#where i drew us as candies.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enidette · 5 months ago

Text

STRANGE CANDY

warnings :: both are 18+, carl, riding, piv, manhandling, humiliation, nipple play, teasing, begging, overstimulation

denise was a gift, truly. she saved many lives which proved a lot about her. but she needed help, and you along with a few others volunteered to be her medical assistants. you were the only one your age however, it kind of boosted your ego. learning all of this and helping people so young.

you dealt with patients nearly every day. it was typically older people, with he exception of one boy, one around your age. you got a glimpse of him around alexandria, you knew he came for check-ups and cleanings for his eye. he’s cute, but you’ve never gotten lucky enough to be the one to help him.

but when you see him, he’s always looking at you first. and if you’re not being too cocky, he seems like he’s trying to get your attention. but his lack of experience in the flirting department leaves him failing ninety percent of the time. but that only drew you to him more; how pathetic he was.

today is a particularly short-staffed day, meaning denise had gone on a run and you as well one other intern were the only one’s in the infirmary. even that lasted a short while, due to the lack of patients today your coworker decided to call it. checking with you before leaving you to the rest.

there was only maybe two hours until sundown, which is when denise should be returning. then you could go home. so you didn’t mind being left there, especially at the rate of, well, no patients today.

you make your way to the bag you bring every day, whipping out the comic you bring in case of a slow day. you sit where denise usually does and let yourself get into it. your hands mindlessly go to the stash of snacks in your bag before you’re interrupted by a soft knock.

guess you couldn’t have it all your way.

you put your things away and hurry to the door in case of an emergency, opening it to see him. the cute loser, the leader’s kid. well you couldn’t complain now, could you?

he seems taken aback at the sight of you, stammering slightly. “where’s denise?” you frown but stand to the side to let him in.

“she’s out on a run.” he gives you a weird look, no doubt confused as that’s not denise’s forte. “looks like you’re stuck with me.” you give him a sorrowful look that you only half-heartedly mean before leading him to a bed.

carl looks down when you sit in front of him, avoiding your eyes. “no offense…” he looks up to see you quirking a brow at him, “i’m used to denise doing this. since she usually has to clean it and all… not many others have ever seen it.”

you hum in acknowledgment, nodding your head in understanding. “okay then,” you place your hands on your lap and give him a tight-lipped smile. “i think you can wait if you want-”

“no.” he cuts you off, causing you to blink at him. he racks his brain for an excuse to get you where he wants without scaring you away with the mutilation on his face. at least that’s what he thinks of it. “you can still give me a check up, right?”

the thought of you so close to him made him nervous. he hasn’t felt this strongly about someone before, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. and with your hands on him? his brain may short-circuit.

but you nod to him with a sweet smile that eases him. but it doesn’t stop his mind from running wild when you stand up to grab his files. his eye can’t help but follow your ass as you walk. that’s how crazy you make him, his brain going haywire at your close proximity. but once you’re far enough away it’s free to be tainted and lewd.

he doesn’t snap out of it until he hears you sigh, and he realizes you’re sat down in front of him again. “so, since i’m not familiar with you, i have a few questions.” he nods as a sign for you to continue. “what brings you here today?”

he laughs a little, “check up.”

you nod, “i know, i know. i gotta ask,” you look down at the pieces of paper again. “is there anything bothering you?” he shakes his head. “do you often drink alcohol or use drugs?”

he tilts his head, “how would i do that?” you shrug and adjust yourself in your seat.

“there’s beer and stuff here, and medications.” you say it like it’s obvious, which makes him turn red at how dumb he may have sounded. but the way you said it, like he was dumb for asking, it made his face heat up.

he just nods, your words starting to become scrambled with the more questions you ask. he half-ass responds to most of them, focused on how hot your voice was coming from your pretty lips. that’s when the next question shocks him and rips him out of his head.

“are you sexually active?”

he chokes on his spit, not knowing how to answer that. the other assistants have asked him that before. it always flustered him having to say no, but it’s much worse when it’s you. the girl he’s been eyeing for way too long. the one who makes him feel like some dumb kid, humiliating him even when it’s something small. even when others probably wouldn’t bat an eye at it. even though you may not even notice how it affects him.

not that he doesn’t like it.

he squints his eye shut in embarrassment, “no?”

“that didn’t seem like an answer.”

and there it goes again, little things like that. making him feel like he does nothing but sound like an idiot. it makes him want to hide away, but at the same time crawl back to you so you can make the embarrassment worse. it’s like you have him on a leash.

“no, i’m not.” his voice is barley above a whisper when he says it. he curses himself for sounding so meek and quiet. how do you reduce him to this? and so easily?

the look in your eyes is hard to decipher. it drives him crazy. did he just ruin his chances with you? did he sound like some pathetic guy? or maybe you didn’t care, and this is just some one-sided attraction and you’re weirded out by his behavior. at least you can’t see into his slutty mind.

“have you ever had sex?” he blinks confusedly at your words,

“the… the other assistants never asked me that-”

“but i am.” again you’re saying things so matter-of-factly it has him curling into himself a little. mostly to hide the ever growing problem in his pants. “answer.” he merely shakes his head, leading you to grab his chin with your hand. you’re standing up now, towering over him while he looks up at you wide-eyed.

“no.” his voice is so breathless, his pupils blown with lust. he tongue darts out to wet his lips, is he finally getting you how he wanted?

a smirk rises on your face, your hand trailing from his face to his bicep. your eyes stay on his, silently challenging him to look away. you lean closer, lips close to his before you whisper, “do you want to?”

the weak ‘please’ he lets out is all you need to press your lips to his. it’s harsh and rushed and has him whimpering. he’s hardly even kissed, and that was only once. honestly, you could tell. but the inexperience was what drew you to him.

you pull away to push him down. your actions caught him off guard, leaving him to fall clumsily with a huff. he doesn’t get a lot of time to register anything when you’re grabbing him harshly by the collar and pulling him into another rough kiss.

he whines against your lips, one hand coming up to your left breast. you swat it away, separating from his lips again to glare down at him. “you don’t get to touch unless you ask.” he lifts his head to give you an incredulous look before letting it fall back down. his hat falling off in the process.

your left hand to goes to his chest, and you give a harsh twist to his nipple, laughing when he yelps. “didn’t think you’d be so sensitive.” you smirk, letting your thumb run soothingly over the bud though his shirt. you hum, “physically, that is…” you run your hand down, stopping at the hem of his shirt. “i see how you act when i humiliate you in front of your little group.”

his breath picks up when your hand slides up his shirt, running along his abdomen. his pretty skinny, slightly toned from all the running and fighting he’s done. he whines out again, grabbing onto you in a way that’s pleading you to go further. to give him more.

you squint your eyes at him, “stop rushing me.” he goes to speak but just shuts his mouth, watching you with a needy, obedient gaze. “you’re gonna take what i give you, got it?” he nods quickly, his eye widening for a moment.

“i-i mean, yes. yes, yes, i got it.” you hum and slide his shirt up, muttering a ‘good’ under your breath. you trail kisses along his skin, starting above his jeans and stopping when you get to his chest.

you can’t help but smirk when your tongue hits his nipple, the way he flinched from sensitivity, you couldn’t help yourself. you listen to his whimpers get louder and breathing get heavier and more rapid with the more stimulation you provided to one side. so you switched, and the noises started all over again.

you glance at his neck, pride filling you at the sight of purple-red marks all over his skin. they went down to his collarbone, then more on his abdomen. some so others could see, some so just you can see.

“please,” he pants, leading your hand down to the tent in his pants. he hisses when you start to palm him through his jeans.

“please what?” you can’t even hide the amusement in your voice, it makes carl groan and shut his eye tightly.

“please touch me.” he breathes heavily, watching your hand travel to his zipper. “more.” you chuckle darkly, unbuttoning and tugging the fabric off his legs. he swallows thickly as he watches you play with the waistband of his underwear.

“you just keep begging and begging.” you tsk and shake your head. in reality, you love it. but you can’t pass up this opportunity. “you’re that desperate to get your dick wet?” you take his silence as an excuse to pinch his nipple again, smiling when he cries out.

carl sighs, brushing his sweaty hair from his forehead. “yes. okay, yes. just please.” his eye is slightly watery and he looks dazed and still rather confused on what to do. he gasps when you slide his underwear off, the cold air and how close your hand was ripped a moan from his throat.

you stand up, causing him to whine at the lack of contact. but the complaint he was about to dish out gets caught in his throat when you lift your shirt off. your work clothes hid the body you had underneath, which seemed so perfect to him that it felt criminal he hadn’t seen it until now.

his eye stayed on your body as you stripped down, watching you saunter off before coming back with a condom in hand. his eye widens and he looks at you hungrily, “do we have to?” you laugh and sit yourself on his lap,

“do you ask dumb questions on purpose?” carl purses his lips and stays silent, but you feel him twitch against your thigh. “you’re such a fucking loser.” you press your lips to his before he can speak, swallowing the whine he lets out at your crude words.

you’re suddenly taking your time, slowly sliding the condom over his cock. of course you pick now to tease him, he can’t help but squirm. “hips?” he asks dumbly, hovering his hands over your hips.

“are you asking to touch them?” he nods, causing you to scoff. “you’re already all dumb and i haven’t even fucked you yet.” his hands grip your hips, sliding your cunt over his length.

“then do it,” he whines out, letting his head fall back. “please.” you sigh, lifting up your hips and lining him with your entrance. you sink down on him slowly, adjusting to the feeling and wiggling your hips. all the while he’s a mess, trying to keep his noises as quiet as he can — which is still quite loud, not like you’re complaining.

you lean down to his ear, “you sound so pathetic.” you laugh, your breath hitting his skin causing him to shiver. your wiggling turns to grinding, which turns to bouncing. it left him a mess, gripping onto your hips like you’d disappear if he didn’t. he couldn’t stop the whines and whimpers of your name leaving his lips.

he lets his head fall into your neck when you tell him how loud he’s being. that laugh you let out every time you embarrass him is hypnotic. it’s like it commands his body to let go and fully be at your mercy. it leaves him feeling even more embarrassed, as he’s fought off being the small, inferior one. but the embarrassment you cause is good. it’s so bad and humiliating but it leaves his cock throbbing in his pants every time.

“i can’t,” he breathes out. “i can’t hold it. ‘have to-”

“hold it.” you snap, tangling your hands in his hair to pull his head back. you look him in the eye, “or you’re going to go again. and again, and again if your pathetic dick betrays you. you’re going to make me cum too.”

he nods frantically, letting his eyes fall to where your bodies connected. that was the wrong move, the sight alone had him cumming without even trying. you watch with an amused look at his face, scrunched up in a silent moan. his body shook and his grip got tighter before his arms fell.

he pants heavily, slowly lifting his head to look at you. he grunts when you slide off of him quickly, too quick. you laid beside him and tug his body on top of yours. you took note of his dazed look, erratic breaths and flushed face. he was so dumbed down, but you couldn’t have him thinking you’re a liar?

“cmon,” you nudge his side with a laugh. his glazed over eye meets yours with confusion. “aww, you didn’t think i was serious.” you coo, running your thumb over his cheek. “i’ll use you as my own sex doll until i get what i want.”

his face flushed a deep cherry red, but he gets the message. and even though he’s so fucking sensitive, and so dumb, already unknowing of what to so, he slides into you again with a hiss. his thrusts are erratic, messy, and fast. you can’t help but giggle, causing carl to grimace. he couldn’t tell when you were laughing out of joy, or if he was doing something dumb again.

“please, be quick.” his rushed voice gave away his approaching orgasm. his face buries into your neck, lazily biting at your skin. “can i touch you?”

you hum, letting out a moan when he hits a certain spot. but he’s so far gone he misses it, unlike before when he would’ve taken notice of anything that made you feel good. “touch me where?”

he breathes out, letting his head come out from its hiding spot to watch what he’s doing. he shakily trails his hand down your body, landing near your clit. “here?” you move his fingers so they’re in the right spot, muttering something about how dumb he’s being. he feels his face heat up and he swore he could cum from your remarks alone.

he circles his fingers, starting slow but eventually speeding up to match the speed of his cock inside you. he whimpers, watching as he pumps in and out of you in awe. he looks up at you, using his free hand to hold onto your waist. “close? please tell me you’re close. i can’t hold on and i can’t go again.”

he babbles into your ear, losing his composure completely. he nearly screams out a ‘thank you’ when you tell him to cum with you, his hold on your waist near bruising as he does. he can’t even move, slumping down onto your body. his arms wrapping around you to hold you close.

he hears you chuckle, and he curses his body for reacting the way it does. but all you do is grab his hat, placing it back on his head from whenever it had fallen.

taglist :: @carlslvr @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @mozzeralla-stix @carlmipololo @carlgrimesgfofficial @livingdeadgirlflorette

if you recognize this, it’s because it is a rewrite because the og was a hot mess ♡

#carl grimes x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes smut #twd fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd oneshot #twd x y/n #twd smut #twd carl #twd imagine #twd fic #twd x you

801 notes · View notes

kierahn · 1 year ago

Text

NO KISSING THE MILKMAN. [ y! milkman x m! reader ]

[ NSFW, minors DNI ]

yandere! francis mosses ? (that's not my neighbor) x doorman! male reader

warnings :

NSFW content (18+)

Dubcon

Asphyxiation

for my fellow milkman enjoyers, i decided to push out an update before my classes start back up. i'm tempted to make a dom reader version, but we'll see if my motivation can push me enough to do it. 🙆‍♂️ (no beta read)

✧˚ | "don't go around kissing the milkman now," your supervisor jokingly warned you when you first started your job as a doorman in your building. you wave her off with an unbothered laugh, confused by what she meant. but your questions were soon answered when you finally had the chance to meet this milkman that you were advised not to smooch.

✧˚ | he wore the usual milkman uniform with a black bowtie around his neck and a white hat sitting on top of his head. he had dark auburn hair, a hooked nose, and a pair of droopy bedroom eyes. normal people wouldn't exactly consider him as an 'attractive' guy, but he had a certain charm to him that drew you in somehow. maybe it was the drowsy look he always seem to wear or how his uniform clung onto his arms tightly, the build up of his muscles from consecutive days of carrying trays of milk. he was quite the eye candy that you easily took an interest in.

✧˚ | but of course, you had to stay professional if you wanted to keep your job.

✧˚ | your interactions with the guy were kept to a minimum and was limited to a greeting or exchange of questions whenever you would ask him for his id and entry request.

✧˚ | from the list of basic information about himself that he had given you so far, you’ve learned that his name was Francis Mosses and that he lived alone in one of the apartments on the third floor.

✧˚ | you knew that living alone can get pretty dull and lonely sometimes, given that you were also living by yourself. so you did what any normal concern neighbor would do— deliver tupperwares containing food to his doorstep whenever you made too much for you to eat by yourself. whether you did it with the intention of hitting on him or simply out of kindness, you two gradually ended up becoming good acquaintances.

✧˚ | your exchange with francis ended up expanding to casual conversations and short banters. if you're lucky, he would slip you little trinkets like pieces of candies along with his entry request. you found it endearing that the quiet male wasn't as intimidating as you first thought he was.

✧˚ | weeks soon passed with you working as a doorman at your apartment complex. you now knew everyone like the back of your hand and were getting used to seeing deformed versions of your neighbors every now and then. you also found it easier to differentiate the doppelgängers from your real neighbors.

✧˚ | knowing that you held the life and safety of your neighbors in your hands, you took your job pretty seriously. you would always check their files and appearances thoroughly to make sure that no dopplegangers slipped past your watchful eyes.

✧˚ | so imagine your surprise when the day where you make a mistake finally came.

✧˚ | you made sure to check everything; his id, his entry request, his appearance— you even called his apartment to make sure. he talked to you so casually that it left no room for suspicion.

✧˚ | "gh– fuck !" you cursed loudly, panicked as you find yourself restrained by a bruising grip around your neck that temporarily stopped your airflow. 'francis' had you pinned down against your desk, documents flying all over the room from the sudden impact of your body hitting its wooden surface.

✧˚ | your first instinct was to immediately reach for the landline that sat next to your waist, but the other male was quick to stop you.

✧˚ | his grip around your neck tightened, leaving you to arch your back slightly as you attempt to gasp for air. the landline slipped from your grasp and fell to the ground with a slight crack, leaving the device to continuously beep as it waits for a number to be placed. gargled sounds were the only sounds you could make as your fingers instinctively wrapped around francis' wrists, attempting to pry his hand off your neck.

✧˚ | "you really think your silly little D.D.D friends can save you ?" the doppleganger's voice was exactly how francis sounded like, coated with a slight distortion.

✧˚ | 'how is he so bloody strong ?' you hissed in frustration inside your head as you engage in a battle against him.

✧˚ | but then again, he wasn’t human, overpowering you proved to be an easy task for someone like him.

✧˚ | his endless days of being driven away by the D.D.D after you coldly send him off each time was over. 'francis' couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction; couldn't help but marvel at the sight below him– the stonefaced and ruthless doorman who reported him every chance he could get was now at his mercy.

✧˚ | "what's this ?" francis' gaze moved lower, landing on the tent that had unconcsiously formed at the base of your trousers. he knew that you held some affection for the real francis, but to get an erection by being strangled by someone who was a spitting image of him ? how naughty.

✧˚ | "do you really like this face that much ?" francis teased as his free hand wandered up your thigh. "took me a few tries to capture it perfectly."

✧˚ | francis loosened his grip around your neck slightly to give you a chance to catch your breath. he didn't want to kill you. not when he worked so hard to be able to get this close to you.

✧˚ | he'll admit, he had long been jealous of the real francis. the look of admiration directed at him whenever you two conversed; it was a look that contrasted the disgusted one you gave the doppelgänger each time he attempted to deceive you.

✧˚ | he found himself longing for whatever affections you had for that human. he was much better than him in every aspect. he could be whoever you wanted him to be.

✧˚ | "say less," his hand fully left your neck to tug on your tie that came with your uniform, bringing your face closer to his. you feel your face flush at the close proximity. using francis’s face proved to be useful in keeping you somewhat compliant. "i'll be nice and let you have a taste of him."

✧˚ | after he was done with you, he'd be the sole owner of this face for you to enjoy. he'd be the only 'francis mosses' in existence.

✧˚ | the metal window blind behind you slid down with the press of a button, francis having pressed it while you were distracted. now you were completely trapped with him.

✧˚ | you'd expect that a creature like him would have no idea on how humans reproduced, let alone with both parties being male, but oh was he so far from being clueless. francis knew exactly where to place his hands and lips to have you writhe so beautifully under him.

✧˚ | he didn't solely focus on imitating the real francis' appearance. he went far as to probe into both his love and sex life.

✧˚ | he once shifted into some random human female to seduce francis and bed him. he went far and beyond to ensure that he would be able to satisfy your needs (isn't he just the cutest).

✧˚ | francis didn't expect you to be so cooperative after he had literally tried to strangle you to death. he could clearly tell that you loved the real francis so much that you'd be willing to settle for his doppelgänger to satisfy your desires. that thought somehow made francis feel slightly annoyed.

✧˚ | he prepared you carefully with his fingers, just like how the real francis did it. he drew circles with his fingers inside your walls as his lips muffled your needy moans, his fingers stretching you out carefully.

✧˚ | for a doppelgänger, he was being surprisingly gentle with you. after all, he wanted you to genuinely like him; to need him.

✧˚ | “francis–“ his name spilled from your lips like a chant, and as much as your lewd moans sounded lovely against his ears, francis couldn't help but tighten his grip around your waist as he thrusted into you. he hated hearing you use his name.

✧˚ | "don't call me by that name," francis hissed, his thrust getting harsher as he ignored your pleads for him to be gentler. he was obviously ticked off. "hoon, call me hoon, y/n."

✧˚ | his other hand left your waist to squeeze your smaller cock in his fingers, matching his strokes with his thrusts which made you into a trembling mess under him. your words were barely coherent at that point, whines and whimpers the only sounds escaping your lips.

✧˚ | hoon leaned down to capture your lips in his. drool spilled from the corned of your lips, but he could care less. he wanted to savor you as much as he could.

✧˚ | you sobbed against his lips when you came onto his fingers. he pulls away from you, allowing you to breathe and removing his hand around your softened cock. he stared down at his hand that you had stained with your own cum and curiously licked his fingers, his tired eyes staring down at your fucked out state.

✧˚ | he never once stopped thrusting into you, trying to chase his own release. his stamina was not one of a human's, making it much harder for you to match his pace and leaving you to feel overstimulated with all the sensations that coursed through your body and all the orgasms that were forced out of you.

✧˚ | it took him about four rounds before hoon finally spilled his seed inside your walls for the first time, painting them a clear white. he could feel you tighten around him, your abused hole begging for a break, but that was a luxury that hoon wasn't able to give you.

✧˚ | he still had many things that he wanted to try out now that he had you wrapped around his fingers. now that he had gotten a taste, he didn't think he could stop there.

✧˚ | flipping you over so that you were now bent over your desk, hoon resumes his thrusts, his nose buried on your nape as he inhales your intoxicating scent. you chanted his name like a prayer, prompting him to hit your deepest parts which left you panting and begging under him.

✧˚ | he had no plans of stopping until he was fully satisfied and had milked you of every single drop. he had to stick to his role of being the 'milkman' afterall.

#yandere x male reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere #that's not my neighbor #kiahndere #x male reader #male reader #francis mosses

2K notes · View notes

v6quewrlds · 13 days ago

Text

&.⠀⠀SAIGON⠀⋆⠀JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀10.4k.

summary⠀⁎⠀in small doses, stubbornness is attractive. it's the reason why they're both where they are: successful. but in large doses, stubbornness tangles all their wires, leaving them both turning away.

author's note⠀⁎⠀surprise, shawty!! wrote an actual summary, everybody cheer! was really trying for the angst, but dragging it out didn't feel like them. considering what i usually pull with angst, consider it a blessing lol. warnings⠀⁎⠀3rd person [she/her], angst, language, class differences (kinda sorta), argument about finances, a tiny bit of therapyspeak.

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist⠀⁎⠀series masterlist.

Every inch of Joe's body ached. His head pounded against his skull, amplifying every sound that shuffled past his ears. The dull throbbing of his knee drew a pained hiss from his lips as he descended down the hallway of Allegiant Stadium, out to the team bus waiting to take them to the airport. His teammates dragged their feet, shoulders heavy with the weight of their loss. Joe's eyes searched the floor, avoiding the glaring lights above. The quiet whispers of disappointment grew as they boarded the bus, each player retreating into their own cocoon of defeat.

He collapsed into a seat near the back of the bus, sighing heavily as he pulled out his phone. The screen lit up, displaying messages from his father, one from his agent, and a few from his friends, all trying to offer comfort in their own ways. But one stuck out from all the rest. It was relatively simple as if she could sense the frustration and shortness in his voice from thousands of miles away.

Sorry about the game. Talk to me when you're ready.

His thumb swiped through his phone, hovering over the digital keyboard as he attempted to gather his thoughts. What was he supposed to say to her? That he'd let everyone down? That he'd played the worst game of his life? He couldn't. Instead, he dialed her number, his heart racing as the call connected.

"Hey," her voice came through at the end of the third ring. Almost instantly, his heartbeat slowed, gently washing over him as if he had breathed in the scent of her. Soft, soothing understanding flooding his ears and pulling a sigh from his chest.

"Sorry you had to watch that," Joe murmured, his eyes closing as his head leaned back against the headrest. "Played like shit."

"You're only human, everybody has off days," she replied. "On the bright side, it was nice to get some eye candy after work. You looked pretty good out there, despite the misery."

Her attempt at humor didn't lift the fog of Joe's mood entirely, but he managed a weak scoff, appreciating her effort. "Glad I could be useful for something," he muttered, casting a glance out the window as the bus pulled away from the stadium. The neon lights of Vegas, though miles away, taunted him with their brilliance, an unsettling contrast to the bitterness that had settled into the pit of his stomach.

"What's the mood like?" she asked, there was a shuffling in the background of the call. No doubt the sheets of her bed whispering against her skin as she turned, probably shifting to get more comfortable. The thought made Joe's chest tighten, a deep ache settling in his chest as he realized how much he missed her.

"It's like a fucking funeral," he grumbled. "You'd think we'd lost the Super Bowl. Feels like we did lose the Super Bowl." He laughed bitterly, the absence of a smile communicated over the line even though she couldn't see him.

"Baby," she sighed, her voice thick with sympathy. "You guys'll bounce back. You always do."

Joe nodded despite her not being able to see him. "Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the bus. "But I just... I just really need to see you right now." He sank deeper into his seat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck which also ached and throbbed from the hits he had taken during the game.

She paused for a moment. If the defeat on his face displayed in high definition on her TV wasn't enough to tell her how much he was hurting, his voice certainly did. "How long is your flight?" she asked, pressing the speaker button on the call as she switched over to Maps. She typed in the address to Joe's house, mildly impressed with the flow of her thumbs, needing not a moment of thought to remember it in full.

"Uh," he squeezed his eyes shut, "about four hours, I think." The bus rumbled to life, shifting away as the light turned green, the vibrations echoing through his body. "Then it's about 30 minutes to my place. Why?"

"Well," she said, her voice light, "I know we had plans to spend my week off together. But since it technically starts tomorrow, I don't mind driving down tonight. Traffic's not too bad, I'll be there before you even land."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, baby," Joe said, the weariness in his voice palpable. "You just got off work. You deserve to rest. I can come pick you up tomorrow afternoon like we planned. I want to spend every second of your week off together, but I don't want you to wear yourself out."

"Don't worry about me, hon," she replied, her voice steady. "I'm already all packed, except for a couple of things. I'll grab them now and hit the road. I'll be there in four hours tops, all snug waiting for you in your bed." Her voice dipped low, a hint of teasing in her tone.

Joe's eyes lit up at the thought of her curled up in his bed, waiting for him; all sleepy love and warmth. It had been two weeks since he had held her, two weeks of endless nights filled with cold, empty sheets and the ghost of her scent lingering on his pillow, on his clothes, in his house. "You don't know how much I need that right now," he murmured, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. "As long as you feel okay to drive. Text me when you're 30 minutes out, and I'll let security know."

"Don't worry about me, okay? I'm serious, Joe," she assured him. "I want to do this for you. I'll be fine. Promise."

"Alright," Joe relented, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, baby. That means a lot."

They talked a bit longer until the bus pulled up to the airport and the team started to gather their belongings. He promised to text her when he boarded and to let her know when he'd be home. With a final, "Love you," Joe ended the call and squeezed his eyes shut, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

She stood from her bed, slipping her feet into her Ugg slippers and grabbing her phone and its charger from where it was plugged into her alarm clock. True to her word, her duffel bag was already packed, seated by her door, a pair of her gym shoes stacked on top. The room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway, painting a rectangle on the carpeted floor. She didn’t bother turning any lights on, knowing the layout of her apartment like the back of her hand.

Leah sat in the living room, cross-legged on the couch, eyes trained on the Real Housewives of, presumably, somewhere. The living room filled with the sound of expletives and yelling. She held a glass of wine in her right hand, her hair pulled up into a messy bun atop her head. Leah looked over at her, the TV's light reflecting off her glasses. "What's going on?" she asked slowly, the volume on the TV dropping as she hit mute.

"Heading to Joe's," she said over her shoulder as she set her duffel down by the front door. She turned back towards the kitchen, searching for something to eat before her journey. "I was gonna drive down tomorrow, but he sounded horrible over the phone. So, I figured I'd just go now and get the most out of my week off."

Leah looked up at her with a knowing smile, the TV's reflection flickering over her face. "You'll be getting something for sure," she teased. "You sure you're good to drive? That's like, what, a four-hour trip at this time?"

"I'll be fine," she said with a wave of her hand. "I had a pretty easy day at the hospital, and I'm in a decent mood. I have my playlists and some sugar to keep me awake." She grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and a Dr. Pepper from the fridge before returning to the living room. "But thanks for looking out for me." She leaned over the couch to hug Leah. "Give me a kiss for luck?"

Leah rolled her eyes but leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek. "One of these days I will steal you from him," she joked. "But I guess I can stomach this for now."

She laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. "You're so strong, babe." She squeezed Leah's arm playfully before walking towards the door, reaching for her keys. "I'll text you when I get there."

Leah nodded. "Drive safe, babe."

"I will," she said, slipping her phone into her pocket.

The drive was relatively quiet, with enough cars on I-71 to keep her company without causing any stress from unexpected traffic. The Cincinnati skyline came into view just as her dashboard read 11:45 PM. The city's lights twinkled like stars scattered across the dark fabric of the night, bringing her an inch of hope with each passing mile.

By the time she pulled past the gate to Joe's neighborhood, her phone lit up with a text from her boyfriend. "Just landed, be there in 35."

She parked her car in the driveway, waving to the security guard on duty, who offered to help her bring her things in from the car. "I've got it," she said with a smile. "Thank you, though." The guard nodded, his eyes lingering for a moment before returning to his post.

The house was still, much stiller than she had ever seen it. Darkness filled the rooms, the silence causing her every move to echo. She tiptoed to her bedroom, making sure to text both Leah and Joe on her way, confirming her arrival and that she was safe. His room was perfectly orderly, evidence of his housekeeper's recent visit. She tossed her bag onto the bed and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension from the road.

Her muscles eased as she trailed off to his closet, picking out a plain white t-shirt that smelled faintly of him. His shower was warm and welcoming, the water washing away the last of the road's grit and the day's stress. By the time she emerged, the scent of his soap clung to her skin, flooding her senses with his smell. She slipped into bed after completing her skincare, snapping a picture of herself in his clothes, wrapped up in his sheets, and sending it to him.

The minutes ticked by slowly as she waited for Joe. The house was so quiet she could almost hear the air conditioner run. She began to drift off, her eyes heavy as the analog clock on his dresser displayed 12:17 AM. The sound of his car pulling into the garage jolted her awake, her body rising from its spot in the bed. Her feet carried her to the door as she heard his footsteps approaching. The door swung open slowly, and Joe appeared in the doorway, visibly exhausted, his undereye darkened with shadows, his posture drooping with the weight of the loss.

He took a moment to drink her in, standing in his home in his boxers and shirt. A sleepy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, his first genuine smile since the beginning of the never-ending night. "Baby," he murmured, his chest rising and falling with a breath. She looked so at home in his space, so beautiful in his clothes. He stepped closer to her, his eyes searching hers, the need for her comfort dancing through them.

"How was the drive?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the dry plane air. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled like her, but also so faintly of him.

Her hands found his back, gently stroking circles, feeling the tension knotted into his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. "It was fine," she whispered, her voice muffled against him. "I missed you."

Joe's arms tightened around her, his grip fierce. "Missed you, too." He continued holding her, content to stand there in the quiet darkness for as long as she would let him. His heart rate slowed, his breath evened out as her warmth seeped into his bones. He didn't realize how much he needed this until she was there, a shiver coursing through him as her fingers continued their gentle dance along his back.

"I'm so tired," he admitted, his voice a low rumble against her neck. "But I'm so fucking happy you're here."

"I know," she whispered, her own exhaustion forgotten in the face of Joe's warmth. She could feel the tension in his body, the tightness of his embrace telling her everything she needed to know about his state of mind. "Let's get you showered and into bed," she suggested, her voice gentle. "Just wanna feel you next to me."

Joe nodded into her neck, reluctant to let go. "Okay," he murmured, his grip loosening just enough for her to step back. He turned and disappeared into the en suite, the sound of the shower echoing through the room. She took a moment to appreciate the noise, the house finally feeling alive again with Joe's presence. She climbed into bed, scrolling through her phone to hold off her own exhaustion until he was done.

When Joe emerged, his skin was pink and warm from the hot water, his hair brushed back from his face. She watched him move around the room, his movements deliberate and weary. It was clear that he was more than physically exhausted; his eyes were sad, his shoulders slumped with the burden of defeat.

He finally joined her in bed, his lower half the only part of him concealed by a gray pair of boxers. He slid in next to her, his body immediately fitting into hers as if they had done this a thousand times before. She set her phone aside, reaching over to switch off the lamp, plunging the room into a comfortable darkness.

Her neck craned upwards to meet his descending kiss, and their bodies aligned, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer. He surrounded her with warmth, and she felt the tension in his body begin to dissolve as his hands roamed over her. There was no urgency to the press of his lips, only a gentle selfishness that grew with every shared breath.

"Missed you," he repeated, the syllables slurring slightly from fatigue. His arms tightened around her, pressing his face into her neck, his nose skimming the skin. Her hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands. She could feel his warm breath, his heartbeat thumping against her chest.

Her lips pressed to the shell of his ear, peppering kisses along his tanned skin. "Wish I could just hold you like this every day," he whispered, the pacing of his speech slowing down in his drowsiness. His hands snaked under her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her back, his eyes screwed shut.

“I know," she whispered back, her voice just as tired. She could feel the beginnings of his stubble, scratching against her skin. The warmth of his breath danced over her neck. One of his hands dropped to her thigh, pulling her leg over his. "This would be the best part of my day," she murmured, her voice sleepy. "Every day."

He pulled her closer, kissing along her clothed shoulder. His breathing evened out as they continued to lay on their sides, wrapped up in each other's arms. "You smell good," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Always smell good, but especially in my clothes."

She hummed softly. "Used your soap," she said, her voice a whisper. "Been too long since I smelled you."

Joe's chuckle was low as he met her eye. "Been too long since I've felt you," he murmured, his hand sliding down to her ass, squeezing weakly before resting there. "Look so good in my clothes, in my bed." His voice was gruff, sleep tugging at the edges of his words.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. The weight of Joe's hand was comforting, grounding her in a way that she hadn't felt in weeks. "I'll always be here for you."

Joe nodded into her neck, his eyes slipping closed as his grip tightened slightly. "Love you, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, her fingers carding through his hair. "Love you too, Joey."

Joe's eyes remained shut as he drifted off to sleep, the comfort of her touch and the sweet scent of her skin surrounding him like a warm blanket. She lay there for a few moments longer, watching him, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Then, she too, succumbed to the gentle embrace of slumber, nestled against him.

Mid-morning warmth flooded through the curtains as Joe's alarm blared, jolting them both from their deep sleep. He groaned and reached over for his phone to silence it, then turned towards her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "I don't wanna get up," he mumbled into her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

"It's Monday, babe, you don't have to," she groaned, her hand finding his as it pulled her back to his chest. "Why is your alarm going off?"

"Didn't remember to shut it off last night," Joe mumbled, his eyes still closed. His hand reached for her hip, sneaking under her shirt to rest on the bare skin of her waist. "You don't have to go anywhere, do you?"

Her eyes remained shut as she snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. "Just need to get out of your bed before I get too comfortable," she said with a small smile. "I should keep a schedule, you know, make sure I stay productive during my week off."

Joe's grip tightened around her, his eyes still closed. "No, you don't," he murmured. "You can stay here all day if you want." He kissed her shoulder. "With me." Dropped another to her neck. "In my bed." He kissed her cheek and whispered, "Where you belong."

She felt a smile tug at her lips. "That sounds tempting," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Tempting?" Joe echoed, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "It's more than tempting." His hand slid up to cup her face, turning her towards him. His eyes searched hers in the dim light, the shadows playing across his features. "It's necessary," he said, his voice thick with something that sent a thrill through her.

"Necessary?" She echoed, her body turning to face Joe fully. His hand remained on her cheek, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across her skin.

"Mmhmm," Joe murmured, his eyes still sleepy but focused on hers. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a gentle kiss that spoke of the ease that she brought with her. His hand slid from her face to her neck, his thumb resting just above her collarbone. He could feel the timid thump of her pulse under his touch.

Her eyes fluttered open as Joe broke the kiss. He was so close, his breath ghosting over her lips. She reached up to trace his jaw with her fingertips, feeling the rough stubble under her touch. "You're so needy," she murmured accusingly, her voice still thick with sleep.

He smirked. "You love it." He kissed her again, this time deeper, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She made a noise of protest that turned into a sigh as she melted into him. He rolled her onto her back, his body hovering over hers, his hand sliding down to the hem of her shirt.

He guided it over her head, his eyes focused on hers as he tossed it aside. His hands skimmed over her bare skin, his touch tender yet possessive. Her eyes searched his, her heart racing in anticipation of his next move. She felt the warmth of his body press into her, his chest to hers, her legs tangling with his.

He hummed, low in his throat, as he laced his fingers through hers, pinning them above her head. His kiss grew more urgent, his tongue dancing with hers as his hips pressed into hers. She felt the heat pool in her core, her body responding to his without hesitation. She arched up into him, her bare breasts brushing against his chest.

Joe's hand slid down to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak of one nipple. She gasped into his mouth, her legs parting for him. He took the invitation, his hand sliding down her side to her thigh, pushing it up and hooking it over his hip.

He ground against her, his hips rolling into hers, the friction making her squirm. "Joe," she panted, her eyes half-lidded. He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. She felt a thrill of pleasure as his tongue followed, soothing the path his teeth had made.

"Can't stop saying thank you for being here," Joe mumbled against her neck, his breath warm and tickling. She giggled, feeling the vibration against her skin. She tilted her head to give him better access, his kisses turning into nibbles that forced laughter from her.

"You told me you needed me, so I'm here," she purred, her voice a whisper that was barely heard over the sound of his teeth scraping her skin. "But maybe I can be there for you... in the kitchen. Eating something?"

As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly, and Joe groaned just as loudly. His head fell forward, his forehead pressed against her sternum. "Fuck, I was just getting started," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers as his head lifted to kiss her again.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "We've got all week," she reminded him, pushing him off gently. "I'm starving."

Joe sighed dramatically but rolled off her, his hand sliding down to squeeze her thigh before letting go. "Fine," he grumbled, his eyes still closed. "But we're coming back to this."

She laughed, sitting up and stretching. The bed was warm and inviting, but she knew they both needed to eat. She slid out of bed, and Joe's eyes followed her as she grabbed his shirt from the floor, slipping it on. She walked over to her duffel bag, finding a pair of wide-leg sweatpants to pair with his shirt.

"I'll start breakfast," she said, leaning down to kiss him. He caught her hand, pulling her back down for one more deep, lingering kiss before releasing her.

"Don't burn anything," he teased, his eyes still half-lidded as he watched her leave the room. She shot him a playful glare over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway, the sound of her bare feet on the hardwood floor fading as she moved towards the kitchen.

Joe took the moment to stretch out in the bed, his muscles protesting after the tense game and the long flight from the night—or morning, really—before. He couldn't help but smile, though, as he thought about her wearing his clothes, feeling his warmth even in his absence. With a groan, he pushed himself out of bed and into the bathroom, hissing softly at the sight of his bruises from the game. Wincing, he applied some of the shea butter-infused lotion she had brought with her, the coolness soothing his skin.

By the time he made it to the kitchen, the smell of turkey bacon and eggs filled the air, making his stomach rumble with anticipation. She was moving around with ease, her hips swaying to some unheard tune. She looked over her shoulder at him, her smile bright. "How do you want your eggs, baby?"

"Any way you'll give 'em to me," he uttered, his hands finding her hips from behind as he nuzzled his face into her neck. She giggled, shaking her head as she continued working on the eggs. He kissed along her neck, his hands sliding around to her stomach and then up to cup her tits over the shirt. "You're so fuckin' perfect," he murmured into her ear, his voice thick with desire. "Gimme anything you want and I'll take it."

"Not my eggs, you freak," she huffed, playfully shoving him away with her elbow. "Scrambled, over hard, omelet?"

"Surprise me," Joe said, stepping back into his place behind her, his chest pressing against her back. He could feel her laugh reverberate through her upper body, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her closer. She playfully slapped at his hands, trying to focus on not burning the food.

The kitchen was filled with the sizzle of bacon and the crackle of eggs hitting the hot pan. Her movements were swift and practiced, opposing Joe's sluggishness. He leaned against the counter, watching her, feeling the weight of the last few days fall away. He watched the way she moved in his space, so confident and comfortable. If he could have painted a picture of what contentment felt like, it would be this; it would be her.

"You know," she said, her voice teasing as she flipped an egg expertly, "you could always help. Make some toast or something. Cut up some avocados?"

Joe groaned. "But then I'd have to move." He pressed himself into her with a touch more determination. "And I'm really enjoying this view."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. When his left hand snuck up to her tits again, she shooed him away again with a laugh. "Go do something," she said, pointing towards the refrigerator. "Make yourself useful."

With a dramatic sigh, Joe retreated to the fridge, grabbing the avocados and a knife. He took his time peeling and slicing them, savoring the feeling of normalcy he longed for during the spaces of time when their worlds diverged. "How many eggs do you want?" she called over her shoulder, not turning away from the stove.

"Two's fine if you're tossing in some veggies on the side," Joe called back, his focus on the task at hand. "I'll grab some of the Greek yogurt and berries too."

She nodded. She cracked his eggs into a small bowl and whisking them with a fork until they were fluffy. She poured them into the pan with the already cooked bacon and vegetables, mixing everything together. Joe grabbed two slices of bread, buttering both sides before sliding them into the toaster.

"Wait, what day is it?" she suddenly asked aloud, the question interrupting the comfortable silence that had settled over the kitchen.

Joe paused his toast prep, looking at her with a quizzical expression. "It's Monday," he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Why?"

"No, the actual date, I mean," she clarified, glancing at the calendar hanging on the fridge. "It's the 9th, isn't it?" She questioned with a gasp.

Joe nodded, reaching up to find plates and silverware. "Yeah, it's the 9th. Why?" He drew the syllables out, making clear his inability to follow her line of thinking.

Her eyes widened slightly as she continued working on the omelet. "My rent and my student loans are due today," she murmured, a hint of panic seeping into her voice. "I didn't transfer the money from my savings account."

Joe's smile fell, his eyes meeting hers with understanding. "You can do it from here," he said, placing a hand on her waist. "Use my laptop. It's on the table in the living room."

She nodded, her shoulders dropping slightly with relief. "Thank you, baby," she kissed his cheek before slipping out of his grasp and making her way to the living room. She returned a minute later, sitting down at the kitchen island with his laptop. Her eyes scanned the screen as she quickly logged into her bank account. She felt Joe's presence behind her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders as he leaned over to peer at the screen.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing at the screen. At a glance, there was enough for her rent, but not nearly enough for her student loans. She felt Joe's hand tighten on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. "I must have used that money for something else," she murmured, feeling a twinge of frustration.

Joe leaned down, his cheek warm against hers, his hands moving to intertwine with hers. "Let me take care of it, sweetheart," he said softly. "It's no big deal."

She stiffened, her eyes snapping up to his. "No," she said firmly, clicking through her banking portal. "I'll figure something out." She shrugged off his touch, resuming her clicking around.

"Babe, it's just money," Joe reasoned, his voice gentle. "Don't stress over it. I got it."

Her eyes narrowed at the screen. "It's my responsibility," she said through gritted teeth, her hands clenching with tension before she relaxed them with an exhale. "Just give me a second to think."

Joe stepped back, his expression unreadable. He knew how important it was for her to be independent, to manage her own finances. But seeing her like this, the weight of her world on her shoulders, it was hard for him to stand idly by. He turned back to the toaster, his jaw clenching as he waited for the bread to pop. "Okay," he said slowly, noncommittally turning to finish off assembling their breakfast.

She continued murmuring under her breath, her right hand tapping at the calculator app on her phone as she mentally rearranged her finances. Her stomach tightened as the number on her screen grew larger, much larger than what she could reasonably part with at the moment. "Oh my god," she whispered, burying her face in both her hands.

Joe set a plate of perfectly toasted bread, eggs, and crisped bacon before her. "You okay?" He asked, his voice tentative.

She hesitated, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I don't know," she sighed, picking up a piece of bacon. "It's just...I've been trying so hard to keep up with everything. I thought I was doing so well."

Joe sat beside her, his own plate forgotten. "Of course you are," he assured her, his hand finding hers. "So you don't have the loan money right now. It's okay, you'll figure it out."

"It's not just the loan money," she said, her voice rising with frustration. "My credit card's due in two weeks, and I won't get paid yet. I'm out of savings. I still need to pay for gas and food for the next three weeks. My niece's birthday is coming up, and I want to get her something nice..."

Joe found her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles in comfort. "Let me help," he urged again, his voice softer this time. "Just tell me how much you need, and I'll transfer it to you."

Her eyes began to cloud over as she looked at him. "I can't," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "It's my debt. I need to pay it."

"Baby, please," Joe's voice was low and earnest. "I just want to take some of that burden off you. I know how much you've been working, and I can help. Let me do this for you."

She took a deep breath, looking down at their entwined hands. She knew Joe was trying to be supportive, but she felt a surge of exasperation. "Joe," she began, her voice steady but firm. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I have to do this by myself."

"If you're worried about paying me back, don't," Joe insisted, his voice filled with concern. "I just wanna take care of you. So let me. Just tell me how much."

She pulled her hand away, standing up from her stool. "Joe, I said no. And that's the end of it." She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but it was clear she was reaching her breaking point. "Just give me a second to think. I'll be right back," she added, escaping into the hallway and up to the master suite before he could respond.

Joe sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stared at the plate of food in front of him. He knew she was stubborn, but he couldn't help but feel a little hurt by her rejection. He pulled his plate closer to him, the smell of the eggs and bacon suddenly not as appealing as it was moments ago. He took a bite, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach.

As he sat there in the silence, he could help but take a peek at her phone. The calculator app was still open, and a number was displayed on the screen. He took a bite of his toast, the crunch echoing in the quiet room. His leg bounced as he fought the urge to turn her phone toward him, to confirm the digits of the number on her screen. The urge grew the longer she was gone, spreading through his limbs and making his heart race. He took another bite, chewing it slowly as he listened for the sound of her returning from his room.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned over, his eyes taking in the number displayed. It was a low four-digit number, enough to make him pause but not nearly enough for him to feel even a quarter of the stress she seemed to be under. He knew she was fiercely independent, but this was ridiculous.

His own phone sat on the island to his right, and without a second thought, Joe picked it up, navigating to his banking app. He had more than enough to cover her entire loan amount if he really wanted to, let alone the amount that was causing her such distress. But he knew that wasn't the point. He set his jaw, frustration and affection warring inside him. He knew her pride was important, but so was her peace of mind. The decision seemed simple to him—he had the means, and she had the need. In just a few taps he could ease her burden. Sure, she might be upset with him, but that was a risk he was willing to take if it meant she could focus on the important things, like her residency and making the most out of this week together.

He made up his mind then, tapping out a quick transfer from his account to hers. It was done before she could come back. It would take a moment to clear, but when he clicked the trackpad to reload her online banking page, the amount was there. Pending, but there. He took another bite of his eggs, his stomach no longer in knots.

"Okay," she announced, her voice echoing from the hallway. She returned to the kitchen, her expression composed. "Let's just eat," she suggested, sitting back down. "I'll figure this shit out after."

Joe studied her face, seeing the tightness around her eyes, the set of her jaw. He knew she was lying to herself, trying to pretend it wasn't a big deal when it clearly was. But he also knew her well enough to know that pushing now would only make it worse. "Come here," he said gently, setting his fork down. He opened his arms to her, and she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she whispered, the warmth of Joe's embrace seeping into her bones. She felt his hand gently stroking her back, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along her spine. For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into his comfort, to let go of the anxiety that had been building within her. But as she leaned away, she couldn't help the feeling of something being off. She glanced at her phone, realizing it was off from where she had left it.

Her head turned to look at her laptop, her eyes fell on the banking app, and she froze. The balance of her checking account was different—substantially so. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the screen, her mind racing. "What did you do?" she demanded, pulling away from Joe's embrace to look at him.

Joe swallowed hard, setting his fork down. He knew this was going to be a fight. "I just transferred some money," he said calmly, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. "You don't have to pay me back, babe. I'm your boyfriend; I'm supposed to support you."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Joe, I already told you no," she said, her voice shaking. "Why would you do this?"

Joe leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "Because I love you," he said, his voice steady. "And I can't stand to see you stressed like this. You work so hard. You dropped everything to be here with me on your week off. Drove down late after work just because I was feeling down. I just wanted to do one thing to make your life a little easier."

Her eyes searched his, trying to read the intention behind his words. Her hand hovered over the laptop, the urge to check her bank account again strong, but she resisted. "It's not just about the money," she said, her voice tight. "It's about me being able to stand on my own two feet. You're undermining me."

Joe's expression softened. "I know that's what you want to do," he said, his voice low. "And I respect that. But we all need help sometimes. And that's what I'm here for."

Her eyes remained on the laptop screen, the number staring back at her. "This isn't just about you, Joe," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I don't want your money, just like I don't want anyone else's money."

Joe pursed his lips together, failing to suppress an eye roll. "You're being ridiculous," he said, his voice tight. "It's not a handout, babe. If you want to think of it like a loan, fine. You can pay me back, and I'll get you something nice with the money. It's yours, you deserve it."

"So every time that I've told you that I didn't need your money, you just... ignored me?" Her voice was laced with anger, her arms crossing over her chest. "Did you think I didn't mean it?"

"Baby," Joe growled lowly, "you're overreacting." His patience was wearing thin. "If your parents or anyone else offered, you'd take it without a second thought, wouldn't you? Why is it different coming from me?"

"No! I wouldn't. It's not different at all!" She snapped, pushing herself away from Joe. The heat of the kitchen seemed to rise around her, and she could feel the anger bubbling up inside her chest. "Didn't I tell you that I've done all of this on my own? I finished undergrad debt-free, I worked during medical school, and took out loans for what I couldn't cover. I've never once asked anyone for a handout, not even my own family!"

Joe stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "And I'm not asking you to start now," he said, his voice rising to match hers. "Just take the money, this one time. It's not like you have to struggle now to make up for the fact that you grew up with more than I did! You don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me."

Her eyes flashed, the words stinging like a slap. "What?" she whispered, the anger in her voice barely contained. "What the hell does that mean?"

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just...I feel like sometimes you push me away because we grew up differently and, for whatever reason, that makes you feel like you can't take anything from me," he said, his voice strained. "But I'm good now. I have more money than I know what to do with. I take care of my people, and that includes you."

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his words. "I don't need to prove anything to you, Joe," she said, her voice steady. "And I don't push you away because 'we grew up differently'," her fingers air-quoted the phrase. "Maybe my family had a little more money than yours did, or I grew up in a different state, went to different schools, but that doesn't mean we grew up worlds apart. And it certainly doesn't mean that I'm going to let you throw money at my problems just because you think that's what I'm used to."

"That's not what I'm saying," Joe said, his voice rising in frustration. "I'm just trying to help!"

"I don't need your help, Joe! Not like this," Her voice was firm, her irate with irritation. She turned away from him, her hands trembling slightly as tears spilled over her lash line. She walked over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a long sip to cool her anger. The cold liquid slid down her throat, but it did little to ease the burning in her chest.

"I just want you to catch a break," Joe said, his voice tight. "I know you're strong, baby, but everyone needs a break sometimes. You're not weak for letting someone else carry the weight every once in a while."

She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "I know you mean well," she began, her tone measured. "But it's not about the money. It's about the principle. I want to be able to support myself. I don't want to rely on anyone else for my happiness or my security." She turned to face him, her eyes glistening. "If I let you pay for everything, then what happens if things get tough between us? What happens if you get hurt? What if we break up, and I've gotten used to you fixing everything with your money?"

Joe's jaw clenched as he looked at her, his frustration palpable. "You think that's what this is about?" he asked, his voice gruff. "That I'm gonna hold this over your head? That I'd use your financial situation against you?"

She set the water bottle down with a thunk, her eyes meeting Joe's. "Not now," she said, her voice softer. "But maybe in the future. I've seen it happen with other people, Joe. They start taking and taking, then suddenly they start expecting it. They forget that the person they're with had a life before them and they can have one after them too."

"You're not making any fuckin' sense, babe," he grunted, his voice echoing in the kitchen. "Why are you making this about something it isn't? It's just money."

She groaned, "Do you listen to anything I say?" Her eyes searched Joe's, looking for any sign of understanding. "Did any part of this conversation get through to you?"

"I'm listening," Joe said through gritted teeth, his blue eyes stormy. "But that doesn't mean I have to agree with you."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. "You can't just ignore what I'm saying because it doesn't fit with what you think," she said, her voice strained. She turned on her heel, fisting the water bottle as she muttered, "This is why I didn't want to tell you."

Joe stepped closer to her, his hands coming up to frame her face. "Baby, look at me," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm not ignoring you. I just don't understand why you won't accept help from me."

"You would know if you would listen to me for once," she said, pulling away from Joe's grasp. Her eyes searched his for any sign of clarity, but only found a stubborn resolve. She could feel her anger rising, the walls she had built around her emotions threatening to crumble. "I need a moment," she managed, her voice tight.

Joe sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "Fine," he said, his tone clipped. He watched as she strode out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing defeat on the hardwood floor.

She retreated to the bedroom, pacing in the space they had just shared so intimately. The silence was deafening, filled only with the echo of their harsh words and the thud of her heart in her chest. She huffed out a breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. Even without him in her direct sight, Joe was everywhere. On her skin, in her mind, and now, in her bank account.

Her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over her head and discarding the cotton blend fabric onto the floor. Her bare chest heaved with each breath, her brown skin warming in the early morning light that spilled through the bedroom windows. Her hands shook as she reached into her bag, finding a simple hoodie that had made the journey from Cleveland.

Joe remained in the kitchen, the silence thick and oppressive. He knew she needed space, but the urge to follow her, to fix this, was a weight in his chest. It went against his instincts to let her stew alone. He stared at the spot where she had been standing, gnawing on his lower lip, his brain racing with apologies and explanations and a million solutions.

He didn't stand there for much longer before he heard her approaching again. The jingle of her keys was a warning that she was about to leave. Joe steeled himself as she marched back into the kitchen. "I'm going for a drive," she announced, her voice firm. "I need some air."

Joe nodded, his heart heavy. "Okay," he said, his voice low. "But just...don't go too far, okay?"

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, Joe thought he saw a flicker of softness. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and she grabbed her phone from the counter, her shoulders tense. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice cool.

He watched her retreating back, the door clicking shut behind her, and the house fell silent. The echoes of their argument lingered in the air, a bitter taste left in his mouth. Joe walked into the living room, collapsing onto the couch, his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face with his hands. He was torn between anger and guilt, frustration and fear.

They had never argued like this before. Sure, they were both stubborn, but there was always an edge of humor to their disagreements, a playfulness that reminded them of their affection for one another. This was different. This was a crack in the foundation of their relationship, and Joe wasn't sure how to patch it up without making it worse. As he sat on the couch, listening to the quiet hum of the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had screwed up big time. He knew she was proud, knew that she valued her independence. He also didn't expect her to jump for joy when he offered his help. But the look on her face when she saw the transfer—that was new. It was a mix of anger, hurt, and disappointment that hit harder than any tackle he'd ever taken on the field.

He rose from the couch eventually, dragging his feet to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The pans clanked as he washed them, his mind racing.

What had he done wrong?

He just wanted to help her, to make her life easier.

Why couldn't she just accept it?

His hands clenched around the dish sponge, squeezing until water dripped out.

Did she really think he would use this against her?

He placed the rinsed dishes in the washer.

Why was she entertaining the possibility that they could break up?

As the washer hummed to life, Joe walked to his room. The crumpled shirt on the floor was a stark reminder of their argument. He picked it up, the fabric still carrying the scent of her perfume, and placed it on the chair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at the floor. He hated this, hated that he couldn't fix it with a dry quip or a distracting kiss. But he knew her; she needed time to process, to cool down. He had to give her that space, even if it killed him.

His thighs ached, the pain spreading into his lower back as the rhythmic thump of his heart matched the sound of his feet meeting the flat surface of the running belt. The treadmill whirred beneath him, and sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes as he blinked. He had been here for twenty-seven minutes, and counting, his mind racing as much as his legs. The numbers on the digital display blurred together, his breaths heavy and ragged. He wasn't supposed to be working out, much less pushing himself like this on his recovery day, but the pent-up energy and frustration had to go somewhere. The house was too quiet, too empty without her.

Joe knew he had messed up. He knew she didn't need his money; she had made that clear on multiple occasions. What he hadn't anticipated was how much his offer would hurt her. He had seen the walls come up, the barriers she had worked so hard to keep at bay, and he had thrown them up without a second thought. He had been so focused on fixing the problem that he hadn't thought about how she might feel. It was a dumb mistake, one he shouldn't have made with someone he loved as much as he breathed, adored, and loved her.

His ringtone cut through his thoughts, loud, nearly knocking him off the treadmill. He grabbed his phone, expecting it to be his girlfriend, but instead, it was her best friend, Leah. He ignored it, let it ring through to voicemail. He was blessed with a few seconds of silence before it buzzed again. Evidently, she wasn't calling him to chat about the weather.

Leah's text message was short and to the point.

CALL ME BACK.

The urgency in the message was palpable, and Joe's stomach twisted. He didn't need any more drama, not today. With a sigh, he stopped the treadmill and wiped his face with the towel hanging around his neck. He stepped off the machine, his legs feeling like jelly as he made his way to the bedroom to call her back.

Leah picked up on the first ring. "What the hell did you do to her?" Her voice was sharp, accusatory.

Joe's shoulders slumped. "Good morning, Leah," he said wearily, trying to keep his voice steady.

"It is 1:35 in the afternoon. You're not cute, Burrow," she snapped. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but she called me sobbing and couldn't explain what happened, so you're going to tell me right now. What did you do?"

Joe sighed heavily, his hand raking through his hair. "We had an argument," he admitted. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"What did you do, Joe?" Leah repeated.

Joe took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "It's about money," he began, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. "I transferred some to her account without asking because I noticed she was stressed about rent and loans and her card. I just wanted to help."

"Why would you do that?" she said. He could almost see her face, the roll of her eyes, the furrow of her brow. He could hear her call him a name under her breath. "You know how she is about that shit, Joe. You've seen her work herself to the bone to pay for everything herself. I don't understand why she hates financial help, but that's just how she is, and it's what makes her her. It’s something that’s important to her. Did you stop to think for three seconds about how that might make her feel?"

Joe felt the weight of his mistake sink in. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. "Not long enough, apparently."

"Yeah, no shit, dumbass," Leah's voice was tight with annoyance. "How much was it?"

Joe swallowed hard. "Like, a couple grand," he murmured, the number sounding obscene in the quiet of the room.

Leah's sharp intake of breath was his only response for a moment. "Christ. Joe, she's a doctor, not a charity case," she said, her voice measured. "You can't just throw money at her problems because you think it's a quick fix. If you were feeling that generous, you could've just sent it over to me." The last part was said with a hint of a tease, trying to lighten the mood, but Joe knew she was at least somewhat serious.

"I just wanted to make things easier for her," Joe said, his voice laced with frustration.

"And in doing so, you made it ten times harder," Leah shot back. "Look, Joe, I know you're a good guy, and you're obviously crazy about her, but you can't just bulldoze over her boundaries like they're nothing, regardless of your intentions. Doing so only makes her feel like you don’t value the things that she does."

Joe nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "But what do I do now?"

"You start by actually listening to her," Leah said firmly. "When she says she doesn't want your money, she means it. Her financial situation is only temporary. She'll be out of residency in a year, and things will get significantly easier for her. But until then, you can't just ignore her feelings because you want your knight in shining armor moment. That's not how it works with her; she doesn’t want that from you."

Joe felt the sting of Leah's words, but knew she was right. "Okay," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What do I say to her?"

"Start with an apology," Leah said, her tone softer now. "A real one, from the heart. Tell her you understand why she's upset and that you won't do it again. And let her know you respect her boundaries. Remind her how much you love her."

Joe nodded, his chest tight with the gravity of the conversation. He released a long exhale through his nose, allowing Leah's words a moment to hang in the air. "Look, Joe," she spoke up again. "I know I'm supposed to be the best friend who keeps you in check, but I'm not mad at you. I understand how frustrating this topic can be with her. But I set you two up for a reason. Don't blow this up and force me to cut you off. I have love for both of you, and I don't wanna be stuck in the middle."

He swallowed hard. "I won't," he said firmly. "I promise."

"Good." Leah's voice was firm. "I told her to turn her ass around and go home to you. She should be on her way."

Relief flood his senses, brushing cool air over his warm face. "Thank you, Leah," Joe said, sincerity coating each syllable. "For everything."

Leah sighed into the phone. "You're welcome," she said. "Oh, and also, don't let her send you that money back. Put your foot down about that, she deserves a break. Just don't try that shit again, 'kay?"

Joe chuckled sarcastically. "Lesson learned," he said. "Thank you, Leah."

Leah's voice softened. "Good luck," she said before hanging up.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his phone, staring at the screen. A few moments later, his phone buzzed with a text from her.

I'm on my way back.

The simplicity of the message didn't betray the tumult of emotions he knew she must be feeling. He texted back:

Drive safe.

The words felt inadequate, but he sent them anyway, hoping they'd serve as a lifeline across the digital divide.

As Joe waited for her, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. He knew he'd have to be more mindful of her feelings, her need for independence. He'd have to find other ways to show her how much she meant to him, beyond the material. But he also knew that she had her own walls to break down, her own compromises to make.

The sound of the garage door opening was music to his ears. He shot up from the bed and made his way to the door, his heart racing like he was running down the field with seconds left on the clock. She walked in, her eyes red and puffy, her shoulders slumped. She didn't look at him, just allowed him to wrap her in his arms. He could feel her tremble, the anger and hurt melting into his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, delicate as the brush of a feather. She shook against him, tears wetting his shirt. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, baby."

She didn't push away, but she didn't fully melt into him either. "Why did you do it?" she asked, her voice small and broken. "I was so angry, Joe. So, so angry."

He held her closer, his heart aching with each word. "I just wanted to help," he said, his voice gruff with his own unshed tears. "I should've left it alone, I know." He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her sweet scent. "But I can't stand seeing you stressed, you know that."

She nodded, her breaths hitching as she tried to hold back the sobs. "I hate fighting with you," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

Joe's arms tightened around her, his thumbs making gentle circles on her back. "Me too," he murmured. "Do you wanna talk about it? What can I do to make it right?"

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just... I don't want to feel like I owe you anything."

Joe nodded, his eyes serious. "I get it," he said. "I do. And I'm sorry for making you feel that way." He took a step back, giving her the space she needed. "But you don't owe me anything, sweetheart. Ever."

Her eyes looked for the truth in his words. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of calming down. "I know you didn't mean it like that," she said finally. "But if I'm being honest, it scared me."

Joe's eyebrows furrowed. "Scared you?"

She nodded. "It's just... it's a lot, Joe. The finances, the future, all of it. I don't want to be that girl who's with you for the wrong reasons. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet, and I don't want you to ever feel like you have to save me. I know that I don't earn what I should as a resident. But this is temporary, and I have to learn these lessons before I start making real money."

Joe's eyes searched hers, understanding dawning on his face. He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "And I'm proud of you for it, honey," he said gently. "You're handling all this stress with more grace than I ever could. You deserve every good thing I can give you. We just need to find a balance."

Her chest tightened at the nickname she had grown so fond of. It felt like a promise, a vow he was making to her right there. She stepped back, wiping her eyes. "Okay," she said, her voice shaky. "I would like you to respect my boundaries, Joe. I can't do this if you don't."

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "I will," he assured her. "I'll always respect you. I love you too much not to. But I want you to know that this is part of being with me. I'm gonna want to share all this with you, on your terms, of course, but I can't change who I am or how much I make."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she composed herself. "I know," she said, her voice softer now. "And I love you for who you are. But I can't have you making my decisions for me, Joe. That's what it felt like."

He nodded, the gravity of his mistake settling on him like a heavy weight. "I get it," he said, his voice earnest. "I'll be more careful, I promise."

She studied him for a moment, her eyes drifting over his features, as if trying to read the sincerity of his words. Joe's heart was in his throat, hoping she could see the depth of his regret. Finally, she nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Deal, thank you," she said, taking a step towards him, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Leah told me to keep the money this time, but no more, I'm serious."

Joe chuckled, relieved. "Yes, ma'am," he said, kissing her back. "You know she called to chew me out?"

She laughed, a soft, genuine sound that filled the space between them. "Well, it worked, didn't it? I'm surprised she didn't just drive up here herself."

Joe chuckled, his arms still around her. "She can drive up here all she wants, I'm not letting her through. That's practically handing my ass up on a silver platter. No thanks," he said.

Her laugh grew stronger, the tension between them starting to unwind like a tightly wound coil. They stood in the entryway, Joe's heart thumping in his chest, her eyes searching his for any signs of doubt. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, hoping each touch would be a step closer to mending what had been broken.

#&. cassie writes.#&. joe x doctor!reader: fics.#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x black!reader #joe burrow angst

349 notes · View notes

neeeooon · 2 months ago

Note

Hi !! I really love your writing!! Can I request blue lock boys more specific Rin Sae , Isagi and add whoever you want with an s/o that is a very famous and talented footballer that has countries and clubs fight over them and pay them ridiculous amounts just to play for them and s/o is like a real sweetheart but a real egoistic monster in the field

OFC and thank you so much!! 🤍

when you’re a famous footballer ;

bf bllk (aged up) x egoist!reader

itoshi rin

-> on paper, rin should hate you. he should see you as competition and want nothing more than to beat you, but he loves playing with you

-> you don’t get many chances to play together, since you’re busy in conferences with your team and the several clubs fighting over your egoist self, but when you’re finally together, you’re on the field

-> “oh, rin! i brought you some treats from sweden!” “thank you, sweetheart.” “do you want to play later? i learned some new plays i think will make my opponents cry ☺️”

-> rin used to be jealous when you’d get numerous calls and appear in several articles regarding your talent, but that jealousy soon turned into nothing but protectiveness. “be careful, okay? call me when you land in berlin.” “i will. i’ll bring home more candy you can sell to your friends~” “sounds like a deal.”

itoshi sae

-> you were one of the players madrid brought in to train with upcoming stars and quickly hit it off with their striker-turned-midfielder

-> you were the “nice” trainer. the one who never raised your voice during practice, and who brought snacks for the players at the end of the day. but what drew sae to you was your attitude on the field

-> complete 180. he sees you perform the plays you teach them, but your skill set is so far ahead of everyone else that it looks completely different. the fact that he loves and accepts that side of you is the reason he became your boyfriend in the first place

-> “honey, i have a shoot in an hour. do you mind dropping me off?” “not at all. big brand?” “big brand. we might be able to install a soccer field in our yard after i get paid.” “y/n, we don’t have room for a field.” “guess we just need a bigger place then!”

isagi yoichi

-> you are isagi’s sweetheart partner. the only person he refuses to cuss and be nasty around. which is ironic, considering the type of player you are on the field…

-> “where the hell did you learn to pass?! jesus, my grandmother could do better, and she’s blind!”

-> despite your foul mouth ! you are the best player on the field, and you spent hours the next morning practicing with your teammate to improve their passes so that they didn’t shoot like your blind grandmother

-> you love sneaking into isagi’s matches, wearing a disguise so people don’t realize you’re dating, and watching his ego with your own two eyes. it’s so different than yours, and you know that one day you’ll be getting professional deals together

nagi seishiro

-> there were only a few players in the world who could awaken something in nagi, and you’re one of them

-> watching you play made him want to play. the way you glide across the field, slipping between players before they realize you’re even close, scoring with such insane precision, it leaves your own teammates shocked

-> nagi’s chest always swelled up when he watched you. he told you this, shamelessly and eager to play with you, and you gladly offered to practice with him

-> now, you can’t imagine training without your lazy boyfriend. he doesn’t have the skill to copy like reo, but he doesn’t train to copy you. sometimes you catch yourself thinking he might surpass you one day, but your ego always squashes that thought pretty quick

282 notes · View notes

cupid-ghoul · 3 months ago

Text

⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆ what the ghouls would get you/their mate for valentine's day ⋆˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆˚｡⋆

hello lovelies and happy valentine's day 🩷 since today's one of my favourite holidays I have a treat for you - I'm cupid ghoul after all - 🩷 once again this is just for funsies and not meant to offend 🩷 you're all deserving of love 🩷 xox

Aether: he's mature and obviously has the day written down in his calendar. his phone reminds him weeks in advance to get a good gift. I believe he'd gift his beloved flowers and an annotated copy of either his or their favourite book. all of the annotations also relate to the relationship and special moments he has with his love.

Mountain: he's calm, gentle, and a romantic even if he's not showing it outwardly a lot. Mount would create a unique and beautiful bouquet made up of flowers he grew himself. the showstopper of the bouquet would be a beautiful flower he crossbred just for his petal.

Rain: he gifts his starfish jewelry. BUT unlike those people that gift their partner one of these random heart necklaces (you hopefully know the ones), rain has taste. The jewelry matches the aesthetic and preferences of his partner perfectly, since he's so observant and in tune with his lover. also if his love is into it he will present them with a blood vial necklace (he even drew it himself).

Swiss: he's a bit of a wildcard and very passionate, so for valentine's he gifts his doll a lovely little lingerie set that he will also happily take off later. with that his partner gets a fun little sex toy which will also be promptly test driven in the evening. to round it out swiss will put a lovely little box of chocolates or sweets on top because what is valentine's without a bit of traditional gift giving.

Dewdrop: he will give his angel a mixtape that he made just for them. Dew likes physical media so it's either a CD or a cassette tape and he even customised the case just for his partner. he tries to act nonchalant when actually giving the gift because he has the emotional range of a teaspoon (in reality it was VERY chalant, he almost crashed out because his little project failed at least once) but it's fine, he's trying his best.

Phantom: he's a little confused but enthusiastic about the holiday. so he presents his starlight with a rabbit skull. he really likes oddities (he has his own little collection already) and what's more romantic than hunting for your partner? exactly! nothing. it might be an odd gift but his effort and general sweetness are just selling it. however next year he might buy a jellycat.

Aurora: she loves pink, she loves hearts, and she loves the holiday (she's just like me fr) so for her bunny she goes all out. chocolates, one of those giant stuffed animals that is just a bit taller than her (it's also a you problem to figure out where to store this plush monstrosity), and a couple sex toy that she'll gladly use with her partner once things settle down for the night. who knows maybe she even makes her bunny a bracelet. she just loves love.

Sunshine: their love language is quality time so instead of gifting their firefly something sunny wants to have fun, which makes an amusement park or carnival date an ideal vday activity. sunny loves fun and the thrill of rollercoasters or haunted houses. they will win their partner one of those stuffed animals and even buys a photo of them and firefly on one of the rides. they also have some candy for their partner afterwards.

Cumulus: as a romantic she wants to spend valentine's with her love bug, so she takes them on a picnic that she prepared herself in the kitchen. sandwiches, a little cake, fruit, whatever their partner's heart desires. Lus will read to their love bug with their head in her lap and if they're into jewelry she will gift them a little piece of jewelry (necklace/bracelet/anklet) with a C charm on it.

Cirrus: she loves to spoil her honey with a fancy dinner and a nice perfume that fits her partner's taste perfectly. Cirrus wants to see them all dressed up and take them out on the town. after the date she will stop at a park for a walk under the moonlight and some whispered love confessions.

divider by @/dollywons, mdni banner by @/anitalenia, pics from Pinterest

@cyb3r-st4rz - you wanted to be tagged lovely

206 notes · View notes

espace--positif · 5 months ago

Text

A Taste of Home

A Zayne x Reader Shortfic [Love and Deepspace]

Summary: Perhaps all things did eventually have to end. This dreamlike holiday season certainly would. But for now, you could allow yourself to savor each moment, one cookie at a time. Pairing: Zayne x Reader WC: ~1.7k Content tags: holiday fluff, domestic fluff, baking, humor, implied sex

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

A sweet, spicy, and warm aroma wafted through the apartment, coaxing you away from the article plastered on your computer screen. It was an unmistakable scent — Zayne was baking again. Your stomach rumbled in response to the call of the delicious scent. Your eyes lingered on line after line of text as you tried to wrangle yourself back into focus, your feet already swinging away from the desk towards his bedroom’s doorframe. It had become your bedroom too, over the last few days.

It was meant to be a single movie night at his apartment to commemorate the holidays and the first evening you’d been able to spend together in weeks. You’d been missing him terribly, and you didn’t need to guess whether he’d felt the same — he’d paused the movie mere minutes after the title screen, and you’d made up for the lost time by getting lost in each other, moments of bliss punctuated by heated kisses full of longing and fervor as snow piled softly outside. And you’d stayed the next morning, and the next, until the days blurred into one, like an unending dream.

You knew that this blissful time would come to an end, of course, as all things did, when the haze of the holiday season would inevitably dissipate and you’d be thrown back into your usual routine. That arduous routine that would find you facing wanderers and him performing tedious surgeries, away from each other. But for the moment, you’d let yourself grow comfortable in the constancy of his presence, let yourself grow accustomed to the somewhat cold and austere decor of these halls that betrayed none of the warmth they made you feel.

You’d injected some of that warmth in yourself, in the form of bright, neatly weaved garlands of LED lights you’d hung up on any wall that could accommodate them, and pillowy soft fake snow you’d set underneath the tiny — and also fake — tree you’d been surprised to find Zayne had already put up near the decorative fireplace. You’d lightly goaded him on his unexpected display of a festive spirit as you laid out the cotton candy-like snow, an observation he’d dodged by rebutting that he could have made more believable fake snow using his Evol. You’d quipped that actually decorating was half the fun. And besides, you enjoyed leaving small marks of yourself in his apartment in the form of decorations and trinkets. He didn’t seem to mind, as you’d always find them exactly where you left them, even months later. Small, yet indelible.

Another whiff of the enticing aroma, full of cinnamon and spice and vanilla, pulled you from soft reminiscence, and you were decidedly drawn away from your computer. Your slippers softly tapped beneath your feet as you sauntered down the stairs and slid into the kitchen, where the oven’s warmth emanated from. As you’d expected, you found Zayne pulling a tray of golden brown cookies from the oven. He was dressed in a dark grey wool sweater, one of the many you’d gifted him, and his sharp features basked in the soft glow of the warm overhead lights. A small smile adorned his lips as he beheld his cookies, and he looked gentler than a soft winter’s breeze. You stood in the doorframe for a moment, savoring the picture in front of you, before another rumble of your stomach urged you to savor some of the tasty treats now laid out on a cooling rack on the counter. The sound drew Zayne’s attention to you, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Hungry, are we?” he said as he discarded his oven mitts.

“How could I not be?” you replied. “This entire place smells like a bakery.”

You stepped past Zayne as casually as you could, your hand softly grazing his back as you closed the distance between you and the object of your stomach’s desires. You stole a glance at him as you approached the rack; he was tidying mixing bowls and measuring cups from the countertop, and so you figured this was your opportunity to strike.

“Wait,” came his voice, soft yet firm. “They’re hot. Let them cool.”

“You don’t even know what I’m doing. I’m just looking at them!” you protested.

You heard Zayne hum over the slight clatter of metal bowls. “I know what you’re doing. You’re going to try and eat them when my back is turned, then you’re going to burn your tongue.”

Guilty. That had been your exact plan, tongue burning and all. It was a price you were always ready to pay when it came to freshly baked goods, and Zayne unfortunately knew you well enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I’m just admiring the artistry, honest,” you lied, a playful smile coloring your words.

“Is that so?” Zayne moved closer to you, towards the sink, dishes in tow. “And what grade does my artistry earn me this time?”

For the first time, you actually stopped to look at the cookies. You’d noticed their... peculiar shape earlier, but you’d been too enamored with their enticing smell to really pay attention to anything else. Now, you could see that each cookie was meticulously hand-crafted into some sort of animal, with chocolate chunk dotted eyes, a globular head, rounded ears (or extremely curly hair?), and a questionable large appendage at their side. They were all almost carbon copies of each other, and you admired how he’d managed to make them so faithful to each other. Other than that, you had no idea what to make of the bizarre yet endearing cookies.

Zayne must have noticed your silence, as he swiftly shut off the sink and turned to face you and the countertop that housed his creation. You realized you were squinting at the display and immediately straightened. “Uh, it’s a high score. The highest!”

Zayne narrowed his eyes as he moved towards you after drying his hands on a towel. His arm settled comfortably around your waist as he stared at his cookies from behind you, gaze seemingly second-guessing. Oh, you were laying it on far too thick.

“They’re cute. They’re, uh…”

You trailed off, hoping he would finish your sentence and enlighten you on exactly what you were looking at.

Zayne’s sharp gaze turned back to you. “Yes, what are they?”

Good lord, you had no idea. ‘Alien’ was frankly your first guess, but you refrained from verbalizing it.

“Animals…” you chanced.

“Yes.”

“B-bears?”

Zayne let out a dramatic sigh, and pinched his temples with his free hand. “No.”

It was all you could do not to let out an exasperated sigh of your own. The not-bears stared at you, chocolate eyes silently chastising you.

“Look at the tails,” said Zayne.

Baffled and wondering where you were meant to be seeing said tails, you failed to suppress a giggle. And at that, Zayne’s lips pursed into a small pout. “You have no idea what they are, do you?”

The genuine incredulity in his voice combined with the army of identical yet nondescript blobby cookie-creatures staring at you turned suppressed giggles into a fit of laughter. You tried to stop yourself from laughing, but the floodgates were already open. It wasn’t long before you felt Zayne’s own rumbling laughter at your back, and the sound warmed you more than the sweltering heat of the oven ever could. You laughed together for a while, fits occasionally quieting down until you dared to look at the cookies again and they’d start back up.

After a while, the spell finally broke, and you sighed contentedly in between small chuckles. Zayne’s hand traced light circles into the soft fabric of your hoodie as you leaned into the warmth of his body. It had been so easy to fall into this blissful domesticity, so natural, so comfortable, that you wondered how you’d ever let it go.

“They are cute. I never lied about that,” you said gently, voice barely above a whisper. Then, suddenly reminded of your original mission, you quickly swiped one of the cookies and bit at the appendage. It almost melted in your mouth, a delicious swirl of cinnamon, chocolate, and perfectly crisped brown sugar lighting up your taste buds. “Mm, and they’re delicious! That’s all that matters, Zayne.”

You raised the cookie to his mouth and he bit into what was meant to be its head. An approving hum left his lips as he savored his creation. You almost inhaled the rest of the cookie, and as you reached for another one, Zayne broke the comfortable silence with a single word. “Clopidogrel.”

The gears in your head ground to life, your eyes widening with recognition.

“Squirrels!” you exclaimed far too late.

It all made sense now: the appendage was meant to be a large tail, and the little niblets of dough at the cookies’ heads were small ears. Granted, the shapes and proportions were all wrong, a detail you attributed to dough expanding when baking, or perhaps Zayne’s memory of the actual anatomy of a squirrel being less than reliable. Regardless, you knew for sure you never could have guessed that the cookies were meant to represent your mutual, nut-loving, questionably named friend from Akso Hospital.

“Next time, I’ll just make them into circles.”

“Mm. No, I think you just need more experimentation,” you mumbled between mouthfuls of cookie. “The shape language could use some work, you know.”

“You just want me to make more cookies,” Zayne frowned in mock annoyance.

“Is that really so bad? You get to eat them too, you know,” you smiled, reaching for your third, or fourth, or perhaps sixth cookie. You’d lost count.

“Then next time, you get to make them with me,” he mumbled warmly into your ear. “Maybe they’ll turn out better with your expert artistry.”

“Deal,” you replied, turning your head to face him. You couldn’t help but bring your hand up to trace the contour of his jaw, suddenly enamored with this moment, this warmth that you weren’t willing to let go of. He leaned down and planted an unhurried kiss on your lips, and it tasted of cinnamon and chocolate and perfectly crisped brown sugar.

Yes, perhaps all things did eventually have to end. This dreamlike holiday season certainly would. But for now, you could allow yourself to savor each moment, one cookie at a time.

Note: This is inspired by the very first time we get to meet Zayne in LADS, and MC mentions how he made her little “snowballs” when they were younger. But they were actually seals! I remember thinking Zayne looked offended, so I can imagine he gets quite sensitive about his little creations lol. Thanks for reading, and happy holidays <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #dr zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x mc #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x you #lads zayne #l&ds zayne #l&ds zayne x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds #li shen #zayne fluff #lads fluff #espace--positif

193 notes · View notes

cupiidzbow · 1 month ago

Note

I absolutely love your art don't get me wrong but do you ever worry about coming off as perpetuating racism by giving the Kongs "black" traits like textured hair and alike? I was designing a Candy Kong gijinka a few days ago and I drew her black but stepped back on that given the racist association of poc and especially black people with monkies. I didn't subconsciously just think monkey equals black person, I just thought up whatever her race was as more of an afterthought but I see how that may be a deliama for anyone wanting to draw the Kongs

I am white so I wanted to hear your take on this since idk if I'm overthinking it haha 😥

i totally see where you’re coming from anon! I think it’s a lot different for me personally cause like (gestures) yknow. i am black 😭 i was super terrified of drawing my own sona bc i was super scared of people taking it the wrong way but like. well one it’s literally me . and like it’s also such a matter of like damn…… it’s so unfair that black people literally cannot enjoy cute little monkey characters or have a sona that’s a monkey bc it’s been spun to be racist against us for so long 😭 like im far from the only who’s expressed this sentiment

like i have people calling me slurs in my inbox a lot bc of my sona / most of my sonas for series are monkey characters, i guess i make it easy for people yknow . low hanging fruit. but i genuinely just love primates and it feels so unfair how it feels like i can’t enjoy an animal with racial connotations FORCED on me. 😭 like nonblack people can have a primate fursonas but it’s only a problem went black people want to. like I wish the shadow didn’t loom over my head the way it does, even thought this is something i love 😭

like it’s a totally different ballgame when it comes to nonblack people because it doesn’t have the same implications of a black artist purposefully making a monkeysona, but the whole thing with the dk series there’s many many characters with arguable black coding in game. ( I honestly think this is a rocky bc a lot og these people who made these games are not black) but i’ve seen a lot of black people who are a fan of the DK series embrace the coding a lot yknow at least I do ? 😭

( like Funky’s Jamaican coding in game and in the show isn’t lost on me, the new kong girl in the new game being brown skinned, kaylpso. many many people love tinys redesign and both dk’s voice actors in the show were black 😭) when it comes to humanizations as a nonblack person I think it totally matters if what your intention, are you purposefully playing into stereotypes/colorism etc. but that’s something you should always be nuanced about! like I don’t think all of the kongs are black but i like to think some of them are, I don’t think it’s a bad thing if people think that way too!

it’s not that im trying to perpetuate stereotypes by seeing myself in these characters but i have to deal with people thinking the worst of it . 😭 which sucks admittedly.

LONG WINDED RANT OVER TLDR . I don’t think there’s anything wrong with making them black/ or brown skinned it’s just like. be careful . use your brain a bit before you do so 😭

#ANWYASY SORRY ANT THE RAMBLE. WALKS AWAY #txt #mailbox! 💌

109 notes · View notes

drewdoa · 5 months ago

Text

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

⤷ # viktor headcannons • (a little modern..my bad)

⤷ a/n: hii this is my first post :)) these hcs don’t target any specific gender! though i will make small notes to those that do :D enjoy <3

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺ *ੈ✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚

very much the type to bring you coffee, like all the time. i picture him to be almost reliable on coffee (cause of how he’s chronically in that damn lab), he doesn’t drink it very sweet. this doesn’t mean he won’t mix things up a little though! pouring new syrups and stuff he tries and bringing you cups throughout the day. (for afab readers he brings you iced coffee and chocolates/candy when it’s your time of the month too <3)

in his free time he shops for new clothes even if he doesn’t even end up purchasing any. he also looks at clothes for you, no matter the style he will bring you something. i feel like this could sprout an idea for a little outfit haul with you guys ;))

when he’s writing notes, he outlines sentences that start with the letter of your first name. eventually it turns into connect the dots with how much he does it. there was a time where he broke night and ended up sketching your name onto his forearm. unfortunately, you didn’t notice it till after he showered and it was almost gone :(

for masc readers, he takes your ties and wears them religiously. jayce even asked what brand it was once since viktor never took it off. (<- d1 gatekeeper) this also goes for your undershirts, you wonder why your scent is so strong in his lab.

for fem readers, he collects your hair ties like cards. usually one coordinated to his uniform. there’s always a decently used black one on his left hand, it looks familiar…he took it from your desk when you met

if you bite your nails/skin, viktor keep a wrap on his hands lightly with bandages incase your accidentally cut yourself. he would then tend to the cut as fast as possible, kissing your forehead everytime he’s finished.

definitely a pro a making you things as gifts. he usually makes you flowers out of scraps he’s done using. he once made a whole bouquet with crystals that glow! the next morning, actual flowers were placed on your bed.

100% practices witchcraft sometimes. and he owns tarot cards. that is all.

is good with food/spices and stuff. he would send you recipes for you to try along with helping you out in the kitchen <3

✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦ ✦•······················•✦

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ • hi hello!! i hope you enjoyed these things i cooked up :)) more of my writing will be about things like this so if you liked this post feel free to check back for more of my stuff !! - drew •˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

{ by the way i am a new writer!! feel free to go to my asks and request anything <3 }

#arcane #arcane x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor nation #doa x arcane #arcane fanfic

188 notes · View notes

brailsthesmolgurl · 1 year ago

Text

WHERE'S MUMMY? PT.2

My first part has received an amazing amount of response, hence I decided that I would come out with a part two, and who knows? Maybe this could be another mini series for the boys? :)))) Regardless, enjoy the read!

Warnings: Comfort and Fluff, Slight Angst for some parts. Mentions of smexy times for one, suggestive for another. ANONS ARE POOPY SOMETIMES BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL STOP WRITING SUGGESTIVE HAHA :(

RAFAYEL & MARIELA

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Mariela's voice could be heard from the other room at the end of the hallway as she called out to her father. Rafayel, who was busy working on one of his art pieces, dashed towards her room at full speed, panicking at how she was calling out to him. He slammed the door open, claymore ready to be withdrawn only to find his daughter on the floor, with paint all over her face and the canvas that he had provided to her.

One may ask why did Rafayel left his daughter all alone in her room while he was working on his art piece. Rafayel, being a good father, had coaxed his daughter for 30 minutes, with candies and also anything she could possibly want, only to be rejected by her. Her adamant 'NO's made Rafayel confused as to why she would want to paint alone in her room. 'I can do this myself daddy' was the last sentence she told him before she closed the door. And he wondered where she got the attitude from, and he had a good guess probably inherited from her independent mother.

So Rafayel sat at the living room, in his usual thinking corner, painting his artwork, but also carefully listening to anything that might go on in the room. He did tried and checked up on her a couple of minutes ago, knocking on her door and asking if she would like any biscuits with milk but the young child only replied 'NO' as if that is the only word she knew for the morning.

"I thought something happened to you, my little fishie." Rafayel sighed in relief, walking over to her to look at what she had drawn. He took a seat next to her and looked at her face. "How did you managed to get paint on both the canvas and your face?" He pulled the little girl into his lap and he chuckled, using his thumb to try and rub the paint off of her face and luckily it came off pretty easily. He silently thanked your effort in purchasing non-toxic paints for Mariela.

"I wanted to do it like how daddy do it." Her smile was angelic, one of Rafayel's trademark. She reenacted how she did it, by drawing air circles on her palm and on her face. "I drew here, and here and..." She flattened her palms and plopped her face onto the surface of her palms. Rafayel was in shock at her creativity.

"So you used your hands and your face as tools to draw?" He tilted his head and when the toddler nodded giddily, Rafayel pinched her cherubic cheeks. "You are an artist just like me. No wonder you're my daughter." He kissed her cheeks and carried her up in his arms. "Now, let's get you washed up and then we will show this piece to mummy when she is back from work okay?"

"OKAY!" She cheered, both arms flying up into the air and Rafayel laughed, bringing her into the bathroom to wash her off from the mess she had brought upon herself.

The roars of your motorbike could be heard and that led Mariela to jump off of the couch, with Rafayel catching up behind her quickly. "Mummy's home!" Mariela was elated, trying to turn the door knob the best she could but with her size and strength, she is not able to. Rafayel came to the rescue on time and he opened the door, smiling when he spotted you getting off of your motorbike and unclasping the buckle of your helmet, swiftly removing the headgear and placing it on your motorbike's seat. "Mummy!"

"Hey there sweetie!" You called out and shuffled over, arms wide opened and your daughter embraced you within your arms. "How was your day today hmm?"

The latter question of yours was directed towards your husband, who was standing against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his torso while watching both of his favourite women walking towards him. "It was good because there is a surprise." He winked at you and you both shared a peck, before heading in. "Mariela, do you want to show mummy what you drawn today?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" The little girl wriggled out of your arms smoothly and she waddled off to her room. You took a seat on the marble floor and awaited for your daughter's return. Rafayel taking a seat right next to you and he encircled his arms around your waist, giving your side a soft knead. The soft sound of thuds closing in when your daughter came out from her room, with something behind her back. "Mummy close your eyes."

Your husband then got behind you and he used his palms to cover your eyes, nodding towards your daughter to proceed further. Mariela pulled the canvas out from behind her and she placed it in your lap, before taking your hand cautiously and put it on her canvas. Rafayel released his hold on your face and you looked down, gasping in surprise at what your daughter had managed to colour on her canvas. But, you can't make out any shapes or sizes, other than two hand prints of hers and what seems to be an imprint of your daughter's face.

"This is so nice of you sweetie." You pulled her in for a hug and kissed her head. "Did you do this with your hands and face?" You asked just to be sure and her reaction made you stared at Rafayel. The actual artist staring back at you, shrugging his shoulders and muttering something along the lines of 'she did not want me to see what she was doing, so I left her to her own creativity'.

"Abstract art is great!" Rafayel smiled, ruffling his daughter's brunette curls which had grown a bit longer. "Daddy can put this in the next exhibition and you can go with me to see it." Rafayel looked at his daughter and she cheered, hugging you tightly and you beckoned your husband in for a hug as well.

On the day of the exhibition, Rafayel was busy attending to the guests, completing his interviews and taking pictures with his fans. You are spending time with Mariela, hand holding hers as the both of you walked through the exhibition halls. Pink and blue and purple, all colours within the same spectrum covered the walls in forms of splatters, lace ribbons were tapered to the ceilings, to add on a touch of elegance. No doubt your husband has 'extravagance' as his middle name.

Almost every corner is littered with his artworks, ranging from abstract to rough sketches, to impressionism paintings to sculptures. Rafayel is a master to all types of artworks, which gained him the fame and respect he has gotten till now. The wooden flooring resonated the sound of your footsteps, heels clacked against it in sync. You looked down at your daughter to notice the little girl has her mouth agaped, staring at all of her father's artworks in awe. Same, Mariela, same.

"Is that the daughter he had mentioned about?" A distant voice could be heard echoing from the end of the hallway and you turned around, seeing a woman clad in a formal outfit, hair neatly tied back and a microphone in her hand. A camera man right behind of her with one of his huge video cameras situated on his shoulder. "Hi, can we do an interview?"

Out of politeness, you agreed, smiling and nodding your head and the reporter crew started to approach you and your daughter. You lowered yourself down to carry Mariela up into your arms so that she could be within the shot as well, assuming the reporter would like a word or two with the renowned artist's daughter.

"How would you describe living with Rafayel, a famous artist?" The reporter held out the mic to you, awaiting for your response.

"Uhm...living with Rafayel has always been a pleasant one, as he does take care of me and my daughter's needs." You replied, a smile coming forth. "He is a good husband and a good father."

"That is good to note. Rafayel sure do cares about you guys a lot. But, would you care to say that you fell in love with him because he is rich and famous?" The daring assumption made by the reporter made you scowled in 4k on the Linkon's National Television Network.

Your eyebrows are now knitted together, your facade of being nice slowly fading behind your rising annoyance. "No. I certainly do not and will never love him just because of his wealth and fame. I love him for the way he is."

"Fans had also mentioned that you do not seem to be a good example of a mother given you are a deepspace hunter yourself. Moreover, given the recent decrease in recruits, you had to take up double shifts to cover for the incident. What do you have to say regarding this?" The woman smirked, knowing she had struck a nerve in you. Her tone coated in layers of disdain and you can see it right through. This is a personal attack towards you and your family.

Before you could retort the question, you felt a hand on the small on your back and you turned around, your husband standing upright beside you. A look you knew all too well shown on his face. "Get out of my exhibition." The crew feigned innocence, looking at one another to mentally convince themselves that they had done nothing wrong other than doing their jobs. "Nobody disrespects my wife and my family like that. Be it fans or reporters or anyone else. SO you can kindly see yourself out before I call on my security guards." The edge of his lips curled into a cunning smirk. "Which I think might not look good on your company's reputation if they were to escort you guys out."

The bunch of strangers started dispersing out of the family's sight and you looked at Rafayel, who is quick to take Mariela off of your arms and into his. "Are you okay?" He ran the back of his hand across your cheek. "I am sorry, I should have been by your side the whole time." He apologised, putting the blame onto himself but you held his hand in yours, thumb rubbing comforting circles.

"Don't say that Rafayel. You were just doing what Thomas has asked of you. I can fend for myself if those remarks were thrown to me." You gave him a peck on your cheek. "Even if the day you end up being homeless and broke, I will still love you." You looked over to your daughter, who had cosied up to her father's neck, fast asleep.

"The same thing applies from me to you too, cutie." The use of the old nickname rolling off of the tip of his tongue made you bit your lip and you could not help but to smile, looking down at your heels. His finger lifted your chin up, and he pressed a kiss onto your lips lovingly in the middle of the exhibition hallway, ensuring that reporters who may be passing by would be able to catch a glimpse of his actual exhibition of love.

ZAYNE & LUMI & IVER

"Good morning." You could make out Zayne's husky voice and his weight was pressed up slightly against your back, a kiss then planted on your cheek. "Today is Lumi and Iver's presentation day. The one where they have to bring a parent along and to introduce them."

"Oh it's today?" You asked, yawning and stirring yourself to wake. You turned over to face your husband and you opened one eye. "I totally forgotten about it." Zayne smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You felt particularly tired because today is one of those rare off days you could get whenever Wanderer sightings are not reported as often, and perhaps, with the amount of lovemaking you had gone through with Zayne last night, it was a little hard for you to just jump out of bed and get ready for now.

"I can go on behalf on us as I do not need to be in the hospital today." He smoothed his hand over your hair, staring at you lovingly with those alluring hazel-green eyes of his. "So, take your time to rest, my love. You deserve it." Another kiss is pressed to your lips for a few seconds and he got out of bed, walking over to you to pull his side of blanket over your half naked body. "I don't want you to get a cold, so you may take my side of the blanket too."

You smiled warmly at him in return and managed to catch a glimpse of his toned physique when he walked towards the bathroom to wash himself up. Once he was done, he went over to the kids' room to wake them up. "Lumi, Iver. It's time to wake up." He said gently, pushing the curtains open to draw in the sunlight. The twins slowly stirred awake and they both sat up in their beds, in a half awake state.

"Morning daddy." Lumi spoke, with Iver saying the same exact greeting a few seconds behind. As if by routine, they both extended their arms out and Zayne picked both of them up in one-go, bringing them to the bathroom so they could get washed up and get dressed for school.

Pulling up at the twin's kindergarten, Zayne parked at the allocated parking lots for the parents and he got out of the car, immediately getting stares and comments from the bystanders in hushed whispers. Not only does he own a fancy car that most parents could not afford, but he is also extremely good looking. He popped the backseat's door open and escorted both of his kids into the kindergarten's premises.

Zayne sat on the floor, just like the other parents but it felt a little out of place for him as he was the only father who attended this event. The usual stigma regarding kids shall always be tied to a mother's responsibility but Zayne has never believed in that. He strongly believes that childrens are a result of both sides of parents, hence they should be a shared responsibility for both parents.

Lumi and Iver sat in front of their father, and they noticed the way their classmates were looking over to them. "Is that your daddy?" One of the classmates asked Lumi, the toddler about her size, with big brown eyes and short brown bob. Lumi nodded in return. "My mummy say he looks very nice." The comment made Zayne looked over at the parent who is in charge of the talking child and the mother looked away in embarassment.

As usual, Zayne is used to this kind of scenarios, even in hospitals he would always be stared at by patients, some even going as far as to state that they are cured because of how handsome he is. Zayne however, never bought into any of those bullshit. It is not because he is egoistic, but he does not want to be downplayed because of his looks. The saying goes, if you are handsome, you get a certain privilege amongst the normies. Zayne wanted to prove that idea to be a total scam as looks does not necessarily equate to one's actual capabilities in getting things done. Zayne being a prime example.

The homeroom teacher came in after the bell had finished ringing and she welcomed all of the parents' attendance. Goes on about the agenda for the day and that this event is held to encourage stronger bonds between parents and children and amongst their peers as well. "Lumi and Iver's father, would you like to be the first one to start?" She asked Zayne, palms out and pointed towards him.

"Sure." The man replied, clearing his throat and standing up, his towering height a stark difference from his children. He walked to the front of the classroom. Kids of their age would have thought of him being the giant in the beanstalk fairytale if only he had green skin and a big nose. Zayne pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and greeted everyone. "Good morning everybody, my name is Zayne and I am the father to Lumi and Iver." He sent a smile towards his kids. "I am the chief surgeon and leading cardiologist for Akso Hospital."

Zayne talked about his job, keeping it brief and non-technical as he does not want to bore anyone within the room and he does not find the need to reveal too much of his personal information. Now comes the questioning phase, in which the parents would ask questions towards the speaker to get to know them better. "Dr. Zayne, since you are a doctor, would your work take up a lot of time?" One of the ladies asked, readjusting her position on the mat.

"Yes it does." Simple and clear-cut.

"Then do you have a wife to take care of the kids for you?" Her question turned into a flirtatious attempt and a couple of other mums started to tune in, some biting their lip and some fixing their hair. Does not take one to know what was already running through their minds.

Zayne sighed, feeling indifferent to her question. He purposely held his left hand in front of his chest and he twisted the wedding band that is evident on his ring finger, the diamond cut on the simple band refracting the sunlight almost immediately. The lady who asked her question seemingly tried to choke back on her own words, face darkening to a shade akin to a tomato. "Of course I do. A doctor would not be in his or her right mind to have kids and to work full time when our job requires us to be on call for 24/7."

He continued. "My wife is a full time deepspace hunter and we are both equally as involved in our children's lives, just on intervals for the weekdays, but on weekends, we take more time to nurture them." The way he phrased his answer made the whole room went silent, the only sound present being the chirps of the birds coming from outside of the window.

"We are home mummy!" Both of the twins shouted together, placing their shoes onto the shoe rack and dashing into the house to look for their mother. Zayne followed in suit, keeping an eye on them two so they do not end up falling.

"Hey there my babies!" You called out from your bedroom, already dressed up and wide awake. Lumi and Iver both in their tiny white uniforms with stripes of blue, the uniform colour of the kindergarten they both attended. Lumi's dark hair was tied into a neat braid, an effort from Zayne's Youtube history having a streak watch for braid tutorials. Iver's hair however is soft and fluffy, the same as his father’s and it sat on top of his head like a cloud.

"How was the parent meeting?" You asked them two, and they both enveloped you into a big hug, each on one side. Both of your kids looked very happy so you assumed that it went well.

"All of our friends brought mummies." Iver stated. "Nobody bring their daddies to school today." Lumi nudged Iver and whispered something into his ear in her low voice and the boy reiterated what her sister said. "Oh and Cathy's mummy said daddy looks very good."

"She said he is handsome." Lumi corrected Iver and they both turned in sync to watch your reaction. What could you possibly say? Your husband is good looking, it is a bound-to-happen situation but you somehow wished you were the one that attended the event instead. A small slither of jealousy bubbled in your stomach. Just a tiny one.

You were wondering if Zayne took the lady's compliment until you saw your husband walking into the room, with a stoic look. He has always been stoic, yes, but this time, something is different about this look of his. His white formal collared shirt hugged his muscled figure well, his simple black tie hanging loosely below the third button, extending one's sight on his wide sets of shoulders and his v-line figure. His sleeves were folded to his forearm, veins lining against the exposed part of his arms. He placed the car keys and his glasses onto the makeup table and sent you a short look, the side of his lips pulled up into a greeting and loving smile. "Good morning, y/n."

"Good morning, my love." You wanted to believe that Zayne did not entertain the lady's compliment, but you just wanted to hear him say it. So, y/n decided to go with an indirect approach. "Kids, can you wait for mummy outside? Daddy and mummy have to talk a little." Once both of the kids had left, you turned to your 'sulking' husband who was busy changing into a more comfortable outfit. "Come on, what happened?"

"Apparently, I was the only male figure there." He spoke informatively. "And particularly, I do not find it likeable when the other parents think that I am a single parent." His sentence got you figuring when did he ever cared about what people think about him? Has the cold Dr. Zayne finally loosened up? "I find it disrespectful towards you despite them meeting me for the first time." He sounds offended and yet providing the benefit of the doubt to the other parents.

You stared at him, perplexed at the situation. "So, conclusively, you do not enjoy going to the parent's meeting?" You crossed your arms in front of your torso. "Because you do not like the way I got low-key disrespected by the other mums?" A part of you is tasting victory at the tip of your tongue for how protective he is, another part of you---, okay there's no other part. It is the least Zayne could do to show you and the others that he is in a happy marriage and you are fully content with the way he had handled it.

There is not a need to address your concerns of the woman calling him handsome anymore because you know well enough if Zayne had wanted to cheat on you, he could have done it many times given his popularity amongst the opposite sex. But he stayed loyal through thick and thin and had never made you doubt his loyalty and love to you, this being one of his prime examples of being a fine husband.

Zayne chuckled under his breath and came closer to you, both of his hands held your arms and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Low-key is too minimal of a word to describe their assumptions. It is disrespectful for them to assume I am a single parent, when I have a model wife right here with me." He ran his hands repeatedly up and down your arms to comfort you.

"Furthermore, I do enjoy going to Lumi and Iver's events at the kindergarten but perhaps next time, I would much prefer it if you went with me." He pulled you into his arms and you surrendered within his hug. "So that we can spend time with the kids and I get to indirectly dismiss any ladies who may be interested in taking your place." Your laugh further made him look forward to the upcoming event for his kids' kindergarten.

XAVIER & LUCIAN

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Lucian appeared from behind his bedroom door, one eye opened while the other half-lidded. Xavier took a peek at the clock hung on the wall. 10.30am. Lucian, however, is looking at the desk filled with all sorts of sewing needles and a bunch of fabric lapped over one another. "Are you making something daddy?" His eyebrows hinged upwards and he tried to get onto his tip toes to see what was placed on the table. Seeing his son struggling, he carried the little boy up into his arms and placed him on his lap. "I am trying to sew mum a toy, you know, like the ones that you can get from the souvenir shops and all?" Lucian looked between his father and the mess on the table, figuring out how does one make a bunch of cloths into a toy. The limitation of imagination a normal happening for a toddler his age. "What should we make for mummy?"

"A big teddy bear!" The son exclaimed, arms wide and laughing happily. Xavier chuckled along, his son not lacking any bit of his wife's enthusiasm. "Rabbit? Mummy likes rabbits." The son pressed his small index finger to his own lips, thinking to himself. The suggestion of his made Xavier's cheeks flushed red, remembering that one time when you brought him to an event and made him dressed up as a rabbit themed butler, and that is how he met Lucian's mum. Ironic, I know.

"Yeah, I guess a rabbit would do." A sigh escaped his lips when he noticed none of the cloths on the table are white. Unless his wife would be able to appreciate a multi-coloured rabbit toy, he did not want to risk it. "We need to go shopping for some stuffs. Can you go and change your clothes Lucian?" Xavier instructed and the little boy headed off to his bedroom as he was previously trained. As much as independence goes, you and Xavier had decided that some good habits have to be instilled from young. Dressing himself up being one of the disciplines you guys had agreed on.

Xavier got himself changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of wide jeans. Surprisingly and yet not surprisingly, Lucian came out of his room, holding a same blue jeans in his hand. "Daddy, can you help me? It is hard to pull it up-up." He pouted, handing Xavier the jeans. Steadying himself, Xavier pulled the jeans up his legs and helped him to button it. "Thank you daddy." The son grinned from ear to ear and held onto Xavier's hand, going over to put on his shoes.

Initially, they were going to ride the motorbike to get to where they are headed, but given the sun is high up the skies today, it calls for a chance for the both of them to enjoy a walk under the clear and warm weather. Xavier did brought along an umbrella as well, in case Lucian gets a little hot. Just because he enjoys the sun, he does not immediately assume his son would enjoy it as much. A lesson he had learned from his wife when you got a fever after walking with him under the sun despite you not being able to stand the heat.

The streets today are not as busy as the normal weekends, with minimal traffic and pedestrians. "Are you tired already?" Xavier observed his son, his footsteps slowing down and slightly wonky. Lucian looked up at his towering father and shake his head, hand coming up to rub his eyes and he yawned. Tears lined his eyes and Xavier bent down to carry his son up into his arms. "It's okay, you can take a nap in my arms, kiddo."

He walked down the street, passing by a coffee shop that looked newly opened. As he was looking through the menu that was on a stand outside, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fishing it out of his pocket, he noticed that his wife is contacting him. "Hello? Baby?" He immediately pressed the phone to his ear. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I woke up to an empty house. Where are you and Lucian?" You asked and he gulped, luckily he had kept the threads and sewing kits and fabrics or else the surprise factor would be ruined.

"Lucian told me that he wanted to have a walk at the park. Since you are still sound asleep, I decided to bring him out for a small walk." Xavier explained, head tilting slightly to look at his son. Still sound asleep within his arms. "We will be back around 15 minutes. Is there anything you would like me to get for you?"

"Some coffee would be great, Xavier." You smiled on the other side of the line, same as him. "Be safe when you are at the park with Lucian alright? I will just rest a bit more at home." You informed him and the call ended with 'Bye' and 'I love you'.

Arriving at a craft store, he lightly woke his son up by kissing his cheek. "We are here Lucian, would you like to accompany me to decide on what colour to get for mummy?" Lucian blinked open his eyes, those light blue irises of his slowly darkened to make up for the lack of lighting within the store. The trinkets neatly placed in various baskets and boxes amazed the child, there are so many things he would like to get his hands on.

"Hi there, how may I help you?" A senior appeared from behind the counter. A lovely lady with a hunched figure, her own kitting works worn on her. Xavier leaned closer to the counter, noticing the vast amount of fabrics, of all sizes and textures mapped out behind the counter. There are also several pictures, in monogramic style, featuring the old lady in her younger days and what seems to be her children, standing side by side, smiling with her. Her light brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of Xavier and Lucian. "Oh, what a precious child."

"Thank you." Xavier thanked her. The old lady laid her knitting items down onto the table she had beside her and she reached her wrinkly hand up to wave it in front of Lucian. The young kid was quick to react, using his tiny hand to wrap around the lady's index finger and Xavier swear he could have seen the old woman regained her youth at that moment. Perhaps reminiscing about the times when she had her kids alongside her. "I am here to get some fabric so I can make a stuffed toy for my wife."

Now it is Xavier's time to have a hunched back. He never thought the process of sewing a stuffed toy would be so complicated. Can't blame him, given his royalty background in Philos and him being an esteemed deepspace hunter in this dimension, why would he even go near anything related to sewing and knitting? It is however, a part-time hobby of yours, as you mentioned that you find it to be peaceful and helps you to focus better. It is also a good past time on the days when you are not busy out on the field.

"Daddy, daddy look at that!" Lucian called out and his head turned towards the direction his son pointed at. Claw Machine Store. Why has he never thought of just taking things the easy route? Because he did not want to. Catching a stuffed toy from a claw machine will always surpass the level of easiness as compared to making a stuffed toy from scratch. Furthermore, the thought of you finding out he actually put in the effort to make the stuffed toy for you would leave your heart melting. He wanted that from you, or more like he just wants you to be happy.

Across the street stood the claw machine store, with stuffed toys filled to the brim for each of the machines, begging to be caught. Your son's eyes are fully attached to the store now, already making mental marks on which toys he would want in his room. Your husband lack that enthusiasm, staring down at the huge bag of craft items he had just purchased from the store. He is debating against himself. Whether to catch a toy or to make one. Either one could predict for different endings, but he knows that you would be happy for both endings. Perhaps he was slightly irritated for the measuring of the level for your happiness.

"Let's go Lucian." He grabbed his son and heaved him upwards, holding the child in his arms like how one carries a log and he crossed the empty street. His feet light and quick in his steps, a habit obtained from his long-time combat instincts. The borders of the tar road ended when he stepped onto the padded pavement, putting his son down and watched as the kid hopped into the store. Xavier was quick on his tail, worried that something might happen to his son.

Luckily, the little boy with the light hair is easy to spot amongst the assemblage of neon lights and bright colours emitting from the machines. Lucian stood in front of a machine, hands pressed against the glass panel, hair stained pink from the light strobe of the machine. "Can we get this one for mummy?" His grin was angelic, but Xavier stood there, slightly stunned. Did his son perhaps doubted his sewing abilities as well like how he doubted his cooking abilities? Well, there is a possibility.

"But I bought these already kiddo. I thought we were going to make a toy for mummy." Xavier tried to test the waters and his son only responded with gestures, tine finger tapped at the glass panel again, pointing directly at the bunny plushie. "Lucian..." Xavier tried to coax him again.

Lucian then faced his father, lips pursed together. "The granny told me that you might get hurt from sewweng." The last word that has not been registered in his vocabulary. "I don't want daddy to get hurt. I don't think mummy will be happy too." For a 3-year old, his sensibility is admirable. His son's words changed his mind, and he gave the little boy a card, the one where he usually reloads a bit too much tokens in it for any sorts of arcades. "Let's get one for mummy together okay?"

"You," You closed the bedroom door behind you, a pastel pink stuffed rabbit in your grasp. Lucian had already being put to sleep shortly after his dinner because the poor boy was dozing off on the dining table. Today could have been a long day for your son. You watched your husband shifted his gaze from the mukbang show on the television to you. "Are a bad liar."

"What do you mean?" His voice feigning innocence when he sat up in a better posture, leaning against the bedframe now. "What have I done this time?"

"Lucian told me that you stitched this yourself." Your teasing smile is apparent to him now, you wiggling the bunny in your hands to show him the evident of his works.

"Do you not believe me?" Xavier's eyes widened, here comes the puppy look. He got out of the bed and slowly approached you. His aura taking a turn from being accused to being the accuser. "Or, do you not want to believe that I stitched it?"

You took a step back, your lower back pressed against the makeup table and he caged you, arms extended on both sides of your figure and he leaned in, smirking and chuckling lowly under his breath. "I...I...didn't know you could stitch toys." Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel his warm breath fanned across your cheeks.

"I feel a little bit upset now." He expressed, pressing a soft and longing kiss onto your cheek and you jolted in shock. "Your son and I had tried to get a toy for you at the arcade today but we kind of finished the credits because the machine was problematic." You would safely put a finger on the fact that he is just bad at claw machine games as per usual. "So, Lucian and I decided to go back to the store where we bought the craft products from and got the old lady behind the counter to give us a crafting lesson. Then this bunny is the outcome of the lesson."

You can feel your heart bloomed at his explanation. You felt bad for doubting his skills, and you even thought that the bad stitching of the toy is a trend nowadays hence you assume your poor husband went off fishing at the claw machine arcades. You should not have doubted his determination. "I'm sorry Xavier, I didn't mean to. I just never thought you would go so out of your way to make me a stuffed bunny. I just---" His index finger slid past your bottom lip at a painfully slow pace.

"Sometimes, you can choose other methods to let me know that you're sorry." He whispered quietly and leaned down to kiss you, the doll you were holding taken out of your hands and tossed behind him, landing on the floor with a thud and your vision blended out into both of your igniting passion.

Here you go lovelies, this is part two for the LNDS boys with their kids and you <3

Leave me your thoughts and love <3 Have a nice day to all me lovelies!!!!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

684 notes · View notes

bettystonewell · 5 days ago

Text

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 12

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 6.4k words

Chapter Warnings: fluff, angst, reader is still anxious, guilt, mentions of past miscarriage, Dean is one proud papa to be, alpha Dean taking care of his omega

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

There was something about leaving the Pack Planning clinic with smiling faces that drew a kind of attention Dean had never experienced before.

The people you passed as you made your way through the hospital were friendlier than those he ran into on the daily. With returning smiles and pleasant demeanours all round. He was wary at first and it did little to stop him from pulling faces back at them while channelling his inner David Yaeger.

Of course, he was better looking, and had better teeth, thanks to Garth.

Yup. Dean was nothing like his favourite slasher. He still considered himself an eight, maybe a nine now that he was gonna be a father. That college chick with her dad-bod analogy suddenly spoke to him, and he ran his tongue from one canine to the other when he saw his reflection in the domed mirror you passed by in radiology.

He was rocking it - and bonus - there were no monsters to be seen. Only him, his bod, and plenty of eyes following you in particular.

Hell. You were rocking it, too, in that dress. Especially now that your underwear was back on. Yes, he knew how off that sounded, but he was more concerned with being worried.

Should he have been worried? Were these strangers all scenting the pup, or was there another creature that might sense your hopes for the future and want to feed off them?

He had no freaking clue. It was weird though, and well...yeah, okay, it was kinda nice. At least no one looked at him like he smelled bad anymore. Though he did half expect to see a guy wearing a candy stripe suit holding a cane and singing good morning to the pigeons hanging around the rafters of the parking lot.

Man, he was happy to take you and Baby far from there. That tingling feeling up his spine from leaving her as long as he had could get wrecked.

He was happier still to pull up a seat in the diner down the road as planned, where he could hide away from all the happiness and normal he just couldn’t for the life of him get used to.

The joint was quiet for somewhere boasting to have the state’s best of anything, which he loved. A row of booths along the front window had two outta six occupied, and most four-tops were empty.

It was perfect, even when you sat in a free booth.

He’d have preferred a table in the back to shy even further away from the world, but he got it. The bouncy benches of leather and foam looked way more comfortable than the basket weave thing the chairs had going on.

But while the seats you sat in were a prime choice for his ass, the staff and other patrons were just as friendly as those outside, and he soon became a sympathiser for goldfish and their feelings real quick.

Damn windows. So much for perfection. It was unbecoming. Unnerving even, and it left a weird taste in his mouth.

Though, the diner and its inhabitants weren’t the problem here.

It wasn’t the mouthful of key lime pie he’d just woofed, nor was it the strawberry shake he’d used to wash down the delicious pastry and cream with either. No. No, no. It was from your question in answer to his, of all things that had him dropping his fork with a loud clatter on his plate and him staring at you with wide eyes next.

What did you mean, what would he do if Baby got totalled? “What the hell kind of question is that?”

He said it with such animosity, it had you biting your cheek as you stared back at him from your side of the booth, all guilt teed with nerves. It caused a few other pairs of eyes to find their way back to him, too, and worse, linger. People weren’t so friendly towards him now that he’d clearly upset you, and he missed the niceties.

The waitress who’d sold him on the pie, and had even given him a larger slice, shot daggers at him. Her coworker, working behind the counter, mid-pour, pouring coffee for the customer she was serving, served him a look that made him feel like he was the Scum of the Earth.

Wow. How things changed. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Could he go back to the happy smiles, please? Because this was worse than being the mud on his boot, and worse still, was the older omega at the table behind you.

She’d stopped her conversation with her equally ageing mate to glare at him as well. Only hers felt more precarious and made him shudder. She could’ve thrown ice down his shirt and it’d be no different.

He just wanted to find out what’d been bothering you. You know - be a good mate and follow through on what he’d promised back in the exam room? He’d done the first half with the diner, so at least he was trying. But you’d hit him with such a low blow, he wasn’t the bad guy here. You were.

With your battering lashes, you’d moved on from your cheek and were now chowing down on your plump lower lip. About to break the skin if he didn’t do something, because then there’d really be blood.

You might’ve had him wrapped around his finger, but it still was a dick move on your part. How could you suggest he let Baby get that mangled?

He cringed at the thought. Seeing her roof caved in and her windows smashed all over again had him squirming over the faux leather cushioning and rapping his fingers on the tabletop. Anything to mimic the beating in his chest. He needed to drown it out because you’d about gone and given him a heart attack.

“I wouldn’t replace her, if that’s what you’re asking?” he said.

Only it was. He knew it in one glance.

Like a brick wall, easy to read and talk to, but not so able to give the same back, you slouched further into your side of the booth and dropped your head, shying away from his unsettled gaze before the first tear fell down your cheek.

How the hell did you do that? You’d threatened Baby, and you got to cry?

What about him?

Not to mention this was supposed to be a celebration. You’d heard the pup’s heartbeat an hour ago, and according to Doctor Cameron, both you and he were healthy. As far as Dean was aware, that’s what you wanted, but everything was screaming the opposite and he was…panicking.

This wasn’t him. He was cool as a cucumber, and ready for anything. Just not omegas who weren’t as calm and collected as he was.

“Okay. You know what? Shove on over,” he said on deaf ears. He waved his hand anyway and shuffled himself to the edge of the cushion, standing so quickly he caught his thighs on the underside of the wood and the eyes of that damn old broad.

She was still sitting behind you. Still listening in and not afraid to make it obvious.

He gave her a pursed smile before scurrying over to slip in next to you. His peripheral scanning the room for the whereabouts of the others, and he shuddered. Yup. He was the scum for making his pregnant mate cry. Got it. Message received. Thanks ladies.

He draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close, swiping away what moisture he could from your cheeks. It would be a losing battle if he didn’t sort this out, and soon.

“What’s so bad that you’re threatening my car instead of telling me what’s wrong, huh?” he said. He had to bob his head down on an angle to capture your stare, hating the sight he found and the shaky breath you used to calm yourself.

“I was going for something you might understand,” you said, keeping your distance from his torso with your spine on a lean. Thank god there was a window there to help keep you boxed in. “Wasn’t quite the answer I wanted, though.”

“You tryna compare Baby to something?” he asked, tightening his grip. Why on Earth did you have to choose her for whatever sick example this was?

“Yeah,” you said, as if things were obvious. “The pup.” Your brows furrowed even more than they were already, and Dean blinked.

What? Okay, okay. That’s all that had been on both your minds since finding out. Didn’t mean he was expecting it.

You’d just asked what he’d do if Baby ever got wrecked. How that could even happen without any of you getting injured was beyond him, but you’d told him that wasn’t the important part.

“Say she accidentally got picked up by a wrecker and thrown in one of those crusher things,” you’d said, syphoning your own, much prettier version of Hachetman, if pretty could be associated with something so foul.

The death of a car was one thing, but the pup? His pup. What kind of sick mother…oh.

Your whole torso shook under the weight of his arm as you pushed more air out of your lungs. “It’s just…every time I find something to be excited about, I feel guilty,” you said quietly. Almost in shock at your own words.

The cushion squeaked under you and sunk under him as you reached for your shake. It was the most you’d moved since he’d squished in next to you. Having barely made room for him in the first place, and though there wasn’t anything left in your cup, you still sucked on the air.

You were stealing his moves. Classic Dean. If you were drinking, you weren’t talking.

His head nodded, only at a snail’s pace, and he swallowed real hard. Unlike you, he at least had something in his mouth. “The one you lost?” he probed, able to call Yahtzee on your change in breathing alone.

“I know it’s stupid ‘cause they weren’t even viable, but I can’t stop thinking what if, y’know?” You brought your hand down to rest on your stomach and he did the same, covering your warm skin with his.

He was fascinated. Still as captivated as ever that the life growing inside of you was a part of him, too. But while he gave you a comforting smile, and though you smiled back, it twisted into a frown.

“About what, sweetheart?” He’d seen that look on you too many times to count since claiming you. Didn’t suit a happily mated omega, and it wasn’t the one he’d claimed.

“I was in denial this morning over being sick. It just felt too soon. But then Sam’s smoothie glooped at me and…well I…” Your head thumped back against his arm, still on the top of the bench, staring at the ceiling with fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. “They didn’t even have a heartbeat. I dunno why I—”

“Hey. No.” He twisted in the seat, took the same arm out from under you and come-hithered his hands. He was pushing you into his chest in no time and shielding you from all the eyes that had found their way back on him. He couldn’t care less now.

You weren’t stupid for grieving, and he wasn’t letting you think it. “Don’t do that to yourself, huh? Our little guy’s been real to me since I scented him, and he’s not a replacement. He’s their brother.”

There might’ve been some self preservation in there, but what did you expect? His priorities were with you and the pup under his fingertips. It was hard to tack on any relation to Dick and his jaw clenched because of it and his unusual lack of emotional restraint.

His jacket muffled your voice, but he still caught the curious and meek, “Brother?”

He chuckled. That boyish one, sounding more lecherous than was appropriate in the moment. His selfish side could work with the reprieve, and he finally took a chance around the room.

Crisis averted. For now, the other women were minding theirs, and he was no longer under scrutiny, except yours. But he could win you over.

He may have misunderstood something after all. Not that he still believed the ring Doctor Cameron had pointed out to you on the ultrasound was his actual sac.

That was stupid - it was way too big compared to the rest of him. But when Dean heard the word, that good old niggle in his gut that made him both fear and marvel at his future also told him they were a boy.

“I’ve had this feeling. Ever since I saw his ticker,” he said on a lean as he searched for the one pair of eyes he wanted to see.

They were still glistening with tears. Your cheeks flush and almost the same colour as your trembling lips.

His thumb swiped through both sides, grateful that you weren’t hiding behind milkshakes or the wet patch of his jacket pocket anymore.

He let go of you and reached for his phone he’d left in place of himself at his original seat and punched in the password to reveal the video he’d taken of your ultrasound already up on the screen. Paused, yes, but open from watching it more than once.

The flicker that had captivated Dean’s heart came to life, and his mouth grew wider. “See that?” He pointed to a dot next to the jelly bean shape the doc had called a pole. “That’s my boy.” And damn, was he prouder than ever? Sure he didn’t look like much, but you guys had made that. There it was, right there.

“That’s just my uterus.” You sighed, and Dean’s bubble burst.

Those weren’t the words of a momma to be. You were supposed to argue with him. Tell him they might be a girl or remind him the doctors can’t tell you yet.

Not this.

He puckered his lips, rubbing them together.

Of course, he knew he couldn’t just slap a bandaid on you and whisper a ‘there there.’ Things didn’t work like that. He’d already tried, and the adhesive was wearing off.

No. There was no straightforward solution to this, just as you still needed to sort out your grievances with Dick and your mom. But he could give you some kind of hope.

As a hunter, he had the world at his fingertips for superstitions, and his mom’s (not so wise) words about angels.

“When I claimed ya, did you get a glimpse of heaven, too?” he whispered, aware the other booths still had ears.

They may not have been looking at you, but the old broad’s scent had piqued when he’d played the video.

You sniffled. A blink caused a stray tear to roll down your face. “It’s…real?”

“Yeah, and I got no doubt they’re up there, looking out for him already.”

It didn’t matter that they’d had no physical body to move around in. There had to be a soul of some form…maybe. He wasn’t about to get into the dilemma of what made up one. Not when you were pained enough to cling to any load of crap thrown at you. Funny how that worked, even for you.

Your face was sure lighter, and he cupped it, brushing his thumb over your lip this time. “They’re probably looking out for their mom, too. Hating that you’re sad.”

“But I wanted them here,” you said with a blank stare and a split second of anger he caught in your scent before the guilt you’d been talking about overtook it.

And fuck. Ain’t nobody was going to see him break down. His eyes sure found something in them just as quick as your outburst had come and gone, though.

Your forehead hit his sternum, but he was grappling your arms and pulling you with him and out of the booth before you could settle.

He wanted you home. He wanted you there now, where he could hide you away from all these damn people. He’d had enough of today and it wasn’t even lunch yet.

Dean reached into his back pocket and threw a hefty tip down along with the other bills on the table, busting you out and into Baby’s cab on the street as soon as he had.

She was comfort, she was home, she was undamaged, but his priorities lay with you and the pup, and his fingers glided over yours instead of the leather-bound wheel that attracted them as he sat down.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

The seat creaked underneath you as you fell into his chest, and he was shifting his hands again to wrap himself around you the best way he could without the steering column digging into his side.

“‘S good thing I made a bigger one then.” He huffed, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “Truth is. I dunno where your pup is. I thought that stuff about heaven would help ya, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I was just being selfish,” you said in a whisper, pulling back to look at him in search of reassurance. Whether you believed it, he couldn’t tell, but the sight of your eyes full to the brim with tears cut him deep.

“It’s not selfish to want a healthy kid. I was praying before we saw him on the screen,” he admitted.

“You were?”

“Yeah,” he said, hesitating to say anymore than that. You didn’t need him mentioning he’d prayed. He’d already fucked up by comparing his pup with Dick’s. He may as well have let what little restraint he had left tell you he was happy for your loss because it had brought you to him...

Yeah. Absolutely not. Even if it was true in a roundabout, sick and twisted way.

His knuckles came up to brush over your cheekbone and his elbow to rest over the backrest. He couldn’t leave things as they were, either.

“There’s, ah, not much I can say that doesn’t make me out to be a huge asshole. Though you might deserve some of it after you threatened my car…” Obviously it was a joke, but he regretted it the second it left his mouth, even when your lip twitched up.

“I’m sorry.” He huffed and shook his head, smoothing his hand over the black leather and the stitching of her dimples. You deserved nothing of the sort. “And I’m really sorry you lost your first. I know it wasn’t easy, and I know it makes things harder for you now.”

“It was a long time ago,” you whispered, eyes flicking down below Baby’s dash and away from him when his face screwed up.

You made it sound like it belonged in a history book, but two years was nothing.

“Hey.” His palm stretched his fingers over your cheek. “It’s been fresh in your mind since I claimed you,” he tried, nudging your face to bring you back to him.

You were defiant at first, until you spoke up, louder than expected. Not angry, even in your gaze, but bewildered, hurt. Still full of despair. “Then how come you’re not freaking out all the time? You went to hell, and purgatory, and…heaven?”

“Yeah. But I knew all that stuff was happening when it happened.”

Okay, purgatory wasn’t expected when he’d ganked Dick’s namesake, and heaven was thanks to Zachariah being a douche. But he’d taken the deal that sent him to hell. After it, the other two were like taking a walk in the park.

“It took my dumbass questions ‘bout your past for you to realise Dick was a dick.”

“They weren’t dumb.”

“Just like you’re not stupid for grieving,” he said with a wag of his brows that softened as soon as your mouth widened into a grin large enough for him to accept.

He needed a solution besides his arms wrapping ‘round you tight again. As much as he loved doing it, there were a couple more things you needed to do before returning to the bunker, and it wasn’t possible with you connected as you were.

He dropped his head down on a lean and hit his numbskull against yours.

“You can be excited and sad, y’know?” he said in the tone of a teacher (or parent), nurturing a child on the finesse of feelings and that it was okay to have them.

You huffed, and he captured it along with your lips and the remnants of chocolate milk, just as fitting, in a forceful kiss.

”Go as crazy as you like,” he then continued. “You’ve got a free pass for the next eight months.”

Though he soon regretted those words.

Telling you what he had was the same as flicking a switch somewhere in you, and sending your emotions into overdrive.

He wasn’t a douche like Dick for saying so, either. It was a fact, and if you looked at things from his perspective, you’d understand.

You were touchier than normal, and yes, you had your reasons. Again, he wasn’t a douche. But simple decisions suddenly became more of a chore. Like, did you want your burrito with mild salsa or the hottest of the hot? Toasted or fresh? Rice or none? Diet soda, or another milkshake?

Food choices were important, but spicy, crispy, and extra carbs were an obvious choice the first time.

Seeing you examine the back of every prenatal vitamin jar in not one, but two pharmacies and a supermarket was more understandable. The difference between folate and folic acid as a name would have anyone wary. Dean had seen what harsh chemicals could do to people - making him not so sure of the labels himself.

However, more tears when he forgot to grab the ice cream you hadn’t asked for while paying for gas, and the spike of jealousy he sensed when you saw an omega, heavily pregnant, was just...it was weird, right?

He was gonna remember that last one if you ever complained to him you looked like a whale later on down the line.

Lisa’s sister Jenny should have asked no one other than her mate that question.

But with you, he had leeway. He’d tell it to you straight… Unless it came to the gender of his pup, that is.

You were soon pulling him into line on that.

That night, after returning with the right vitamins, stuff for a healthy dinner Dean wouldn’t win friends with, and two stuffed bears (non living and carry size), one for each of your pups, you congregated in the bunkers kitchen.

“That’s his sac,” Dean said as he leaned over his phone, now in Sam’s hands. They stood around the large middle island, as you did. Only on the opposite side, and well away from where you were chopping a cucumber with a rather sharp knife.

“They can tell it’s a boy from this?” Sam asked. Though his eyes flicked to you as he did.

“No. I just have a feeling. Reckon he’s an alpha.” Dean’s tone was boastful, even as his gaze flicked to you, too. His reflexes were as awesome as ever, but after today he was still mindful of the case in Ohio, and your interest in it. He wanted to keep all his bits intact if he could help it.

You stopped what you were doing and rested your wrist on the edge of the wooden chopping board. Knife still in hand as you asked, “And when did you present, Alpha?” to the room.

The sarcasm dripped off the false sweetness you grit through your teeth.

He had to be careful here, and not on account of your scent rapidly changing.

No doubt you’d seen his first rut when he claimed you and had an inkling as to how old he was when it had occurred, just as he’d seen bits of your first heat. But he had a point to make. So, he tried his luck, only boosting his ego a little, and said, “Fifteen,” because that seemed plausible.

At least it was until Sam opened his big mouth and scoffed as he handed him his phone back.

“Alright, seventeen.” Dean poked his tongue through an audacious grin. “But Dad knew I was one. Just like he did with you, and I know our pup is gonna be one, too.”

You scowled. “Your father was an alpha. Your grandfather was an alpha. And so was mine. Of course, our son will be one, too,” you said.

And of course, all Dean heard was your use of the word son. There was the argument he’d needed to see back at the diner. A fierce momma bear, even if the douchebag you were defending your pup from was him.

He was fit to burst and practically bounced on his heels because of it. “So you’re agreeing he’s a boy?”

Your “No” was very short, and your wrist, very forced as you pushed the sharp blade into the wooden board below, causing the pot lids on the shelf above to clatter and the hanging pots below them to sway.

He chuckled and risked sauntering ‘round the mass of stainless steel to wrap his arms around you, much like the damage control he’d pulled at the diner earlier.

He was getting good at this. Especially without a pack of omegas staring him down. (Sammy didn’t count.)

His arms wrapped round you and took hold of your chopping hand to still it. He was less likely to be cut this way. “So you think they’re a girl?” he asked.

Your scent spiked, announcing the end of your tether, but your smile said otherwise. Dean didn’t miss the way your cheek filled out against his when he nuzzled against you.

“I dunno. I just want them to stay healthy.”

“I do, too,” he said in earnest. But then that glint in his eye he usually reserved for the finer things, like you or his grenade launcher, came out to play as he thought of a way to really test your testiness. “You wanna make a bet?”

Your knife hand dropped again. “I’m not betting on the sex of our pup!”

You knew him too well. Though it was kinda obvious with the conversation you’d been having.

“Sammy?” He then tried, and your free hand swiped at his shoulder.

Had it been long enough, you would’ve had a go at Sam, too, but he held both of his up in surrender, and shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’m not getting involved in that.”

‘Later?’ Dean mouthed, screwing his face up when he saw yours.

“I can see that, y’know?” Your swipe wasn’t a swipe at all this time. There was a thud from the back of your hand colliding with him, and he chuckled again.

“I ain’t hiding it,” he said and brought his lips down on his claim, and both hands up your arms. The soft, velvety skin there, and that sweet, sweet apple delighted his nose. The heave of your chest, his eyes.

It really had been a long day and all that anger towards him, even playful, had to be making you tired. If anything, he could make up for being an ass. “Why don’t you go sit down? Lemme finish this.”

His fingers had taken charge of the knife again before you could even answer, giving you no choice, but to say yes.

You ran your hand through his scruff and hummed happily. “I thought you didn’t win friends with salad?”

You knew it. He did not, and he pulled his best bitchface. One to rival Sammy’s, who had pulled one to match.

“I don’t. But the doc said my little man will.” He winked and bumped you with his hips.

“Still not a little man.” You sighed, but leaned back enough to kiss him, anyway, with lips as plump as ever through your pout.

Your smile against his gave him the warm fuzzies, and he reached between you to squeeze your ass before sending you on your way.

Sam, not far behind. Only he left the room and didn’t return until much later when dinner was ready.

Dean gave the kitchen sink another once over with the detergent and the sponge before filling it up. You may have puked on him earlier, but he wasn’t risking it. Barf was still barf, even if his son caused it. And if it had landed somewhere on the deeper depths of the porcelain surface, well, he couldn’t wash the things you ate off of in there now, could he?

Years of motel rooms and take out as always fueled his need for cleanliness. Keeping everything in order, John Winchester style.

Dean could never half-ass any job, even if his dear old dad wasn’t watching. There would always be a need to please.

He sprayed away the excess suds and covered the drain with the rubber plug, before twisting the faucet harder, and the temperature hot enough to singe his skin. Along with more dish soap, that’d get rid of any remaining stomach gunk.

He gave the bottle an extra tight squeeze. And while the fart sound satisfied his ears, the stuff reeked of Sam and it screwed his nose up. Though his brother’s heavy footsteps trailing more of his funk thunked over the tiles towards him.

A mumbled “hey,” added an extra touch to the Chewie ambiance he had going on.

Okay. So Dean was an ass, knew it already, but in this instance, it was his privilege as an older brother. Came with the territory, and a right to let off some steam.

Sammy stepped up next to him and crooked his back, scooping up the dish towel hanging below the bench. Neither alpha saying anything more.

There were noises a plenty though. Dean would grab the edge of a plate, scrape it on the side of others and dunk it with a splosh, into the fresh foam. Then Sam, now leaning against the countertop, would dry. The soft scrape of fingers gliding the coarser towel over ceramic, not so music to one’s ears. It was more like cotton balls and the freakish squeak they made.

The picture had Dean chuffed, though. Two brothers, both fierce hunters, knife scarred and bullet holed, at a kitchen sink. Getting their domestic duties on by mopping and drying serving and silverware. If demons and angels could see them now.

All that was missing was a pair of rubber gloves and an apron.

The latter was in the wash. The first had disappeared since Mrs Butters had left and no one had bothered to replace them.

The old wood nymph would’ve come in handy in the near future. It was a shame she’d gone rogue. A magic dishwasher could handle all the little plastic plates and bowls he expected to come when your pup came into the world.

Some, full of SpaghettiOs, others Cap’n Crunch. A bit of Mac ‘n’ cheese and maybe even his own version of Winchester’s surprise.

After he graduated from your milk, and any puréed crap, of course. Dean fondly remembered chowing down on an apple and banana concoction while babysitting the shifter’s kid.

He fondly remembered sucking your tit into his mouth, too, and thoughts of what that could taste like overtook the rest.

Milk? Sour? Sweet?

“What?” Sam asked when a contented hum escaped his lips.

He cocked the brow closest to the younger alpha and flipped it his way, while keeping the potential new kink to himself. “Remember Bobby-John?”

“Yeah. Vaguely.”

“Vaguely?” Dean finished swirling the dish brush over the fourth plate and thrust it into his brother’s hands, smirking. That was for forgetting the kid, and for making him freak out when he’d seen his gigantor form leering over you at this very sink that morning. He may’ve been helping you. Didn’t mean he had to get so damn close.

“I had no soul. My head was—”

“Knotting weird hippies.”

Sam scoffed, standing there for a second with a stupid grin on his face until he shook it and, no wait, it remained.

“You know, I still can’t believe you’re gonna be a dad?” he said, and Dean thrusted the next plate into him even harder with a smirk turned grin of his own.

That was for when he was almost anal probed, and for the latest insult.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s really cool, y’know? Like a light at the end of the tunnel or something.”

Of course Dean knew. He didn’t need convincing that his pup was awesome. He was one lucky sonovabitch. But that tunnel Sam spoke of was looking more like a cave with jagged edges and darkness smack bang in the middle at present. So when the hell did the light come into play ‘cause he was fucking terrified.

A new life… Did he quit hunting now? Did he need to line your pockets with salt every damn day? Could he even leave the bunker or you alone, and if he did, what was he doing then?

He hadn’t taken a case in weeks, and all of a sudden cabin fever hit him big time, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.

He had a kid on the way.

He was also a grunt who’d tried the apple pie thing, and he and it did not match. In fact, Sammy, without his freaking soul, had been the force behind that break-up.

He looked at Dean in concern, but Dean was fucking concerned himself.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded to convince himself, and dipped his hand into the murky fathoms of the sink below to pull the plug. He needed a drink. “Though I might need you to lend me a torch,” is what he said.

He snatched the dish towel from Sam, who chuckled at first until he realised he had his serious face on. The one that made him look constipated by all the shit he kept bottled inside.

“Come on, man,” Sam said. “You helped raise me, and I turned out fine. How’s this any different?”

Turning out fine was up for debate, and… Yeah. Nope.

Dean couldn’t even argue with that, as much as it went against his nature to contradict almost anything that was ever nicely said about him.

He had turned out great, but that wasn’t the issue. This time Dean was fully responsible for you and the pup, and there was no one else to step up if he fucked up. Besides Sam himself.

“How’re things going with Eileen?” he asked.

“We’re talking about you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been talking ‘bout my feelings all day, so give your old man a break.” He smirked.

Technically, it’d been about yours, but he didn’t need to know that. Dean needed a break from spotlights and needing torches. Most importantly, he needed a Plan B. A larger pack to help with stuff when he screwed up.

“I dunno,” Sam said, still leaning on the bench. He shuffled his feet and leant forward, bracing himself on the last piece of dry ceramic he’d yet to let go of, pushing it into his knee.

“You think you might have a second chance?” Dean pried. He was thinking about it. He had to be, and Chuck, Dean was turning into you. Sammy was his alpha, who got his knot stuck in the secretary.

“We’re, ah, texting…a lot.” He cleared his throat. “But it’s nothing like you guys. Or me and Jess. There’s no…soul marks.”

Dean considered giving Sam a similar talk to what he’d given you. That it was okay to have differing feelings. That Jess would always be special, never forgotten, and never replaced. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d had enough of grieving. He’d had enough of being forced to think about the what if’s.

You were healthy…for now.

And the pup had a heartbeat. Not just now. They did. He did, and Dean ran his teeth over his bottom lip and looked up at the ceiling to compose himself. His hand ran over the shape of his phone buried in his pocket, where the video of his son was only a few clicks away.

“But they’re, ah, rare,” he finally said.

“Rare enough for you and me to have both found a match.”

Sam caught Dean’s attention on that, and he held it for longer than was necessary between them.

This kind of stuff just wasn’t for guys like them, and yet, Sammy had found Jess, and Dean had found you, and that pushed the ‘whole life into perspective’ further home for him.

He sniffed up the dust that had been irritating his eyes all day and fixed his sleeves still rolled from doing the dishes. Though who was he kidding? He’d been wearing them like that all day.

“You know, on the plus side, your kidneys are safe now,” he said. He’d had enough chick flick moments to last him the week.

Sam’s grin was wider than Dean’s. “What?”

He thumbed behind them in the direction of room 11, a glint in his eyes as he remembered what Doctor Cameron had told you. “True mates are compatible medically, too, so I’ve got myself an organ farm. Also said my little man is gonna be stronger ‘cause of it.”

“You think that’s why—”

“Yeah. I think so.” He wasn’t going there. Anything positive about yours and his match was a mark against what you’d lost. Besides, he’d told himself no more grieving, and he meant it. Your pup was strong, and waiting for his daddy’s heavy hand to rest over him.

“I’m gonna hit the hay. Gotta warm bed waitin’ for me,” Dean added, patting his brother on the shoulder with that same weight. “You should invite Eileen over…If you’re serious about her.”

No doubt being outnumbered three to one, you’d appreciate another omega around.

“Yeah. Maybe I will,” Sam said. His lip twitched as Dean spun on his heels, heading straight out of the kitchen and into the hall.

When he reached the door, he opened it with a gentle touch, just in case you were already asleep. Elated to find you turning your head to look up at him with a smile, sitting against the headboard nursing the tea you’d brought with you earlier. You were a vision. As were the two stuffed bears beside you.

He was going to be an awesome dad, because he was already an awesome mate. You on the other hand?

Well, that all depended on Baby, and whether she survived you in his life.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Little bit of foreshadowing in there that I'm quite proud of. What's going to happen to Baby?? Oh - and Dean's going back into rut next chapter! ❤️

Chapter 13: Derishionment - 16/05

“What would you do if Baby got totalled?” you’d asked him.

Well. He’d fucking flip his lid is what he’d do, but “Please, Baby, please,” he said in the moment. His eyes, wide shut in prayer as his elbows lifted him up off the dusty grass.

To Dean’s horror, the transmission shifted, and the car moved again. Followed by the crunch of a tree and another shift that had him leaping up just in time to run - again.

Why did this always happen to him? Why did it have to happen to Baby? Why did you have to go and…say all that crap you had about her getting totalled?

Yeah. You. This was all…

…your fault.

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

@stoneyggirl2 @winchesterwild78 @missywinchester15 @deansbbyx @kr804573

@lyarr24 @salemslostwitch @mostlymarvelgirl @ladysparkles78 @multiversefanfics

@31miw-inkpsycho @yoursrosie @Theantisoci-alone @roseamie13 @krazykelly

@my-stories-vault @amberlthomas @levine-23 @ultimatecin73 @district447

@hobby27 @aylacavebear @stellawritesstories @middleearthlife @yeehawgiddyup13

@redwinexsupernova @artemys-ackles @kimxwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @impala67rollingthroughtown

If you’d like to be added, you can add yourself HERE, or if you’d like to be removed, please let me know ☺️

#to you I belong series #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #a/b/o dynamics #soulmate au #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #alpha dean winchester #omega reader #reader insert #fem reader #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester fic

79 notes · View notes