#Heavy duty skip bags

[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.”

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/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.

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[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

[bamsara]

Hey! I thought your talk on stream about your go-bag and what's in it was interesting, but I process text better than audio, so I was wondering if you had advice on putting one together? It's fine if you'd rather not! Thanks either way!

Okay! Note that some of these things are gearing up in prep for sudden homelessness or natural disaster (tornados, personally) but some are just generally good things on hand you might need to keep. Also, some tips involve a car, skip those if they dont apply.

You're going to want a backpack or duffle bag with comfortable enough straps that are thick and sturdy enough to hold the weight of everything you are carrying while also keeping you balanced. I got my blue one at a charity give away for students in poverty, those heavy duty school bags for textbooks, but you can thrift the same bags for around $5-$10, at least in my area.

What I have in the front pockets, in smaller ziplock bags:

Ziplock bag of first aid supplies (bandaids, gauze, sterile wipes, ect)

Small hand sanitizer, bottle or wipes.

Baby wipes, water based.

Matches

Small travel deoderant, small travel shampoo, travel hairbrush, and the bare minimal needed for a 'freshed up look' of make up like concealer, mascera, and face wash. Good for spucing up for job interviews if you end up in a situation where you're living out of your car, and can't acsess a full bathroom.

Menustration products. Pack SEVERAL if you are someone who bleeds, or a few if you just want some on hand just in case for someone else you are with.

Mouthwash, toothbrush and toothpaste. If you don't have enough room, opt for mouthwash/toothpaste combo, and just rub it on your teeth.

Self-protection, dependant on what you prefer. I keep pepper spray and a tazor in the car at all times, and in the bag if not out in the console.

Pocket knife and scissors. You never know when you might need to cut something.

If you can get some and they fit in the bag: Gloves meant for gardening. Thick enough to protect you if you go dumpster diving. I have a list of tips of safe and legal dumpster diving here.

What I keep in the main pocket of the bag:

A large gallon ziplock baggy with emergency clothes in it, consisting of: Pants, short sleeve T-shirt, and 3 pairs of underwear/socks. If you can fit it, slip a long-sleeve shirt in there as well. Keep a 'nice shirt' like a button up or something 'nice casual' in there for job interviews.

You're going to want a jacket in your go-bag, but since they can be bulky, it might be best to just leave one in your car. Also good for when you're out somewhere and just get cold suddenly.

RAIN! I have a small one-person umbrella in the side pocket of my bag, and a yellow poncho from walmart in main pocket. I recommend having both, but its fine if you just can fit one.

A bag of COMFY clothes, aside from the intial emergency clothes. For me, I call it the pajamma bag, which just has a pair of sweatpants, T-shirt and fuzzy socks.

FOOD AND WATER. I keep ziplock baggies of non-perishable food in the bag like: granola bars, slim jims, fruit gummies, cans of preserved fruit, ect. You need to pack at least 2 bottles of water. I think I freaked out Twitch stream a little bit when I pulled out 6 bottles of water out of the bag, but I'm telling you: the more water you can carry, the better.

The 'entertainment satchel', which is basically anything that you can do that doesn't require electricity like your phone does that can keep you busy. For me, it's a ziplock bag of a journal/sketchbook with some colored pens. This can be a small book or something.

A sewing kit. One of those travel ones, the tiny tin ones. Comes in handy plenty of times.

A water-tight folder/baggie that will protect legal documents for you. You probably wont keep them in the car, but if you can grab them on your way out, keep them safe in something they can't get damaged in.

A portable battery, a cord for charging your phone and extra wall thingie to plug it into. You can get a decent battery for around 20 bucks on amazon, and your car and public spaces like a library can let you charge your phone.

PETS! If you have a pet with you, PLEASE pack the things needed for them ahead of time in your go-bag. Doggy bags and treats and food and the like. I'm a cat person, so I keep three ziplock baggies: one with treats, a large one with food, and one with cat litter in it. You can usually grab a cardboard box by a dumpster for a make-shift litterbox if need be.

Depending on who you talk to, money may or may not be a smart thing to keep in your bag, but I say keep at least $50 of cash in there for absolute emergencies, if you can afford to store it.

An extra pair of shoes. If they don't fit in the bag, you can store them in the car, or tie them to hang off the bag if you really need them.

Also, not really go-bag related, but I suggest keeping a blanket in your car. If you don't have a car, they make blankets with straps that you can attatch to your backpack, or you can take a long sock or piece of fabric, wrap it around a rolled up blanket, and tie it to your bag. It might not look aesthetic, but it'll be worth it to have it.

Change out the items in your bag every couple months, usually as it starts to get colder or hotter. Currently I'm changing out my stuff from summer items to winter items, like warmer clothes and what not, so I had the bag already near me to show twitch chat. Thanks for everyone that came by Twitch chat and talked by the way, it was fun!

[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]

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[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

[theinkvendingmachine]

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.

[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.

[redheadspark]

Hello! If it hasn’t been requested yet, could you do 7 with Druig? It could be like a continuation of the fic “Come with Me,” you did a little bit ago? If that’s ok?

A/N - Awww I love this! I'm glad to add to the prompt! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Here is Come With Me

Moved

Summary - Druig takes you on a getaway

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

“Where are you taking me, Druig?”

“I can’t tell you!  It’s a surprise!”

“You know I’m not good with surprises,”

Druig only smiled as you both were walking side by side along the forest tree line that took you to the outskirts of the little city.  The moon was already rising, the sun long gone and the tints of blue and black were swirled together like the constellations high above.  You were holding a small basket Druig told you to bring along that as filled with your favorite snacks that would last for two days, he was carrying his own bag with spare clothings and other things you two would need.  In all fairness, you had no idea what you were going to do.

This surprise was keeping you on the edge of your toes. 

After Druig told you that he wanted to take you away for the weekend, you were on board with the thought of stepping away from your Eternal duties for a bit.  He knew you were stressed and worn out from the Deviant attacks that were in the town, the last two attacks were particularly vicious.  You were falling asleep sooner when you fell into bed, your energy was less than it was before, and you felt beyond heavy in how you felt like you wren’t doing a good enough job.  But you ever thought others would see it since it tried to mask it and not show the worn out look on your face.  Druig saw through it though, wishing to do anything to make it better for you.

“Druig, honestly whatever you’re planning—“ You stopped talking when you two turned a corner and you saw where Druig was ultimately taking you.  Out on a small little hill, near one of the massive cliffs that over looked the open sea, was a small little home.  The house itself seemed ancient compared to the others homes in the town, the worn walls and rooftop, the dusty road that was made simply from feet going to and for along the land, it seemed so lovely and delicate, yet looking stable against the wind of the sea. 

“Druig,” You gasped as he just smiled.

“It used to belong to the old guards that would watch the sea for upcoming invaders,” Druig explained, “One of the elders kept it since he’s had it in his family for years, so I talked to him about us having it for a few days,” 

You tore your eyes away from the little home over to Druig, seeing him watch to see your reaction.  He was nervous you were going to think something else behind the gesture.  Did he think you were going to hate it?  Or that you were going to get the wrong impression?

Instead, you threw an arm around him and hugged him tightly.

Druig was shocked from the gesture, but he then slowly hugged you back in retuned as you spoke in his year, “Thank you, Druig!”

The warmth in his chest was beyond warm now, almost simmering now as you pulled away and looked at the house again.  You then reached down and took his hand, lacing your fingers together and Druig could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Come on!” You said to him, you both walking along the worn path as the soft sounds of the crickets were being heard.  Druig was following you willing, still overwhelmed that you loved the little home.  Maybe his doubts plagued his mind and he thought his plan was going to backfire.  Why would he think like that?  You two were close friends and looked out for each other.  Druig still had those linger feelings towards you, not knowing how to navigate it or how it will play out.  He was just grateful to have this weekend away with you to let you feel stress free.

After the last of the fruit was eaten, you and Druig were now sitting outside the house along the grass, watching the moon that was hung over the ocean and brining a new shining light onto the night around you.  You both were sitting Indian Style, side by side, feeling the cool ocean air go through your hair and the sweet sent of both the salty air and the green grass beneath you. 

The home itself was small enough or only two people to use: a bed tucked in the corner, a few shelves that had some old trinkets, and a table with only two chairs that were at the other side of the house.  You taught of It as perfect, the warm walls and the beautiful view of the ocean right outside the window near the bed was breathtaking.  Although you wanted to go explore a bit more around the little house, you were starving.  So you and Druig were eating the food you brought with you, sitting together at the table and drinking in each other’s presence with comfortable silence and peace. 

Now that your bellies were full and you were watching the moon, Druig would eye you every once in awhile, seeing how you were already looking relaxed compared to before.  Your shoulders were drooping, no longer tensed up for rigid.  Your hair, usually in a long braid to be out of your eyes, was now flowing down your back and loose.  Even the small dark bags under your eyes were less evident, and Druig felt a bit better that you were healing. 

One way or another, you were healing.

“Thank you, for all of this,” you said to him, seeing him look at you fully as you were still staring up at the moon, “I never thought I needed something like this, a little getaway,”

“You deserve it,” he replied, sounded soft when he said it.  She did deserve it, this little house for the weekend and more.  Druig saw you smile as you tore you eyes away from the moon to finally look over at him, the twinkling stars from the sky were reflecting from your eyes as Druig kept his stare at you.

“And to have this with someone who is close to my heart is even better,” You explained, seeing his eyes big a bit wide as you kept your gaze. Maybe you yourself was confessing something to him, something you wanted to keep to yourself for the longest time and was afraid to say anything about it.  But in this space, with Druig right at your side, you felt right saying it.

Saying how he moved you.

You reached over, taking his hand on your own and lacing the fingers together just like you did earlier.  Druig wanted to hold your hand for as long as you’d let him, squeezing your fingers together slightly as he was trying to find the right words to say.

“I…” He stared, but he was frozen as you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

Your cool lips on his skin, your small scent of apples and dates that you ate earlier, and the softness of your hair touching his neck made Druig feel as though he could fly like Ikaris.  It was only a simply getaway with you, nothing past that.  He thought of it as a simpler gesture and a nice way to showed that he cared.  But to you, it was everything.  You saw he was wanting to mend all the broken pieces about you and make you whole again.  

He would, with no hesitation.  

Before you could pull away, he moved his head to kiss you on the lips.  You sighed, loving the sensation of you two kissing and you never wanted to loose that feeling.  You held that kiss for what seemed like a lifetime in your mind, his fingers still wrapped around yours while his other hand was now itching to be in your hair.  Things would change, and you both were ready for it. So you fell asleep in each other’s arms on the bed, the window wide open to feel the sea breeze as Druig held you in his embrace with no intension on ever letting you go ever again.  

You felt the same way too.

The End

June Summer Prompts

[solarpunkpresentspodcast]

Hope, but not right away

This is more of a half-formed thought than a complete article, so bear with me, but I wanted to put it out there especially on this gloomsome spring day, where the sun is mostly hidden by clouds that will not resolve into anything so reliable as precipitation.

Spring is often a time of joy, full of bright pastels, celebrations of life, rebirth, renewal, the return of green things to our lives. I think part of the reason that we put the focus so much on these things is their singularity within a world that is more often full of mud, grey skies, and barren trees. The snow melts away to reveal a rotting corpse, as it were, for the first few weeks of spring, at least around here. Branches stab at the sky and are not so much full of potential as skeletal imagery.

The solarpunk lens of rumination on this would focus on the way that the rotting detritus of last fall is composting, pregnant with possibility, working to become the literal ground from which life will spring. But I worry that, in that focus, we too often skip over the dull feeling of drear that can come between the absence of snow and the advent of greenery.

Ugly feelings, to poach a phrase from theorist Sianne Ngai, are very valid and worth acknowledging. Especially when the world around me is ugly, I have some pretty ugly thoughts. I mourn the fact that the double-whammy of climate weirding and El Niño meant that we didn’t really get a winter at all in these parts. I resent the rawness of the wind, too cold when the sun isn’t shining, and still wet as hell and - it seems - tailored to produce the most amount of misery in the least amount of time. I am frustrated by the fact that every single one of my coats (ranging from heavy-duty winterwear to light rain jackets) are needed within the span of a week, and yet none of them are truly adequate for the weather conditions I walk through. I think dark thoughts about the humans of this city when I walk the trails and see the incredible amount of litter - plastic bags/bottles, old Timmies cups, cigarette butts, wrappers, and other detritus - on the sides of the path, now revealed by the melting of the snow.

These are all problems that I know will pass, or that at least my brain will skim over. Take climate weirding and El Niño for example - I can’t do anything about weather patterns, and I’m doing my best right now to tackle climate change and catastrophe given my situation; they’re not going to go away any time soon, and they are a reality that I can accept, like the shitty wind. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to change my behaviour or do something about them, but it’s not like I myself can just nip the problem in the bud. Given past experience, I know that temperatures will continue to climb, solving my multiple coats problems. The City has already emailed me and many others subscribed to its newsletter that it is time for an annual spring community clean-ups: and if one registers with a group, they will provide gloves, grabbers, and garbage bags for each person, along with a tips sheet about safety, especially with handling any sharps such as broken glass or discarded needles.

So I can pass pretty quickly on to feeling fairly okay about my immediate situation. As I’ve said before both here and on the podcast, I really do believe that solarpunk is about looking around at the detritus of the early twenty-first century, then choosing deliberately to roll up one’s sleeves and get to work making a better world using the materials at hand, despite all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. However, moving rapidly away from negative feelings does them a disservice, and more importantly, may be doing solarpunk a disservice. Let me explain.

This is because solarpunk’s investment in optimism and hope is explicitly not a dismissal of badness, but instead a deliberately positive affective orientation arising from negative conditions, and so I am of the firm belief that there is room in the solarpunk movement to acknowledge and sit with the terrible truths of our existence.

I confess to being extremely inspired and deeply affected by JD Harlock’s conversation with Christina in our second season, especially the bit where he baldly states that he has no hope that the conditions in Lebanon will improve, and yet he still calls himself a solarpunk and works towards a better future anyways. It reminds me of an article I came across while doing research for my masters - this time explicitly about hope within the environmental movement, and the first part of the title says it all: “Hope, But Not for Us”.* It is by scholar Gerry Canavan and it came out in 2014, years before the Jonathan Franzen article. The basic gist is that yeah, there’s plenty of hope for people and animals in the future, even if we ourselves are stuck in this time of the Anthropocene, so we cannot see or access that future place of hope, but we can contribute now to making conditions better for beings we will perhaps never meet.**

If solarpunks were solely interpreted as liberal individuals fantasizing about a better world that they themselves will get to enjoy, the skeptical charge that solarpunk is naively optimistic would be pretty accurate. In that estimation, there is no room for negativity, for accepting the world as it is, for allowing for people to feel kinda crappy sometimes, for acknowledging that serious mental health struggles with depression can’t be cured by just getting a plant or going outside for a walk on the regular, et cetera. There’s no room for the actual reality of being human. The solarpunk strawman (strawperson, really), has zero nuance or grounding in the actual lived experience of being human in 2024.

That is why I am such an ardent proponent of holding space for negative emotions: whether that’s through seeing a climate grief counsellor or chaplain, attending climate grief circles, simply talking to friends and loved ones about fears about the climate, creating art about it, venting in a Discord channel, et cetera. Note they’re all community actions. Solarpunk is a deliberate reaction to and disruption of the status quo in which we are mired: pretending that we’re not experiencing terrible things is not going to get us anywhere, literally and intellectually.

I confess I don’t actually know how to end this. Academic articles tend to build towards a triumphant or at least neat conclusion and I’d like to leave you with more than just a mess. Perhaps it’s appropriate, though, since emotions, especially the negative ones, are messy and complicated.

Don’t feel bad for feeling bad, I guess? It’s from that ground that radical solarpunk action is grown.

*The full title is “Hope, But Not for Us: Ecological Science Fiction and the End of the World in Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood” and given that my master’s major research was interpreting the MaddAddam trilogy through the lens of posthuman feminism, it was pretty much exactly up my alley. This also, sidenote to the footnote, was one of the articles instrumental in my feeling extremely alienated from my peers who weren’t also taking Masters courses in ecocriticism, because nobody around me / on the corners of the Internet that I frequented at that time seemed to be talking at all about climate breakdown, or even admitting that maybe global warming was a problem (except the environmental activists, of course). It was a weird, WEIRD time.

**I imagine that this is how society as a whole used to think about doing noble things like building housing and implementing social policies for the sake of future generations, which seems to have largely exited the concern of the majority political discussion these days around everything except perhaps climate change, since it forces people to think according to a scale of deep time. (I’m aware of the fact that most Indigenous groups on Turtle Island tend to have a tradition of thinking/principle about how actions taken now will reverberate seven generations into the future, but settler society isn’t exactly taking that cue up)