tummy ache survivor

Dean Winchester ₍ᐢᐢ₎ 

★ Dean starts off so confident walking into the bathroom. Shower together? Hell yeah, perfect opportunity to see you naked. (As if he hadn’t seen that a thousand times before)

★ He's talking about all the stuff he wants to have for dinner while you're rinsing your hair– that’s when he suddenly notices purple water running down your shoulders. His words trail off, a confused frown on his face: "...Uh, sweetheart?" Looking at the floor of the shower where the water is now turning lavender. "You bleeding?" You laugh because you'd completely forgotten to warn him. He genuinely checks your scalp before you can even explain what’s happening.

★ "Dean, it's my hair" The look of utter dumbfoundment on his face is ridiculously endearing. "Your hair's... bleeding?" You can’t believe you have to clarify it’s the dye that’s bleeding but still– cue the biggest sigh of relief. "Jesus, don't scare me like that"

★ After that, he becomes fascinated with watching the colorful water swirl toward the drain like it's some weird science experiment. "Looks like we're washing Barney down the drain" Because of course he has to add some half-assed joke. He also starts dramatically narrating your shower: "And there goes another fallen soldier..."

★ He definitely ends up with purple streaks on his hands from helping you shampoo, proudly holding up his palms to show you. "Great, now I look like I murdered a friggin’ grape"

★ When you apologize for staining the shower, Dean just shrugs. "Bathroom's ugly anyway" 

★ Despite his jokes, he immediately helps scrub the purple off the tiles– even if he makes terrible jokes the entire time. "So if I hug you now, m’I gonna become a unicorn or some shit?" It’s weirdly endearing given how much he hates having to clean stuff, but hey– if his girl needs help cleaning he won’t doubt jumping in there.

Sam Winchester 𐂂

★ Sammy is way less dramatic than his older brother– mostly because he notices before you do. "Hey honey, I think your dye's bleeding" He says it so gently and casually that you immediately know he isn't bothered in the least.

★ You groan because you forgot to warn him it might happen. "God, I'm so sorry" He looks at you with his characteristic puppy eyes, a soft frown pulling at his brows. "For what?" You look at him, a confused frown of your own: "Cause the shower's gonna be purple?"

★ Sam literally couldn’t care less about the staining– instead, (like about everything else) he wants to know more. "Does it happen every time you shower?" … "How long does it last?" … "Is it bad for your hair?" He's asking genuine questions because he's never dyed his hair and thinks it's really  interesting.

★ He quietly helps rinse the color out– long fingers combing gently through your hair, while also making sure the shampoo is all properly washed out because he knows dyed hair tangles easily.

★ Then he notices– purple streaks all over his chest. Looks at you, looks down and looks back up at you. "...Am I lavender?" You laugh so hard you almost slip. (As if he would ever let you hit the floor on his watch) He laughs too, hands carefully steadying you. "Guess we're matching now"

★ When the shower looks like a literal crime scene afterward? Sam is already grabbing stuff to clean it. "No big deal" He hums softly– to be fair, it's literally a five minute cleanup for him.

★ Then later, he sees a faint purple stain on one of the towels. "Huh… So that's why all our towels are colorful" He doesn’t even mention it to you– he doesn’t see any purpose in making you feel bad about it, instead? Sam just starts buying dark colored towels and sheets so you don’t have to worry about any of that anymore.

Castiel ᨳଓ

★ Showering together with Castiel is usually peaceful– he loves the quiet moments with you. Those moments with no monsters, no hunting, just the sound of running water and your soft conversations.

★ You're rinsing shampoo from your hair when he notices the stream of water slowly turning purple. Cas pauses, watching it disappear down the drain with that silent concentration he gets sometimes. "It's beautiful" You blink, a bit confused by his sudden declarations. "The dye?" He nods, completely captivated by the way the color swirls through the water. "Reminds me of ink spreading on paper" You laugh, a little embarrassed. "It also stains everything" He nods to himself: "Ah…" Well that definetly explains the purple spots on the shower curtain. (Among other things)

★ You apologize almost immediately. "Sorry, I forgot to warn you that it does this every time I shower" Castiel just looks at you with that soft expression he gets whenever he thinks you're worrying over nothing, sharp blue eyes turning ridiculously gentle. "You have nothing to apologize for"

★ While you're distracted trying to rinse the dye out faster, he gently gathers your hair in his hands to help work the water through it. He's reverently careful, fingers combing through the strands plus making sure he doesn't accidentally tug.

★ "Does this make taking care of your hair more difficult?" When you admit it's honestly kind of a pain in the ass– the stained towels, the shower, the constant color bleeding… The angel frowns, head tilting in that puppy-like confusion of his. Not because he's annoyed, God no. But because he doesn't like that something you enjoy also causes you stress on a daily basis.

★ The next time you wash your hair? The bathroom already has dark towels waiting along with cleaning supplies set beside the shower and some fancy shampoo that’s said to reduce color bleeding… You never asked for any of this, he just thought it might help. "I thought these might make things easier"

★ At one point you notice faint purple smudges across his palms. "Shit, Cas your hands–" He looks down, turns them over thoughtfully, fully observing the faint staining. "...They match your hair" He smiles softly to himself. "I don't mind"

A/N: Sorry for being gone for so long guys

1 -

Wayne Manor is the kind of place that makes even millionaires feel poor. And your room? Girl. Your room is obscene.

A vanity with Hollywood bulbs. A closet that has its own air-conditioning. A king-size bed with plush sheets, big enough to do gymnastics on.

Which is exactly why Conner is currently half on top of you, kissing you like it’s his only source of oxygen.

His hand slides under your camisole, warm and careful. You gasp into his mouth, tugging him closer by the collar of his hoodie, feeling his smile against your lips.

Everything is perfect until—

The doorknob rattles.

You and Conner FLING yourselves apart like you both got hit by a WayneTech electric trap.

“Sister?” It's Damian’s voice. Of course. Of course it’s him. “I intend to take my midday nap in your quarters—”

You shove Conner so hard he flies into your closet. Literally. He uses his powers to slam inside without sound.

You grab your blanket and throw it over yourself like a sick Victorian child.

The door opens. Damian steps in, nose wrinkling.

“I smell cologne,” he says flatly, eyes narrowing at you.

You smile.

Innocent. So innocent. You might as well have angel wings. “Damian, we live in a house full of men. You smell cologne in the vents.”

He squints. You sweat. Conner probably isn’t breathing.

After a long, terrifying pause, Damian hums. “Very well. May I join you for a nap sister?”

"You know I'd never say no to it D. But could you refill my water bottle for me please?" You ask, in a desperate attempt to get him to leave your room.

"Why yes of course." He grabs your bottle from your nightstand and turns on his heel.

And with that he leaves.

You and Conner stay frozen for ten whole seconds.

Then you flop back on your bed and whisper, “We are NEVER doing that again.”

Conner climbs out of your closet, hair a mess, smirking like the absolute menace he is. “You say that,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again, “but you don’t mean it.”

You really don’t.

"Now get the fuck out of my house before Damian catches you"

2 -

The date was supposed to be simple. Soft pretzels. Street market. Holding hands behind your hoodies. A perfect undercover moment.

And then he kissed you behind a street vendor’s stall, and you melted into him, fingers in his hair, his smile pressed to yours—

Until you spot them.

You shove Conner’s chest, eyes wide. “DINAH. AND OLLIE.”

He freezes. “Now?”

You grab him by the hoodie and yank him behind a dumpster like you’re reenacting Gotham’s Most Wanted.

He stumbles, knocks into a stack of cardboard boxes, and has the AUDACITY to laugh.

“Is this… romantic?” he whispers.

“NO,” you hiss. “This is us NOT GETTING MURDERED.”

Dinah’s heels click by. Oliver is talking about quivers or something. You’re too busy holding your breath and praying to whatever deity looks after feral vigilante teens.

Conner shifts closer, whispering in your ear, “You smell nice.”

“Conner, this is not flirting time.”

"I know but I had to mention it Y/N"

"Thanks it's Sol De Janeiro, Number 62 I'm pretty sure"

“They’re gone,” he murmurs, “and I missed you.”

And because you’re weak, you let him kiss you again.

3-

Rumours start swirling obviously because Gotham has no chill. Your private story? Exposed. Your Instagram? A crime scene. The paparazzi even catch a picture of you kissing Conner in a music store.

Bruce calls a family dinner, which is basically a court trial with boscaiola.

Your father sits at the head of the table, iPad placed down like evidence. He clears his throat.

“So,” Bruce says slowly. “Sweetheart… who’s the boy the press is talking about?”

Dick nearly chokes from holding in laughter. Jason and Tim stop their bickering to listen.

Cass and Duke share a glance. Damian has a handwritten list of suspects.

You want to crawl into a sewer and never return.

Your phone buzzes under the table.

Kon ❤️💍:

DO NOT SAY MY NAME I’M BEGGING YOU

You take a sip of water to buy time. “I don’t know what they’re talking about Daddy,” you lie like a professional.

Your father looks unconvinced. Dick is two seconds from teasing you into the sun.

Jason raises a brow. “Sis, the dude’s hands are on your waist in this picture. Unless it’s a ghost, you’re dating.”

“Perhaps,” Damian says, glaring, “we should interrogate every teenage male in a ten-mile radius.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

Dinner becomes chaos. Bruce sighs forty-seven times. You escape with your dignity barely intact.

Conner sends you another text:

i owe you my LIFE

You send back:

im gonna mega knight your ass

He responds with:

no pls

4 -

It’s not your fault. The meeting room is EMPTY. Lights dimmed. Doors closed. No League business scheduled for hours.

So when Conner kisses you against the round table, mouth warm and soft and hungry, you don’t think twice.

Your fingers curl in his shirt. His hand cups your jaw. His tongue slides against yours, slow and addictive, and you make a sound that he swallows greedily.

“God, I love you,” he breathes against your mouth.

You don’t even get a chance to reply.

Because the Zeta tube activates.

“Recognized — Wonder Woman. Batman. Superman.”

You and Conner break apart like you’ve been struck by lightning.

Diana walks in. Stops.

Bruce walks in. Horror.

Clark walks in. Disappointment™.

You stand there, wiping your mouth like it’ll erase the moment. Conner looks like he wants to phase out of existence.

Bruce: “…Baby.”

Clark: “Conner.”

Diana just crosses her arms. “You two need better reflexes if this is the level of stealth you operate with.”

You want the earth to swallow you.

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of ALL rooms—why HERE?”

Clark sighs deeply. “Son… really?”

You and Conner mumble apologies, refuse to make eye contact, and vow never to breathe again.

Later, when everyone has stopped freaking out and the world has quieted, Conner sits beside you on the Watchtower balcony.

“You know,” he murmurs, nudging your shoulder, “even if we got caught like… every time? I’d still pick you.”

You lean your head on his shoulder. “Even in the meeting room?”

He laughs softly. “Especially there.”

You kiss him one more time. This time you don’t get caught

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Sources! -

Dividers - @cafekitsune

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