#i might continue to draw like this and try to adjust to it but i still have some art locked and loaded in the og style

[kuroshipped]

bonus art: cats and dogs (purrloin and lillipup)

GUYS PLEASE DONT HATE ME!!!!i was doing a style test so it looks really different but i used the same brush to shade cause i cant just let an og go like that.. guys is this a step in the right direction for my style

also sorry this is not really spe ehmm welcome to the gameverse heres all you need to know

made 6/8/24 - 6/10/24 cause i just finished right now😮

[ssahotchnerr]

👉🏼👈🏼 is it ok to request a fic where jack starts trying to take care of the reader the way he sees his dad does? like maybe hotch is away from a case and reader gets sick or sad or idk, so jack takes it upon himself to be there for reader? like maybe he even starts referring reader with the same pet name hotch calls her? tysm!

like dad does

aw 🥹 cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of sickness, fluff <3

you awoke with a gentle start; a trail of cold water trickling down the side of your face, pooling vaguely in your ear.

likewise, a more concrete sensation was set on your forehead - a cold compress. most likely a washcloth, and one that hadn't been wrung out too much at that.

but it was relieving, a delightful contrast from your burning forehead.

"oops," a small mumble came directly from your left ear, as well as a soft exhale of a breath. "sorry."

"jack?" you muttered, rather drowsily. you forced your eyes open, finding jack's sweet, concerned face beside you. "what're you doing?"

"i'm taking care of you." he explained softly, his tone so nonchalant as if it were the most obvious and simplest thing in the world. he reached forward, adjusting the top of the blanket that was draped overtop you. "like dad does. he put the washcloth on you yesterday, you 'member?"

he was right; you were on day two, maybe three? of a nasty bout of the flu. quite honestly you didn't know what day it was, they all blurred together, and your scattered sleep schedule didn't help. you offered him a nod.

"thank you." you gave him a small, closed mouth smile. if it weren't for the germs, you'd reach out to touch his cheek. you sat up a bit from your position in bed, your voice hoarse. "where is your dad?"

"a meeting."

your eyebrows furrowed, the facial movement burning your sinuses. "he's home?"

jack nodded, "he's in his office, but he said it might take a long time. so that's why i'm helping you feel better."

his face brightened a bit, as if a realization struck him. he reached into his pant's pocket, retrieving a few cough drops he had shoved in there, dropping them onto your blanket covered chest.

"i'm sorry i can't make you soup." jack apologized, solemnly as his shoulders dropped. "but i'm not allowed to use the stove."

your face softened, the weak smile resurfacing. "that's okay bud, don't worry. you can help dad make some later when he's done, how 'bout that?"

he nodded enthusiastically, before hoisting himself onto your bed.

"hey no no no, i wouldn't," you protested gently, your heart also melting at his action. "i don't want you getting my germs."

"if i get sick i get sick." that's the same thing aaron had said, multiple times, when he insisted on getting into bed with you earlier. jack scooted somewhat close, staying mainly on his father's side of the bed.

"and if i get sick, i don't need to go to school."

you laughed softly, but finding yourself too weak to argue, you did the only thing you could - go right back to sleep.

it was restless; you were in and out of slumber, and could roughly process jack getting up here and there - solely due to the distant sensation of the washcloth leaving and returning to your forehead, dampened once more.

and once aaron's meeting had ceased, he went in to check on you, and was pleasantly surprised, and touched, to see jack accompanying you.

you were out, with jack diligently watching over, while also keeping himself busy - his sketchbook and colored pencils were scattered amongst the bed.

"how's it going?" aaron asked him from the doorway, the door producing a sharp creak as he pushed it forward a tad.

"good. i brought cough drops, the washcloth, and made sure she got lots of rest. just like you did." jack continued to draw as he spoke, before his head shot right up. "can we make soup?"

"sure buddy," aaron nodded, a tinge of pride pulling at his heart. he tilted his head towards the hallway, and jack immediately scrambled off the bed. "c'mon."

[synthetickitsune]

Joshua (SVT) | Hand sizes fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader (but reader has smaller hands than shua) A/N: SOMEONE (ehm ehm @hanniedream) mentioned shua's hands to me and now i wanna die

“You know,” Joshua starts out of nowhere, pausing the show you were watching, and licks his lips, “You’re literally dating me and you never asked for something the fans ask me for all the time.”

You scoff, but a smirk plays on your lips while you turn towards him. “I’d hope so. What kind of kinky shit is it?”

He rolls his eyes with a sigh. “It’s innocent, pervert.”

“Okay, sorry, what is it then?”

You watch with a confused frown as your boyfriend sets the remote down and shows his palm to you. When you don’t catch on, he continues: “You never asked to compare hand sizes with me.”

You blink at him a couple times with a deadpan expression.

“We’re literally holding hands all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same,” he pouts and nods towards his hand. You quirk a brow at him.

“Joshua, I don’t need to compare your hand with mine to know yours is enormous,” you try to say it gently, but the situation is too unserious. He shuffles closer to you, angling his whole body towards you. You watch with nothing but pure amusement as he huffs when you make no move to do the same, so he has to adjust his position, pull your legs up and over his own thighs and then pull you closer. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re being difficult and mean,” he narrows his eyes at you.

“Mean? Avoiding holding hands from now on would be mean,” you tease, relishing in the way his eyes widen and the disbelieving sigh from his lips, “But I’m not doing that, am I?”

“I bet you will though,” he murmurs, his lips pouted and his eyes holding the same hurt as a puppy that was denied treats. You sigh, reassuring him you wouldn’t do that to him. “Prove it then. Hold my hand, I dare you.”

It’s a trap. Of course it’s a fucking trap. You know it, he knows it, he knows you know it, and you know he knows you know it. Everyone knows it.

Just the same as everyone should know that your very petty boyfriend will give you the cold shoulder while doing his best to pretend he isn’t actually doing that if you refuse. You’re also pretty sure the pout would get stuck on that pretty face, which might not be as bad, but it’d be one more thing for him to whine about. Again, not that bad. Why are you letting him manipulate you then?

You slide your hand into his extended one. In your last effort to get some control over this situation you pull his hand to your lips and slowly kiss his knuckles. “There, I’m holding your hand.”

Joshua smiles, leaning over your hands to kiss you, to connect your lips as well. 

“Thank you,” he coos sweetly, kissing your cheek right after.

And then, inevitably, he pulls aways and in one quick maneuver has your palm pressed against his. He chuckles like he’s surprised that his hand is bigger than yours. Honestly you wonder if there’s anyone you know whose hands are bigger than your boyfriend’s. You smile at him fondly. He’s so easy to please sometimes, acting like he pulled off some grand scheme when it’s just… this.

“Wow,” he bites his lip and looks at you, “I won.”

“Yeah, like, you won the genetic lottery in every way. What a surprise, I haven’t noticed until now,” you roll your eyes, but you let him have his fun and don’t pull your hand away just yet. He covers it with his, now his time to kiss the back of your hand and rub his cheek against it.

“Sounds like you’re flirting with me,” he draws out the last syllable, grinning at you like you just admitted your darkest secret to him. Cute. He’s being too cute.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Can we go back to the show now?” 

You free your hand, only to change your mind at the last second - after seeing Joshua starting to pursue his lips again - and run it through his hair. You shake your head when he leans into your touch.

“Say you love me,” he demands softly. 

“I love you,” you say with your hand cupping his cheek. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before helping you untangle yourself from him and pressing the play button.

It doesn’t take long for him to pull you into his side and guide your head to his shoulder. It’s the perfect position to see him bite back a smile when you hold his hand under the blanket.

[kissitbttr]

miguel with a jealous fiance

-

“stare a little longer and you might actually kill her, y/n” jess chuckles as she follows your eyesight, spotting miguel being flirted by a woman whom you’ve never seen before.

you and miguel are attending a gala fundraiser. run by some rich bastard named ‘bruce wayne’. he didn’t want to go at first, but because mr. wayne had sent the invitations to you both himself, it would be rude not to attend. plus, it’s best if he’s out and try to socialize, make some new friends instead.

but now you’re starting to regret the decision when you see some red haired getting cozy with your man. she keeps touching his arm, giggling obnoxiously at something he said. which pisses you off because your fiancé is not that funny.

Ignoring jess’s comment, you twirl the wine glass softly, emerald green manicured nails clicking against it. you bite the inside of your cheek with cold eyes dead set on the girl. you wanted to laugh at how that woman had been trying too hard to catch his attention.

miguel isn’t doing anything rather than answering without holding an eye contact, casually sipping his whiskey on rock as he searches through the crowd. you could tell he’s annoyed. but it wouldn’t be polite for him to tell her to fuck off, would it?

god, you wish he had the balls to actually do it.

“you know he wouldn’t do such thing right?”

scoffing as if it’s the most stupid question ever, you nod. of course he wouldn’t. he’s too damn crazy about you.

“i know. it’s her i don’t trust” you mutter, almost growling. “that bitch could clearly see he has a ring on his finger. she fucking blind or something?!”

jess could only laugh while shaking her head. she thinks you and miguel are too much alike. a perfect pair. “then show her who’s the boss.”

“oh i will” you respond with hesitation, gulping down every last drop of your drink before setting the glass down on the table. “be right back”

with that, you flick your hair over your shoulder, adjusting the straps of your silky emerald green dress and begin walking towards your fiancé’. jess’s commentary about ‘try not to kill her’ from behind fall deaf upon your ears.

sorry, jess. no promises.

you could feel all eyes on you as you walk. it’s hard not to. men and women craning their shoulders to get a better look at the beautiful woman who looks like she’s invented class and beauty herself. the world completely stop when you walk through the crowd.

and not to be cocky or anything, but you’re fully aware of how gorgeous you are. with curves that look like built by the gods themselves, full plump soft lips and long, beautiful thick hair that cascade down to your back and eyes sharp enough to draw sailors if you were ever a siren.

it’s like looking at freyja the goddess whom paid a visit on earth.

as miguel’s eyes continues to scan through the busy evening filled with mindless chatters, his dark red irises then stop at you. a small grin creeps to his face when he sees you walking towards him with your head held up high.

but your eyes aren’t on him, it’s on the woman.

“i just think, that you are sooo-“

“so what?” you cut her off with a fake smile and arms crossed over your chest. standing beside your soon to be husband, you watch how the woman’s eyes then flicker to your figure. “making friends without me, my love? how impolite”

miguel shakes his head, his hand quick enough to snake around your waist pulling you close. “of course not, mi vida. this is—“

“not interested. so, you wanna fuck my husband?” your voice coming off venomous, glaring at the woman who seems to be shocked at your question.

a sigh escape from miguel’s mouth, one that implies ‘this is not going to be good’

the woman has her mouth hang wide open as she struggles to respond. she can’t exactly decide whether she’s intimidated by you or attracted to you.

“i—i’m so sorry… I didn’t know he had a wife—“

with a scoff, you roll your eyes. “you’ve been eyeing and talking to my man for at least twenty minutes. you’re saying that your eyesight is so fucking jacked you couldn’t even see the ring on his finger?!”

miguel could only stand there and listening to you scold the woman. because if there’s one thing he learned being with you? is that to not meddle or interrupt.

she shakes her head rapidly, stuttering out a nervous response, “n-no! i—i—I did see it, i j-just thought—“

“oh you did see it!” you exhale a sarcastic laugh. “and what, you think it’s okay to flirt with someone else’s husband when clearly he has no interest?! you really think he’s gonna go for you, sweetheart?”

the tone of your voice is far from polite. miguel could sense that, and he squeezes your waist in attempt for you to take it easy on the girl but you only shrug it off and pay no mind to it.

the woman look like she’s about to cry by how you’re scolding her. shaking quiet a bit and embarrassed that her flirty gesture had failed to steal someone else’s man.

“i’m s-sorry… I’m—i—“

“you” your raise your finger at her face. “need to get the fuck out of my sight before i drag you by the hair and beat your ass hard that no one will ever recognize that pretty face of yours again.”

she nods quickly at that, taking her champagne flute before walking away quickly. you’re still fuming on the inside. glaring at the back of that girl’s head until she’s fully disappears.

“damn, mami” miguel lowly whistles, a dark chuckle follows after as he moves to stand in front of you. hand around your waist still attached, pulling you close to him. “you’re so sexy when you get jealous.”

jealous. you hate that word.

everyone needs to know that you don’t take it lightly when it comes to miguel. he belongs to you and vice versa. and if you have to beat a bitch up to get your point across, then so be it.

“let’s get one thing straight, miguel. I don’t get jealous” You emphasize the word as you turn your focus on Miguel, giving him a stern look. “I get territorial. they need to know that you’re my man. I see a girl trying to take over my territory, then consider her fucking finished. you got that?”

miguel can’t argue with the fact that you just turned him on just by saying that. especially when you come off as demanding like this. It’s one of the reason why he fell in love with you.

bossy. ambitious. confident. and Independent. traits that miguel loves in a woman.

he smirks, looking down at you as he clicks his tongue against his bottom teeth. “yes, ma’am” he replies with a nod.

you nod back, crossing your arms. “good.”

“and just when i thought you couldn’t get any sexier” he shakes his head, squeezing your ass before leaning down a bit to give you a kiss on your cheek. “you do”

rolling your eyes, you lightly shove his shoulder. yet you can’t help but blush at the gesture. “easy there… we’re in public.”

he cocks an eyebrow, palm not leaving your ass. “and when has that ever stopped you before, mi amor?”

you bite your lower lip softly, remembering the times when you and miguel had done it over and over outside the comfort of your home.

yeah, both of you are pretty experimental.

“bathroom in 5. don’t keep me waiting”

[lecsainz]

could you talk abt riding charles for the first time? 🤠

just ride

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) smut, reader riding, dirty talk and unprotected sex, minors dni!

authors note: I'm not sure if this is how you meant it, but I hope you like it. and the playlist this time was a mix of songs from ariana and lana (the title says a lot...)

word count: 2.6K

Y/N entered the apartment's balcony, the warm breeze of the summer night caressing her skin as she admired the breathtaking view of Monaco's skyline. She knew Charles was on an important call with his engineer, discussing technical details of the upcoming race, but she couldn't resist the urge to tease him.

Dressed in a sheer, lacy nightgown that left little to the imagination, she walked up behind him, running her fingers lightly over his shoulder. Charles glanced at her, his eyes widening in surprise and desire as he tried to maintain his composure on the call.

Y/N whispered in his ear, her voice husky and filled with seduction, "You look so focused, my love. I thought you might need a little distraction."

Charles cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady as he responded to his engineer. "Uh, yes, we'll discuss that later… Sorry, I got…distracted for a moment." He shot Y/N a playful yet pleading look, silently begging her to continue.

She moved closer, her body pressing against his back as she gently slid herself onto his lap. Charles's breathing hitched, and his grip on the phone tightened. Y/N could feel his growing arousal beneath her, making her smile with satisfaction.

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, Y/N began to sway her hips slowly, grinding against him in a tantalizing rhythm. She trailed her fingers along his jawline, her lips brushing against his earlobe as she whispered, "I want to feel you, Charles. Right here, right now."

Charles's voice wavered slightly as he tried to maintain his professional tone. "Yes, we'll…we'll make the necessary adjustments… I understand… Just give me a moment." He struggled to concentrate on the call, his attention completely captured by the sensation of Y/N's body against his.

Y/N continued to move, her movements growing more insistent as she felt Charles's control slipping away. She nipped at his earlobe, her hot breath fanning across his neck, and whispered, "I want you, Charles. I want you to lose yourself in me."

He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "I… I'll call you back.” Unable to resist any longer, Charles ended the call abruptly, tossing his phone aside. He turned his full attention to Y/N, his eyes filled with raw desire. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N." he growled, his voice laced with need.

His eyes locked with Y/N's, widening in surprise and desire as he took in her appearance.

As his hand moved to caress her cheek, he felt the delicate fabric of her nightgown and realized there was nothing beneath it. His breath hitched, and his heart raced with anticipation. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with need, "You're not wearing anything underneath."

Y/N's lips curled into a playful smile as she leaned closer, her voice low and seductive. "I wanted to surprise you, Charles. I want you to see just how much you excite me."

Charles's eyes darken with desire as he tightens his grip on Y/N's buttocks, drawing her even closer to him. The realization that she's not wearing anything beneath the nightgown sends a surge of excitement through his veins. He can't resist the temptation to tease her, to play with her desires. With a mischievous grin, he slides a finger along her slick folds, feeling her wetness coating his touch.

Y/N's desperate moan only fuels his desire further. "You're so wet, mon amour." he growls, his voice thick with arousal. Y/N's breath hitches at his words, her eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and need.

"Charles," she whispers, her voice laced with desire. "I want to ride you right here on the balcony. I want to take control and show you how much I want you."

"Oh God, Y/N." A low, guttural groan escapes Charles's lips as he nods, his eyes locked with hers. "The idea of you riding me, taking charge… To feel you riding me, your body moving against mine." he urges, his voice husky with desire.

Y/N's eyes burned with desire as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Charles's ear. Her voice was laced with a seductive plea. "Take off your boxers, Charles. I want to feel all of you."

A low groan escaped Charles's lips as he eagerly obliged, sliding his boxers down his legs, his arousal fully exposed. The cool breeze of the Monaco sea caressed their heated bodies, heightening their sensations.

They were both aware of the potential risk of being seen by visitors to the Monaco seaside, but the thrill of being exposed only heightened their arousal. They were lost in their own world, fueled by passion and the breathtaking view before them.

She positioned herself on his lap, her legs straddling him, their bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. Her eyes never left his as she slowly sank down, feeling him fill her completely. A gasp escaped her lips as she adjusted to his size.

Y/N began to move, a rhythm of urgency and desire taking over. Her hips rocked back and forth, riding him with increasing speed. Charles's grip on her tightened, his hands gripping her hips as he matched her movements.

The intensity grew, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization. Each thrust brought them closer to the edge, their moans mingling in the air. Y/N could feel the tension building within her, the coil of pleasure tightening with each passing second.

Charles's eyes bore into hers, a mix of ecstasy and astonishment evident in his gaze. "Oh God." he gasped, his voice strained. "You're driving me insane. Don't stop."

With every upward motion, she quickened her pace riding him harder and faster, lost in the throes of passion.

Charles's hands traced a fiery path over her skin, his touch leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. His voice, husky and filled with desire, whispered dirty words of encouragement in her ear, igniting her passion even further.

"You're so fucking hot, Y/N." he growled, his voice dripping with lust. "I love how wet and tight you are for me. Ride me, ma belle. Show me how much you want it."

His words sent shivers down her spine, fueling her primal instincts. With renewed determination, she quickened her pace, her body moving in perfect harmony with his. Their moans mingled together, filling the room with their raw desire.

Charles's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his grip firm and demanding. "That's it, baby," he encouraged. "Grind on me. Fuck me like you mean it. I can't get enough of you."

The intensity grew with each passing moment, their bodies consumed by a maddening frenzy of pleasure. The sound of their skin slapping together mixed with their breathless moans, creating a symphony of passion.

As they rode the waves of ecstasy, Y/N could feel the familiar tightening in her core, the telltale sign of her impending release. Charles sensed her nearing climax and intensified his efforts, his touch becoming more urgent and his words more fervent.

Charles's hands roamed over her body, his touch igniting her further. He whispered dirty words of encouragement, fueling her desire even more.

As Y/N straddled Charles, she could feel his hardness beneath her, pulsating with desire. She began to move, her hips grinding against him, seeking a deeper connection. With each thrust, he moaned, his voice filled with unbridled pleasure.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice husky. "You feel so good. Ride me harder, mon amour. Show me how much you want it."

His words fueled her desire, and she rocked her hips with more intensity, their bodies creating a rhythm that echoed through the room. As their passion intensified, Charles leaned forward, capturing one of her breasts in his mouth. His tongue swirled around her hardened nipple, and she couldn't help but let out a loud, uninhibited moan.

The sound of her pleasure only spurred him on, and he continued to lavish attention on her breasts, alternating between gentle nips and lingering sucks. As Y/N's moans grew louder, her nails instinctively dug into Charles's back, leaving a trail of marks as a testament to her ecstasy.

"Shh, mon amour," Charles whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desire and urgency. "We have to be quiet, remember? We're out here on the balcony where anyone could hear us."

Y/N bit her lip, trying to stifle her moans as she continued to ride him. Her voice came out in breathless whispers. "I'll be good, Charles." Y/N's eyes widened with anticipation, her voice hushed but filled with passion. "I'll be as quiet as I can, but I can't promise to hold back when you feel this good inside me."

Charles's grip tightened on her hips, his thrusts growing more urgent. "Hold on tight, cherie, and ride me harder. Show me how much you want it, how much you crave my cock."

Y/N bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't hold back anymore, Charles. I need you to fuck me harder and deeper."

Charles reveled in the sensation of her nails raking across his skin, the mixture of pleasure and pain heightening their connection. He couldn't help but growl in response, his own pleasure reaching new heights.

"You're so fucking sexy, mon amour." he rasped, his voice dripping with desire. "I want to feel you come undone beneath me."

As the intensity of their lovemaking reached its peak, Charles felt himself on the edge of release. With each thrust, he could sense Y/N's mounting pleasure, her moans becoming more desperate and her body trembling beneath him.

"You're so tight. I'm close, mon amour. I want to come with you." he growled, his voice filled with raw desire.

Charles could feel her walls pulsating around him, signaling her imminent climax. His hand slipped between their bodies, finding her sensitive bundle of nerves. He began to rub it in firm, circular motions, matching the rhythm of their bodies.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as the dual sensations overwhelmed her. She gripped Charles tightly, her nails digging into his back as she teetered on the edge.

"Oh God, Charles," she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure. "Don't stop. I'm so close."

With an intensity fueled by their shared desire, Charles adjusted his angle, hitting a spot deep within her that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. His pace quickened, his grip on her waist tightening as he chased their release.

Charles's voice dripped with wickedness as he encouraged her further. "That's it, baby. Let go for me. Come all over my cock. Show me how much you want it."

Y/N's body tensed as the pleasure coiled tightly within her, her inner walls pulsating around him. She threw her head back, her moans growing louder and more urgent. And at that moment, as Charles's own release washed over him, he watched with satisfaction as Y/N surrendered to the throes of ecstasy.

As Y/N reached the peak of her pleasure, her body convulsed with waves of ecstasy. She cried out his name, her voice filled with unbridled desire. "Charles, oh God! I'm… I'm coming!"

He watched in awe as she unraveled in his arms, her body trembling with bliss. In one swift motion, Charles lifted Y/N off his lap and guided her to lie back on the sofa. He positioned himself between her legs, his gaze locked with hers as he entered her once again. The familiar heat and tightness surrounded him, and he began to move with a relentless rhythm.

Y/N moaned and clung to him, her nails digging into his back as their bodies collided in a delicious frenzy. She reveled in the feeling of being taken by him, her pleasure building rapidly once more. "Don't hold back, Charles. I want to feel every inch of you." she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of desperation and need.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent, his control slipping away as the intensity consumed him. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, a symphony of passion and desire. The sounds of their gasps and moans mingled with the gentle breeze of the balcony, a testament to the raw intensity of their connection.

With each thrust, they inched closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of their release. And when it finally came, it was a torrential wave crashing over them. Y/N cried out his name, her body quaking in ecstasy, while Charles groaned in satisfaction, his body pulsating with pleasure.

Y/N's body trembled with aftershocks as she slowly caught her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Charles held her close, their bodies still intertwined, as they both basked in the aftermath of their passionate encounter. He leaned in, pressing soft kisses along Y/N's neck and collarbone.

He chuckled softly, his voice filled with disbelief and delight. "I can't believe we just did that on the balcony," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "You have to ride me more often, mon amour. Seeing you on top of me like that… it's an image I'll never forget."

Y/N blushed, a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction washing over her. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with affection and a hint of mischief. "Well, maybe we can find some more adventurous places to explore, Charles." she teased, her voice laced with newfound confidence.

He grinned, his fingers tracing circles on her bare back. "Oh, I'm all for that, ma belle."

As they sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that their love was a flame that burned fiercely, igniting not only their bodies but also their souls. In the midst of their passion and vulnerability, they had discovered a deeper connection, an unbreakable bond that would carry them through any obstacle.

And as they gazed out at the breathtaking view of Monaco's sparkling coastline from their balcony, the sound of Charles's ringing phone interrupted the moment of bliss. He reluctantly pulled away from Y/N, reaching for his phone with a slightly exasperated sigh.

"It's Xavi." he explained, a hint of frustration in his voice.

Y/N nodded understandingly, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "Go ahead and take the call, Charles. I'll wait for you."

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before answering the call. As he listened to his engineer's urgent voice on the other end, Y/N took the opportunity to appreciate the sight before her—Charles, half-naked and still flushed from their passionate encounter, his focus shifting between her and the conversation.

Charles's expression changed from annoyance to intrigue as he engaged in the conversation. He was visibly engrossed in the discussion, occasionally nodding or asking questions. Y/N couldn't help but admire his dedication and talent, even in the midst of their intimate moments.

After a few minutes, Charles concluded the call, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. He set his phone aside and turned his attention back to Y/N, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.

"Sorry about that, mon amour," he said, his voice husky with lingering lust. "But where were we?"

Y/N smirked, pulling him closer and trailing her fingertips along his bare chest. "I believe we were in the middle of something quite pleasurable."

Charles's eyes sparkled mischievously as he scooped Y/N up in his arms, effortlessly carrying her to their bedroom. She let out a playful squeal, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"Are you ready for round two, mon amour?" he whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

Y/N grinned, her fingers running through his tousled hair. "Oh, I'm more than ready." she replied, her voice brimming with excitement.

And as the door closed behind them, their laughter and passionate whispers filled the air, leaving the rest of their passionate escapades to be explored and savored in the privacy of their bedroom.

[deonsx]

i saw you were taking requests o((>ω< ))o

i hc yukimiya, kaiser, and oliver to have the comfy but stylish fashion sense(lol), can i request them with reader who has a darker style like goth or vkei?

Hiii dear!! firstly in the event i write the characters I will write and unfortunately just kaiser here (I only write characters whose behavior I understand, so I can imagine them, but I don't have enough information about the others sorry(´-ω-`) lets add sae

Kaiser Michael

Kaiser, ever the center of attention with his magnetic charisma and effortlessly stylish flair, strolls confidently through the crowd. By his side is you the striking contrast to his golden aura. Your dark, layered outfit, inspired by a fusion of gothic elegance and visual kei extravagance, turns just as many heads. Your presence radiates mystery, drawing curious glances wherever you walk together

Kaiser grins, adjusting the collar of his jacket as he leans closer to you “I swear, people are staring at us because of me” he teases, his voice dripping with smug amusement “Or maybe they’re just not used to seeing someone as stylish as me with someone so… darkly radiant”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smirking “Or they’re wondering why a golden retriever is trying to keep up with a black panther” The playful jab makes his grin widen “Touché, mein dunkler Stern”

The two of you pause at a stall selling handmade accessories. Kaiser’s eyes gleam as he spots a black lace choker adorned with a silver crescent moon. He picks it up, holding it toward you “This would suit you” he declares with absolute confidence, then adds with a teasing smirk “But you’d look even better wearing something of mine”

You snort, crossing your arms. “You mean like your ego? Sorry, it’s a bit too heavy for my neck”Undeterred, Kaiser steps closer, lowering his voice “Keep talking, and I might just buy it for you anyway. A perfect gift for my perfect little shadow”

The faintest blush creeps up your neck, and you quickly divert your attention to another stall. But Kaiser follows, his laughter soft but triumphant as he takes his place beside you, unfazed by your aloof demeanor

As the night continues, you find yourself grudgingly enjoying his over-the-top compliments and relentless attempts to get a smile from you. By the time you leave, he’s carrying several small items he insisted on buying for you a delicate ring, a black-embroidered scarf and of course the choker

Sae Itoshi

Sae walks in, exuding his usual cool, detached confidence. Dressed in his signature minimalist yet high-end fashion, he glances around with faint disinterest, his sharp eyes scanning the room for anything worthy of his attention. Then he notices you

You stand near a dimly lit display of abstract sculptures, your goth or visual kei-inspired attire making you an arresting contrast to the sterile white walls and muted tones of the gallery. Your layered outfit is a work of art itself dark lace, leather accents, and intricate accessories that seem to tell a story all their own. The black polish on your nails gleams as you hold a glass of wine, your demeanor composed and enigmatic. Sae’s gaze lingers a moment too long

“Interesting taste” he comments, stepping closer. His voice is low and measured, as if he’s assessing the situation with the same precision he brings to the pitch. You glance at him, arching a brow “The art or me?”

He doesn’t flinch at your boldness. Instead, his lips curve ever so slightly a rare hint of amusement “Both, I suppose. Though one of them is harder to read” You tilt your head, intrigued but refusing to let him rattle you. “Let me guess you prefer things simple, minimal, and predictable”

Sae’s smirk grows “Not quite. I just appreciate when something stands out. Like this…” He gestures toward the piece you were studying a sleek, modern sculpture with jagged, chaotic edges “Or you”

You chuckle softly, meeting his intense gaze “Flattery from a guy like you? Color me impressed”Sae shrugs, his tone nonchalant but his eyes sharper than ever “It’s not flattery. Just an observation”

The two of you fall into an easy, if slightly sharp-tongued, conversation. Sae’s reserved demeanor contrasts with your dark, vibrant energy, but neither of you seem fazed. As the evening wears on, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to your unapologetic individuality, while you find his quiet intensity more captivating than you expected

Before the night ends, Sae leans in closer, his voice softer but no less confident “I don’t usually go to these things, but I’m glad I did tonight. You’re… different”

“Different how?” you ask, feigning disinterest but feeling your heart skip a beat. Sae’s gaze locks with yours, his smirk returning “Let’s just say you’re not as predictable as I expected. I’d like to see more of that”

Enjoy!

[froggiewrites]

Picture You (1/4)

Pairing: Sanji x Reader, Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: The crew is celebrating their latest victory when they find you on their laps, drunk and clingy and affectionate, begging for attention. Sanji and Zoro both deal with a clingy drunk, and have deal with the unwanted feelings it brings from deep within them. Warnings: Masturbation, Self Loathing, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sanji has a praise kink, Hurt/Comfort (comfort in future chapters) Word Count: ~2k Notes: This chapter is just Sanji, next chapter will be Zoro's. Also this is in third person, which I know is kind of uncommon for reader inserts, but it felt right for this one! Crossposted from Ao3 Next Chapter

Sanji is in hell.

He thought this was heaven, this deck with these people, surrounded by warmth and love and women, as they drank and sang. It felt real and right in a way the rest of the world never had. Nami was laughing as she and Usopp swapped stories, and his angel...she had graced him with a smile that he swore stopped his heart. She was normally reserved, meek, so worried to draw attention, like she was afraid to live in the sun. He had always wondered what she would be like without fear, with reckless abandon, and now, a few drinks in, he has gotten to see it. She's giggly, overjoyed, and, most importantly, touchy.

He had brought her another drink, hoping to receive nothing more than a gentle smile and a quiet thank you, and she instead gifted him with something he couldn't even have imagined: her chest brushing against him, her hands on his chest, her face so close to his he could feel her breath as she whispered, “Thank you, Sanji.” 

She lingered, and he was frozen, face flushed, before slightly adjusting his hips back out of precaution. He didn't want to risk scaring her away, as her eyelids drooped and she gave him a pouty look he had often dreamed about. 

“You're so wonderful, Sanji, y'know that? So wonderful. And caring. And nice. And good.”

Her words were a little slurred. She didn't know what she was saying, but that was okay. Just to hear it, to feel her sincerity, even when misguided, was enough to bring a tightness to his chest. She thinks he's good. It cuts somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn't like to dwell, and he narrowly avoids his insides pouring out, a confessional to his goddess of all his sins, his wrongs, and his wish for acceptance. 

But he doesn't fall to his knees quite yet. He stays on his feet, and instead focuses on a different thought, wrong and dirty and surely a disappointment to her but one much easier to swallow: her voice, low and warm as it is now, whispering about what else he is. One phrase comes out above the rest, and he pulls his hips back a little further.

Good boy, her voice in his head whispers. You're doing so good, Sanji, you're making me feel so wonderful.

He swallows, tries to screw his head on right, but he subtly presses their chests together anyway. He can't help it. Her hands slide upwards, reaching to rest behind his neck. 

“I've missed you, y'know. You haven't come and sat with me all night!” Her smile is goofy and toothy, entirely unconcerned with how it might look. She doesn't smile like that often; he's privileged to see it.

Her mouth is doing something else in his mind.

He allows his hands to rest on her hips. He can repent later. 

“Oh yeah? You missed me?” His voice is deeper, and he prays it sounds cool and purposeful and not like he's trying to hide how unbearably horny he is right now.

“I did,” she chirps, leaning closer. He can feel every inch of her breasts, the ones he has tried so hard not to familiarize himself with despite how often his eyes would drift to them. His hands twitch, but he manages to resist the urge to grab them, to roll the nipples he can feel through her shirt through his fingers like he's imagining.

“I’ve missed you too, angel.” He leans closer, and he can see her pupils dilate as she bites her lip. In his head she continues to whisper such lovely things, more and faster and I love you, Sanji!, but he pushes them down. She's in front of him now, asking so nicely for his attention, and to wish for more is a sin he could never repent enough for.

“Will you stay? I want you to stay.” Her voice is nothing more than a whine, and the sound cuts right through him. She pulls him closer, their noses brushing, and if he didn't know better he would think she was about to kiss him.

“Anything you ask, angel.” She doesn't know how much he means it. She doesn't know how much he wants to be here, with her, against her, in her. She is everything, and he is nothing, but still she asks him to stay, as horrible and twisted and unworthy as he is. Even now, as his hands slowly slide down to her ass, she's asking him to stay. Does she not understand? Is she simply too good to understand how unworthy he is, they all are, to stand beside her?

He sits on the deck, pulling her down with him, long legs on either side of her. She begins to shift forward, and he feels his stomach drop with both fear and excitement. On the one hand, he's hard as a rock and she's about to feel it. On the other, he's hard as a rock and he's about to feel her. He's frozen, unable to figure out if he should stop her or not, and by the time his brain catches up she's already straddling him. Her chest rubs his, her plush thighs wrap around his hips, and her warmth rests so very close to his crotch.

Sanji quickly realizes this problem is going to be much worse than initially expected.

Her cold nose nuzzles his neck, and she whispers to him, “This is just as good as I thought it would be.”

She thought about him.

She thought about wrapping herself around him, sitting on his lap, not caring about the rest of the crew watching. She couldn't know the implications of this, his angel, his pure, sweet goddess. She can't understand what she's doing to him. She can't be thinking about how he can feel her nipples through her shirt, about how he can see right down it, about how her lips feel resting against his neck. She certainly can't be thinking about how his cock feels pressed against her inner thigh.

She shifts, and he can't repress the moan he lets out, quiet enough he thinks he might be lucky enough for her not to have heard.

“What a pretty sound.” Her voice is a purr, and he feels her lips brush against his neck.

Jesus Christ.

Her head shifts from his neck, and they're looking each other in the eye now. 

“You're so beautiful, Sanji, y'know? So pretty.” Her lips get closer. her thigh moves again, and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard it might bleed. She doesn't know, he insists to himself. She's just drunk, and innocent, and he's an evil and vile man for allowing it to get so far.

His hips jerk upward.

In his head, she's on a bed, pressed against silk sheets. Their hands are intertwined. Her face is twisted with pleasure, and he’s the one giving it to her. She's so lost in it she's near tears, little moans eking out of her mouth, and he is too much a gentleman to tease her, so they're growing louder with each and every thrust. She is around him, tight and warm and wet, holding him in because she wants him. She wants him there, with her and inside her, and he is there because he will give her anything she wants.

In reality, she is still obstructed by clothing, but he can almost feel a wetness against him. His imagination, surely. She's staring him in the eyes, her pupils blown wide from the alcohol, and she is near unblinking. She is doing the same in his head. She is looking at him. By god, she is looking at him, and she does not find him lacking. She is looking at him and she wants him.

Her thigh shifts again.

She whispers to him, “Y'know, Sanji, I really care about you. I don't think I say that enough. I really, really care about you.”

He manages to mostly choke down the sound, but he can't keep his hips still as they jerk into her clothed core. He feels the stickiness fill his pants, the warmth, the shame, but he keeps staring in her eyes all the same. She leans closer. He can feel her breath on his lips. He can feel her hands begin to slide down his body, as they very deliberately grab at his chest. And lower. And–

“I need to go.” He shoots up, practically shoving her off of his lap. He can still feel it, and worse, he's getting hard again just looking at her, as his brain continues to use her voice to say the most terrible, wonderful things. As it whispers again and again, 

I care about you, Sanji. 

Please stay, Sanji. 

I love you, Sanji. 

Sanji, Sanji, Sanji!

“But I–” He doesn't let her finish before he sprints below deck. God forbid she sees. God forbid anyone see. The rest of the crew were feet away. They could have seen, could have heard. Could know what a horrible, vile pervert he is.

He ignores how his pants tighten even further at the thought.

He slams into the bathroom, barely remembering to lock it behind him, before ripping his pants off. He looks down as his cock springs out, and he just barely remembers to feel shame before bringing his hand to wrap around it, still sticky. 

What a horrible man he is. How awful. How evil.

You're such a good boy, Sanji.

Maybe he is horrible. Maybe he really is a monster.

You're so good for me. So right.

No one would care for him, twisted as he is. Not if they knew better.

I love you, Sanji.

He cums again, tears running down his face, imagining a world where he deserves it. Where he is better. Where he is whole. Where she looks at him like she did on the deck, like she did in his dreams, and he feels no shame or bitterness for it.

He's quiet as he cleans himself up. He makes sure he gets it all, and he doesn't allow the thought of her tongue cleaning it up instead to take root. Instead he shoves himself back into his pants, filthy as they are, and makes his way above deck again, drinks in hand. He has to make up for this, for himself, for it all.

His eyes search for her, as they always do, and he nearly screams at the sight.

She's curled in Zoro's lap, face pressed into his chest, arms wrapped around his midsection. That wretched, bastard swordsman isn't even looking at her as he takes another drink, one arm wrapped around her protectively. It turns his stomach. It makes him want to cry. It makes the little voice in his head just a bit louder.

At least he isn't a monster.

At least he isn't using her for his own satisfaction.

His hands shake as he hands her her next drink, but she smiles at him anyway, unaware of what happened below deck. Unaware of the turmoil she's putting him through. Innocent, innocent, innocent.

She smiles at him, warm and kind and a little sleepy. “Thank you, Sanji. I can always count on you.”

And she can. No matter his sins, no matter what other horrible sickness plagues his mind, she can count on him. That has to count for something.

That night, he dreams of her thighs, her breasts, her lips. her voice.

I love you, Sanji.

He wakes up alone.

[sleepykye]

Sweet Dreams..

Tamaki being jealous while walking around the school festival with you

The U.A. High School festival was in full swing, and the campus buzzed with excitement. Booths lined the walkways, and students and visitors alike filled the grounds, eager to partake in the various activities and performances. The air was filled with the scent of festival foods and the sound of laughter.

You, a fellow student, were dressed in a charming maid outfit as part of your class's maid café booth. The café had been a hit, drawing in many customers, but you had managed to get a break to explore the festival. Tamaki Amajiki, your shy and endearing friend, was waiting for you outside the café, looking slightly nervous but excited.

When you stepped out, Tamaki's face turned a deep shade of red. "Y-Y/N, you look... really nice," he stammered, his eyes darting away.

You smiled brightly, adjusting the frilly apron of your outfit. "Thanks, Tamaki! Ready to check out the festival?"

He nodded, his blush deepening. "Yeah, let's go."

The two of you wandered through the bustling festival grounds, visiting various booths and enjoying the activities. Tamaki, though usually reserved, seemed to relax a bit in your company, his nervousness easing as you laughed and chatted.

You dragged him to a game booth where you tried your hand at winning a stuffed animal, then to a food stall where you sampled some delicious takoyaki. Tamaki's anxiety flared up again as he noticed the increasing number of male students casting appreciative glances your way and making comments about your maid outfit.

At one point, a group of boys walked by, openly admiring you. "Wow, she's so cute in that outfit," one of them said, not bothering to lower his voice.

Tamaki's grip on his takoyaki stick tightened, his jealousy bubbling up, but he tried to brush it off, not wanting to ruin your fun. You, seemingly oblivious to the attention, continued to enjoy the festival, your cheerful demeanour never wavering.

As the day went on, you suggested taking a photo together in a themed photo booth. Tamaki hesitated but agreed, following you into the booth. As you waited in line, more students approached, complimenting your outfit and asking for photos with you.

Tamaki's discomfort was evident, but he forced a smile, trying to keep his jealousy in check. Inside the booth, you posed happily, but Tamaki's unease was clear in the photos, his smiles strained.

After the photos were printed, you noticed his expression. "Tamaki, are you okay? You look a little... tense," you said, concerned.

He shook his head quickly. "I'm fine, really," he insisted, though his voice lacked conviction.

Later, as you watched a performance together, a particularly bold student approached you. "Hey, you're from the maid café, right? You look amazing in that outfit. Want to join me for a dance?"

Before you could respond, Tamaki stepped forward, his usual shyness momentarily replaced by a surge of protectiveness. "She's with me," he said firmly, his voice stronger than you'd ever heard it.

The student raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, man, no need to get defensive."

You pulled Tamaki aside, your brow furrowed in confusion. "Tamaki, what's going on? You've been acting strange all day.

In a quieter area of the festival, away from the crowds, Tamaki took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I... I'm sorry, Y/N. It's just... seeing all those guys looking at you, complimenting you... I got jealous. I didn't like it."

You blinked, taken aback by his confession. "Jealous? Why would you be jealous?"

Tamaki looked down, his face flushing. "Because... I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I guess I was afraid you might like someone else instead."

Your heart swelled with affection and relief. "Tamaki, I like you too. I didn't realize you felt this way, but you don't have to worry about anyone else. I like you for who you are."

His eyes widened in surprise and hope. "Really?"

You nodded, reaching out to take his hand. "Really. So let's not waste any more time being worried, okay?"

He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile, and squeezed your hand. "Okay."

With their feelings out in the open, you and Tamaki returned to the festival, enjoying the rest of the day together. You introduced him to your classmates at the maid café, who welcomed him warmly. Tamaki, still shy but more at ease, stayed close by your side, his confidence bolstered by your reassurance.

As the festival drew to a close, you found a spot to watch the fireworks display. Hand in hand, you and Tamaki watched the sky light up with brilliant colors, the day's worries melting away. In that moment, surrounded by the glow of the fireworks and the warmth of your newfound understanding, you knew that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

And as the final burst of light faded into the night sky, Tamaki gently squeezed your hand, a silent promise of the bond you now shared.

[st4rfckerz]

Late Night Call | Nerdy!Anakin x Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: MDNI 18+, masturbating (both), voice kink, praise, nerdy!anakin is a whiny little mess.

summary: Your voice is enough to get Anakin all worked up.

The silence of the night seemed to be swallowing the entire city as Anakin lay sprawled in his bed, staring at the ceiling. With a yawn, Anakin lifted the blocky landline phone off its cradle, the dial tone echoing through the receiver. As he recited the familiar numbers, he couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Hello?" a gentle voice answered on the other line.

"Hey, I didn't wake you up did I?" Anakin mumbled into the phone, his voice barely above a whisper. The soft sound of rustling sheets and a yawn came from the other end of the line.

There was a pause before you replied. You knew that voice. "No, you caught me at a good time. What's going on?"

"Oh, well, nothing really I just wanted to talk to you," he stammered, trying to mask his nervousness. "I'm putting off writing this paper too actually," Anakin admits almost sounding like he was ashamed of himself. "I don't know, I just don't feel like its good enough." He brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he could feel the small migraine coming in through to temples of his skull.

"Hey, it's alright," your soft voice reassured him from the other side of the line, sending a wave of calm washing over his senses. It was enough to ease his nerves, even if just a little. "You're human, and mistakes happen. You can't expect perfection from yourself all the time."

As the comforting voice continued speaking into the phone, Anakin's breath hitched in his throat. His heartbeat pulsed rapidly in his ears, matching the cadence of the soft whispers. Slowly, the warmth that had started in his chest spread through his limbs, igniting a fire within him. His thoughts raced, his imagination running wild with images of you on the other end of the line, your voice painting vivid pictures in his mind. The soothing voice was a siren song, drawing him in deeper with each passing second.

"What're you writing about anyways?" your voice rings softly through the line. Anakin clenched his eyes shut, his grip on the receiver tightened, as if he could somehow draw strength from the cold plastic. This isn't right, he chided himself, yet he couldn't resist the pull.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, it's about a new tech startup in Silicon Valley, something boring like that." Anakin managed to amswer, his voice cracking slightly. His hand subconsciously rubbed against his crotch, and he discreetly adjusted his pants, feeling the bulge growing bigger. He needed to calm down. Fast.

You hum slightly, the topic taking your interest. "That's sounds intriguing, I'd read it. I'm writing about the use of real fur in the fashion industry." Anakin's heart skipped a beat hearing your reply. Real fur? That sounded controversial, edgy, something that would definitely get you a passing grade.

"Oh, really?" he managed to choke out, trying to keep his voice steady. "Do you think it's... you know, ethical?"

"Not at all, there's always faux fur y'know?" you scoff. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. This was school-related, he reminded himself sternly. "Well, I mean, if the demand for real fur decreases, the industry will eventually adapt," he reasoned, trying to sound rational. "Plus, there are ways to ensure animal welfare during the process."

"See! You're so good, it's not even your paper and you're already shooting facts." you praise him innocently. God, he could've came in his boxers if he wasn't being so careful. His head was buzzing with ideas of how he might prolong the conversation so that you could carry on speaking. He just needed to hear you voice.

"Thanks." Anakin laughed nervously, trying to deflect the compliment. "So, um... how's everything else been? Anything exciting happening in your life besides your classes?" He couldn't shake the image of you in that little skirt you decided to wear to class the other day, your tits swaying enticingly in the tight sweater you wore. If it was up to him, he would've fucked you in that classroom in front of everyone. His cock twitched in his pants, growing harder by the minute.

"Not really, my roommate's gonna be out of town for a family thing, so I'll have a whole boring week by myself." you explain.

"Oh, really?" Anakin's eyes widened in delight, his heart racing faster than ever. He shifted in his seat, his cock throbbing against his pajama pants "So, uh, want to meet up sometime? Just you and me?" He forced himself to sound innocent, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying his true intentions.

His hand reached down his pants, feeling the head of his cock peeking out from his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around it, stroking slowly, trying to calm down. He had to focus on their conversation, at least until she agreed to meet up with him. He inadvertently let a whine slip out of his mouth as he swept his fingers across his sensitive tip.

"Anakin? Are you ok?" you ignore his question. Is he? No, he wouldn't. You think to yourself.

"Y-yeah just keep talking, 'm listening." Anakin stammered. His hand continued to stroke his cock unabashedly, increasing the speed slightly. He was so lost in the mind that he didn't even think about the possibility of you being able to hear the quiet slick sounds coming from his end of the line.

He is.

"Ani, I know what you're doing." you state bluntly. His eyes spring open and his hand slows down its movement on his cock.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't help it, y-you can hang up if you want I just-" he blurts out his words but you instantly interrupt him.

"Why would I want to hang up?"

"What?" Anakin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was sure you'd call him a sick freak and never talk to him again.

"I'm not hanging up," His heart raced wildly, his cock throbbing harder than ever. He couldn't resist your voice. "Does it feel good Ani?"

"Mhm, wish it was you." he admits breathlessly, his fingers tightening around his cock. Anakin's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"Yeah? Tell me what you're thinking about baby." you chide. You could feel your cunt getting increasingly wetter as you continued to speak to him, it makes you squirm as the heat continues to spread through your body.

"Just you, 's always you," he confessed, his voice cracking with lust. "I wanna touch you and taste you everywhere." His hand picked up speed, and his cock twitched violently in his pants.

"You wanna taste me?" you egg him on. His voice sounded so desperate it was almost pathetic.

"Uh huh, I wanna taste you," Anakin's voice trembled with desire. "Everywhere. Mmph- your lips, your neck, your pussy, everywhere."

He couldn't help but wonder how you would sound, how you would taste, how you would react to his advances. His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing violently in his pants. He needed relief, needed you to stop teasing him.

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me Ani?" you whisper, your voice dropping down an octave.

"I'll be anything you want me to be," Anakin panted, his voice hoarse with desire. "Just please keep talking." He couldn't contain himself anymore, his hand moving faster. "I'll do anything you say, just tell me what you want."

"I wanna hear you beg to cum." you demand as you begin to slowly graze your beating clit over your panties, soon dipping your hand underneath them to be met with your soaking cunt. "You're making me so wet Ani." Your fingers swirled little circles against your tiny bud, causing you to let out a small moan.

Anakin groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, I need it so bad." He couldn't stand it anymore, he had to release the pressure building up inside him. "I'll be good I promise," he pleaded, his voice breaking. Anakin's heart stopped for a moment as he heard the wet sounds coming from the other end. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Mhm, feels so good." you moan as you curl your delicate fingers inside your drooling pussy. His cock jerked in his hand and  his mind filled with images of you fingering yourself.

"Ah- fuck." His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He bit his lower lip, trying to control himself, but his body betrayed him. "I'm close, so close-" he panted. His hips rocked back and forth in sync with each stroke. and he could feel his orgasm building up, he knew it wouldn't be long now. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his breathing became shallow and erratic.

"Cum for me pretty boy, I wanna hear you." He couldn't hold it back any longer. With one last hard stroke, he came, his balls tightening and his cock spurting a warm stream of cum onto his blankets. He let out a loud groan, his entire body shaking with pleasure.

You can feel your own orgasm creeping up inside you as you vigorously pumped your fingers into your cunt. "Shit Ani 'm cumming!" you squeal. Anakin's eyes widened, a low growl escaping his lips as he heard you ride out your orgasm. His chest heaved, little beads of sweat trickled down his face as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, you both sat there, panting and recovering from your orgasms. Then, finally, Anakin found the courage to speak again. "We should... we should probably hang up, huh?" he said hesitantly.

"I guess we could," you chuckle at his awkwardness. "I'm tired now." Anakin smiled weakly, wiping away the remaining streaks of sweat from his forehead. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. He looked at his watch, noting the time. "There's no way I'm finishing this paper tonight." He laughs at himself.

"Me neither, I'll do it eventually." you smile at his awkwardness, you always found it cute. "Will I be seeing you in Callahan's tomorrow?" you ask him, hoping he'll be there waiting on you with an empty seat next to his like always.

Anakin chuckled softly, feeling a bit embarrassed but relieved. He quickly cleaned himself up and took in a deep breath. "Yep, I'll be there," he replied, his voice steady once again. "Maybe we could grab coffee afterwards? If you're free, that is."

There was silence on the line before you spoke, but he hoped you'd accept his invitation. He needed to see you again, to be near you.

"That sounds great Anakin." you beam.

He smiled, grateful for the chance to talk to you without all the tension hanging over them. "See you tomorrow, then." he added, his voice friendly and casual.

You said your goodbyes and Anakin ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. As he hung up the phone, he glanced down at his sticky pants, a small smile playing on his lips. He couldn't wait for tomorrow's class.

[thunderbump]

Lesson in Labor

Disclaimer: Hi everyone i know i posted one story and vanished but life got busy. I kinda through this one together but if people like it might make a part two. Enjoy :)

Mrs. Thompson stood at the front of her classroom, hands resting lightly on her enormous belly, a practiced habit she’d developed over the last few months. At eight and a half months pregnant, she looked ready to pop any day now. In truth, she’d started showing early, much earlier than anyone expected. By the end of her first trimester, her small frame had begun to round out, her baby bump impossible to hide from the students who whispered excitedly among themselves.

"Mrs. T is gonna have her baby any day now!" one of them had said during lunch last week. The class laughed, but Mrs. Thompson smiled politely, brushing off the comment. Little did they know how right they were.

As she continued her lesson, explaining the intricacies of Shakespeare's *Macbeth*, a sudden, sharp pain shot through her abdomen. She flinched but quickly disguised it as a cough. Her eyes darted toward the clock. It was only 10:15 AM. An hour had already passed, the day would be over in no time. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Thompson continued speaking, but her words came out more strained now. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to ease the building pressure that was quickly becoming difficult to ignore. Another contraction rippled through her, stronger this time, and her free hand gripped the desk behind her.

"Are you okay, Mrs. T?" a student in the front row asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I’m fine, Jamie. Just a little...tired," she said, trying to smile through the discomfort. She wasn't about to admit that she was, in fact, having contractions. There was no way she was going to give birth in the middle of her classroom. Not in front of her students.

But her belly—round and large, the size of a beach ball under her flowing dress—was tightening again. She felt the unmistakable, rhythmic tightening, and she knew deep down that this wasn’t just some random Braxton Hicks. This was the real thing. Her baby was coming.

She glanced at the classroom door. She could make an excuse and leave. But then what? Her classroom was on the second floor, and the teachers’ lounge, where her phone sat, was all the way at the other end of the building. The idea of walking that far in her condition made her wince. Besides, if she suddenly bolted for the door, she’d draw attention. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene.

“Now, can anyone explain Lady Macbeth’s role in the murder of Duncan?” she asked, her voice tight as another contraction hit. She bent slightly at the waist, hoping the class wouldn’t notice. Her enormous belly was pulling her forward, making her feel heavy, slow, and increasingly uncomfortable.

A few students raised their hands, but Mrs. Thompson’s focus was rapidly dwindling. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and she wiped it away quickly, trying to maintain her composure. The pressure in her belly grew more intense, and she couldn’t help but place both hands on her stomach, feeling the strong kick of her baby—who was apparently eager to make an entrance.

"Uh, okay, Melissa, go ahead," she said, pointing to one of the students, her voice wavering.

As Melissa rambled on about the play, Mrs. Thompson barely heard a word. She was too busy counting in her head, timing the contractions. Five minutes apart. Maybe a little less. She swallowed hard, determined to make it through the next hour until lunch.

The next contraction came hard, and Mrs. Thompson had to turn her back to the class, pretending to adjust something on the board. Her breath caught in her throat, and she gripped the edge of the chalk tray for support. She was huge now, her belly straining against her dress, every movement reminding her of how close she was. Her students couldn’t know. They’d freak out, and she refused to be remembered as the teacher who went into labor during *Macbeth*.

But her body had other plans. She felt a deep pressure low in her abdomen, a sign she couldn’t ignore any longer. Time was running out.

She straightened up and turned back to the class, plastering on a smile she hoped looked convincing. “Class,” she said, her voice slightly higher than usual, “I think I need to step out for a moment. You can work on your study guides for the next ten minutes.”

She barely waited for them to respond before making her way, carefully and slowly, to the door. The moment she stepped into the hallway, her face crumpled with relief. She leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. Her water hadn’t broken yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. The contractions were relentless now, and her belly, huge and tight, seemed to be doing all the work of pushing her forward, one excruciating step at a time.

Each step was agony, and by the time she reached the teachers’ lounge, she was panting, her face pale and clammy. She managed to grab her phone, dialing her husband’s number with trembling hands.

“David, it’s happening,” she gasped, sinking into a chair as another contraction hit, “I tried to hide it, but…I think the baby’s coming now.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before her husband replied, “I’m on my way. Hang in there.”

Mrs. Thompson hung up and sat back, rubbing her enormous belly. She glanced out the window, knowing she was about to meet the little one she had been carrying for so long. But first, she had to make it through labor—hopefully, without causing too much chaos in the school.

[doctorho]

Constellations pt. 2

hiiii guys we continue!! now featuring a late night adventure to the observatory tower of the academy👀 sorry this took longer than planned i had to make up my mind about The Outfit Academy era Viktor x gender neutral reader, 2.5k, no warnings part 1

He blinks twice before his brain registers what is happening. You are holding his hand, and smiling, and pulling him along. Towards the nearest exit, a tall set of double doors on the side of the banquet hall, dark wood adorned with flowers. He follows, of course, of course he follows, but he needs to take a moment to get his thoughts in order, get his limbs to do what he wants them to. This was not what he was expecting to happen; he was hoping for it, sure, but he certainly wasn’t expecting it. If anything, he was thinking he’d maybe get to steal a moment’s peaceful conversation and your attention for however long it took before someone interrupted, not…whatever this was about to be.

But he follows, trying to school his face into an expression of of course, this is what we were planning all along.

The gentle decorative light is making your skin glow, and your hand is warm in his, and Viktor is pretty sure his insides were slowly turning into melted down sugar. 

“Right here, right?” you ask over your shoulder at the exit, nodding right towards the hallway that curved into the darkness there.

“Right,” Viktor answers, trying to sound confident. He knew the route, of course, he just…wasn’t sure he knew this, knew what was happening, and what was going to happen when you’d get there.

People had seen you leave with him. Hand in hand. And in events like these, people were always watching. Making assumptions.

He hoped you knew that. 

Viktor is having a hard time articulating where this train of thought took him, because you were pulling him through a dimly-lit corridor while the sounds of the party grew fainter, and how was he supposed to think when you were right there, all polished up and glowing and gorgeous and choosing to leave with him?

You should know that.

So what were you thinking?

Now that you were pulling him along, he unfortunately (fortunately) (unfortunately) (fortunately) had a prime view of your back, mostly exposed thanks to your outfit. 

He’s thankful that you can’t see his face when he takes this in. It’s a…confusing little thing, your outfit, balancing somewhere between professional and very much not, with a dark, silky-looking vest that looked like it might go with any respectable suit if it didn’t have a low-scooping back and wasn’t made from a material that looked way too expensive for everyday use. In the front, it just looks like a stylized vest, with an artfully sculpted neckline, made to match the wide-legged pants you were wearing. But in the back, the neckline disappears into a closure behind your neck, finished off with a piece of jewelry that was resting against the top of your exposed spine and moving in time with your steps like a pendulum, drawing his attention to the soft expanse of your skin beneath. The vest was hugging your body perfectly, and it doesn’t look like you have anything underneath it, anything visible, at least, and Viktor is hungrily taking in this image of you like this. All glowing skin and expensive-looking fabric, relaxed smiles and your hand in his, he’s going to savor this in the back of his head for a long time. 

You don’t drop his hand when you get to the hallway. Instead, you look back at him and smile, point ahead to your right. “The entrance should be somewhere around here, right?” 

“Yes,” he confirms, and then has to clear his throat, “after the next turn.” 

You looked like one of the paintings in the city gallery brought to life and glowing, and selfishly, stupidly, greedily for a moment he lets himself believe it’s just for him. 

The next turn comes quickly, and you let go of his hand, push a button to call an elevator, all in a natural flow of movement. Viktor adjusts his posture and thinks about it way too hard.

“So,” you say just as the elevator arrives with a mechanical cla-ding, and you step in, turning around to face him again as you do, “you come here often?”

“The elevators?” Viktor answers, walking in after you and smiling a bit as you roll your eyes, “seen as I greatly prefer them to all the stairs in this fine establishment, yes.”

You’re beautiful in the artificial lights of the elevator too, and Viktor still can’t fully comprehend what’s happening here. You’d left the party with him? Really? 

For what?

You take a deep inhale through a faux-annoyed look that is quickly betrayed by a smile. “And the observatory tower?” 

The lights of each passing floor illuminate you in flashes of white-blue-golden-yellow, washing over your body, and Viktor takes a deep inhale of his own, though for an entirely different reason than what he imagines yours had been for. 

“Not as much, no,” he answers, “not really my area of expertise. I tend to keep my pursuits closer to things that are more…tangible. Not that the thought isn’t appealing,” The elevator stops with another mechanical cha-ding, and the doors open. 

Viktor steps out, thankful for the distraction of the action, and fishes out his keys, which, thank you Professor, included a general key to the main doors in the Natural Sciences wing of the Academy. He had figured it would come in useful when he’d gotten it, and it had, just not…quite like this before. “I just think my efforts are best used closer to the ground right now.” he adds, flipping through the keys in one hand. 

You let out a hmm through closed lips, and look around the entrance hall. “Only reserve this one for late-night escapades, then?”

“You wanted to see the stars,” he says, like it really is that simple, walking to the door, “and I have the keys.” 

He glances at you, meeting your eyes briefly. “Only on special occasions.” He can't help smiling a little.

Viktor opens the door, quietly thankful for his steady hands, and walks in.

You follow him into the expanse of the room, a wide, round hall with a glass dome for a roof that was letting in the unopposed main attraction in sight; the starlight. Viktor flips a switch by the door, illuminating a dim row of lights mounted on the walls. They don’t provide nearly enough light to see any of the details of the room at first, but as your eyes adjust the room starts to take shape around you. Thin panes across the dome of the roof break up the view of the sky in certain places, and there’s a black mass huddled in the middle of the marble floor – the telescope, presumably – and all the walls are lined with shelves stacked full of something. It doesn’t feel important, though, because the sky really is the main attraction of the room; and it is gorgeous. 

Viktor watches you take it all in, leaning to his cane near the door. 

“It’s not ideal,” he says, taking a step closer and waving his hand towards the sky, “with all the city lights nearby. The conditions for this would be better further off the city centre.”

“It’s still beautiful.” You counter, keeping your eyes on the sky.

And Viktor can’t argue.

He keeps his eyes on you.

“It is,” he agrees, and it feels like a confession. He takes a deep breath and readjusts his stance, glances at the door. Shut. 

Good.

He joins your side, tilting his head up. 

The sky was beautiful, too.

He’d spent a lot of time looking up at it, after he came to the Academy. In the Undercity, the crisp night sky was a rare commodity, in most places either blocked from view by buildings or distorted by the fumes rising from the ever-working machines. It made something in him flinch a little, that even the sky had been turned into something to be thankful for. That was definitely something closer to the ground that he could focus his efforts on improving.

But…he couldn’t deny it was beautiful. Especially when shared like this.

It still didn’t feel entirely real. That you were here with him. He was burning with it, with the warm buzzing something in him that wanted to know what you were thinking, why you came here with him, and did you realize how it looked, you two leaving the party together like that? Did you do that on purpose? 

Did you know what you were doing to him, just standing there admiring the sky like it’s the first time you’ve really seen it, exuding warmth, the low lights painting every curve and angle on your body, your skin in dripping liquid gold? Smiling? 

He takes a breath and tries not to shiver with it. Fixes his posture, readjusts his grip on his cane. “Did you ever find any?” He asks, and you turn to look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Constellations,” he continues, slowly shifting his gaze to yours, “in those moles of yours.” 

You blink. And it’s a precious fraction of a second when Viktor gets to watch the realization sink in with understanding; your eyebrows lowering, relaxing, your smile stretching from casual to honey-sweet, your eyes catching a playful spark as you lean closer to him with an exaggeratedly thoughtful hmm.

It makes his insides stir, in the best way possible. 

“I thought constellations were in the eyes of the beholder.” You ask, tilting your head ever so slightly and looking over the edges of the room, the books and the charts and the stacks of notes, leaning closer. 

So close to him that he could smell you, your intoxicating warmth over the old wood and dust and books of the room. 

So close that he could drown in it. He could drown in it and be thankful. 

“They are,” he agrees, trying to sound casual and absolutely fucking failing, and then taking a breath and recomposing himself, swallowing, “historically, different cultures have had different definitions for what they see in the sky. Influenced by the local folklore, and…whoever was taking the notes, I suppose. Holding the pen. Giving shape to the stories, so to speak.”

You hmm though a smile again, sweetly, thoughtfully, looking at him, and oh, his blood is honey and molasses and warm-thick-spun-sugar, and with that and the residues of the sparkling champagne buzz in his head, it was getting hard to think. 

And then you lean even closer and tilt your head just so, exposing most of your clavicle, and Viktor stops breathing. 

You look down the side of your arm, turning it in the light slowly. “What about you,” you ask him, voice so quiet that it fills the whole room, “what would you see in them?” 

He blinks as his brain processes this, his whole body burning. He’s pretty sure the whole world just stopped, the whole universe is holding its breath while he studies the look on your face. The openness there, the small smile like a shared secret, and the way you look like you’re waiting. For his reaction.

Slowly, Viktor shifts his gaze from your eyes to your skin, not fully believing that you just asked him that. He takes a breath and lets his gaze travel down your shoulder, your arm. 

And then, even slower, he lifts a gentle hand to just above your skin on the side of your arm, and then lets it hover there before he actually touches you. Lets his eyes flicker back to yours for confirmation. 

You give him a small smile and a soft look, a tiny nod, and he exhales. Regains some of his ability to think, and tilts his head a little. Licks his lips. And then he lets his thumb ever so slightly drag over your skin, from one mole to another, up the side of your arm. 

“I think I might not be entirely impartial on this, but…” he says quietly, careful not to break the moment, “I don’t think you should settle for old constellations.” 

He lifts his eyes to yours slowly. You’re already watching him, close and gentle and curious. “What do you mean by that?” You ask, voice barely louder than an exhale, and slightly breathless, too. That nudges something awake in the pit of his stomach, the way your voice sounds like that, quiet and breathless and close in the dim room, and only for him to hear. He has to take a breath and swallow it to recompose himself. 

He traces the pads of his fingers over your skin, connecting one mole to another with a careful, gentle imaginary line, soft as a breath. And then he keeps his hand moving, eventually ending up just under your collarbone. He takes a slightly-shaky breath and rests his hand there, not knowing what else to do. Not wanting to do anything else.

Your skin is warm and soft under his fingers, and he still isn’t sure what this is, but you’re still here, you haven’t flinched away from his touch, and that must be a good sign.

“I mean,” he reiterates, “that the constellations we use for the sky as we know it are someone else’s,” he exhales, tearing his eyes away from you to glance at the sky, “decided by someone else, for something else. You,” he meets your eyes again, “are entirely of your own caliber. And I think that if you want some constellations of your own, you shouldn’t settle for second-hand ones.”

The way you look at him, he thinks, is…something. He’s not sure what, but it’s something. Warm and glistening and something like a sunrise.

“Okay,” you say slowly, like you’re taking this in, “just to make sure, you think using the pre-existing constellations would be a…downgrade?”

“Yes?” he answers, tilting his head, and then you let out a small, bubbling laugh that fills up the small space you were in, and you lean your forehead on his shoulder as you do.

“Sorry,” you laugh, shaking your head a little against him, to which he has no objections, it’s giving him premium access to the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo – “that’s not funny, it’s just – to think the sky, the starry night sky would be a downgrade. It’s–” 

“Yes,” he says again, and he 100% means it. To you? Yes. “You’re unique, in the whole universe.”

You quiet at that, and take an uneven breath against his collarbone. 

“Okay then,” you say slowly, and then slowly lift your head. “Well,” you take a deep breath and exhale it, “I can’t see myself from the outside, so would you be my notekeeper?” you ask, “make up some for me.” 

Viktor blinks. Opens his mouth and then closes it. And with the next inhale he takes, that warm-purring something in him lifts its head again, pleased at the idea of you wanting him to be your anything, nevertheless what he thought you were asking now. To be allowed to look at you with such purpose, to map out the patterns on your skin–

He was never going to say no to that.

[biggestxsimps]

A Night with Izu

Third year Izuku x male reader!! (same age.)

A/N: This was requested on our wattpad. Hope you enjoy!!

It was your typical day at U.A High School, and Class 3-A busy with activities. Izuku was busy training with his classmates, pushing himself to become the greatest hero he could be. However, amidst all the hustle and bustle, something caught the attention of his friends.

As they gathered in the common room after training, Mina noticed a notification pop up on Izuku’s phone, which was lying on the table. Curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned in to read the message. Her eyes widened in surprise as she read ‘Can’t wait to see you this weekend love!’ -Y/N.

“Uh, Midoriya?” Mina called out, trying to sound casual before her excitement got the better of her. “Who’s Y/N?!” she called out, a small grin on her lips.

Izuku just returned from the kitchen, holding his glass of water in his hand tightly, almost dropping it. His face turned red. “Uh, It’s… uhm, well…”

Kaminari perked up, he was always up for gossip. He grinned and chimed in. “Come on, Midoriya! Spill the beans! Do you have a boyfriend?”

The room went silent as everyone turned to look at Izuku. He nervously fidgeted with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I do..” he admitted softly.

Within seconds, a bunch of questions erupted from his classmates.

“How long have you been together?” Uraraka asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“How did you meet?” inquired Iida, adjusting his glasses.

“What’s he like?” Todoroki asked, his expression calm, but his interest piped.

As questions followed each other, Izuku took a deep breath, trying to answer to the best of his ability. “A year nearly now. We met at a convention; he was showcasing his art last year. He’s really talented and popular.” he smiled

“That’s so cool!” Mina exclaimed, letting a soft laugh fall from her lips. “You should invite him over sometime.” She hummed out.

Izuku smiled shyly, reaching a hand up as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Actually, he’s coming to visit this weekend..” he trailed off, his friends filled with excitement, continuing to ask questions throughout the rest of the week.

The weekend came quickly, and Y/N arrived at U.A, excited to see his boyfriend. He was greeted by All Might in the teacher’s room. 

“Welcome to U.A, young man.” Toshinori spoke up with a small smile. “Midoirya speaks very highly of you. It’s good that he has someone like you.”

“Thank you, All Might.” Y/N replied, feeling a bit starstruck. “It’s an honour to meet the symbol of peace himself..” he whispered.

“Likewise. Non-sense, no need for formalities. Call me Toshinori.” he spoke, making small talk with Y/N, impressed by his talent and rising popularity within the art industry. Eventually, he had to return to his duties, waving goodbye as he left Y/N to wait for Izuku.

Y/N pulled out his sketchbook, beginning to draw. His pencil moved deftly across the paper. He was drawing a detailed and dynamic piece featuring Izuku in action. The drawing depicted Izuku in his hero costume, mid-battle, with energy crackling around him as he released One For All. His expression is fierce, yet determined. Y/N added subtle details to the drawing, including a small heart in the corner, a personal touch that hindered his admiration for the other male.

“Y/N!” Izuku called out as he entered the room. 

Y/N looked up from his sketchbook, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of his boyfriend. He stood up and walked over to Izuku, pulling him into a gentle hug. "Izu," he responded fondly, holding him close for a moment.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Izuku said, his cheeks still slightly flushed from training and excitement. "I had to finish a few things in class."

"It's okay, Izu. I was just working on a new piece," Y/N replied, holding up his sketchbook to show Izuku the drawing he had been working on. The detailed and dynamic piece of art.

Izuku's eyes widened in awe. "Wow, Y/N, this is amazing!" he said softly, feeling both proud and touched by Y/N's talent and dedication.

"I'm glad you like it," Y/N said with a smile. "I wanted to capture how incredible you are as a hero."

Just then, the door opened again, and the rest of Class 1-A burst into the room, unable to contain their excitement any longer.

"There he is!" Mina exclaimed, rushing over to greet Y/N. "Welcome to U.A! We've heard so much about you!"

"Yeah, Midoriya talks about you all the time," Uraraka added with a grin.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Todoroki said, extending a hand.

Y/N shook Todoroki's hand, feeling a warm sense of belonging. "It's great to meet all of you too. Izuku has told me so much about his amazing classmates."

After a lively evening filled with laughter and stories, the energy in the common room began to wind down. One by one, Class members headed to their dorms, leaving Izuku and Y/N alone, nestled comfortably on the couch.

The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over the space. Y/N and Izuku sat close together, their bodies intertwined under a cosy blanket. Y/N’s head rested gently on Izuku’s shoulder, his breathing slow and steady.

Izuku glanced down at Y/N with a soft smile. “You know, I’m really glad you came to visit. I didn’t realise how much I missed you until now.”

Y/N looked up, his eyes shimmering with affection. “I missed you too, Izu. Being here with you and your friends, it feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Izuku’s heart swelled at Y/N’s words. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Y/N’s head. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he reached up to cup Izuku’s face in his hands. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

The two shared a tender kiss, their connection deepening in the quiet comfort of the common room. As they pulled away, Izuku wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling him close.

“Do you want to stay like this for a while?” Izuku asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer. “I’d love that.”

Masterlist

-Written by owner 2

[scribblesofagoonerr]

howdy, america! | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

my favourite fic to write. it did start out as a sick fic but then it turned into well, this.

pairings: leah williamson x reader!buddy x reader!monkey

summary: preseason has kicked off in america and it's chaos all round!

double the trouble masterlist

thank you @alotofpockets for the help with this one! there's also a special appearance from @lvnleah character Rory as well.

“Nana, it’s too hot!” You whine, not a fan of this hot and sticky weather in the middle of August, “I don’ like it!”

“I know sweetheart,” Amanda sympathises with your fussiness that you’re not entirely used to being in another country as she adjusts the little sun hat on your head, “How about you try and drink some water to see if that helps at all, hm?” She suggests.

“Okay,” You shift restlessly in your seat as you take small sips from the bottle that you’re handed, “I don’ feel good,” You whimper, unhappily.

You are so excited to watch the game, you love it usually. However, today's a bit different with the fact of the unbearable heat in America is that you’re not at all used too, it makes you feel all icky inside.

You don’t like it, not one bit.

You're sitting in the stands with your Nana as you watch the football match unfold as Arsenal take on Washington Spirit in a preseason game at the Audi Field. The sun is blazing down and the stadium is packed with fans all eager to see their favourite players on the pitch.

Donned in your own Arsenal football shirt as you sit perched on your Nana’s lap, with a pale pink sun hat on the top of your head to keep the sun out of your eyes but it didn’t help the fact that you felt uncomfortable with the newfound heat you weren’t all that familiar with.

“I don’ like this heat,” You whine in discomfort, continuing to get fussier as the minutes draw on into the first half of the game, “I feel icky!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Amanda coos, doing her best to comfort you despite the fact you’re just getting more restless by the second as the game goes on, “I know it’s a lot to handle. Shall we see if we can find a spot in the shade?” She wonders.

“I wan’ Mummy,” You whine upset, looking out to where Leah is standing on the pitch with her usual stern expression she always has.

“I know you do, but Mummy is still on the pitch at the minute,” Amanda explains, taking control of the situation to bring you into a more shaded area with hope that you might feel a bit better, “It won’t be long until you can see her, sweetheart.”

“Too hot Nana, I feel icky,” You continue to whine in discomfort, thrashing around in the older women’s arms as you feel a pain in your tummy, “I’m gon’ be sick, Nana!” The tears brim your eyes, wanting nothing more than to be in Leah’s arms again.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Amanda furrows her eyebrows as she prepares for the worst case situation, “Just a little longer sweetheart. You can see Mummy soon, I promise,” She tries to keep you calm for the rest of the first half of the game.

Despite her best efforts to keep you hydrated and in the shade away from the sun too much, the heat only seems to make you feel worse. 

Amanda is more than thankful for the whistle at the end of the first half to be able to signal to Leah, who’s just finishing up with a small interview.

“I wan’ see Mummy now,” You murmur with a pout on your face, not entirely understanding why you can’t have her straight away.

“Hang on sweetheart, let’s see if we get her attention,” Amanda lightly sways with you in her arms, “Leah!” She calls out, trying to catch the blonde before she dips off into the changing rooms for the half time talk with the rest of the team.

Leah looks over straightaway, concern immediately crossing her face when she takes in your flushed cheeks and drooping posture, “Hello my little bubba,” She jogs over to the sidelines and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead, “What’s the matter?” She questions, her worry evident for you.

“I don’ feel good, Mummy!” You immediately reach out for the blonde as your bottom lip quivers.

The blonde doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up into her arms and hold you close to her despite the heat, “Oh it’s okay, my little bubba. I’ve got you.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I feel icky, it’s too hot!” You whimper in her arms, snuggling into her embrace despite the blazing heat that there currently is right now, “I gon’ be sick,”

“I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, bubba,” Leah kisses the top of your head and holds you in her arms, “It’s very hot here, isn’t it? It’s no wonder why you feel sick,” She adds.

“She’s been fussy the whole of the first half. It might be a good idea to take her indoors for a bit out of the heat,” Amanda suggests the idea, “I know you might need to go back on, so I can take her?” She offers.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going back on if my little girl is feeling sick,” Leah declares without a second thought, “I’ll go and take her inside myself for a little bit, I just need to let Jonas know Buddy’s not well,” With a quick word passed over to the coaches about being subbed off for the game, you’re heading inside in Leah’s arms to a more secluded area where there is air conditioning available.

“I don’ like this feeling,” You whimper tearfully, “I wan’ watch Monkey though!” You mention your favourite person, you always like to watch her play football and now you couldn’t while you’re inside.

“I know you don’t,” Leah coos, settling down on a chair as she cradles you in her arms while the air conditioning works wonders to cool you down, “We can go and watch Monkey if you want too as long as you don’t feel too sick still?”

“Wan’ watch her,” You murmur quietly.

“Okay, that’s fine. We can do that,” Leah replies in agreement before she stands up again from her seat and carries you in the direction of the changing rooms, “How about we take a little quick shower first to cool you down and then we’ll go back out, hm?” She suggests.

“There’s my favourite little Buddy!” You hear your favourite person speak up as you turn your head and give her a small smile, “What’s wrong?” She asks, concerned.

“Buddy’s not feeling that great at the minute with the heat,” Leah informs the girl, brushing another strand of your hair away from your sweaty face.

Monkey’s eyes widen in concern as she sees you nestled in Leah’s arms, your small frame seeming even smaller as you clung to her and normally, you would be bouncing with excitement to see her, eager enough to run into her arms but today was a completely different story.

The heat had drained all of your energy, leaving you feeling icky and weak.

“Oh no,” The girl frowns, stepping closer towards you as her playful demeanour is replaced with worry, “You’re not feeling well?” She asks.

“Too hot,” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you still hold on tightly to Leah.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Monkey pouts at your fragile state she’s not used to seeing you like, “I… I can stay with her if you need to go back on and play?” She offers, turning to look at Leah.

Leah shakes her head in disagreement, “It’s okay, I’ve been subbed off and I am going to sit with her,” She pauses, “Besides, little miss wants to watch you play when you get subbed on.”

“If you’re sure?” The younger girl offers, her usual energy subdued as she watches you with careful eyes, “I don’t have to play today. Buddy’s sick!”

“No, you’re going to play,” Leah replies against the idea, “Buddy will be fine, I’m going to be with her the whole time. Now, go head back out there and we’ll see you out there in a bit, okay?” She encourages Monkey to go back and join the rest of the team that are still sitting on the bench.

“Urgh fine,” The girl huffs reluctantly and shuffles out of the changing rooms in a sulk.

“What is she like, eh? Silly Monkey,” Leah laughs lightly and shakes her head about Monkey’s sudden mood change as she walks over to the shower and turns it on to a lukewarm temperature, before carefully placing you down in the shower as she lets the cool water spray over your body, “There we go, bubba. Does that feel better?”

Despite her teasing Monkey about her mood swing, her focus never once wavers from you as she takes care of you.

“Uh huh. Better, Mummy,” You nod as the water washes away the discomfort.

“Good, I’m glad,” Leah says with a warm smile, reaching for a towel to wrap around you as she turns off the shower, “Let’s get you changed into some fresh clothes and then we’ll go sit back down with everyone else.”

“Sit with Auntie Beth?” Your wonder, curiously.

“Yeah, I think Auntie Beth has been subbed off as well,” Leah confirms, her hands working quickly and efficiently to get you dried off and into a fresh set of clothes, “It’s a good job that I packed spare clothes, isn’t it?”

You scrunch your face up when you realise that you won’t be able to wear your own Arsenal shirt now, “I don’ get to wear my Arsenal top no more,” You mumble, a hint of sadness in your voice.

“It’s okay, I know that you’re still my little cheerleader, Bubba,” Leah kneels down to your level as she smiles reassuringly at you, “For now, it’s between one of these ones,” She says, holding up a couple of options for you to choose from.

You take a moment to decide before you finally point to one you like more, “Green one.”

“Green? Oh that’s a good choice, Buddy!” Leah praises, helping you into the t-shirt along with a pair of white shorts, and you were more than happy to go back out to find your aunties, “Ah, ah, not so fast. You still need some more sun cream on, little miss.”

“No, I don’ like it,” You grumble in protest and try to pull away from her, “Don’ like it, Mummy. it’s icky!”

Leah chuckles softly, her hands already applying the suncream despite your reluctance, “Oh I know, but it’s better than looking like a lobster now, isn’t it, hm?”

“Icky,” You mutter, making a face even if you know she’s right about that, but it still doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You definitely do not like sun cream.

“I know,” Leah agrees with a sympathetic smile as she finishes applying the sun cream to your squeamish body, “All done, see that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Gross,” You whine in response, shaking your head in disagreement.

“It’s not that bad,” Leah smiles in amusement, “Shall we go and see which of your aunties we can find now then?”

“Yeah, watch Monkey play!” You declare, your earlier excitement starting to return now that you’re feeling better.

“Yeah, she’ll be playing soon,” The blonde agrees with a fond smile, holding her hand out for you to take as you make your way back to the bench where you spot a familiar face sitting there, “Look who it is, it’s Auntie Beth!” She points out the blonde woman.

“Hi, Buddy!” Beth greets you with a small wave as she has Rory, sitting on her lap looking grumpy.

You’re not sure if it’s the heat or the fact that she’s missing Viv, but she’s definitely not having a good time in America.

You do miss Jordan while you’re out here though but you’ve been able to FaceTime her, Blu and Tater-Tot as well.

You’re excited to be able to see them when you’re home!

“Hey, pipsqueak!” You hear the familiar Australian voice of Monkey’s best friend and partner in crime, Kyra, “Where’s your Arsenal top?” She jokes.

“Couldn’t wear it no more,” You pout in disappointment, your fingers touching the hem of your new t-shirt which isn’t as cool as your own Arsenal one.

“Aw, no. That’s a shame, but don’t worry you still look cool in that one!” Kyra notices your glum expression and gives you a sympathetic smile, “And hey, you’re wearing green now!” She winks, trying to lift your spirits.

“Yeah, you’re reppin’ leprechauns’ colours now!” Monkey jokes as she chips in on the conversation, although you're not entirely sure who she is talking about.

“Oi, I heard that,” Katie chimes in, rolling her eyes playfully.

Monkey just laughs, “Good, you were meant to,” She says before she ruffles your hair knowing it’ll wind you up, “Glad that you’re feeling better, Buddy!”

“Monkey, stop!” You do your best to perfect the glare that is almost identical to Leah’s.

The girl holds her hands up in mock surrender, “Oh, now I know you’re feeling better if you’re scowling at me like Mum does,” She jokes, sticking her tongue out at Leah for good measure.

“Oi, watch it you," Leah fires back with her own stern look, though there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes, “Go on, go start warming up, Menace.”

“God, you’re always so bossy,” Monkey remarks, rolling her eyes dramatically but not without a smirk.

“Go on, go, Menace,” Leah says, pointing toward the sidelines with an exasperated shake of her head.

Monkey huffs dramatically but gets up from her seat, dragging her feet a little for the show, “Fine, alright, I’m goin’ now,” She mutters, throwing one last playful glance over her shoulder as she finally makes her way to the pitch.

“That girl sometimes, eh?” Beth chuckles amusedly after she watched Monkey’s theatrical exit from the seats.

“Tell me about it,” Leah replies, adjusting the sun hat on your head to keep the sun out of your eyes, “She’s a pain in the butt sometimes, but we love her, don’t we, Buddy?”

“Monkey’s my favourite person,” You declare confidently, snuggling closer to Leah.

Beth dramatically gasps in outrage, clutching her chest as if she’s been mortally wounded, “What? I thought I was your favourite person!”

“No, that’s me,” Katie pipes up from the other side of Beth, her tone playful.

“No, you’re both silly!” You giggle at the pair of them, “Monkey’s my favourite!”

“I’m offended,” Beth continues to faux upset as she keeps one arm around Rory, who’s still grumpy because she misses Viv, “I’m your favourite, right, Roo?” She asks her daughter.

“Yeah,” Rory agrees quietly, fiddling with the hem of her own Arsenal football shirt that had Beth’s name and number on the back of it.

“Well at least my daughter agrees,” Beth jokes, trying to lighten the mood, though she sneaks a glance at Rory, who’s clearly not her usual cheerful self.

Leah notices the exchange and leans a bit closer to Rory, “You know, Roo, I know you’re missing your Mamma but she’s going to be so happy to see you when you’re back home. I bet she can’t wait to hear all about your time here.”

Rory looks up to Leah with a small smile at the mention of Viv bringing her a bit of comfort, “Really?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Leah nods, her voice warm and reassuring, “And just think of the big hug she’s going to give you when you see her again. She’s going to want to hear every single detail.”

Rory’s smile grows a little wider, and she finally relaxes a bit against Beth, “I miss her,” She admits softly to the blonde.

“I know, sweetheart,” Beth says gently, rubbing her daughter’s back, “I miss her too, but Auntie Le is right. Mamma is going to be so excited to hear about everything that you’ve been up to.”

Leah gives Rory a warm smile before she looks between the two of you, “I think I might have an idea to cheer you girls up after the game,” She pauses, “I think we should get some ice cream! What do you think?”

“Ice cream!” You squeal in excitement, you sure do love ice cream a whole lot.

Beth laughs at your enthusiasm and peers down to look at Rory, “Oh ice cream does sound good, doesn’t it, Roo?”

Rory’s face brightens a bit at the suggestion, “I like ice cream,” She tells Leah with a small smile.

“I know you do,” Leah says, giving Rory a soft smile, “And you know who else likes ice cream? That big kid over there,” She gestures onto the field where the subs board is being changed for Monkey to go on to the pitch along with Kyra, Steph and Caitlin.

“Monkey likes ice cream a lot!” You reply in agreement.

“Yeah she does, so we’ll have to make sure that Monkey doesn’t eat it all before we get there.” Leah jokes, playfully.

“No, Monkey can’t eat it all!” You whine in protest, knowing that Monkey also likes ice cream as well, “You have to stop her, Mummy!”

“Don’t worry we will,” Leah laughs in amusement, “Look, she’s about to go on the pitch now so you can watch her,” She points with her index finger to where Monkey is racing onto the pitch.

“Go, Monkey! Go!” You shout enthusiastically, waving your little hand in the air in support of your favourite person.

Monkey spins around and looks over in the direction where you are and quickly waves back before she gets her head focused on the game, running all over the pitch with a burst of energy that matches her whole personality.

“Mummy, you and Auntie Beth look silly!” You can’t help but giggle at the current way that Leah and Beth both have the brightly coloured yellow bibs on their sun to protect their heads from the sun.

You don’t have that problem though, since you’ve got your own pink sun hat to keep your head safe.

“It’s the only way to keep us from getting too hot,” Leah tells you as she laughs, “I’m not fortunate to have a sun hat like you do, bubba.” She explains.

“Yeah, where can I get one of those lovely pink hats?” Beth chips in, her tone playful as she nudges you slightly.

“Mine,” You giggle at the blonde’s playful antics.

“I can’t see her,” You whine in protest, losing track of seeing your favourite person running with the ball.

“She’s over there, see?” Leah gestures to where Monkey’s running on the pitch with the ball under her feet, “Do you see her now, bubba?” She questions.

“I do! I do!” You squeal in excitement and clap your hands enthusiastically.

You find it hard to keep up with the rest of the match, the heat was relentless and despite Leah’s best efforts to still keep you cool and comfortable, it’s not long before you feel agitated again with it so your enthusiastic mood dips once again.

“It’s hot,” You whine pitfully, shifting around in discomfort.

“I know it is, bubba. It won’t be long until the match is over now,” Leah tries her best to reassure you, using a programme that she got her hands on to fan you and keep you cool again, “You don’t feel sick again, do you?”

“Nuh uh, just hot,” You grumble in disagreement with the heat. 

You miss home and the terrible weather, it’s not always hot there like it is here.

There’s a quick water break and you notice as Monkey comes bounding off the pitch, her energy still high despite the intensity of the game, though she spots you squirming in Leah’s lap and immediately notices your discomfort.

“What’s wrong, Buddy?” She jogs over, her face flushed but she still has her usual bright smile, taking the towel that she was just handed over to Leah to give to you as she knows you’re more in need of it right now, “This might help a little bit.”

“Thanks, Monkey,” Leah thanks the girl appreciatively, adjusting the damp towel over your shoulders to help you cool down.

“Anything for my favourite little buddy,” Monkey shrugs her shoulders, taking small sips of her own water bottle as she gets her usual mischievous glint in her eye, not thinking twice before she sprays a little cool water over you from the bottle, “Gotcha, now gotta go. Buh-bye!” With that, she drops the bottle and rushes back onto the pitch to carry out the rest of the game.

“M’ wet now,” You pout up at Leah, who chuckles softly and shakes her head.

“Monkey is a menace, isn’t she?” Leah asks, her eyes twinkling with amusement, “Don’t worry, you can get her back when she least expects it.” She adds, playfully.

“Yeah, I’ll get her back!” You smile cheekily, snuggling against Leah as you attempt to watch the rest of the match play out with the opposing team.

You’ve never been more grateful for a match to end as the heat is unbearable and once the final whistle blows, you peer up to look at Leah with hopeful eyes with the idea in mind to seek out Monkey on the pitch, and get your own back with the water bottle, “Can we go see Monkey now?” You ask.

“Come on, bubba,” Leah replies in agreement, taking a hold of your hand as she carefully helps you down the big steps that lead out to the pitch, “Do you see her?” She asks.

“Yes!” You spot her straight away as she has also spotted you and starts to race towards you, “I see her!” Letting go off Leah’s hand, you run towards her.

“Ah, my favourite little Buddy!” Monkey grins and lifts you up into her arms before she proceeds to spin you around, “Did you like the match?”

“Lots of goals scored!” You nod enthusiastically.

“Careful or she’ll be sick,” Leah states wearily as she finishes high fiving with the other team before she makes her way back to you both, “And then you’ll be the one to deal with it.”

“I know, I know. I’ve got her,” Monkey replies, holding you close to her as she walks back to join the post-match huddle with the team, standing on the other side of Leah.

“Proud of you out there, my girl,” Leah tells her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“What about me?” You ask, pouting at her.

Leah smiles and gently prieses you from Monkey’s arms, “I’m proud of you too, my little bubba,” She says, keeping you close as she listens to the post-match talk with Jonas and the rest of the team.

“Get down now please,” You ask politely, wanting to run about and kick the ball on the pitch now the match is over, you’re not so keen to listen to all the grown ups talk about stuff that you’re not sure about and maybe now Rory would play football with you?

“Don’t wander off,” Leah murmurs protectively, kneeling down to place you back on the floor, trying to pay attention to the post-match chat but more concerned about you wandering off somewhere unknown, though there’s a high chance of that happening when there’s a lot of staff here.

“Kick the ball with me, Roo!” You ask your cousin, who agrees with you and the two of you wander off to the stray football on the pitch, “Kick it, Roo!” You exclaim, pointing to the ball.

“I can’t believe you’re playing football without me,” Monkey gasps dramatically, making way to join your football game as you guess the chat must have finished now.

“I wanna join as well!” Kyra chimes in, joining the makeshift game with you, Monkey and Rory.

“Looks like your mini-me’s are putting you both to shame,” Caitlin jokes with Leah, seeing you put the ball in the back of the net before Monkey chucks you up on her shoulders to celebrate the goal.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Leah laughs, shaking her head in amusement before making her way to greet her friend and follow England team mate, Esme Morgan.

You want to continue to kick the ball around, but your attention has been diverted to the white and red Gunner branded cowboy hat that Leah’s been handed, and so has Monkey’s as well.

“Howdyyyyy!” You hear Leah shout loudly from the other side of the pitch.

“Ooo, I want it!” Monkey bolts in the direction to where Leah is standing alongside Lia and Amanda on the other side of the barrier to block off the pitch.

“Wait for me, Monkey. I got little legs!” You whine and run after her, not wanting to be left out.

“Mine, I call dibs!” Monkey shouts aloud, trying and failing to reach for the hat on top of Leah’s head due to her short height, “No fair, gimme. I want it!”

“But it’s mine,” Leah retorts with a laugh, amused to watch Monkey try and get it from her, “Get your own hat, Menace.”

“No fair, I want it though– It would look better on me!” Monkey grumbles, doing her best to still and grab a hold of the hat, jumping and stretching her arms up.

“Fine,” Leah rolls her eyes with your favourite persons persistence and takes it off her own hat to plonk on her own, “There you go, Cowgirl.” She teases, patting her on the head.

“Thanks, Malfoy. You’re the best!” Monkey grins, happy with the hat for a few seconds before she shocks everyone around her and takes it off to gently place it on top of your own head, “Howdy, Cowgirl.”

“Cowboy hat!” You squeal in excitement.

“That was kind of you. I didn’t think you’d be willing to give it up so quickly,” Leah tells the younger girl, momentarily taken aback by Monkey’s sweet gesture to give it to you instead,

“It’ll help protect her from the sun,” Monkey tells her, trying to not make a big deal out of it, “Oh I’ll be back, I hear someone calling my name.” With that, she dips in the direction of a group of fans calling over to her, asking her to sign their shirts.

“Superstar on the pitch and fan favourite,” Lia jokes from where she stands beside Leah, speaking to other fans as well, watching out of the corner of her eye as one of the fans gave Monkey a white plush jellycat bunny.

“More like Menace,” Leah replies in amusement, taking the time to chat to Amanda in the stands as she lifts you into her arms so you can see her as well.

“Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?” Amanda questions in concern, not liking to see you so unsettled in any situation.

“Better now,” You nod in agreement, snuggling up closer to Leah while keeping the red and white cowboy hat on your head.

“It’s just a very hot day isn’t it,” Leah coos, doing her best to protect you from the harsh sun, “We’re going to get ice cream after this to help with the heat, aren’t we?”

“Ice cream!” You reply enthusiastically.

“Whoa, ice cream? That sounds great,” Amanda exclaims with a hint of playfulness in your voice, “You had better make sure that Monkey doesn’t eat it all.” She jokes.

“I heard my name,” Monkey pops up with the newfound white rabbit clutched in her hand, “Here you go, Buddy. This is yours,” She hands the rabbit to you.

“Thank ‘ou!” You take a hold of the fluffy rabbit and snuggle up closely to it.

“Hang on a second,” Leah says, shifting you to one arm while she uses her other hand to rest on the back of Monkey’s forehead, playfully pretending to check her temperature.

“What’re you doin’?” Monkey asks, confused, trying to bat Leah’s hand away from her face.

“Checking if you’re not coming down with something,” Leah responds, laughing slightly as she pulls her hand away, “Since when do you willingly give Jellycats away?”

“I’m just being nice!” Monkey insists, shrugging her shoulders, “It’s not a big deal, Buddy’s not having a great day and I thought it would cheer her up.”

“That’s really sweet of you to do something like that, Monkey,” Amanda states, kindly.

“It was,” Lia chimes in agreement.

Although Leah isn’t all that convinced, “What’re you after? If this is your way of trying to get out of being grounded after that stunt you pulled at home, think again,” She states, reminding the girl of what happened prior to your trip to America.

“It’s not I swear, I just… I thought it would cheer her up,” Monkey admits, looking sheepishly as she doesn’t know if anyone else is aware of what happened with the TV back home but she’s not about to tell anyone about it, regardless.

Leah eyes her for a moment longer before her expression softens, “Alright, I believe you. Now, how about we go and get that ice cream, huh?” She wonders.

Your own eyes light up at the mention of ice cream and you nod enthusiastically, “Ice cream!” You exclaim, clutching a hold of your new bunny, “Auntie Beth and Roo coming as well?”

“Course we are,” Beth pipes up from where she walks over to you all from the other side of the pitch with Rory in tow, “We wouldn’t miss out on the chance to get ice cream now, would we?”

“Ice cream!” Rory repeats enthusiastically, bouncing up and down on her feet, eager for the sweet treat.

Leah laughs at the enthusiasm, “Alright, ice cream it is. Before we go, we need to get changed out of our kits first,” She gestures between herself, Beth and Monkey, “We don’t want to be sitting in these sweaty clothes while we eat.”

Monkey groans playfully, clearly impatient, “Can’t we just go as we are? I want ice cream now!” She whines, dragging out the last word in complaint.

Leah chuckles at the younger girl’s impatience, shaking her head, “Come on Menace, it won’t take that long,” She reassures her, taking her by the arm and leading her back toward the changing rooms, with Beth and Rory following close behind.

You stay outside with Lia and Amanda, who keeps you entertained while you wait and it doesn’t take long before Leah, Beth, Monkey and Rory reemerge, now dressed in cooler, more comfortable outfits.

“Now we get ice cream?” You ask eagerly, practically bouncing on your toes.

“Yes, bubba, now we’ll go and get ice cream,” Leah confirms with a smile, ruffling your hair gently.

With everyone ready, the group heads off to find the nearest ice cream stand. You race ahead with Rory and Monkey, all of your excitement infectious as the adults follow behind, chatting amongst themselves.

“Ooo, I want mint chocolate chip!” Monkey calls out eagerly, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“Strawberry,” Rory chimes in, her eyes already scanning the ice cream options as you approach the stand.

Leah smiles down at you as you look at the bright menu in front of you, “How about you, bubba?” She asks, her voice gentle as she watches you contemplate the choices.

You glance at the colourful display of flavours, each one more tempting than the last, “Ummm… chocolate,” You start, then spot the bubblegum and your eyes light up, “Nuh uh, wait– I wan’ bubblegum, Mummy!”

The blonde laughs at your excitement, “Bubblegum it is then, bubba,” She says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before checking what everyone else wanted in the small group and placing the order.

“Mm, this ice cream is great,” Lia says, savouring the treat.

Amanda nods in agreement with the Swiss woman, “Are you enjoying that, sweetheart?” She chuckles as she watches you dive into your ice cream with enthusiasm and end up getting it all around your face.

“Messy bubba,” Leah teases, wiping away some of the ice cream with a napkin as her tone is filled with affection.

“This has gotta be the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted!” Monkey exclaims, eyes wide with satisfaction.

Beth laughs and nudges her slightly, “I swear you say that every time you have ice cream,” She teases as she peers down at Rory, “How is it, Roo?”

“So good, Mummy!” Rory replies with a big smile, “I like it!”

“That’s cos’ it’s the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted!” Monkey states as a matter of fact, “Can’t prove me wrong on that one!”

“Alright, menace. It is good ice cream,” Leah rolls her eyes and laughs in agreement with your favourite person, taking another bite of her own treat as she enjoys the moment with everyone around her.

It was only the beginning of preseason in America, but she is determined to make it fun for you.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

heya hiya bbg!! since you are writing for bucky i might as well do 10 y/o me some justice <3

i weirdly remember this dream i had (most of my requests are my delusional ahh dreams oml😞) where reader basically calms him after a nightmare like asking him what happened, if he wants to talk abt it, humming/singing to him, trying to cheer him up, etc etc

v cute v fluffy <3

hopefully u can get to this soon! have a great week/end!

-🪐

angel my bbg hi!! love it love it love it!! thank you for requesting, hope you like it 💌

UNRESTED.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 647

warnings. reverse comfort bc I can’t stop myself from writing it, nightmares but no description. it’s just fluff and comfort

It was no secret that Bucky didn't sleep well, often tormented by memories, leaving him with minimal hours of uninterrupted rest. Most nights were the same, him restlessly tossing in bed, murmuring and jolting as though he's stuck in the past - reliving it all over again.

Tonight was no different. You were nudged awake by your boyfriend sleeping to the right of you, his twitching movements hustling the mattress and snatching the covers. You check the time on your phone and sit up slowly, adjusting beside Bucky. 

You extend a hand, hesitantly reaching for him. You place your palm over his shoulder, the sheen of his cold sweat permeating your skin. "James," you whisper, trying not to startle him. "James," you try again. 

He abruptly sits, lids flinging open, a deep, heavy inhale filling his lungs. "God," he murmurs, brushing a hand down his face. His breathing is ragged and strained, shoulders tensing under your touch.

You brush your hand down his back, stroking over him smoothly. "You're awake. It's okay," you coo, drawing circles over his scarred skin - trying to refocus his mind.

He sighs, dropping his head in his hands, his breathing beginning to even out. "Was the same one again," he mumbles, his voice soft and saddened against his palms.

Your touch remains warm, trailing over him lovingly. "It sounded like it," you whisper, your tone gentle. "I'm sorry, love."

You slip your free hand into his metal one, carefully pulling it away from his face - your thumb brushing over the vibranium. You bring him to your lips and press a kiss on the back of it. You continue to hold him like that, one hand grazing up and down the curve of his back, your other holding the metal on your lap - trying to bring him back as such. 

Bucky turns to look at you, his face knowing. The sight of your sweet features gently lit up in the moonlight, slowly putting his mind at ease.

You meet his downcast gaze, your eyes pooling with empathy. You give him a weak smile before resting the side of your head on his left shoulder, cheek skimming the scars. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask.

He copies your movement, resting his head over yours - the side of his face propped on your crown. "Not yet," he mutters in response, exhaling a steady breath. 

"That's okay," you whisper back, turning to place a kiss on his upper metal arm. "We don't have to right now."

There's a moment of comfortable silence - the only sounds of breathing and the heavy pitter-patter of rain against the window. You continue to hold Bucky, waiting for him to pull away. But he never does.

"Sorry for waking you again,"

"James," you comfort, sweetly cooing at him. "You never have to be sorry for that... I was already awake anyway," you lie - trying to make him feel better. 

You keep a grip on him as you lean back against the mattress, pulling him with you, which he adjusts immediately, cuddling into your side - his arm draping over your middle. You slip your arm under his head and wrap around it, almost like you were cocooning him. Protecting him. Just you cradling his head safely in your arms.

"Thank you," Bucky mutters, his words muffling against your skin as he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

Your fingers graze up into the short hairs at the back of his head - nails soothingly scratching his scalp. "Of course," you murmur back, whispering into his forehead.

Both of you stay like that, listening to the night storm, cuddled and huddled under the covers - his hand slowly making its way up to your heart. He rests his palm over the organ, using the faint thumping to ease him back to sleep.

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin HELP. How do you get out of writer’s block. Please. I’m stuck and I have NO idea how to continue on and I’ve already rewritten said scene twice 😭😭

i have to break it to you now... writer's block is a bit of a misnomer. instead of a writer's block (or art!!) i would call it a "writer shift" or "level up," when you feel like everything you're writing is terrible, it's because you're growing as an artist! you're just seeing your art with a more critical eye, learning and adjusting. which i can probably get to another time because that's not what you asked

so!!! what is probably happening is that you don't like your outline as much as you think you do. this happens to me ALL the time. i go into a chapter thinking that i've got everything i want all set up and then i'm surprised when i procrastinate or i rewrite it several times (my record is 8 times). a good 86% of the time i end up changing my outline and trying again and it goes much better for me

if that isn't what's happening or you just REALLY like your outline, there might be another problem and here's some ideas:

go back and read your set up to that scene. you might not have given it a proper introduction/natural progression into what comes next, or you might be forgetting something

try drawing out a map of your setting and imagine your characters walking around it. there might be some white room action happening and it's bothering you

it could be something about your dialogue! try acting out your dialogue in a one person play and see if it feels natural for you to say (as in like, technicality. if you can't literally say the words then it might be hard for your reader to read) and if it feels like something your character would say

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hold My Hand, Part 2

TFW 2.0 & Winchester!sister

Requested by @casmustdiee and Anonymous

Synopsis: Jack tries to get you used to being back in the bunker, but things keep going wrong.

Warnings: angst, some torture, continuity errors, only half proofread

A/N: guys I’m still alive!

“You want anything to eat?”

You had been slowly emerging more and more from within yourself after the boys had brought you back from Asmodeus. Still, you rejected Dean’s offer of food with a tiny shake of your head.

“I’ll take a sandwich,” Jack piped up, and Dean was about to tell him to make his own sandwich when Jack gave him a hard stare. Dean had no clue what the look meant, but given that Jack had been the one to get you out of your room and talking, Dean had no choice but to trust that the kid knew what he was doing around you. So Dean made the sandwich, and he watched as Jack cut it in half, eating one half before very deliberately pushing the plate away—towards you—as if he didn’t want it anymore.

Dean caught on right away.

“What, you’re just gonna let that go to waste?” Dean asked.

Jack shrugged. “You can have it.”

Dean shook his head. “Your taste in sandwiches is crap, you and Y/N are the only ones I know that actually consider peanut butter and banana a delicacy.”

“They’re great, right Y/N?” Jack asked, earning a nod from you.

“Whatever.” Dean through his hands up. “I’m gonna make me a real sandwich.” He purposefully turned his back to you, not wanting you to feel stared at.

“I’m gonna go find Sam,” Jack said. “He might need help with research.” He hopped off his chair and left the room, leaving you almost alone with your half a sandwich.

By the time Dean had finished making his food and turned around, Jack’s sandwich was completely gone, and you looked a little brighter than you had a minute ago.

…

It was Jack’s turn to need help adjusting, and you were there every step of the way—or at least you tried to be. It was hard, since you were also trying to make sure Sam was ok after Michael disappeared, taking Dean with him.

“I thought you were training with Bobby,” you said when Jack all but stumbled into the kitchen.

“I was,” he huffed. “I just…I can’t seem to get it right. It was all so much easier with my powers.” Jack shook his head. “I just feel useless.”

“I know what you mean.” You swallowed.

“What?” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not useless.”

“Lately I am.” When Jack continued to stare at you with that questioning gaze, you seemed to freeze up, unable to finish your thought.

Jack stepped closer to you, taking your hand in his own and giving you a bright smile.

“You’re not useless,” he said again.

You seemed to draw strength from his hand in yours.

“Dean’s always been there for me,” you began. “Always. For anything I’ve ever needed. And now…now he’s being dragged around by some archangel, and I feel like I can’t do anything to help him.”

“It doesn’t just fall on you,” Jack said. “We’re all going to find him. I just know it.”

…

“He’s gonna be ok, right?”

Your brothers couldn’t even look at you as you watched Rowena pack up her bag. You’d finally gotten Dean back, only for it to seem like you were now losing Jack.

“There’s nothing I can do.” Rowena glanced at you for a second before turning away. “I’m sorry.”

“But—but we have to do something—“ you started to follow Rowena as she turned to the door, but Sam stepped in your way. “We can’t let Jack die!” You tried to move around Sam, but he grabbed hold of your arms.

“I’ll talk to Rowena. I think you should stay with Jack,” he said.

A fit of coughing from Jack caught your attention, and you relented, going quickly to his side.

“You’re gonna be ok,” you promised. “We’re gonna fix you.”

Jack smiled at you and squeezed your hand, but he didn’t speak.

Dean followed Sam outside, unable to bear the scene any longer.

…

They couldn’t get you to leave Jack’s side. He’d been dead for hours, but you still wouldn’t leave.

Dean had seen you like this before—you’d been the exact same way when you were only three years old, and Sam had died for the first time.

Sam had seen it too, only a few short years ago, when Dean had died. He’d had to all but drag you away from the body.

“Hey, kid,” Dean began. You didn’t even look at him. “Kid, maybe you should—“

“I’m not leaving him alone.” Your voice was firm, and Dean noticed that your grip on Jack’s cold hand tightened. “He doesn’t like to be alone. I’m not leaving him alone.”

“Sweetheart—“

“Why couldn’t I—“ your voice caught. “Why couldn’t I save him? He needed me, and I couldn’t save him.”

Dean swallowed. “You…we did the best we could, kid.”

“But it wasn’t enough!” You finally tore your gaze away from your dead friend, and Dean’s heart broke all over again at the look in your eyes. “Jack saved me, and I let him die.”

“Hey.” Dean shook his head. “This is not your—“

“Dean.” Cas stepped into the room. “Sam just left. I don’t know why, but—“

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet. “We need to find him.”

He left with Cas on his heels. You could hear Dean arguing with him the whole way out of the bunker, but you still didn’t move.

“Jack—“ you took a deep breath, squeezing Jack’s hand and wishing he would squeeze back. “Jack, I just…I miss you. And I’m so sorry, and…and I just want you to come back, ok?

“I just want you to come back.”

…

You got your wish, even if it wasn’t in the way you expected. Jack was back, but he didn’t dare use his power at the risk of losing his soul.

You didn’t care. Power or no, Jack was your best friend. But things never stayed good for long. You guys still had to fight Michael.

And it wasn’t looking good.

“If I just had my powers, I could beat him. If I could use them—“

“Jack, if you use them you lose your soul.” You shook your head. “I just got you back. And I’ve seen what losing a soul does to people. I can’t go through that again. We don’t need you to fight all our battles, Jack.” You reached out and grabbed his hand. “We’re just glad you’re here with us again.”

Jack squeezed your hand, a fleeting smile crossing his face.

“Me too.”

…

“When I gave up Dean, you didn’t think to question why?”

Jack’s hand was firmly in yours, as if he knew your intentions. You’d just watched Dean go from your big brother back into the archangel that was stealing his body, and Jack knew you wouldn’t take it well. He was right. All you wanted to do was go to him, to shake him around until Dean came back, but Jack wouldn’t let go of your arm.

Michael and Sam were arguing, but Jack ignored them as he leaned forward and whispered in your ear.

“We’ll get Dean back,” he promised. “Just be patient.” Jack’s hand squeezed yours, and it felt like he was dragging you back down to earth and clearing your head from the clouds.

…

The fight was over quickly, although it left all of you bruised. But at least Michael was now in the angel cuffs and back in the bunker. He was surprisingly calm about being captured, but that didn’t keep him from threatening anyone near him.

It didn’t help that monsters would be banging down the door any minute, thanks to Michael’s control over them.

“I’ll watch him,” you told your brother. “You guys secure the bunker.”

“Be careful,” Sam said.

“With the chained up archangel?” You tried to look relaxed. “C’mon Sam, I’ve got the easy job here.”

It would’ve been easier if the archangel wasn’t wearing your brother.

…

“So they send their weakest link to watch the archangel.” Michael was doing your best to faze you, so you did your best to ignore him. “I think I should feel insulted.”

“And you think I care why?” You cursed the subtle way your voice shook, and hoped that Michael couldn’t hear it.

“If Dean was…here…I’m sure it would worry him.” Michael leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “He doesn’t think you’re a very good hunter.”

“And I should listen to you?” You scoffed, but you doubted your voice was as steady as you wanted it.

“Well, I am in Dean’s head. And he doesn’t think you can do it, he never did. After all, it’s not like you’re a real Winchester anyway.”

“Dean thinks that?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it.

A smile crept its way onto Michael’s lips, and he seemed suddenly more interested in you.

“What did you expect him to think? You’re not Mary’s daughter, you’re not his real sister. You’re not like Sam to him, you never have been.”

“I—“ your voice caught in your throat. You wanted to tell Michael that it wasn’t true. You wanted to say “screw you,” you wanted to say “Dean would never,” but your voice wouldn’t work.

“Hey!” Sam’s voice startled you, and his hand was suddenly on your shoulder. “That’s enough,” he barked at Michael. “Hey.” He looked back at you, his voice softening. “Why don’t you go hang out with Jack, I’ve got him for now.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” Michael spoke up. “The plan has changed, and she’ll be going with me.”

“Excuse me?” Sam glared at Michael, unfazed. That is, he was unfazed…

Until Michael stood, dropping the angel cuffs to the ground.

“The rest of you I’ll leave to my friends outside.” Michael threw his hand out, sending Sam flying away from you. “But the girl…” Michael had a hold of your arm before you could back away. “You won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

…

In the blink of an eye, you had been taken from your home; you and Michael weren’t in the bunker anymore. You’d returned to the office building that he’d turned into his personal headquarters, only this time there were half a dozen monsters in the main room. You found yourself leaning away from them, until you realized that that meant you were leaning towards Michael. It was hard to see monsters and not natural gravitate towards Dean.

This isn’t Dean, you told yourself. And you can’t forget that for even a second.

“Sir.” A werewolf stepped closer to Michael. “I thought you were—“

“Just a little change in plans,” Michael said. “Your werewolves are still locked onto my previous location?”

“Yes sir,” he said. “They should be at the bunker any minute.”

“Good.” Michael nodded. “You may go. And take the rest of these—“ he gestured at the other monsters in the room “—with you. I have some things I need to take care of in here. Alone.”

“Is that a Winchester?” Another of the monsters was eyeing you hungrily. “Did you bring us a little snack?” He started to approach, but a single glare from Michael stopped him in his tracks.

“If I wanted you to eat her, I would’ve told you that. She’s mine, understand?” Once the monster nodded, Michael smiled sardonically. “Good. Now go.”

The monsters cleared out quickly, and soon you were left alone with the archangel that taunted you with your big brother’s face.

“What am I doing here?” You tried to force your voice to come out strong, but the self-satisfied smirk that came across Michael’s face as he looked down at you said that you’d done a horrible job at that.

“You know what I’m doing here, right?” Michael asked. You didn’t answer—you could tell it was a rhetorical question—but the pleased look in Michael’s eyes at your silence had you wishing you’d said something sarcastic, like Dean would have. “I’m building a better world,” Michael continued. “Humans have had their time in the sun, but they’ve never amounted to anything. It’s time they got knocked of their pedestal. That’s why I’m having my monsters kill and turn them.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you kept me alive,” you argued. Michael’s eyes flashed in anger at your interruption, but he continued anyway.

“You’re different than your brothers, and from the rest of those fools in the bunker. Jack is too powerful to bother with, and Cas and your brothers…they’re too stubborn. But you…you’re young. Moldable. I have a plan to make this world my own, with the monsters on top. But humans…I’m keeping a few alive. Some for the monsters to feed on. And some…some who I think could be useful to me. You could be useful, with some…modifications.”

“What modifi—“

Michael’s hand shot out and closed around your throat, and before you even knew it was there you felt your breath stop.

“The first improvement I plan to make is to shut. You. Up. You need to learn your place here.” The hand around your throat was pushing down, and you felt yourself fall to your knees under the pressure. “Your life is a privilege, not a right.” The vision of Michael above you was starting to go fuzzy, but you could still make out the coldness in his eyes. “And privileges can be taken away. Do you understand me?”

You nodded mutely, and the pressure on your throat disappeared.

“You are just an example of what all humans will be. Well, all the ones I allow to live. You exist to serve those greater than you. You exist to serve me.”

“My brothers—“ Michael glared at you, but he didn’t stop you, so you continued. “My brothers will stop you. And Cas and Jack, all of them, they can stop you.”

Michael smiled patiently. Mockingly.

“You don’t really believe that,” he said. “You know your little family back in the bunker is as good as dead. And Dean—“ Michael tapped his forehead “—is tucked away quietly. I have him under control.”

“They’re stronger than you think,” you snapped.

Michael smirked and patted your head. “That’s enough out of you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but when you tried to speak it felt like your lungs caught on fire. You curled in on yourself, rubbing at your chest while the pain slowly faded.

“As I told you,” Michael began. “You exist to serve me. If you use your abilities in a way I don’t like, I can take them away. And I will make it hurt. Every. Time.”

You stared up at Michael, until suddenly your eyes started to sting.

“Don’t look at me,” Michael snapped. “Keep your eyes down.”

You dropped your eyes down and whimpered as the pain slowly faded away, but Michael had already turned his attention to the opening door.

“Sir.” A vampire was standing in the doorway. “The bunker’s fortifications are stronger than we thought. It may take days to get through.”

Michael gritted his teeth. “Fine. Just get it done.”

Michael noticed the monster staring at you. “I see you’ve noticed my girl. This is how all humans who aren’t killed or turned should behave. Ever silent, ever obedient. Understand?”

The vampire licked his lips.

“Would you mind if I had a taste?” He stepped closer to you. “After all, a Winchester—“

“Yes, I would mind,” Michael snapped. “If you want a human, go get your own. I’ve given you the world as your oyster. But the girl is mine. Now leave me.”

You kept your eyes glued to the floor as the door swung shut. You felt the toe of Michael’s boot push at your chin, tilting your head up and in Michael’s direction.

“You should be thanking me. It would be so easy for me to let them rip you to shreds.” Michael’s eyes flashed blue, and you felt your throat tighten up. “What do you say?”

“Thank…you…” you gasped, and Michael released his magic hold on your throat.

“You’re a fast learner,” he commended. “Keep it that way, and this will be a lot less painful for you.” Michael twisted his hand, and you felt as though your ribs were twisting around and stabbing your lungs, your heart, everything. “But it can’t be completely painless. If you want a good omelet, you have to crack a few eggs. And I’ve been looking forward to breaking you.”

…

You never thought that you’d associate the sight of your big brother with pain. It took less than two days with Michael to change that.

You didn’t know if your family was still alive. You didn’t know if you’d ever see them again. You didn’t even know if Dean was still around in Michael’s head, or if he could see what was happening to you. All you knew now was pain.

“What’s the situation at the bunker?” Michael was talking to one of his many monsters, but you didn’t dare look up; not even at the mention of your family. “Are they dead yet?”

“I’m afraid not sir. But my people have told me that they’re about to break through the door now that they’ve gotten through all the warding.”

“Good. Tell them to wait until I get there.” You felt Michael’s grace tugging at your neck—your cue to look at him. When you did, he grinned at you, flashing all thirty-two pearly white teeth in a way that Dean never would have. “You’re going to come with me to watch the show,” Michael said. “And then you’ll understand just how hopeless you really are.”

…

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice was the first thing you heard when the bunker door slammed shut behind you and Michael; he wanted to do the killing himself now that the monsters had broken in. It took every ounce of strength you had not to look up and run to your big brother. Instead, you stayed obediently by Michael’s side, your eyes trained on the back of his shoes.

“Oh, she’s mine now,” Michael chuckled. “But I’m a moment it won’t matter to any of you.”

“You had your chance to kill us.” Jack stepped suddenly out from the side hallway, effectively trapping Michael between him and Sam. “And you left. Why?”

“I wanted to get things settled with this sweet little sister of yours before the massacre began,” Michael said, a cocky smirk twisting his lips. “No need for her to get killed when she’s making such a good little slave.”

“Leave her alone!” Jack’s eyes flashed yellow as he took a step toward Michael.

“Jack don’t!” Sam shook his head, and Jack stopped.

“It doesn’t matter what you do at this point,” Michael said. “I told you the story ended with your deaths, and I meant it. You can’t stop me.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Sam’s face. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

You hit the ground hard when Jack tackled you out of the way. His place was immediately taken by Castiel, who rushed Michael. Michael, taken aback, rose his hands to fight Cas a split second too late. Cas grabbed hold of Michael’s wrist and slapped the angel cuffs on him.

“They’ve been re-warded,” Sam piped in. “They’re stronger than they’ve ever been. Oh, and that warding that your monsters thought they got through? Cas booted it up again the minute you stepped inside. Your cavalry isn’t coming. At least, not in time.”

Michael scoffed, “In time for what? You still have no way to kill me, or stop me.”

“Actually we do,” Cas said. “We’re gonna get inside your head, and Dean’s gonna kick you out.”

…

“We’re gonna get Dean back,” Sam tried to tell you as Cas started to hook Michael up to one of the Men of Letters’ machines, but you didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the ground.

You could practically feel Michael’s eyes boring into you, reminding you to do as you were told and keep quiet. You didn’t think he could do anything with the angel cuffs on, but you’d learned to never underestimate Michael’s ability to punish you.

And you’d learned to never disobey him.

Sam turned his attention back to Michael—he could only fight one battle at a time, and getting Dean back took precedence for now—but Cas’s attention was suddenly on you. He walked up to you, leaning down in a failed attempt to meet your eye.

“Are you alright little one?” He asked. No answer. “You’re safe now, he can’t use his powers with the cuffs on.” Nothing. Cas sighed. “As soon as we get Dean back, we’re gonna help you, ok? You won’t have to be scared anymore.” When you still didn’t reply, Cas hesitantly turned his back on you to return to Sam and Dean.

“Me and Cas are going in after him,” Sam said. “Jack, we need you to stay here in case those monsters come in. And—“ Sam glanced at you, but you barely seemed to register anything going on in the room. “And make sure she stays safe, understand?”

“Of course. I won’t let anything happen to her…to any of you,” Jack insisted.

…

“Y/N?” Jack waited until he was sure Michael was safely in his own mind with Sam and Cas before he turned his attention to you. “Y/N, you can hear me right?”

You didn’t nod, exactly, but your head noticeably twitched up, so Jack took that as a good sign.

“Ok, ok good. I just wanna make sure you know that you’re safe. Michael isn’t gonna hurt you ever again, ok? Sam and Cas have this plan—they’re gonna talk to Dean up there in his head, and he’s gonna kick Michael out. He’ll be back to regular Dean, just like I said. We’re gonna get him back, Y/N. I promise.” Jack reached forward and wrapped his hand around yours. Your hand was limp in his, your fingers unmoving.

Jack sighed. “I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be, I promise. Remember I helped you after Asmodeus hurt you? I just want to help you again. I want you to feel safe again.”

Jack waited, his breath stagnant as he watched you.

Nothing. Not a hint of movement in your eyes, not a twitch from the limp hand that was still resting in Jack’s. It was like you weren’t even in there.

“I don’t care how long it takes,” Jack said. “I’m gonna help you come back.”

…

“I’ve got him.”

It was Michael’s voice, but it didn’t sound like Michael anymore. Could it be…

“Sammy, I’ve got him. He’s secure, he’s not going anywhere.” Dean. It was Dean. “Y/N?” The sound of that voice calling your name stopped your breath, even though you were almost sure it was your big brother now.

“Hey, wait—“ you heard the scuffling of feet and the sound of Sam’s voice. “Dean, don’t. Michael—he took her. He hurt her. I don’t really know how, or what happened, but…but just go slow with her.”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice was gentle as he slowly stepped closer to you. “Y/N, it’s Dean. Would you look at me, please?”

This finally got a reaction. You tilted your chin up and lifted your eyes to Dean, but you still didn’t move or speak.

“Hey.” A relieved smile broke out on Dean’s face—at least he knew you were listening now. “Hey kiddo. You doin ok?”

The longer you stared at Dean, the more shallow your breathing became. Dean was just reaching for you, hoping to calm you down, when you suddenly turned on your heel and made a dash for your room.

“Y/N!” Sam called after you. The slam of your door was his answer.

…

You wouldn’t answer the door for anyone, even Jack.

“I’m gonna go in there,” Dean decided.

“Dean, maybe she just needs space,” Sam suggested.

“She’s been in there all day without a word.” Dean shook his head. “I’ve gotta at least check on her.”

‘’Maybe I should try,” Jack suggested.

“I’m doing this alone.” Dean’s voice didn’t leave much room for argument, but Jack tried anyway.

“You still don’t trust me around her?” Jack asked.

“It’s not about that,” Dean huffed. “I’m the one who did this, so I’m the one who needs to fix it.”

“Dean, it wasn’t your—“ Cas’s protests stopped when Dean held up a hand.

“It doesn’t matter. She still sees him every time she looks at me. I need to fix this.”

Sam was the first to relent, and he managed to get Jack and Cas to leave with him to give you and Dean some space.

“Kiddo?” Dean knocked softly, knowing you wouldn’t answer. He was right. “Kiddo, if you don’t say anything I’m just gonna open the door. You ok in there?” After a prolonged silence, Dean went on. “Ok, I’m coming in.” He twisted the handle, glad it wasn’t locked, and slipped through the door.

You were sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, your knees tucked up against your chest. Your whole body stiffened when Dean stepped into the room, but other than that there was no indication that you’d seen him enter; you didn’t look at him, you didn’t move.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. He sat next to you, and you didn’t react. “Would you look at me?”

Your eyes met Dean’s, and something scratched at the back of his mind.

“Are you just gonna do what I tell you to do?” Dean swallowed. “Is…is that what Michael made you do?” You stayed silent, so Dean prompted, “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Kid, you don’t have to do that. I’m not Michael, you know that right?”

“I…” your voice faltered. You took a deep breath. “I know. I’ll—I’m trying.”

“I never wanted him to hurt you,” Dean sighed. “I never meant for—“

“It’s not your fault, De,” you interrupted. “You’re not Michael, and…and nothing he said or did meant anything about you.”

“Ok, I got it.” Dean put his hand on your shoulder. “Now you gotta remember that, too, and stop being so freaked around me. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I told you, I’ll try…Dean?”

“Yeah kid?”

“Are you sure he can’t get out?”

When he saw you shaking, Dean reached out and pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sure. I’m never gonna let that guy hurt you again, ok? Never.”

You finally relaxed in your big brother’s arms.

“Ok.”

“Good. Now let’s go bother Sam and the angel gang.”

You laughed.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810