonmaiden1996

[owlclawstudios]

ink demonth day 17th : sailor

tw : mentions of uss indianapolis, ww2 and mention of the shark attacks on the uss indiapolis survivors.

march 8th 1942 the us had entered ww2 a few months ago after the bombing of pearl harbor henry was skimming through the mail he grabbed a letter and opened it,

it was a letter from the us navy.

Henry read carefully for a moment before he realized what the letter was. He had been drafted into the Navy. His stomach dropped to the floor as he read the words. Join the US Navy today!

"I'm being sent to war..." he whispered to himself as he sat down at their kitchen table, letter still in his hands, staring at it blankly. Linda walked in to see him. "What's wrong Henry?" She asked.

henry spoke quietly, his voice betraying his

feelings. "The Navy's drafted me." He muttered, looking back down at the letter.

Henry put the letter down with a shaky breath. "They want me to report at the base tomorrow morning.." he said.

-the next morning, henry put on his navy sailor uniform that was sent to him through the mail, he

Henry packed a small bag and, after giving a final hug and kiss to Linda.

he spoke lovingly.

" i'lll be back as soon as i could....i love you very much...."

linda looked up holding back tears.

" i love you too sweetie... i'll be here waiting for you " linda said.

henry soon got on

headed to the base, leaving her at home.

He had to do his duty, even if that did mean fighting in a deadly war .

Henry reported to the base and soon began his training. He learned how to use and maintain equipment, how to respond quickly to orders and various other things that came with the job. He began to bond with the other navy men around him as he went through the training.

soon Henry was assigned to the USS Indianapolis, a heavy cruiser with a great reputation for her service. He was sent to this ship with many of the men who went through training with him.

linda would work in a factory during ww2 to not only help with the war effort but help pay the bills, henry would write to linda as much as he could

Henry would sit and write in his bunk, on his bed with other sleeping men around him. He would write letters to Linda almost every night, telling her of what had happened each day and how much he missed her and hoped to return to her soon.

he would list the many battles and missions the Indianapolis had been in, detailing all the events that went on. He explained how he and his comrades had formed a strong bond and looked after one another, and just how difficult the battles could be.

soon on july 16th 1945, the USS Indianapolis and Henry we’re on a vital mission. They were transporting an important element for the construction of an atomic bomb, which would be used later in the war

The whole ship’s crew was on high alert, the job was extremely important and there could be no mistakes. it was carrying cargo and This cargo was a classified secret, as the atomic bomb had not been announced and used at that point. The Indianapolis would travel to Leyte Gulf and begin preparing to deliver the cargo, unknown to the crew of the Indianapolis as to what exactly the cargo was.

-Once arriving at Leyte Gulf, the crew spent most of the time working on and off the ship to make any last minute preparations to deliver the important cargo, with many not understanding the true importance of this specific cargo.

-By the time August was already a few days underway,

but then... Linda had not received a letter since july 27 . This worried her, but she could only hope that he was fine and that he had been unable to find any time to write.

By the time the 15th of August rolled around, she had not received any letters from Henry, and would read the news paper and learn of the Indianapolis's sinking, her eyes widening in horror.

she soon got a letter,

Linda's heart skipped a beat as she read the letter. Henry had survived, but was badly injured, with several issues that he was being treated for. She was thankful for the fact that he was alive, but at the same time worried about the severity of his injuries.

henry was hospitilized at the

Naval Base Hospital No. 20 in Peleliu,

henry had suffered deyhydration, salt water poisoning, starvation and inffected wounds, and shark bites, The letters described the struggles that Henry faced, including the many times that he'd nearly been killed by the sharks that attacked him. He had tried to fight back, punching and kicking at the sharks' gills to try and get them to release him, but he had suffered many injuries in the process, though he still managed to survive.

-Henry spent 11 days in the hospital, being fed and given fluids to help with his dehydration. His wounds from the sharks' bites and the sharp metal pieces that had injured him were cleaned and bandaged, and he was given medical care to help him recover properly.

once he was declared well enough, Henry was discharged from the hospital and the Navy. He was awarded the Purple Heart for his bravery and for his efforts in saving the other sailors from the sharks' attacks.

With his time in the Navy now over, Henry finally returned home to Linda.

but Henry found himself suffering from the effects of the ship being torpedoed, the ship sinking and the five days spent floating in the shark-infested water. the shark attacks He was plagued with PTSD, trauma, and many other issues from the incident.

Henry's experiences had left him with numerous phobias, including a fear of sharks galeophobia, a fear of deep bodies of water thalassophobia and a fear of explosions ekrixiphobia, He also developed a fear of loud noises phonophobia as well, The memories and the sounds of the other sailors screaming, thrashing in the water and being pulled under by the sharks were seared into Henry's mind. The image of the torn and bloodstained life jacket bubbling to the surface remained a vivid reminder of the horrors he had endured. -Due to his phobia of sharks, Henry found it very difficult to visit aquariums, especially those with large shark exhibits. The sight of a shark would trigger strong negative reactions and memories of the traumatic experience he had endured.

Linda would comfort Henry whenever he struggled with the memories and phobias that his experience had left him with. She would do what she could to calm him down and make him feel relaxed and at ease, helping him cope with the traumatic memories that still plagued him.

In January of 1949, Linda discovered that she was pregnant with their first child. The news brought joy and excitement to the couple, who had been looking forward to starting a family together, soon in october of that year their only daughter, jacqueline was born, which brought joy and happiness to both of them especially henry, Henry saw his wife and newborn daughter as a source of comfort and healing from the trauma he had endured. The sight of his family and the love they shared helped to soothe his memories and fears, reminding him of the good things in life and giving him a reason to keep moving forward.

[beea-idiot56]

~ How He would React to You being Hurt ~

A/N: Hello <3 This is just little drabbles on how I think some MCD men would react to you being Hurt <3 you're not seriously hurt in most of these, Laurence's is the worst lol. But I really wanted to write some MCD one shots and I love injury patching tropes so here's this teehee

Also just in case youre mad I wrote something for Zane, okay I just- okay I cant defend myself. I read one(1) (uno) (eins) one shots about dating MCD!Zane and now I have a full fanfic planned out and I'm fighting the urge to write it LMFAO(I hate MCD! Zane but I also hate myself so why not)

Characters: Laurance, Garroth, Zane, Dante

Warnings: some minor gore

CW: non

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, absolutely smitten, pre-established relationship(arranged marriage for Zane), gn!reader, reader is mentioned to be a Lord, before the time skip <3

𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆

Y/N felt a groan rip through their throat as they shouldered the door into their home. The empty rooms met them and they let a sigh fall from their lips as they hobbled over to their bathroom where they held all of their medical supplies. The house was dimly lit, only the setting sun was the light that lit up the rooms, Y/N probably needed to light a candle or two, but at the moment they wanted to deal with the pieces of wood hanging out of their arm.

Of course bandits had decided to come pry around the outskirts of town. Usually it would be a guard patrolling but Y/N had been wanting to look for flowers to make a new stall with for a flower merchant so they took over the patrol in hopes of finding some while keeping watch. They did find the flowers, but the bandits also found them whilst they were picking the wildly colored petals up.

Y/N looked in the mirror as they finally set their bags on the ground and started to strip the armor from their shoulders. the heavy iron falling off was a relief to the tension in their shoulders as they let out a soft sigh. At least until they started to pull up the fabric on their sleeve, wincing as they looked at the small pieces of wood sticking out of their skin. During the fight with the bandits Y/N didn't notice one coming up to their side and they were shoved off a small ledge, and straight into the crates stacked nearby. Meaning there was a littering of splinters of where their body broke through the crates. The skin was red and irritated and blood dripped down their bicep and onto the white sink, if Y/N tried they would be able to hear the drip drip drip of their blood.

They quickly got to work on removing any small pieces of wood, deciding that they would remove the splinters first then clean off the rest with rubbing alcohol and then wrap it up. hopefully all before their lover, Laurance, returned home. This shouldn't be too hard, Laurance had been staying behind quite a bit later as of late, usually to finish up reports or to pick up food from their favorite villager. Y/N estimated they had about an hour to finish cleaning themselves up, and as long as they kept a shirt on Laurance wouldn't have to know what had happened.

It wasn't as though Y/N was worried about his reaction, he would most likely dote over them and take care of them, rather than get angry, but they didn't want to be taken from their freedom. if Laurance thought y/n was even slightly injured there was a pretty large chance that he would keep them from any duties or patrols that they might take in turn for them resting to try and recover.

the sudden sound of the door opening and metal scraping made Y/N let out a small string of low spoken curses as they quickly shut the bathroom door with their foot, frantically looking around for a way to hide this since their sleeve was already soaked with blood.

"Y/N! I'm home! I brought food from Cadenza!" Laurence called out, the sound of his armor clanking down on the ground following shortly after. Y/N frantically reached for the towel near them, wiping at their arm, a small hiss escaping their lips from the feeling of the towel dragging on the already fresh wounds. "Y/N?" Laurence had asked, gently pushing on the bathroom door. from the corner of their eye they could see the door open slightly and they shoved their foot out to stop it, "you good in there, darling?" "Yep!" is all Y/N could reply with, unsure if their voice would show how much pain they were in. the door budged against their foot, and this time it cracked open slightly and they could see Laurence's eyes trying to peer around through the crack.

Y/N watched as his face dropped once his eyes saw the blood on the counter, and they sent a silent curse to their past self for not washing the blood down the sink as Laurence pushed more forcefully against the door. "Let me in, Love. I can see that there's blood on the counter, are you okay?" Laurence asked, his voice dripping with worry. Y/N sighed before moving their foot, letting the brunette push his way in, his hands immediately came up to their face and cupped it. he tilted their face back and forth, looking for any cuts before looking down words and scanning their body. once he made eye contact with their arm he grimaced at the sight.

"What happened here sweetheart?" Laurence asked, his voice dripping in concern as he lifted Y/N's arm to inspect it closer, "Nothing much, just fell" Y/N gave a little white lie, they did technically fall, just not by their own merits. "well that wasn't very smart was it" Laurence chuckled a bit, before picking up the swab of cotton next to the two and putting some rubbing alcohol on top of it, before slowly wiping away the excess blood and dirt and grime on their arm. the alcohol eliciting a hiss of pain from Y/N.

Laurence grimaced at the sound but continued to wipe at the residue, making sure it was clean before he picked up the tweezers and began to pick at the rest of the splinters, only one or two remaining now. Laurence placed a kiss on their arm after removing a splinter, frowning as he continued his work, obviously upset at having to do this at all. Y/N smiled softly, their own concern for him showing through as their free hand came up to rub a thumb across the wrinkles caused by his furrowed eyebrows. "quit frowning like that or you'll get stuck frowning" they spoke softly, their voice coming out like a motherly coo. It caused Laurence to laugh slightly, which lifted Y/Ns spirits, only for them to be dropped again as he shook his head.

"I cant help but to worry about you my darling." his voice was quite, his eyes still trained on their arm as he started to wrap it with a bandage, One they were fully wrapped Y/N moved their hands to be holding Laurence's face as he leaned into their touch, his own hands finding their hips and leaning against them slightly so the two were flush with each other. Laurence hummed lightly as Y/N played with the hair at the nape of his neck, he leaned in and placed a kiss at the corner of Y/N's mouth, making them smile.

A long hum was strung from Laurence's mouth as he placed tiny kisses all along Y/N's cheeks and nose, pressing anywhere he could reach and showering them with love. In turn Y/N began to giggle and push Laurence away slightly, only making him grip onto their hips tighter to keep them there. "nuh uh uh~" he hummed placing another kiss into their forehead, "you have to stay here until I'm sure you're better" he chuckled softly, his voice soft and sultry as he placed another kiss into their lips.

Y/N only melted into his touch, resigning themself to his affection.

𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉

A soft breeze passed through Y/N's hair, making them smile as they opened their mouth to drink in the lovely air brought in from the ocean over yonder. Y/N was walking besides Garroth, a peaceful silence between the two. The silence was not awkward or strained, but a mutual feeling of just enjoying each others company without the burden of keeping up a conversation.

The two had been walking for the entirety of the day, usually they would take a horse on such a long trip like this but alas, they had vastly underestimated the journey. Y/N didn't mind, however. They were content to enjoy the walk and the peace that came with not having to deal with their duties of the day. Y/N smiled, their eyes trailing along the sides of the path. Their gaze locked onto a bunch of flowers up ahead and they took off running, a smile on their lips as they went to go see the beautiful flowers. "Wait!" they heard Garroths frantic voice behind them, but they didn't quite care, keeping their fast pace run.

That was until they tripped over a rock, sending them face first into the ground.

"are you crying? oh no please don't cry-" garroth sounded frantic, his hands finding Y/N's shoulders as they started to shake. Y/N lifted their face, a wide smile filling their features as another laugh fell from their lips. Garroth stared at them for a moment, before slowly relaxing, chuckling a little himself as Y/N turned onto their back as their hands flew to their face, covering it as they laughed.

Garroth began to laugh as well, slowly easing into the ground as he face palmed, shaking his head as the worry he had for Y/N started to ease away. Y/N looked at Garroth, a smile and laugh in their voice as they spoke, "I guess you could say I was falling for you" Garroths head snapped to them, making them giggle more as his face turned pink. Y/N sat up, propping themself up on their arms as they giggled at Garroths face. He only stood up, reaching out a hand to them to help the Lord up.

Y/N gladly took his hand, standing up. That was until their legs buckled slightly and they fell into Garroths arms. He instantly caught them, not even hesitating to hold them up for support. Y/N looked down at their knees, okay maybe they fell harder than they thought. Y/N grimaced at the sight of bloody and scraped up legs, gravel sticking into their skin where they impacted the ground. Garroth looked down as well, sucking in a small breath.

"oh well, that's gonna suck to walk on." Y/N commented, before pushing off of Garroth and beginning to walk, trying to hide the very obvious limp from the pain that erupted with each step. Garroth let out a huff before coming up beside Y/N, making them yelp as he suddenly picked them up.

His hands held them around their knees and at their back, effectively carrying them bridal style as he walked. Y/N stared up at him, their own hands instinctively reaching up to hold onto his neck, their eyes wide with surprise. "Garroth, I can walk by myself" their voice came out a little weak, more so a squeak than anything else. he shrugged, continuing on with the walk as if he hadn't heard anything.

"I'd carry you to the end of the world, Y/N." his voice came out a little gravely, and Y/N could see the blush that covered his cheeks. they only smiled before relaxing into his grip and resting their cheek on his chest.

𝒁𝒂𝒏𝒆

The soft sound of humming filled the quiet home. The flowers bloomed outside, if you were looking out the window you would see them sprouting. The beautiful scenery left Y/N in a lovely mood, something that was quite unusual for them. Usually Y/N spent their time at this home hiding away or having semi stiff conversations with their forced lover.

Y/N and Zane had been "married" for around a year now, but it had only been in this past month or so the two had been warming up to each other. Originally their marriage was for the sake of a power boost to their respective villages, each of them faking dates and longing stares to keep up appearances before having an extravagant wedding in Y/N's village, them having insisted on it since they were still the Lord of this village. Since then the two have been civil. They didn't really indulge in romantic pleasures besides from the needed PDA to keep appearances up.

However, this past month had been a turning point. The usually cold conversations had slowly turned softer as Zane loosened up. What was usually his stiff shoulders and averted stares had turned into his mask less face keeping eye contact with Y/N as they told stories of their day and time. What was before keeping rooms length apart now turned into sharing couches, sometimes even blankets if the two were both enjoying a book and a bowl of grapes. Maybe that had been the change. Y/N pondered, maybe the turning point in Zane's head had been when he was reading and instead of continuing on with their day: Y/N picked up their own book and settled down onto the couch next to him, the both of them content to sit in silence as they divulged in rest during their usually busy days. Y/N smiled to themself, what used to be silent time had just a few days ago turned into soft conversation after ones eyes grew tired and they set down their book, and snacks had started to accompany their time.

Y/N let out a small gasp as the feeling of pain shot through their finger, they looked down at their hand realizing they had completely spaced out and had accidentally cut themselves while slicing the peppers they were preparing for tonight's dinner. Y/N stared at the cut for a moment, watching as the blood dripped from the cut with interest, not really caring since it didn't hurt but almost being curious about how the blood dripped from their finger, slowly splashing onto the cutting board they were using. It was only when they realized they were dirtying the peppers that they snapped out of their daze and drew back their hand, a small curse escaping their lips as they moved about to go wash off their hand.

"something wrong?" a voice sounded behind Y/N causing them to yelp and turn around, their hand immediately finding the knife and holding it in front of them, only for their shoulders to slack as they realized it was Zane who had spoke. Y/N sighed, before slipping the knife back onto the cutting board. "Yeah I'm fine" they hummed, bringing their finger to their mouth to lick up the blood that was still there.

Zane scoffed before stepping over to where Y/N stood, taking their hand out of their mouth before looking where they had been cut. "dumb-ass" he mumbled before pulling on their hand so they'd follow as he walked out of the room. Reluctantly, they followed behind him as he led Y/N to the bathroom, where he let go next to the counter as he pulled out a small first aid kit that Y/N had originally insisted on keeping for "just in case" emergencies. Y/N watched as Zane pulled out a band-aid before pulling at their hand again, bringing it up so he could look at it closer.

For a moment Zane inspected it before he opened the band-aid, wrapping the small piece of fabric around Y/N's finger and then letting go when he had finished. Y/N watched him with curiosity as he seemed to hesitate, staring at their hand for a moment, that was until he brought his lips to the back of their hand, pressing a kiss to the soft spot. Almost instantly he let go and turned to walk away, "I'll be in my office. Once the food is ready could you bring me a plate?" he spoke, clearly demanding it despite the statement being formed as a a sentence. Y/N only hummed but couldn't bring their eyes from where he had kissed their hand, a small smile slowly spreading across their lips.

yeah maybe this 'power marriage' wouldn't be too bad after all.

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆

Y/N groaned as they fell onto the couch in the living room, their body sinking into the plush furniture without trying to fight it. Everything hurt. Y/N had been working in the yard and around the house since Dante left this morning at dawn. From plucking weeds, to pulling up the vegetables that were ready, to dusting and folding laundry. They had been either bent over, kneeling, reaching, or straining in some way the entire day. They already felt the repercussions for the continued strain, if they had been any older they were sure they wouldn't have been able to do such labor for so long.

Originally they were only going to pluck weeds, but then they just spaced out and kept going around and did all of the things they realized were on the house chore list. Ending with making dinner and setting it to the side so they could eat with Dante when he returned home. Speaking of which, they seriously hoped that he would be a little longer so they could take a quick nap and hopefully sleep off some of the aching.

Of course, however, the nature of time had no such plan and Dante pushed open the door to their shared home. His eyes averted to the ground as he entered. Y/N smiled up at him, they couldn't help but to admire him every time he came home. Sure he was sweaty, tired, and looked drained, but he never stopped being so beautiful. and apparently he shared the same sentiment because when he saw Y/N his eyes immediately lit up and a soft smile came across his face.

Dante shut the door, setting down his armor and weapons next to it before coming over to Y/N, leaning down to press a kiss to their temple, "hello, my beautiful spouse." he mumbled, running a hand through their hair.

Y/N smiled, turning slightly and opening their arms to him, inviting him to a small cuddle session but he nearly laughed and shook his head. "I would love to but I'm starving. Have you made dinner or do you want me to make it?" he asked, standing back up to his full height and looking over to the kitchen where the lovely smell of a home cooked meal was wafting in from.

"I made some, feel free to make yourself a plate." Y/N hummed, flopping back down to rest on the couch. Dante looked over at them, raising an eyebrow. "Do you want me to bring you a plate?" he asked as he walked over to the kitchen to help himself to a serving. Y/N thought of it for a moment, going to prop themself up so they could eat, but the sharp pain in their back said otherwise and they flopped back down with a small groan. "No, I'm going to lie here for a bit" they mumbled, closing their eyes, possibly they would take a nap in the time being. They could always reheat the food if they were hungry later.

Dante peeked from around the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, his eyebrows furrowed. He stepped forward and leaned against the frame, "are you okay my darling?" Dante asked, his voice laced in concern but not moving just yet, worried that Y/N was in one of their 'come near me and die' moods. Y/N grumbled slightly, "yeah, just sore" they hummed, turning slightly so they could look at him while they talked. Dante looked at them, his eyebrows furrowing even more before he walked over leaning down by the couch and placing his hands on their back. Y/N looked at him with confusion but instantly melted into his touch as he slowly started to knead into their muscles.

Y/N groaned as he pressed into each knot that had formed during their day of labor, each movement of his hand bringing more tension relief, making them melt more and more into Dante's hands. Dante continued his movements, ignoring his own hunger to make sure they could relax properly first.

"Thank you, my love, for working around the house." he hummed quietly, pressing into a particularly rough knot, "next time let me help, I don't want my spouse to be too overworked" he smiled, before reaching down and pressing a kiss to their cheek.

[blondie20000]

Strictly Business- Joel Miller x Reader

You waited for him.

You watched as he drops the body into the fire.

He looks up his eyes go in your direction. Your eyes met with his. After a few moments he breaks the eye contact and returns to his duties.

You continued to wait for him.

When his shift finally came to an end he looks back over at You and tilts his head a signal to meet him in his apartment.

You arrived ten minutes later. Your palms started to sweat as You waited anxiously for him to open the door. It has been a while since your last visit Joel gave you a good stash of the drugs and the booze it helped You to forget about past trauma and the harsh reality of the new world. Now You needed a top up another round of the good old hard stuff that helps You sleep at night You knew Joel has recently gone out on another supply run smuggling in all the good stuff and part of the agreement between you both was that You would be the first customer to receive the essential items.

With another knock on the door and a heavy sigh You tapped your feet impatiently wishing the son of a bitch would hurry up.

Eventually the door opens.

He greets You with a nod and gestures for You to come inside.

Joel wasn't exactly a welcoming host he preferred to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point.

"All in there." He points to the rucksack. "The usual."

You knew he wouldn't screw You over or lie to You however You still liked to check just in case.

You opened the bag and looked inside.

The tiny bag of cocaine sat in the corner with a couple of bottles of whiskey and bourbon. You look over your shoulder and frown at him.

"It is getting harder as time goes on." Joel replied reading your mind. "Has to be rationed. Be grateful for what you have got."

You sigh and close the bag.

"Another reason this world fucking sucks."

Joel shrugs by your response.

What happens next Joel didn't need to tell You this process has been done many times now. You couldn't pay with cash as money was useless in the Apocalypse so You offered to pay in a different way at first Joel disagreed with the idea of sex but You were desperate You needed the stash You needed to get rid of the nightmares that kept You up at night. After a moment of hesitation Joel agreed to the deal he may not admit it out loud but You can see the 'sessions' benefited him as well it gives him a moment to forget about his past, his grief and his trauma.

It was just all strictly business.

Nothing more.

You slip off your jacket followed by your shirt. He watched as You slip the shirt over your head revealing your naked flesh. Joel goes into your personal space. His hot breath hitting your face made a shiver run down your spine.

His hands go to your bra. He removes it and tosses it across the room. You bite your lip as his eyes rake your body. His eyes lingered on your breasts.

His face is blank lacked of emotion however You saw through that mask You saw in his eyes that familiar look of lust and passion and how the corner of his lips twitched with a small smile as he surveyed your body like You were a work of art.

Then his eyes shift on to your face.

"Get down on your knees."

You dropped down to your knees.

He looks down at You as he removes his belt. He pushes down his jeans followed by his boxers.

His erection sprung out.

Although You have seen it many times You still gasp at the sight.

He was so fucking huge!

You took his length into your hands and slowly drew him into your mouth. You almost choked as his length hit the back of your throat.

Your head bops as You start to suck him. He grips your hair tight an a growl escapes his throat as You start to pick up the pace.

He cursed. He pulls your hair back forcing You to look at him wanting You to see his reaction he knew You got off on his reaction seeing the tough, stoic face man fall apart in front of your very eyes it was fascinating, exhilarating!

You smirk at his face. You increase your grip on his length and carried on sucking him until eventually he reached his climax and spilled himself all inside You.

Joel gasps as he pulls himself out. You lick your lips relishing the taste of him in your mouth.

"Get up!" He ordered.

You stood up. The smirk was back on your face remembering how quickly he fell apart then.

"Seems you can't hold it in for much longer now."

"Shut up!" He spoke with a low growl.

His hand goes to your chin. He tilts your head up and examines your features.

His eyes then went to your lips.

He wanted to kiss You, the temptation was clear on his face but no kissing was one of the rules to their agreement Joel said kissing is intimate and a possible risk to developing feelings for one and another and Joel made it clear this is a no strings attached relationship this is just strictly business.

He continued to stare at your lips until You cleared your throat.

"Joel?"

He blinks then shakes his head.

He then turns away and nods to bed.

You remove the rest of your clothing and climb on to bed. You lie down and open your legs for him.

Shortly after he comes on to bed. All his clothes are discarded on the floor alongside with yours.

He sucks and teases your nipples. You gasp as he bites down hard on your neck. The burning passion of desire returned to his eyes as he went down between your legs. His finger went down your thigh towards your entrance. Another gasp escapes your lips as he shoves a finger inside You.

He goes in and out. He pumps You harshly and enjoys the sweet sounds that came from your mouth.

Then he sticks another finger in.

"Fuck!" You cursed.

It was only faint but You heard it You heard the soft chuckle from him. You made him fall apart so it was only natural he was going to return the favor.

Moments later Joel removes his fingers and licks them clean. He then positions himself between your legs. He then slides himself between your folds and starts to thrust You.

A series of curses slip through your lips as You throw your head back against the board. Your hands grip the bedsheets tight until your knuckles turned white.

"Fuck! Y\N!" He cursed.

Hearing your name off his tongue. His slow, husky voice never failed to send a wave of excitement through You. You can already feel the fire starting to form at the bottom of your belly.

As he continued to rock You, You started to feel the heat down there becoming more intense and the need to release became stronger.

"Joel...please!"

It came out as a whimper a desperate plea begging him to let You cum You badly needed to You couldn't hold it in much longer.

He felt your legs shaking beneath him. He can sense You were struggling to carry on. Under all those layers of his You saw the rare look of concern in his eyes. He was worried about You.

Joel's hand rests on your cheek. His wide eyes looked You over. He then nods giving You permission to let go.

Seconds later You did let go.

With a grunt he let go as well.

You sigh as he pulls himself out of You your mind was in a bliss a haze and You saw stars floating in your vision.

After several blinks your vision clears up. You let out another sigh as You sat up.

Joel was already getting dressed.

Neither spoke about that possible intimate moment then.

You got up and got dressed as well then You scooped the rucksack over your shoulder. Joel remained silent as You went to the door. You glanced over your shoulder at him.

"Until next time." You said.

"Hmm." He responded.

Then with a small wave You closed the door and returned to your room awaiting another night of a drunken haze and imagining Joel Miller's face as he makes love to You.

Moments like that helps to keep the nightmares away. Although Joel will not admit it out loud You knew Joel will also sleep better tonight as well.

You thought back that to those intimate moments the way he looked at your lips and the concern he showed for You back there.

Maybe...

Then You shake your head.

It is just business nothing else.

Just strictly business.

The End

[leggerefiore]

Absolutely loving your Sumbas content, tasty writing right there. If it's not any trouble, vampire Submas (separate and double trouble) of reader helping them through a sudden bloodlust? Getting them away from public, brining items to help quell heightened senses, fetching blood and offering theirs. (I'm a sucker for S/O helping take care of monster partners)

I skipped on the double trouble for now as I can't think of a good scenario, I'm sorry💕 (I'll come back to it eventually)

cw: vampires, blood mentions, blood drinking, hunger descriptions, fluff mostly

▲Vampire Ingo▼

● It was the fact that he came unprepared. He tried to be the more dutiful of the brothers when he was out in public. Emmet acted as the more instinct driven, so he decided to hold himself above that and model proper behaviour for vampires of the calibre. They were, after all, elites among their species. Ingo carried himself with the duty that he believed weighed heavily on his shoulders.

● Which is what made the current situation all the more embarrassing. His senses blurred as a heavy hunger came over him. Rage and desperation bellowed inside him as he stood among the crowds in the station. What was supposed to be a lovely date with you quickly was turning into a situation. He held a hand over his mouth as he attempted to ignore the scents that surrounded him and the heavy thumping of hearts all around. Shame and hunger mixed disgustingly in his gut at the thought of attacking anyone.

● Taking notice, you quickly grab his hand and take him away to a secluded area. He felt so close to losing himself. Why had he not eaten sooner? Sure, he had been busy with his work, but he was certainly that he had eaten recently. You sighed and shook your head before digging around in your bag for something. Every passing second was torture, as your heartbeat drove him mad. Pulling out a small container, you handed it off to him. The smell of iron was heavy from the bottle.

● You opened your mouth to say something, but Ingo had already begun to drink the liquid desperately. A trickle of crimson stained his pale skin from the veracity at which he consumed the blood. “… I figured you would need a meal with how you skipped a few,” you sighed, “Ingo, I know you love your job, but please be more careful. I won't always be at your side to provide you a free meal.”

● He pulled the bottle away from his mouth with his sharpened teeth exposed to the world and pupils slit into small, dark lines. The sight was honestly a bit tantalising. Shaking your head, you pulled a napkin out and wiped away the blood that had escaped. “… I apologise, my dear,” he closed his eyes and mouth, forcing them to return to a more human appearance, “If I had not finished that pile of documents, I feared our date would have to be delayed.” You put your hands on your hips and glared at the ancient monster.

● “You'd be utterly embarrassed if you acted like Emmet did,” you chided him lightly before grabbing his hand, “Well, let's get to our platform before we miss the train.” He lightly squeezed your hand back as you led him away from the area. Yet, before you reached the crowds once more, he placed a light kiss to your cheek, causing you to smile.

▽Vampire Emmet△

○ He was prone to random bouts of sudden, unexpected hunger. Emmet would admit he could be a glutton at times when it came to food. The taste of blood simply left him craving more, something primal in his brain calling him to more and more action. Usually, he would have Ingo to pull him out from his instinctual behaviour. He was a monster, he knew. Unlike his twin, he had accepted himself as something that could never truly be a human again.

○ His current situation bloomed from that issue. A plan for a night trip out on a date with you found an issue on the train ride there. Sudden hunger sprang forth as he sat in his seat. Your body's warmth and scent engaged in his instincts in the worst way. The sound of beating hearts around him left his somehow even more without breath. The urge to consume and take without sensibility or reason bloomed in his mind as he gazed around the car. He felt parched, his mouth impossibly dry.

○ You grasped his hand suddenly, forcing his attention back on you. The absolute last place he wanted it to be in this situation. Emmet loved you. If he hurt you because of this, he would never be able to forgive himself. He wanted to rip his eyes from you, but your wonderful scent enchanted him. You 'playfully' brought him into your neck. Using a jacket, you carefully obscured him from the line of sights of other riders.

○ “Go on,” you encouraged him, “I'll stop you if you take it too far.” He felt completely at a loss as he remained close to your jugular. Hot, rich blood poured through your system. His teeth punctured you as he had many times in the past as he drank from you desperately. The feeling of being drained of your blood was never a normal feeling. It caused a woozy, weak feeling in your system, but you knew better than to let him run around like that. His hands grasped your ribs desperately, claws lightly digging in.

○ You pulled him away after a moment extra. His eyes were distant as his blood-stained tongue circled his lips, desperate for any last drop. Thankfully, it seemed no other passengers had noticed or cared about whatever you had just done together. You reached into your bag and fished out a band aid that was pressed to your neck to help control the bleeding. Emmet looked oddly distressed as he came back to his senses. “Darling,” his voice was low yet panicked, “Are you okay? I did not take too much, did I?”

○ You decided to pick on him a little and petted his head like how one might have a child. “You always take just a bit much,” you teased him, “I'm fine. I'd rather you drink from me than cause a scene on your beloved trains.” His brows pressed together into a face of annoyance, causing you to giggle. “I'm okay with it, Em,” you leaned on his shoulder, “Just cuddle with me until we arrive as a payback.” He easily gave you that.