#I will get to the asks you've been sending me soon I swear

[iamthecomet]

𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚊𝚍

Rating: E Pairing: Dewther Featuring: Blowjobs, hand jobs, a long drive. Roadhead. Word Count: 2.1k Inspired by this post from @dewinabsentia Many thanks to @miasmaghoul, @forlorn-crows and @st-danger for enabling me (like always). Banner by the amazing @forlorn-crows

On AO3 here, or under the cut.

They've been on the road for a while. Long enough that Dew has sunk into the easy monotony of highway driving. One hand on the wheel. The other arm resting in the open window. A cigarette dangling from his fingers. Ash drifting down onto the window controls. He’ll brush them away later. Before they get home and Mountain sees.

The old truck is the only car he's allowed to smoke in, so naturally he has to take full advantage. He takes a long drag. Keeps a cursory eye on the cars in front of him. They’re far enough ahead that he doesn’t really have to think about them. He hates driving near other people, because everyone else is a fucking terrible driver. They don’t pay attention. They go too slow. They tap their brakes on straight flat sections of roads. He wants to be able to relax while he drives–he doesn’t want to have to fight for his life among idiots.

Dew sinks deeper into the seat. He wishes, for the millionth time, that the old truck had cruise control. But it doesn’t. It’s an early 90s relic, with manual crank windows, and heavy doors that stick when you open them. The cloth on the bench seat is soft and warm and riddled with cigarette burns that mostly aren’t Dew’s fault.

It’s a far cry from the modernity of the other cars in Abbey possession. But this one is Dew’s favorite. It struggles to start sometimes, it guzzles gas. But the stereo is new, and loud. And it’s so sturdy Dew’s pretty sure it could survive nuclear war.

He finishes his cigarette. He grinds it out in the ashtray–because it’s old enough to have both an ashtray and a cigarette lighter.

Aether’s across the bench seat from him. Leaning up against the door. Singing along softly to the music as he looks out the window. Watching the trees flicker by. Tensing up every time someone merges onto the highway next to them a little too aggressively.

He’s had his hand on Dew’s thigh for the last twenty miles. Warm and heavy and creeping higher and higher with each exit they pass.

Dew feels free for the first time in months. Away from the Abbey. Just the two of them in an old beat up truck. Traveling a hundred miles north to pick up some artifact Imperator insists they have. Dew feels like he can breathe. No band practice. No Imperator or Copia or Mountain breathing down his neck. No Cirrus telling him to do the dishes. Or Aeon asking to practice. He loves all of them with every bit of his soul.

But Satanas did he need this drive. He’s glad it’s Aether who’s with him. Everyone else feels the need to talk when they’re in a car. To fill silence. To tell Dew every mundane thing about their day, their week, their feelings. And again, he loves them. He loves listening to them talk about literally anything. But also–there’s something about the sound of the wheels on the road, and the music and nothing else.

Aether’s hand slides higher the longer they go. Dragging up Dew’s black jeans. There’s a rip in the upper thigh–just below the pocket–and Dew almost jumps out of his skin when he feels Aether’s fingers dip into it. Just a little. The warm calloused brush of his fingers over soft sensitive skin.

Dew lets his head fall back against the headrest. He laughs to himself. “You bored or something?”

Aether shakes his head, he turns to look at Dew for what feels like the first time since they got on the highway. “Course not. I’m with you.”

“Gross,” Dew rolls his eyes, and Aether laughs at him. That big hand on his thigh squeezes and Dew makes a choked little noise as Aethers’ fingers graze over the the crotch of his jeans, the barest touch along his balls and he’s trying not to shudder.

“I’m driving,” Dew chides.

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not.”

Dew knows he’s in trouble before Aether actually does anything. It’s the weight of his hand on his leg. The glint in those violet eyes that tell Dew it is only going to get worse. And Dew knows he could stop it–he also knows he won’t. He doesn’t want to.

He’ll protest though, just a little. That’s part of the fun, after all. But it isn’t like he’s going to say no to a handjob. Driving is only taking up like 10% of his brain–the other 90 needs something to do.

Aether’s hand slides sideways, into Dew’s lap. Cupping him through his jeans. Dew hisses. His eyes flutter closed just for a second. Breath huffing out in a soft sigh that almost feels like relief.

“Eyes on the road, Dewdrop.”

“Yes, mom.” Dew says, opening his eyes. Trying and failing to regain an ounce of his composure. Aether squeezes and Dew makes a pained gurgling sound and presses his hips up into Aether’s hand.

Aether palms him, stroking and squeezing. Fingers dipping between Dew’s legs to press up against his balls. Dew can practically feel the blood leaving his brain. His pants get tighter, Aether’s squeezes get firmer. He doesn’t have the will to fight the little sighs and whimpers each stroke brings.

“Satanas, Aeth–”

“Just getting started,” Aether mutters, and Dew’s stomach swoops. Either from anticipation or concern. He doesn’t have time to voice it before Aether’s grabbing for his zipper. The rasp of it is drowned out by the music. Aether pops the button on Dew’s jeans. It takes both hands to peel away the tight fabric, and Dew doesn’t help. Just glancing down long enough to watch Aether pull his briefs down until Dew’s cock springs free.

There’s already pre beading at the tip. Aether swipes his thumb through it and Dew shudders, a full body twitch he has no hope of controlling. They’re so lucky the highway is basically deserted. Lucky it’s straight and flat and familiar.

Dew should stop him. That would be safer. He rolls his hips instead. Fucking his cock through Aether’s loose fist.

“Sit back, relax,” Aether coos. And Dew would snap at him if he had any brain cells left to do it. Instead, he listens, as best he can. Eyes on the road. Each slow stroke of Aether’s hand sending little fissures of pleasure up his spine. He tries to keep from rocking his hips up into Aether’s hand–but it’s hard.

It’s good, easy. Not enough to make him cum, but that’s what he wants. A little pleasure to break up the monotony of this drive. He relaxes back into the seat, really relaxes. Fingers loosening on the wheel, body sagging back into the seat as the haze of pleasure settles over him.

“Good?”

Dew nods, hums an affirmative. “Real good.”

Aether lets out a little chuckle, and then, Dew hears his seatbelt click. He jolts, spine going straight. Head whipping over to look at Aether just in time to watch the seatbelt retract back into the door.

“What are you–”

“You’ll see.”

Aether shifts, moves so he’s laying flat against the bench seat. Legs hanging off the edge by the door. One hand resting heavy on Dew’s thigh–the other, still teasing the sticky head of his cock.

Dew’s head spins. It takes too long for real thoughts to catch up to him. Aether drags his thumbnail over the thick vein on the underside of Dew’s cock and Dew chokes. He shakes his head like doing that will make him think more clearly.

It doesn’t work.

“Put your fucking seatbelt on, we’re on the highway,” Dew snaps, the words finally forming.

Aether hums. His breath ghosts out over the head of Dew’s cock. Dew looks down just in time to watch it kick. A blurt of pre, drools down the side. Aether catches it with his tongue.

“Guess you’d better drive careful, then.”

Dew doesn’t think any part of this constitutes driving carefully. He puts his other hand on the wheel. Ten and two. He never drives like this–but he’s pretty sure he’s going to need both hands.

To his credit–Aether starts slow. A chaste kiss to the head, before he starts to really kiss it. Dew can’t help but look down. To watch Aether make out with the head of his cock. Tongue flicking out over the slit. Tongue dragging over the head in the same motions Dew is so used to feeling against his own tongue. Languid and decadent. Aether hums happily as he laps up more pre.

“Eyes on the road, droplet,” Aether mumbles against the sensitive underside of Dew’s cock.

Dew drags his eyes up and away from the scene below him. Back to the road, which is a safer, but much less interesting option. It’s almost worse when he can’t see it. When he doesn’t anticipate Aether’s every move. Each flick of his tongue is a surprise. A new brand of raw pleasure that has his knuckles going white on the steering wheel.

Aether sucks the head into his mouth and Dew jolts. Groaning low and wrecked. Hips bucking up, sliding another inch into the wet heat of Aether’s mouth. His eyes flutter–he manages to keep them open. Mostly by clenching his jaw so hard it actually hurts. He worries, vaguely, about chipping a tooth, but it’s a fleeting thought. Chased out of his brain when Aether takes all of him at once.

Nose pressed into the soft curls at the base of Dew’s cock. Breathing steadily through his nose. Aether groans. Dew feels the vibrations in his bones. When Aether swallows, Dew can’t help but thrust up into his throat a little more. Aether chokes, just a little, just enough to make something traitorous in Dew’s stomach twist.

He wants to pull the car over. He wants to hold Aether’s head down and fuck his throat until tears spill down Aether’s face.

He almost does it when he glances over to see Aether humping the seat. To see him sneak his free hand into his pants so he can grope himself. Humping into his own palm. The sight makes Dew feel like he’s going insane. He wants free hands. He wants to slip his fingers around Aether’s throat and feel the bulge of his cock.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Dew breathes.

Aether pulls off with a gasp. A string of spit connecting his lips to Dew’s ruddy cock. “Watch the road, Dew.”

Dew would rather do anything but. But he does. Pulling his eyes away from Aether’s flushed cheeks and pleasure bright eyes.

“Gonna get you for this,” Dew breathes. Aether chuckles. Kissing the tip again, sloppy.

Aether’s only answer is a little hum before he descends again. Head bobbing in a slow indulgent rhythm. Dew grinds up into his mouth, matches his movements, falling into an easy rhythm that Dew feels like he could ride out forever.

Aether’s free hand dips a little lower. Pets his balls through the tight fabric of his jeans and Dew whimpers. Broken. Desperate. He tries to push his hips into Aether’s hand, and mouth at the same time. It doesn’t work.

”Take em out. Please,” Dew gasps. And Aether reaches into Dew’s pants and frees his balls. Dew groans in relief when he does. He glances down again, just to see Aether roll them in his hand. When he pulls off of Dew’s cock and ducks down to suck one into his mouth, Dew has to look away. He’ll blow right here and now if he has to watch Aether do this. He closes his eyes–just for a second he swears.

“Lucifer, Aether. Your fucking mouth.”

“You wanna cum in it?”

Dew nods. Head tipping back against the headrest. “Yeah. Make me.”

“I will,” Aether promises. Tongue flicking out over the sensitive underside, Dew tries and fails to control the full body twitch it causes.

“Fuck.”

“How much further?”

Dew glances at his phone, propped up on the dash, and the gps app running on it. “Forty five minutes. Make me cum in five and I’ll give you a hand job.”

Aether hums, thoughtful. Dew knows that sound though–it’s the one Aether makes when he made up his mind a long time ago. Dew’s stomach lurches.

“Aeth–”

“Shh, let me savor this. You don’t want me to get bored, do you?”

Dew groans, low and wrecked when Aether takes him all again. He slips one hand off the wheel to lace his fingers in Aether’s hair–just to feel him.

“No,” Dew agrees, voice tense. “Wouldn’t want that. Take your time.”

Aether does. It’s a long drive after all.

[russellsppttemplates]

Parenting Practice (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time, hasn't it? A lot has been going on, and my mental health has taken the biggest toll, so the blog hasn't received much attention as I'm trying to keep the train going! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is pregnant

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

"Are you all packed, my love?", Lando asked you as he zipped his suitcase effortlessly.

"Yes - are you sure it's fine if I take my pillow?", you wondered, holding the pregnancy pillow close to you, folding it into the carrier bag.

"It's regular carry-on, and as much as I hate that I have to share my cuddles with it, I know you sleep better with it so you definitely need to take it", Lando winked.

Blushing at your husband's antics, you made sure it was packed before looking around in case you missed something you needed to pack, "seems like I'm all good too - when do we need to leave?".

"In thirty minutes - how about I make us a snack to eat, then you can go pee before we go and then we head to the airport?", Lando suggested.

"Why did you need to specify that I have to take a pee break?", you poked you tongue out at him, pinching his butt as he walked past you.

"You were the one that told me I should always inform you of when you couldn't pee for a long time! The jet will touchdown to pick us both up and go straight up again - I don't think we will have time to use the base's bathroom, and you say you don't like the jet's bathroom, so I was just warning you, woman!", he bit back playfully.

Recalling the last time where you tried to use the bathroom and had to call Pietra to hold you in case you couldn't get out on your own, afraid that the bump would make moving around the tiny space impossible, you swore you'd always plan your pee breaks carefully from now on, "I'm craving something salty", you beamed as Lando walked down the stairs.

"A salty snack for mama and baby girl coming right up!", he yelled back and you could just imagine his head shaking from side to side with a charming smile on his face.

Your mother in-law was the first to greet you as soon as you stepped inside the aircraft, Lando holding your hand to make you didn't fall and helping with your shoes, "Y/N! Oh, you look so gorgeous!", she cooed.

"It's the compression socks, isn't it?", you giggled, lifting up your long skirt to show her, "doctor said it would be better for the swelling - Goodness knows I need all the help I can with that", you mumbled the last bit.

"Don't be silly, you look beautiful!", Pietra complimented.

"She does, doesn't she?", Lando complimented, kissing your cheek before letting you go and feeling slightly jealous that everyone was now looking at you when you had been a sight for his eyes only for the past few days.

.

"Is all of that jealousy, brother?", Cisca asked her brother, touching her toes on his thigh after she sat down on her beach chair. The sun had finally showed up and there was a light breeze going on, making it the perfect beach day and it was only lunchtime as they sat on the beach bar after making the food orders.

"Jealousy? Of what?", Lando quirked his eyebrow over his sunglasses, drifting his attention from you and looking back to his youngest sister.

"The girls haven't left Y/N since the plane, only to sleep and Sav was just saying she swears she heard Athena call your wife before she fell asleep", she snickered, "You've lost favourite uncle status, we all have I think".

"Like we stood a chance to begin with", Lando scoffed, "she was made to be a mother, and before that she had all the practice with being an auntie. And the girls genuinely think they can play with baby girl like they play with their dolls once she's here with us".

"Mila is gentle most days, Athena is... still a bit hard on her movements I think - oh, just on cue!", she yelped.

"Oh, darling, that was a bit strong, wasn't it?", you scolded softly, taking her hand away from your ear after she pushed on your hoop.

"Come here, you trouble maker!", Adam called, grabbing the little girl away from your lap as you rearranged your jewellery.

"She surely has a strong grip!", you chuckled before winking at Lando, mouthing a silent "I love you, Lan" across the table.

Cisca groaned playfully, "is all of that jealousy, little sister?", Lando teased her before blowing you a kiss and mouthing it back.

.

You were enjoying the pool the villa had, soaking up the sun as you laid on Lando's chest, tracing random shapes on his chest while his hand travelled around your waist and bump, often tapping it when your little girl kicked or moved.

It was fairly quiet until the girls woke up from their naps, immediately coming down to join you and invite everyone to swim with them.

Deciding to engage in their delight, you got up and walked to the edge of the pool, carefully sitting on the warm stone and letting your legs dip in the water to cool your body while Lando dove in and played with the girls, "careful, Mila, you can't unzip your vest!", he called.

Pulling her closer to you, you managed to zip it back up and help her swim back to her uncle, "is the bump getting in the way?", Sav asked you, mimicking your early movements and sitting next to you.

"When I'm sitting down, yes", you chuckled, "I don't have the same range of movements and my mind still has to catch up with that".

"It's a sign that she's growing well though", your sister in-law added, propping herself up on her arms so she could ease the rest of ther body into the water, getting immediate attention from her children as they called her to them, "soon enough you'll have someone calling you every waking second!".

"She already does, though! Look at him making a bee line to her now that she's free!", Oliver joked as Lando swam to you.

"I won't even bother answering that", Lando pointed to his brother before reaching you, ignoring everyone else as he gently wrapped his arms around your calves and rested his chin on your knees, "hi, beautiful", he smiled.

"Hey, handsome", you smiled, brushing a fallen curl away from his forehead, "did you enjoy your splashes?", you asked giggling.

"It was fun, yes. Athena poked my eye a couple of times though", he argued, "can you imagine our little princess playing with them this time next year?", he wondered.

"Three little girls", you mused, nodding at the idea, "you better get ready to be a princess too!".

"I have what it takes to be a girl dad, some people might even say I'm very girl dad coded", he tsked you, earning laughs from you.

"You definitely are, yes", you rubbed your bump, "you haven't been her long and she's already kicking like crazy - definitely a daddy's girl".

"Hey, sweet girl", Lando spoke, lightly wetting the skin as his hands touched your bump, "are you having a good time in there? Mummy always says she's too hot so we hope you're doing good away from this heat. And this helps, no?", he wondered as the baby kicked against the droplets, "yeah, it's good and cooling", he cooed.

.

"I'm craving something salty", you said as you grabbed the menu, flicking the pages to see what tickled your fancy.

You had decided to go to the beach bar and have lunch there, not wanting to have to pack everything to go back home only to come back for the afternoon. Everyone was gathered around the table as the waiter took the orders.

"Feeling good? Well rested?", you asked Lando once you caught him looking at you.

"Yes", he admitted, "I thought it would be harder to switch off, but it's been very good", he squeezed your thigh, kissing the side of your head and pulling you to his chest, "how are my girls today? You look ethereal in this dress, darling".

The white dress was flowy at times and tight in all the right spots, showcasing your babybump perfectly, "we've been good, no more harsh kicking on my bladder which I appreciate, isn't that right, Tilly?", you rubbed just above your bellybutton, "but we're both quite hungry".

"The waiter said yours should be quick to make", he offered since the waiter mentioned that the Caesar salad was a popular plate and they always had it running.

Once everyone was served, you began eating, delighted and exclaiming how good e everything was.

"Have a bite of this, baby, trust me!", Lando offered as he gathered a bit of everything on his fork to feed you.

"It's sweet, I'm not sure I'll like it", you scrunched up your face.

"Try a little bit", he encouraged as he made a shell shape with his hand to catch anything that fell or dropped.

The food was definitely the opposite of what you had, but it was delicious. That you couldn't deny.

"It's good, isn't it? I told you!", Lando smiled, "do you want some more?", he offered while already getting everything on the fork again.

"Baby girl seems happy too", you giggled, feeling her move.

"She has good taste in food, what can I say?!", Lando giggled back.

.

The vacation was well underway by the time you decided which days you wanted to spend on the boat, Oliver and Savannah staying inside with the girls along with Adam and Cisca who decided they would make lunch for everyone.

"Do you know what I have just realised?", you spoke to Flo as you both watched Lando and Cisca's boyfriend jump into the water, "your brother has a massive head - like, it's really big, specially when you compare to Max's", you pointed to your husband's best friend who had joined you for the last few days.

That morning, you cried about the fact that your bikini dug on your hips only for Lando to tell you that you hadn't tired the sides properly and that you had more than enough room to accommodate your growing body, so right now this was a way better way to deal with the rush of hormones you were having.

"I think we all do, to be fair - Cisca has the smalled one I guess", Flo squinted as she looked at her sister who walked closer to you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?", Cisca wondered.

"I've just realised how big your brother's head is and how I'm probably going to be split apart when this little girl - little body but surely a big head - joins us", you rubbed your bump as tears formed in your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, my friends have had babies with big heads and they're fine", Pietra offered, "they were just fine", she said before waving at Max so him and Lando could come to the rescue.

"I don't know why I'm crying, which makes this even worse - Goodness", you wiped your eyes and chuckled, "I can feel her head, it's about here from what I remember from the scans - and it's big, like, really big! How is that going to work?", you blurted.

"What's the matter? Is everything alright? Y/N, are you good? Is it Tilly?", Lando asked worriedly as he saw you break into a fit of giggles and seeing the girls fight their laughter a bit before joining.

"The matter is that you have a big head and Tilly's will also be big", you explained, "I'm not the tiniest person ever, so there's definitely room but can you imagine? I have to ask your mother how big your head was when you were born because I feel like I need to do prep work for it", you mused, "it's all natural until you decide to have a kid with the guy who has a big head".

"Oh, Y/N has gone dark", Max muttered, earning himself a swat on his forehead from Pietra, "what? Did I lie?", he hissed, containing his laughter.

"I'm not sure what you'd like me to do here, my love", Lando admitted, sitting next to you and attempting to squeeze your thigh lovingly, knowing the affectionate gesture could go both ways.

"Our baby is making me feel like I have the emotional and cognitive skills of a toddler", you mumbled as you cuddled your husband, supporting your bump with a pillow Flo got for you as you both layed down.

"It's okay, Y/N, I don't mind having to reason with you - we'll consider this practice for when we have our little one, okay beautiful?", Lando kissed your forehead.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: Ingrid just doesn't understand you

Mapi had never met you before.

She's met the rest of the Engen family. She's met the family pets. But you'd never been around she visited with Ingrid, like your family had put you as far away as possible when she met them.

Like you were something to be ashamed of.

It's a bit of a bad first impression to make when you're shipped from your boarding school, back home and then straight over to Spain to live with her and Ingrid.

She doesn't even get to introduce herself before Ingrid's laying into you.

"Again?" She demands as soon as you're safely in the back seat of the car," Expelled...again?"

"It's not a big deal," You mutter, slouching in your seat and pulling your hood over your head.

"Not a big deal...Not a big deal?! You've been kicked out of school! You've been kicked out of the house! Oh, but it's not a big deal?!"

Mapi's never seen Ingrid so angry before but you're taking it like a champ, looking out the window and generally ignoring your sister even as she snaps at you.

"Are you done?" You ask in the most bored tone you can manage.

Ingrid takes a breath. "Ye-" She catches sight of you in the rear view mirror and whips around to face you. "Is that a hickey?!"

"Do we have to do this?" You groan," You ask me if I've got a hickey. I give you an answer you don't like. You yell. Can we just skip to the bit after you scold me?"

Ingrid's practically bubbling in rage sitting in the passenger seat and Mapi's left scrambling trying to diffuse the tension.

"So..." She says eventually," You like football?" It's a weak redirection but it gets an amused scoff out of Ingrid as she rolls her eyes.

"I'm not into exercising willingly," Is your answer," It's alright from a distance. Even better when a girl's doing it."

Ingrid groans louder now and swats at your knees but it's teasing and it's like all of her anger from earlier has melted away. "Don't," She says warningly though a hint of amusement is still present in her voice," There'll be none of that here. You're here to focus and to study and to better your grades."

You send her a lopsided smile. "How am I supposed to improve perfection?"

It's that evening after you've retreated to your room that Ingrid is left in a slump over your grades and your truancy records.

"I don't get it," She says to Mapi," She misses almost every class but she has perfect marks. It's like she doesn't even have to try."

Mapi shrugs. "Maybe she doesn't," Is her response," Some people just get school better than others. To be honest, if it's this easy then that's probably why she never turns up."

"And the hickies?"

"She's hormonal?" Mapi doesn't really have an answer to that as she's handed your transcript.

"And this?"

Ingrid slides Mapi a picture. It's of one of this out buildings that every school has that they swear is temporary but never go unused.

"That's..."

Mapi stares at the side of the building. She stares at the colours on the wall, at the way they weave expertly in and out of each other. She stares at the shading and the light.

"I know," Ingrid says, her face all scrunched up and Mapi gets the idea that they're not on the same page.

"It's brilliant."

"It's disrespectful."

They both spoke at the same time. They exchange a confused look with each other before turning their gazes back to study the picture.

It's clearly spray paint, the mural that you've done on the side of one of your school buildings. Usually, Mapi would see tags on railway lines out of spray paint. But, somehow, your mural is hyper realistic (Mapi would even go so far as to say photorealistic).

It's...Well Mapi doesn't quite have the words to explain it.

"I'd love to see what she could do with a pencil."

"Mapi!" Ingrid hisses," Don't encourage her!"

"No, no," Mapi backtracks quickly," I get it, totally. She shouldn't have done it there. It's wrong and it's bad but Ingrid! Look at it! People dream of having talent like that!"

For the entire night and the coming days after, Mapi thinks about the mural you did it on your school.

She ends up asking Ingrid for your Instagram during the lunch break at training. Ingrid gives it to her with a confused look.

"If you're going to use it to try and work out where this behaviour is coming from, it's useless," Ingrid says with a defeated sigh," I've already gone through it all."

That wasn't what Mapi was planning to do at all so she just offers Ingrid a little smile and a promise to see what she could find. To her disappointment, no more of your artwork has been posted on your main account.

She scrolls through your following list, all the way to the bottom, to find an account that she's positive is your secret one. Its username is a bunch of random letters followed by dot-art and its profile picture is the mural on the side of your school building.

Mapi feels like she's hit the jackpot as she scrolls through it (feeling pleased with herself when she notices a bunch of your school friends follow this account too so it must be you). You've got hundreds of posts up, detailing murals you've done around your hometown and your school. There's a few still life drawings and a huge oil paint piece on a massive canvas. There's an image of a drawing that's clearly done in pen on someone's arm.

It's photorealistic just like your spray paint piece and, if you were older, Mapi would probably beg you to be her tattoo artist.

When she and Ingrid get back to the house, you're napping at the kitchen table.

Ingrid swears under her breath, rousing you from your sleep. "I told you to do your school work," She says.

You shrug. "I did." You shove your notepad towards her. "It's not my fault that it's not difficult."

"You've done the bare minimum."

You shrug. "I'm not into doing more than I have to."

The tension in the air is practically electric as you both stare each other down.

"Lose the attitude," Ingrid says," I'm trying to help you here. Mum and Dad won't let you back home until you clean your act up."

You mutter something under your breath and Ingrid goes rigid.

"Don't say that!" She snaps," They want what's best for you! We want what's best for you!"

"They want what's best for them!" You snap back. In the few weeks that Mapi's known you, you're the most laidback teenager she's ever met. You've never once really bit back at Ingrid, no matter how hard she pushed you.

Ingrid's tough love had seemed to be working. You napped regularly, yes, but you got all of your schoolwork done. You don't come home with hickeys and no strange murals have appeared in Barcelona by your hands.

She must have hit a sore spot for you.

"You're smart," Ingrid says," You're so smart and I don't understand why you don't apply yourself more! If you worked properly, you could graduate early and be at university already!"

"There's nothing at university that interests me," You mutter," It's a waste of time."

"It's not a waste of time!" Ingrid retorts," What are you going to do when you finish school, huh? Do you even have a plan?!"

Mapi sees your eyes dart to where your sketchpad sits a few feet away. She can see the cogs turning in your head.

You stay silent.

Ingrid sighs, hands clenched into two shaking fists. "I love you," She says," But you need to get yourself together." She shoves your papers right back at you.

"I've already finished it!"

"You've done the bare minimum." She swipes your sketchbook off of the table. "Sit down. Do it properly."

"Give it back!"

Ingrid's tall and, even though she's your sister, she's still tall enough to hold your book over her head so you can't reach it. "You get it back when you do your work properly."

"Give it!"

"No!"

"Ingrid, hand it over!"

"Do your work!"

"Urgh! I hate you!"

"Well, too bad. Because I love you!"

You slump into the seat with a scream that makes Mapi's ears ring a bit but you grab your pen and start on your schoolwork again.

"Come on," Mapi says softly, drawing Ingrid into their bedroom and shutting the door.

Ingrid throws your sketchbook onto the bed and paces, pulling at her hair in frustration.

"What-What did she say?" Mapi asks, her mind playing that moment when Ingrid went stiff over and over again.

"She said that she wished Mum and Dad got rid of her when they had the chance...you know...when she was..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Ingrid groans. "I-I just don't understand her! She's so smart! She has her pick of everywhere! Mum and Dad can get her into medical school! It's like she has no ambition!"

Mapi types into her phone. "Have you considered that, maybe, going to medical school and university isn't exactly for her? I mean, you went straight into football."

Ingrid sighs, the tension draining somewhat from her body. "Mapi...It's different. I had a passion for football even when I was younger. I practiced every day. I knew what I wanted."

"She practices something every day," Mapi replies," And she's so good at it. Honestly, Ingrid, it's a little annoying that you and your family haven't noticed."

She turns her phone around, to a post on your secret Instagram account. It's tagged as a city a few hours away from your old boarding school.

On the side of a crumbling house is a spray paint mural of Norway's women's team. It's got everyone on it, photorealistic like all of your other murals. Ingrid's in the middle though, beaming a smile that you can see reaches her eyes.

"What?" The real Ingrid asks, brow furrowed.

"Your sister did that," Mapi says," She's done a lot of them." She grabs your sketchbook and flicks though it. You'd shown her all of your pieces a few days ago when she asked to see them. "Ingrid, she's so good."

Ingrid flips through your book. There's pencil drawings in there. There's watercolour and acrylic and oil. There's a pastel study of your cat back home and an inked version of Bagheera. There's a stunning piece in charcoal of you and Ingrid when you were younger.

Her fingers hover over your squishy baby cheeks, like she could reach into the picture and touch them.

The next few pages have pictures of your own arm with tattoo designs wrapping around them.

"Ingrid, she's so talented," Mapi says," And, yeah, maybe she shouldn't skip class or leave her work to the last minute but she's found something she's passionate about and loves. How would you feel if your parents didn't support you in your football and made you go to medical school?"

Ingrid wipes the tears out of her eyes when she flicks to the last picture you've drawn. It was from last week, when she rewarded you for doing all your work before the weekend with ice cream. You had taken a picture with Mapi and Ingrid, tongue poking out and cheeks pressed together.

You've replicated it perfectly on the page and scrawled a little heart at the bottom along with your signature.

"Jona...Jona said they're looking for someone to do a mural on the back wall of the Johan Cruyff," She says eventually, flipping the book closed," We...Er...We..."

"I'll call Jona," Mapi assures her," Go and save your sister from work she's already finished."

Like Mapi said, you've already finished all of your work and you're sitting stubbornly at the kitchen table, rolling a piece of lint between your fingers.

You're taken completely off guard when Ingrid pulls you in for a hug. Usually, it takes an hour or two for her to calm down after yelling at you.

"I love you," She says as she pulls away, cradling your face as tears run down her face," I love you so much."

"Ingrid? What's going on?"

"I love you," She says," And I want what's best for you. If you promise me that you'll try just a bit harder in school then I swear, I'll make everything better."

"Seriously, you're freaking me out here. What's going on?"

Map appears over Ingrid's shoulder with a dopey smile. "You should thank your sister. She's just sorted you out with a job."

"A job? Ingrid, no offence, but you don't even like me out of your sight. I can barely get by in Spanish. You want me to get a job too?"

"The Estadi Johan Cruyff needs a mural done-"

"Several murals," Mapi cuts in.

"-And you're doing them."

You blink in shock before a grin splits your face wide open. "Seriously? Are you joking?"

"Keep trying hard," Ingrid says," And I'm sure me and Mapi can sort you out with so much more."

[vettelsvee]

I DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR WINNING | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 2 here

summary: y/n thinks she's sick from f1 traveling stress, but what if that's not the reason of her sickness?

word count: 992

warnings: hints of having sex. mentions of wishing to die (because reader is sick af). use of y/n

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

It was barely five in the morning, and the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon of the city of Berlin. Sebastian and you, without having been able to rest after the German Grand Prix that had taken place just hours ago, were at the airport of the German capital, ready to head to Hungary, where the next Formula 1 competition would be held.

You were aware that following the lifestyle of a high-level racing driver was not easy. However, you didn't think that getting eight hours of sleep or having free time would become privileges that you would have, in part, during the holiday period. Despite the excitement that filled you every time you embarked on a new destination, you had been feeling unwell for several days, and no matter how hard you tried to remedy it, all you did was worsen it.

Seb, who knew you well enough to know that something was wrong, tried not to make a big deal out of it. He knew that you tended to get sick frequently, although the fact that you was quieter than usual and didn't have as much energy as usual started to worry the blonde who, at the moment of takeoff, observed carefully as your face grew paler, while you gripped the armrest of the seat tightly.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Sebastian asked with concern.

You tried to breathe deeply to calm the wave of nausea you were feeling right now.

"Yes," you simply replied, faking a smile. "I just feel a little uncomfortable with takeoff, you know airplanes and I are not friends. Stop worrying, love. You'll see it'll pass soon."

Despite your multiple reassurances, Seb couldn't convince himself. Your eyes reflected how you felt, and he had no doubt that you were hiding something from him to avoid worrying him.To try to relax you, he leaned towards you to leave a kiss on your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I know you've told me you're okay, but if you start feeling worse, let me know, okay?"

You nodded, silently thanking the German for his concern.

Although he tried not to make a big deal out of it, the truth was that as the flight progressed towards its destination, you felt worse, even reaching the point where nausea turned into frequent trips to the bathroom to vomit, and constant dizziness into a desire to faint and not wake up for a few days.

"Seb, I swear… I can't deal with this anymore."

After suddenly getting up from your seat, hurrying to the bathroom trying not to cause too much commotion among the other passengers, you quickly locked yourself in the small cubicle, bending over the toilet to empty everything you didn't know you had inside yourself. Sebastian watched with concern as you fled, trying not to lose his composure under the curious gaze of those present, including a few Red Bull engineers.

“Y/N!”, Seb called out as quietly as he could, anxious because you weren’t responding. “Are you okay? Please, open the door.”

You didn't answer him, which only heightened Vettel's anxiety. He fixed his gaze on the bathroom door, waiting for you to come out and give him some explanation of what was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, you emerged from the bathroom with a completely pale face and a tired look. Sebastian simply pulled her close to his chest and held her tightly in an embrace.

"Love, what's wrong?" he said anxiously. "I need to know what's going on. Things can't continue like this if you're going to keep accompanying me. I'm sure it's getting to you: everything is overwhelming you and..."

Suddenly, you began to cry from the helplessness you were feeling, causing Sebastian to hold you even tighter, stroking your back to help you relax as much as possible.

"I can't take it anymore, Seb. I feel awful. I want to die right now."

"We should seek help," he said, wiping your tears away. "We'll see what we can do now to keep you as relaxed as possible for the remainder of the flight, okay? And when we land, we'll go to an emergency room to see what's wrong with you."

Sebastian then called one of the flight attendants in their area and explained the distressing situation, emphasizing that he wouldn't want anyone to find out to avoid conflicts with both the media and his team. The flight attendant simply nodded and informed them to return to their seats, immediately assisting the world champion's partner.

"Mrs. Vettel, here's some water and an aspirin," the woman kindly offered you. "Additionally, I've informed the crew about your wife's situation," she said, now looking at the blonde, "and they confirmed that if she gets worse, there's no problem in making an emergency landing at the nearest airport."

"I'm not Sebastian's wife..."

"Thank you very much," the driver interrupted, thanking the flight attendant for her assistance.

The German began to laugh at your reaction as soon as the woman left.

"You should have seen your face, Y/N. You can't deny that you didn't mind being referred to as my wife," Seb said, stroking your hair and opening the water bottle for you to take a sip.

The flight continued, and although the nausea had been brought under control, the discomfort persisted. The couple was aware that there was only, thankfully, about half an hour of travel left.

"Darling," Sebastian whispered sweetly. "Close your eyes and focus on your breathing: inhale through your nose, and exhale through your mouth. I'm here, hold my hand."

You followed your partner's instructions, allowing yourself to be guided by his voice, which was truly comforting in those moments, in each inhalation and exhalation. Gradually, you began to feel calmer, and you would even swear that you hadn't felt this way in several days.

Finally, the plane reached its destination. You felt greatly relieved that the flight, which had caused you so much distress, had come to an end as it had left her physically and mentally exhausted.

As soon as your feet touched Hungarian soil, Sebastian made sure that you felt as comfortable as possible before heading to the hotel. Despite the rush Britta, Sebastian's PR, took a moment in some small seats to rest and, as much as possible, recover from the turbulent journey they had just endured.

Although he knew he might hurt your feelings, Sebastian decided to broach the subject with a mischievous smile:

"Love, don't you think we've had enough intense Sunday nights celebrating my victories? Because I think it's led to something good."

At first, you were a bit confused, but a few seconds later you let out a shy and sweet laugh. The driver wasn't lying: sex had become your ritual to bid farewell to the weekend and, above all, as a celebration of Seb's victories that season. Now that you remembered, there were quite a few occasions where you didn’t use protection, so you thought that the possibility was even more up in the air now.

"It could be, Seb," you said with a knowing smile. "If I am, we could have a pretty big problem..."

"Please, love, don't say that," Vettel drew closer to you, taking your hand and gently tracing small circles on it with his fingers. "If you're pregnant, I'm sure you'll be an amazing mother. Besides, I know we haven't talked about this, but I've always wanted to be a father and I can't imagine anyone better than you to fulfill this dream."

Tears began to form in your eyes, and you hurried to wipe them away to prevent your boyfriend from noticing.

"So, what do you say? Should we tell Britta that we need to go to the pharmacy and buy a test? That way we can find out, and if it's a no, we can keep trying," you clarified eagerly. "What do you think about tonight?"

Feeling excited, after you explained the situation to the woman who had become another member of the family, and who, obviously, had been thrilled at the possible news, headed to the nearest pharmacy to avoid arousing suspicions among the journalists and paparazzi, who were lurking around with the intention of getting the latest scoop on the man of the moment.

Alone together and holding the small bag containing the test, you began to feel nervous as they approached their room. Upon entering the suite, you both sat on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to calm themselves before checking whether you would become parents.

"Okay," you said, taking a deep breath, "I'm ready."

After that, you opened the box containing the test and went to the bathroom, where you followed the instructions carefully. Once finished, you placed it on the surface of the sink and returned to where Seb was, waiting for the indicated time to pass to see the result.

You approached your boyfriend, who gently stroked your back once again to comfort you. He knew you were nervous and scared. He felt the same way.

"Whatever the result is, I'm grateful to have a woman like you in my life. I'll be by your side no matter what, ok?" Sebastian reassured you.

Tears filled the your eyes again, and as you looked at your watch and saw that the waiting time was over, you ran as fast as you could to the bathroom, followed by an anxious Sebastian.

Quickly, you took the test in your hands and saw the result:

"It's positive!" you shouted, your voice trembling. "I'm pregnant, Sebastian!"

A wave of emotions engulfed you both, not knowing what to do except to embrace tightly as you felt a mixture of astonishment and joy, as well as uncertainties about what could happen from that moment on.

"Well, it turns out that in the end I'm not just good at pointing with my index finger when I win," Sebastian teased you mischievously.

"I find it surreal that you're making dirty jokes after finding out we're going to have a child."

"I guess," the driver continued playfully, "we'll have to tell this little one that his dad is a two-time, for now, Formula 1 world champion, and that his mother is a champion in other aspects."

You laughed at your boyfriend's quips, finding them unbelievable.

"Come on, Seb, don't act modest now saying you didn't have merit. You know perfectly well that I motivated you quite a bit during those baby-making sessions."

"Of course, I'm not saying otherwise," the German continued jokingly. "I'm sure the baby will become the royalty of Formula 1. Who wouldn't want to have Vettel and Schumacher genes?"

Both of you burst into laughter, filling the room, giving way your thoughts on how you would tell your families, the media, your respective coworkers... Especially, you spent a few minutes sharing your expectations about what your life would be like from that day on.

"Miss Schumacher and future Mrs. Vettel, let me tell you that now that we know we're expecting a little miracle, I propose we celebrate it in a more... intimate way."

"You can't even give me a day's break, can you? I don't know about you, but I'm convinced my father wouldn't find it amusing to hear his daughter screaming to ask her boyfriend for more," you said, knowing your father would be in the adjacent rooms.

"I know," Seb simply said, "but I’ve won in life, and I don't apologize for winning."

[ellieslittleburrow]

Summary : John Winchester, your father, is protective of you

Warnings : swearing and cute John

A/N : should we write more John Winchester?

-----

John Winchester, a man of many flaws. Sammy can attest to that, he suffered the most from John's decisions. Dean would stand against that, he's been John's boy since the day he was born. Dad this, dad that; That doesn't mean it isn't complicated, though.

You on the other hand.....umm....not suuuure where you stand really, where do you stand?

Everything felt different for you with John. Everything. His love for you was established since the beginning. He got a spark in his eyes whenever you were around that neither of his two boys ever got the chance to see, even Dean.

You were his baby girl.

There were the times where he stood up for you. The bullies??? Never stood a chance. There was that one time in particular when you got h-

"Hey! What did i tell you about slamming doors?" A scolding growl sounded, one that would usually....send shivers down your spine. This time it left you unbothered, or maybe fueled your anger even more.

In an attempt to not cry in front of the Great Winchester, you hurried to the bed assigned to you and threw yourself into a sleeping position, your back facing him.

"HEY" his growl grew angrier and you just hugged yourself. You didn't need him exploding your eardrums on top of everything else that had happened that day. His steps closed in on you and soon enough, your waist was gently being pulled back- you were facing him.

As his eyes navigated around your face, his features simultaniously softened. The creases shaped by the frown on your eyebrows, the sucked in lower lip, the damp eyelashes, all signs of-

"You were crying?" A stupid question that John needed no answer to. He somehow knew why, too. But he asked anyway. "Was it the kids at school?"

With that-you force yourself back on your side. "I told you not to force me into a new school."

Your mumble is muffled but John already knew what you were going to say-you've had this conversation many a times before.

"Come on" Your father tapped your butt before heading towards the door. And your curiosity itched your brain and you turned around, sitting up.

"Where are you going?" You asked and he glanced at you over his own shoulder, a mischivious smile embellishing his face.

"Just get your ass up."

Over in the car, John turned to you. "Do you know where this kid lives?"

You took your damn time to respond, both of you will get into trouble buuuuuuut.... A smirk ghosted your lips. "Yeaaaah?"

"Good, that saves us a lot of time."

You nervously chuckled. "A lot of time for what, dad?" The Impala roared as silence followed your question. You sort of understood. And as you directed him towards the bully's house, your stomach tightened in a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"Right there, the Cayenne, his father's." You pointed at the car and your dad shamelessly parked his own only a few couples of meters away.

Another nervous chuckle left your lips as your head popped forward. Your eyes followed your dad as he jumped out of the car and headed for the trunk. The hood popped up for a minute and then your dad reappeared with what seemed to be a....BAT?

You jumped out of the car and distress shot through your veins. "Dad" You called for him but he'd already made up his mind and as you stressfullly walked behind him, he casually headed for the car, the bat vibrating in his hands. "Dad, you're gonna get us into trouble." You whispered as if whispering would make the crime your father is about to commit any less obvious.

But John totally ignored you and he swung the bat before sending it into the Cayenne's back window-the glass instantly chattered. You flinched and before you were even able to process the first hit, a second one echoed through the quiet neighborhood.

You flinched again. "Dad, st-"

"I'm only doing this for you, honey." John rounded the car and stopped at the front of the car. "If it were up to me, i'd slice the boy AND his father." The third swing hit harder, more violent. And the alarm continues blaring. "All he had to do was teach his son some manners. But since he can't do that, i'll teach 'em both a good lesson."

There's that story, and there's another one. Where you're being you, and for you, emotions have a like, a giant gravitational pull on your life-just like this time.

You and dad have been on the road for almost two days-stupid shapeshifters and it's that week of the month that's the most chaoti-- and this stupid fucking booth is weird and squishy and-

Your cheeks grew hot and wetness suddenly streamed down your face. When John noticed, he blew out a long sigh. He shut his eyes slowly, bringing his index and thumb to the opposite sides of his face, rubbing roughly.

Not fucking cool, dad. This shit's tiring enough. 'You know what-" You stop midsentence, rushing off to the bathroom but a sudden strain pulled you back.

"No-no, i'm sorry, honey, i'm sor-"

"I'm already tired enough." Your voice came out full and rough, heavy with the build up of saliva in your throat. "don't need you making fun of m-" You were about to yank your wrist away when he held it tighter.

"Come on that's not what's happening here." John swiftly got up and faced you. "I just-i'm tired too, kid. I-" He sighed again, and you wiped away your tears.

"Coooome here." Too slow but too sweet-and not a question either, your dad reached for the back of your head and brought it to his chest. He planted a kiss over your hair and gently swayed both of your bodies left and right. "Dad's here." His tone might've been gentle, but it still bore a hint of annoyance.

He doesn't mean-he "You don't mean that-you're just saying it because i'm-"

"Noo i do mean it, baby, i do-" he sighed once more. "I'm just tired. That's why i sound like this." He planted a second kiss on your forehead before boaring into your eyes. You dropped your gaze down in the process, too-

"I'm sorry." His thick eyebrows softened back to their normal position. And his bunny teeth appeared. Amused, he hesitated to speak for a few seconds. "You know you're too old for this right?"

You pinched his waist, causing him to jerk back, choking on a chuckle.

You sniffed, throwing embarassed glances his way. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry, honey."

What the hell is wrong with me? Is the first thought that comes to mind. There sure are many more stories to tell about the great John Winchester. But to sum it all up, you are indeed on his fucking side.

-----

@marvelfanfn2187a113

----

WOO WOO, i hope yall made it to the end. See ya next time 🖤🖤🖤🥀🥀🥀

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 4

Pt. 5

!Warnings: angst, reader is confused about their feelings, fluff, reader tries to get better, swearing, term "princess" is used once, channie the therapist, fake!texts (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: This might not be how most people expected it to be but I had to fix this somehow, also I think chan is a person to rather talk abt arguments 🤏🏽 also I'd like to do this random-question-number thingy, what do y'all think abt it??

It has been a week, since you basically threw Chan out and the past days, you kept yourself busy with chores all over your apartment, sometimes even doing the same thing twice, just to not think about what happened.

Chan texted you every day sometimes more, sometimes less, asking about how your day was, how you slept, if you ate something, but never if you wanted to hang out. You were glad he didn't ask, you didn't feel like seeing him, or anyone else, and your replies, if you even replied, we're really short and dry, often answering only after hours even though you've seen the message as soon as he sended it. You didn't want him to think that you're desperately waiting for a message from him.

You've noticed that you think like that very often since you didn't hug him back, almost as if something in you shifted, but you can't really tell what it is...

xxxxxx

You're currently washing up the dishes in the kitchen, while playing with the thought to extend your vacation, to one more week, when the door bell rang. You dried your hands on a towel and hurried to the door opening it, to see a package delivery man stand on the other side.

"I have a gift package for Y/n Y/l/n. Do they live here?" the man asks. "Yes, that's me, but I don't think I orde-" "There you go" the man interrupts you and puts the package and a bouquet of flowers in front of your feet, fastly walking off.

You stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the flowers. You sigh out and decided to take the package inside, at least it were your favorite flowers. As you sat the package onto the dining room desk, a sticky note fell out of the flowers, written on it: "Your co-workers said you took a vacation, so I thought I'll send you some flowers and some of your favorites to enjoy the days, take care princess ~channie"

That's so sweet, that's so sweet that it makes you feel bad for purposely avoiding chan. It isn't even that you're actually avoiding him, it's more like, you don't want to spend as much time with him, as you wanted before, but why? You walked towards your room, the package and flowers laying in the dinning room, untouched.

You fell face flat on your bed and groaned, turning over to your back. You didn't want to think about what happened that day, or what was wrong with you, but it seems like you have no choice. You love Chan and you don't want this dream relationship to end.

You've sat up in your bed and stared at your walk, for good 5 minutes before you decided to think about what happened the past weeks.

You thought about what chan said, all those hurtful things, his actions, your and his behavior, about what changed in your behavior...

That's when it hits you. You did, in fact, on purpose avoid him, but not because something is actually wrong with you, it's just that the words he said, the way he ignored you for a whole week, you took it all very serious, you took it to heart.

It's not that you hate him, it's that you hate the fact that you are who you are, that you're in fact clingy and over caring and that you don't want him to think that of you. That you avoid being with him so he doesn't say something like that every again.

Now that you think about it, it's just so stupid. He would never honestly think like that....would he?

You lay down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe you should meet up with him again? You do miss him...but what if it ends like that day before...?

You groan and roll around in your bed, when you get a message on your phone

Should you just ignore the message?.... But then nothing would change.... Maybe you should talk to him about it, tell him how you feel and how much his words, did hurt you.... This would be for the best.

You stood up from your bed and went to the door, opening it.

There was a bag, filled with noodles, sushi, even soju. You picked it up and went inside again, leaving the door open for chan to enter.

You've placed the food on the dining table, put the flowers in a vase, took out 2 pairs of chopsticks out of your cabinet and two cups.

Shortly after, you heared chan's voice, as he entered your apartment.

"Baby, i'm here!" he yelled, a little too loud, you got a headache already, or it's just because you weren't used to loud sounds anymore, since you haven't been around the boys anymore.

Chan entered the dining room and back hugged you. You melt into his touch, a warm hug, filled with love. You've missed that, but the voices in the back of your head are screaming your clingyness, so you back away, as fast as you melted.

"Sit down and eat with me" you stated, and waited for Chan to sit down, before you took a seat yourself. You've missed this. Sitting at the same table with him, eating together, spending time, you grabbed your chopsticks.

But what if he thinks you're clingy right now too?... The grip on your chopsticks tighten, which didn't get unnoticed by Chan, who laid his own, to the side. "Y/n, Baby, what's going on? I can tell there's something off and you wanted to talk about something..." Silence. "Y/n love ple-" "What you said..." you interrupted.

"What you said that day, really hurt me. I've just noticed that it really affects me and I don't know what to do about it" you were on the verge of crying, but you didn't care. There's nothing that can stop the waterfall of words now.

"I love you, I really do. I miss you so much, I want to spend so much time with you as before but..." you sob out and let the tears fall, which Chan wiped away with his thumb. "But everytime i'm around you my brain says that you don't like it that i'm around, that you think i'm clingy...even now-" "No." your endless sobs were interrupted by chan.

"No I could never. Never ever could I think you're too clingy, never would I not like you being around me. I took your sweet, caring and affectionate personality by granted, and doing so and saying that, were my biggest mistakes ever" Chan stood up and walked over to you, squatting in front of you, wiping away your tears.

"I'll tell you that as often as I need to, as you want me to, you're my life, my everything and I could never replace you with anything or anyone. Cling to me as much as you want, I don't know, come to the toilet with me, do whatever you want, you can have it, you deserve it my love." He kisses your cheek, as you started crying even more.

"Don't stain your pretty face with tears again because of me please" he rubs your cheek, staring into your eyes and your mind is suddenly so clear. That's what you want, what you need, is right there in front of you.

"Channie...my love...you're...i love you I'm sorry I'm so clingy sometimes..."

"No. You're not clingy at all. You're loving and that's why I adore you even more day by day, that's why I love you even more day by day, and this will never change. We're getting through it. Together and forever clinging to each other."

xxxfew weeks laterxxx

"Babe am I too clingy...? Do you want me to get off you?" you ask him. You were currently curled up on Chan's lap in his chest, on the couch watching a movie. "No love, I love having you so close" he smiles down at you. "Are you sure...? I can get off you know?..." "More than very sure" he holds you tighter. Even though it's the 10th time you've asked him that in less than 10 minutes, he still says the same. Maybe it's not bad at all, being clingy. After all it's your man you're clinging to, no?

THE END TEEHEEE

⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺

@stay-tiny-things @finnbbl @emilyywhyy @wolfs-howling @justastraymoa @loveyouamory @muraae @callmekdab @seungquokka @vive-la-v-i-d-a @sunghoonnolgy @hwonsstuff @hwayne2294 @nilla56 @stephanieeeyang @lailac13 @mmarusa @chanchansgirly @kkamismom12

[syluslnd]

Hi~

How are you? I hope everything's well with you !! I'm the anon that asks about sugar daddy sylus, and I swear it's so so good!! Thank you for writing it!

If you won't mind, can I ask for Sylus that desperate for the reader that the sight of her things is just making him feral. Maybe he has been far too busy, and the reader schedules or time didn't really work well with his, so they haven't met each other much, only teasing each other via video calls or text. Making Sylus and readers both needy and crazy for each other.

And by the way, it is totally okie if you dont want to. Please have a nice day / night !!♡♡

naughty FaceTime calls with your sugar daddy sylus

(note-omg i absolutely loved writing sugar daddy sylus thank you for sending in that request ! I hope i wrote this with what you had in mind)

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You were sprawled out on your bed, phone propped up against the pillows as you waited for the FaceTime call to connect. It had been weeks since you last saw Sylus in person.

Both of you had been caught up in your own worlds-him with his line of work and you with your financial obligations. The distance was starting to get to you. Texts and the occasional flirty voice note weren't enough anymore.

When the screen finally lit up with Sylus's familiar handsome face, your breath hitched. His sharp jawline, tousled silver hair and those deep, teasing eyes stared back at you, pulling you in even through the screen.

He looked good, too good-leaning back in what you assumed was his office chair, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a tempting view of his chest.

"There she is" Sylus's voice came through, smooth and low, the same cocky smirk playing on his lips. "My favorite little kitten."

You rolled your eyes but a smile tugged at your lips despite the frustration bubbling up inside you. "It's been too long sy” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite how needy you felt.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "I know, kitten. Believe me, I've been feeling it too. Been thinking about you more than I should."

You knew what he meant. The FaceTime calls, while fun, were never enough. You missed the feeling of him close, the way his hands would grip your waist or tug at your hair. But for now, this was all you had.

"Show me what l've been missing” Sylus's voice dropped to that husky, commanding tone that always got under your skin. His eyes darkened, his smirk fading slightly as he focused entirely on you. "I've been imagining it all day."

Heat rushed through you at his words. You bit your lip, fingers grazing the edge of your tank top, teasingly playing with the strap but not pulling it down just yet. "What makes you think you deserve to see anything?" you teased, trying to keep your cool despite how badly you wanted him.

Sylus's gaze narrowed, his lips curving up into a dangerous smile. "You've been busy teasing me all week,time to make up for it sweetie” He leaned closer to the camera, his eyes devouring the sight of you, even if it was just pixels on a screen. "Don't make me wait."

You shivered at the intensity in his voice, your fingers moving almost of their own accord as you slowly tugged the strap of your top down your shoulder. You could hear Sylus's breath hitch slightly, his eyes glued to your every movement.

"Good girl” he murmured, his voice like velvet, soft but laced with control. "You always look so fucking perfect, don't you? Always know just how to drive me crazy."

You smiled at his words, the familiar rush of excitement flooding your veins. "You know, I could say the same thing” you replied, your voice dipping lower. "It's torture seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it."

His chuckle was dark and knowing. "I'll make it up to you soon” he promised, though the promise was more like a tease in itself. "But for now..." His eyes dropped lower on your screen and you followed his gaze, realizing exactly where he was looking. "Why don't you show me how much you've missed me?"

Your heart raced at his command, your body already responding to the need in his voice.

You shifted on the bed, adjusting your camera angle slightly as your fingers grazed your skin,hand moving lower and lower,to your breast to your stomach,teasing yourself just enough to make him squirm on the other side of the screen.

"You always make me wait" you murmured, pouting slightly as you ran a hand down inside your panties, deliberately slow, knowing it would drive him crazy. "When are you going to take care of me properly?"

Sylus's hand moved off-screen and you could tell he was tense, trying to keep his cool despite the obvious need in his eyes.

"Patience, kitten" he whispered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. "I'll take care of you when I get my hands on you."

Your pulse quickened at his words and you couldn't resist teasing him a little more.

"You're going to have to do better than that if you want me to behave" you challenged, your voice dripping with mischief.

Sylus smirked, leaning back in his chair again, clearly enjoying the game. "Oh, I'll do better, trust me kitten" he growled, his voice thick with promise. "But for now... why don't you be a good girl and show me how bad you've been?"

You blushed at the command, feeling the heat build between your legs as his words sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You shifted again, your fingers moving inside of you as you bit your lip, trying to keep some semblance of control. But Sylus wasn't going to let you off that easily.

"Don't be shy” he cooed, his eyes never leaving the screen. "You know how much I love watching you. It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

The tension between you two was unbearable, the distance making every second feel even more charged. You were both so desperate for each other but neither of you wanted to be the first to crack, to admit just how badly you needed this.

But as your fingers began to move more rapidly with the same repeated motion,you began to feel your tummy’s core tensing

Sylus let out a low groan that sent shivers down your spine. "Fuck, I miss you” he breathed, his control slipping just for a moment.

"You better” you teased breathlessly, feeling the heat in your body build with every second. "Because I've been thinking about you every night, Sylus. Every single night."

His eyes darkened at that and you could see the tension in his jaw as he tried to hold himself together. "You know what I want to do to you when I finally get you back in my arms?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous but filled with a need so raw it made your breath catch.

You swallowed hard, anticipation curling in your stomach. "Tell me” you whispered, your body aching for him, even if it was just through the screen.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked on yours and when he spoke, his words dripped with sensual promise. "I'm going to ruin you, kitten. Make up for all the nights we've spent apart. You won't be able to think of anything but me."

Your breath hitched, your entire body responding to his words and for a brief moment, the world faded away. There was nothing but Sylus, his voice and the electric tension that crackled between you.

[zablife]

Seamstress, Secretary, Sex-worker, Spy

John x female reader

Summary: You've been seen with John numerous times and now the Shelby family is getting suspicious. Who are you and what's your true relationship to John?

Author’s Note: This was requested by a lovely anon. Tysm for the idea! I hope you don't mind that I wrote them as headcanons. I haven't had much time for full fics recently.

Warnings: language, mention of smut

🌹The first time someone sees you with John you're collecting the laundry, a large basket at your hip piled high with all his unwashed shirts. "Have we got a new washerwoman in town, Charlie?" Curly asks, scratching his head as he sees you passing on the street.

"Don't look like any washerwoman I ever saw," Charlie says ogling you.

💌The second time, you're in the betting shop, nibbling on the end of a pencil as you think of a clever note to leave on John’s desk. Linda rolls her eyes as she complains, "Perfect, they've sent me another useless idiot who can't do simple maths." When you disappear, she assumes you quit. "Thanks be to Jesus for that," she mutters under her breath.

❤️ The third time your presence is much harder to miss, a sharp cry of pleasure erupting from the snug in the Garrison. "Has John got a whore in there?" Isaiah asked, turning to Finn with a wicked smirk. Their suspicions seemed to be confirmed when you left minutes later, money in hand and a smoldering kiss to send you on your way.

🌹 The mystery of your presence remains in the following days and soon Tommy becomes suspicious as well. “I knew he was spending too much time in Solomons’ territory,” he grumbles, pacing the floor of his office. “What if that dodgy fucker sent her here?"

"A spy?" Polly chuckles as she leans back in her chair.

"Why not use a pretty girl to turn his head?," Tommy reasoned with a huff of frustration. When she rolled her eyes in return he shouted, "Everyone knows John thinks with his cock!"

💌 The family meeting begins without John who appears twenty minutes late, stuffing his shirt into the back of his trousers. Running to the meeting from your arms is difficult enough, but now the entire family is boring holes into him, expecting an explanation. When they begin telling him of their suspicions, his mouth drops open.

"You being serious, Tom?" he asks. "All of you?" he looks around the room aghast. Slowly everyone nods. "Bloody hell..." his voice drops as removes his cap and drops into a chair crestfallen.

❤️ Polly begins to look worried, leaning forward at the table to ask, "John, if this girl is going to be trouble, we need to know."

"Always thinking the worst, ain't ya?" he answers bitterly. Then he shakes his head with a little laugh, which angers Arthur first.

"You fucking laughing at us? Finn and Isaiah saw you pay the little tart! What's that about, eh?" he grumbles, anger contorting his face.

"What the fuck did you call her?" John seethes, lunging for his brother. A scuffle breaks out between them which Tommy and Uncle Charlie have to stop before either of them can land a punch.

🌹 John straightens his clothes as he begins, "Yeah, she's my girl. But she ain't a whore and she ain't a spy for Alfie fucking Solomons either alright? Moved to Saltley two years ago with her mum. I had it checked out....'M not as stupid as everyone thinks." He sniffs and takes a look around the room to see disbelief still hanging in the air. "Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

Polly places a hand on his arm, "We're listening, go on."

💌John's eyes soften as he speaks of you. "She takes care of me, does the laundry and shopping, leaves me kind notes..." Eyes glazing slightly at the memory he turns to Arthur adding, "Sucks me dry, I swear to God. Yesterday I thought--"

"We believe you," Polly interjects with a firm nod. Turning to her other nephew she states, "Tommy, I think this item of business is closed."

❤️ You're invited to the next family dinner as a way to placate John, but also for the others to get to know you. When they do, they adore you instantly and John is rightfully vindicated. "Shouldn't have doubted me," John reminds them.

"I know. I was wrong to say you were only thinking with your cock," Tommy apologizes.

"No, I was thinking with me cock, but for once it was the right decision," John admits with a wink.

------------------

Tag List:

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@look-at-the-soul

[sansaorgana]

Ok but Buck getting jealous or riled up from a British Air Force trying to get at his gal 👀

EDIT: I've just realized I totally misread this and didn't notice it's about BRITISH Air Force sdfghjkl; I hope you forgive me 🤣 I'm an idiot, I swear to God. feel free to send it again so I'll write another one!!!

hi, babe 🧸 thank you for your request 💗 Buck and reader are in America while this short fic takes place. let's say he got a few weeks off to spend at home 🏡

i currently have 2 more requests in my inbox but i was busy watching the bear today and now i have a slight migraine so i'll deal with them tomorrow, sorry xx

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

"What are you thinking of, doll?" his deep voice made you look up and blink a few times like you couldn't believe that he was there; back in your arms, so close and so warm. You were slow dancing together with Buck for the past half an hour but you couldn't focus on the moment even though you knew you should. He wasn't back for good. Not yet.

"You've only a few missions left," you bit on your lower lip and he chuckled before leaning in to look deep into your eyes.

"Aw, don't think 'bout it, babe. I left it behind for a few weeks, yes?" he pecked your lips and you tried to smile. "Come on, why the long face?"

"I'm sorry," you sniffled back the tears forming in the corners of your eyes and shook your head.

"Makes me think you're not happy to see me back in town," he teased and spun you around gently before pressing you close to him again. "What? Won't be able to see a loverboy for a while?"

"Don't be stupid, Buck. There ain't no loverboy but you," you chuckled finally and pushed him softly.

"There better not be 'cause I'd have to fix his face right."

"Sure thing, big man," you gave him a wide smile and cupped his face to caress his cheeks. You loved seeing your hands on him. You especially loved seeing your engagment ring on your finger. "You look so handsome in that suit, Cleven."

"That's Major Cleven for you, big mouth," he winked at you and you pulled a face to make him laugh.

"Fetch me something to drink, will you, Major Cleven?" you leaned in to kiss his cheek and asked. "All that dancing made me thirsty."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded and walked you back to the table that had been occupied by you two before. He grabbed his cap to put it back on his head and approached the bar.

In the meantime, you opened your purse and tried to find a compact mirror with the powder to fix your shining nose and forehead. You didn't notice that some man stood above you. When you were done with your looks, you closed the mirror with a loud pop sound and you almost jumped in your seat at the sound of a tall dark-haired guy that kept staring at you.

"Excuse me?" you asked and looked him up and down. He was wearing a suit like your Buck but he was no Major.

"Um, I'm sorry, I've just noticed a beautiful girl sitting here all by herself and… I thought that, well, uh, I'mma fix that, perhaps…?" he took his cap off and squeezed it nervously with one of his hands as his other one went behind his head to scratch it awkwardly.

"And you are…?" you tried not to laugh at him. He was kind of adorable in that.

"Um… Sergeant… Sergeant Tommy Smith, miss," he introduced himself.

"Sergeant?" you raised an eyebrow. "Have you been to Europe already?"

"No, miss, no, I… I am going soon… It's my last few weeks before I go," he explained and you could see sweat forming upon his forehead. "Can I… Can I perhaps sit down?" he proposed, probably not realizing how bold it was. But he looked like he was about to faint any given moment.

"Sure thing, honey," you moved a little to give him a spot next to you but you tried to find Buck amongst the crowd. You couldn't see him, though, which was no surprise because the place was full of people – airmen, soldiers and their sweethearts... or girls hoping to become sweethearts soon.

"You're so… So kind, miss," Tommy nodded his head at you as he sat next to you. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"Who said I was alone?" you smiled at him and he blushed. "Oh, don't worry, he's not the beating up kind, my man."

Tommy seemed to sigh with relief but then his eyes widened at the sight of someone standing behind you.

"Is… Is that him?"

"Oh, honey, he's not scary at all, my man, he's…" you started with a chuckle but then you turned around and you saw the man that Tommy had been referring to.

It wasn't Buck. He was huge, enormous even. You've never seen an uniform so tight on the muscles like that. And he was tall as well. Wearing sunglasses inside at night type of guy. He was handsome, oh yes, he was. But he had this aura around him as if he had thought that the whole wolrd revolved around him. He was also an airman and he was chewing gum arrogantly.

"Is that kid bothering you, love?" he asked.

"Um… No," you shook your head and tried to find Buck desperately with your eyes but there was still no sight of him. "Not at all," you added.

"I'll g-go now…" Tommy stood up to leave quietly.

"No, don't leave me…" you tried to plead in a whisper but he put his cap back on and disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

So, now you were left with the big guy.

"Finally. These new ones are like pests," he sighed and sat next to you without asking for permission.

"Excuse me…?" you squealed but he only laughed and took his sunglasses off to take a better look at you.

"Why so scared, gorgeous?" he grinned showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

"Care to at least give me your name?" you asked, trying to move as far away as possible while staying discreet.

"Let's say you're about to find out later that night when you're gonna scream it, sugar," he winked at you and you almost gagged.

"Oh, I do believe I already have a name to scream," you stated, deciding that perhaps being as vulgar as him would make him finally get the message. But that was not the case.

"That guy's?" he laughed. "That kid's?"

"No," you shook your head and looked around but Buck wasn't coming.

"Something tells me you're bluffing me, little one," he leaned in and you took a deep breath in, trying to calm yourself down.

"Why would I?" you raised your hand to show him your ring. He hummed and whistled at it.

"Nice piece, baby. But it can mean anything," he insisted. "I think you're just playing hard to get, am I right, sweetheart?"

"Please, I am not interested," you shook your head as he was trying to put his arm around you.

"Why not? You seemed to be interested in the other guy and he was a fucking nobody."

"He was kind… And he wasn't pushy," you tried to get away as he was moving closer and closer.

"What's your name, by the way, sugar?" the man asked.

"Her name is Mrs. Gale Cleven," Buck's familiar, deep and warm voice made you look up as you smiled through the tears of humiliation.

He was standing above you with a drink in his hand and he looked oh-so-pissed like you've never seen him before.

"Shit, man, you mean she's married to that Major Cleven?" the big man let go of you and stood up immediately, grabbing his sunglasses from the table. "Thanks for the heads up, dude. And you are…?"

"Major Gale Cleven, dude," Buck answered angrily and you watched how the creep's smile dropped instantly.

"Oh, there's… There's been some misunderstanding, Major, I… There was a young Sergeant bothering your wife and I…" he started to stutter.

Buck looked at you now and you knew that he wasn't angry at you but his intense bright eyes still caused a chill go down your spine.

"Is that true?" he asked.

"There was a young Sergeant talking to me, I invited him to sit with me. He was friendly," you nodded. "I did not require saving as far as I am concerned… You, on the other hand," you looked at the scared big guy, "you were far from polite and you didn't treat me like a lady at all."

Buck put the glass down loudly in front of you and stared at the guy with contempt as the muscles of his jaw twitched.

"Let's take it outside," he proposed as your eyes widened. Buck was never the type to start a bar fight or anything of that sort. And as much as you believed in your brave Major, you didn't want him to fight that huge man.

"Buck, honey," you stood up to put a hand on his chest, "let him go, he's just drunk. He's not worth getting in trouble."

"I'm sorry Major, I didn't mean to be rude to your wife, sir," the man saluted.

"You only apologize because you know she's my wife. Otherwise you'd keep bothering her," Buck squinted his eyes.

"No, sir."

"Yes, Lieutenant, now get the fuck out of here."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the man saluted for the last time before walking away as fast as possible.

"Buck!" you pushed him gently as your jaw dropped. "Where did you learn such language?"

He didn't answer, however. He sat down, took his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. You could see his hands shaking from restraining himself. You decided to give him a moment so you just sat down as well and sipped on your drink.

"Thanks for the coke, baby," you whispered eventually.

"You're welcome. The queue was long, sorry 'bout that."

"Oh, no need to be sorry," you caressed his tense arm. "Buck, you're okay?"

"Yeah, um, no," he looked up to meet your gaze and you furrowed your brow. He took your left hand and caressed your knuckles. "We should get married for real."

"I know, baby," you smiled widely, "when you come back to me for good, yes?"

"No, now," he insited all of sudden in a serious tone. "What if I don't come back for good?"

"Oh, don't say that! You've only a few missions left and… And this is supposed to ensure that you come back! God won't let you die when he knows you've a marriage to look forward to!"

"I want you to be safe if I don't come back," he didn't listen to you. "You'll have more privileges as a widow."

"Why are you bringing this up?!" you could feel tears forming in your eyes. "You were the one to tell me to stop thinking about it."

"But that jerk made me realize a thing or two, alright? Shh… Shh…" he cupped your face and kissed you. "Don't you want to be Mrs. Gale Cleven for real, sweetheart?"

"I… I do," you chuckled and nodded.

"God," he sighed and pecked your lips one more time, "thinking of you wearing my surname makes me dizzy more than any turbulence I've ever had to deal with."

"Just you wait and see, Major," you laughed through the tears, "being married to me will be the worst turbulence you'll ever experience."

"I hope that's a promise, doll."

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[prentissluvr]

sorry won't cut it (rewrite) — sam and dean winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, barely different from the original but slightly adjusted to fix some canon details i got wrong and adjust to my changed perspective of the whole purgatory situation, sam and dean did reader wrong, swearing, arguments, crying, nicknames (kid, kiddo, honey, sweetheart), 4.1K words.

summary : since dean disappeared, sam has been distant. when he calls you and you find out dean's back, you also find out that both of your older brother's have been lying to you.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

when sam answers your call, it comes as a relief. a surprise, but more than anything, a relief. it’s been two and a half months, almost on the dot, since he’s answered a call. usually it’s just one month. he has a single burner phone just for you, but it’s off half the time, and the other half he never answers.

you’ve grown used to his distance, to an extent. it still stings when your phone rings till voicemail sometimes, but you’ve just been too tired to argue with him, to ask him to comfort you, make him keep hashing through the pain of looking for dean and finding nothing but trouble. 

you want him to have the normalcy, the girl who loves him and makes him feel alright. you want to have faith that he’ll figure out how to factor you into it all eventually, but you still miss him, and you’re still lonely, so you keep calling, never getting angry or upset when he occasionally picks up. you just act like it’s normal, and you can tell he appreciates it, so you keep it up. in return, he asks you over sometimes, tells you each time how much amelia raves about you after you leave, and hugs you tight before you go.

it’s been several months since he’s invited you over, and he doesn’t really talk about her anymore. you figure something must have happened, but you never push anything anymore with him.

this call is different. one, because he finally picks up. two, because he tells you to meet up with him, no explanation or normal talk about what you should bring for dinner. three, he asks you to meet at a random address in kansas.

he sighs deep, “just… get here as soon as you can. i’ll send you the location.” then he hangs up and it feels like the hunting life all over again.

⟢

it’s a seven hour drive, and you’re tired out of your mind, high-strung and worn out from leaving right after your shift at a diner full of sleezes who don’t tip enough. even though this whole thing is strange for the new, hunting-free sam, there’s relief coursing through you at the thought of seeing him, hoping he’ll let your tired feet carry you right into his arms. you pull into a driveway of sorts, no obvious entrance to the unremarkable building in front of you, but your years of hunting and meeting up with your brothers at strange places during strange hours after strange calls help you find the door. it's a bunker, one you've never seen before.

you were always a little bit more like sam, disillusioned to the hunter life and the way your father raised you. you weren’t a fighter like him, but you slipped away at eighteen to go to college and found somewhere near stanford so you’d be able to visit sam often. he loved that, always so glad that you got out too. but you were barely gone a year before dean came back to collect you and sam to look for your dad. you came easier than sam, less attached to your new place and always finding yourself missing dean.

that’s what you’d been doing this past year. missing dean, and painfully. so when you knock on the door, calling out, “it’s me, sammy,” you freeze when it opens several beats later.

because the person behind the door isn’t sam. but it is your older brother. just the one who’s been who knows where and presumed dead, for the last year or so. the one you’ve endlessly searched for to no avail.

“dean?” your voice is small as his name slips from your mouth.

his eyes go soft, the way they rarely get, and the slight smile on his lips is half pained, half pure relief to see you after so long. “hey, kid.”

you launch yourself into his arms, and he catches you easily, right there in the doorway, and you have to fend off tears that you know wouldn’t put up so much of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted. but you were raised tough, and winchesters don’t cry all that often, at least not where someone else can see. so you swallow hard and tough it out, letting dean pull away from you and lead you inside. he moves through the house with a sort of ease he’d only have if he felt comfortable and safe there. this raises questions, along with the fact that he's here at all.

you’re speechless, but not for a lack of anything to say. endless questions stream through your mind, each one pushing to be asked, even more desperate to be answered.

but the only thing you can figure out how to say is “hi” to sam when he greets you in the living room. he pulls you into a hug, letting you linger for a moment before you know you have to ask all of the hard questions. something in his face is unreadable to you, which is rare when it comes to your brothers. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a hint of guilt. that rings alarms in your mind, but you brush your nerves aside when dean takes a seat on the couch.

you relax a bit when you sink down next to him, curling into his side a little. it makes you feel a bit childish, but you need it after everything this past year. he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you a little closer. sam sits down across from the two of you and you heave a sigh, wondering where to start.

opening your mouth and forcing words out is like a crack in a dam. everything comes out slow at first, but that lasts mere seconds before the flood.

“where… dean, where were you? i mean, i tried– i tried everything, i looked everywhere,” your voice breaks at that word, the weight of it meaning something only you understand. you look at him, brows taught and you’re confused by the surprise on his face, as if he didn’t expect you to say such a thing.

“what do you mean, you tried everything?” he asks, voice suddenly gruff and severe. you recoil from his side to get a better look at him. you don’t miss the look he shoots sam. this is already departing from what you expected, which is probably exactly what you should have expected, given your brothers. it’s just that, when dean hugged you back and he was solid and real and alive, when he sat on the couch instead of a chair so you could sit next to him, you thought that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to stay tucked safe into his side as they told you what happened, as they asked you to stay with them. 

“what do you mean?” you shoot back. “what, did you think i’d just kick back and call it someone else’s problem?”

“that’s what sam did. that’s what sam said you did.” his voice is accusatory and when you whirl to look at sam, utter bewilderment evident on your face, you can see him physically grimace. which means dean’s telling the truth.

“sam did what?” the question sounds like it’s targeted for dean, but you’re staring the younger down.

“listen, i– i’ll explain it to you later. what do you mean you did everything, you said you were going to school?” sam looks irked and defeated all at once.

“that is completely beside the point, sam, you lied to me?” you ask, voice tired and bordering on distressed, “but you’re not going to explain to me why? why you lied to me or why you apparently didn’t look for dean, i mean what– what’s up with that?” dean’s hand on your shoulder prevents you from standing as your voice grows strained.

“listen, kid, sam and i, we’ve already hashed this out, okay? it’s uh– it’s fine, alright?” with the way he says the word “fine”, you know that it still bothers dean, so you can’t understand why he’d say so. “we’ve got things to discuss here,” dean tries to reason with you before sam can respond. he’s no peace maker, but a full blown fight between the two of you could have an ugly ending.

“things to discuss?” you repeat, in disbelief of the audacity. knowing them, that means they need something from you, which begs the question of why sam asked you over in the first place. you don’t even want to think about them having ulterior motives outside ofjust wanting to see you, so you brush it off angrily. 

“well, i’m glad to hear that you two have hashed it out, but i haven’t yet, so we can discuss whatever that is later.” you shrug off dean’s hand, trying to focus on the things you’re already angry about instead of asking the even bigger question nagging at you now. when the hell did dean get back that those two had time to hash out something that major? you turn your anger back to sam, thinking about what it was like when dean first disappeared. “you told me you looked. you told me you did all that you could, that you tried everything in your power. now dean’s telling me that you did nothing?”

sam sighs heavily. “yes. okay, listen, i’m sorry i lied to you. but i just wanted you to try and live your life for once. i figured if i told you i did everything i could, that, i don’t know, maybe you’d give up and try to move on? go to school, do something you love, have real friends, maybe find someone?” he throws his hands up in the air, a defeated gesture because he knows you don’t agree, while he still thinks he did the right thing.

you scoff, because, god, he really has no idea. arms crossed and face the kind of calm that says run to anyone on the other end of your anger, you nod in false understanding. “yeah, what good that did,” you say, your tone so sarcastic and dry that sam just clenches his jaw and dean’s face turns from concerned to full-blown worried. he wonders if he should ask what that means, because whatever it does, it’s certainly not “good.” 

but you pick up again after a moment of thick, dripping silence. “you know, sam, you have absolutely no idea how this past year really was for me. i’m not saying it was easy for you, because i know it wasn’t. though now i know you also skipped the trouble of looking for dean and really, actually lived that hunting-free life you wanted. and–” you pause a moment, purposefully not looking at dean. “and it’s not– not bad that you got that, sam, all i’m saying is that just about nothing has been all, i don’t know, rainbows and butterflies more like you think,” your voice takes a scathing edge, a tone so rare to both of your brothers that neither knows what to say, “and you know what, sam? it’s looking to me like i’d be a lot better off if you’d just decided to tell me the goddamn truth.”

sam says your name, tentative like he’s testing hot waters, “i thought you said things were going well. you said you liked school, that you were making friends there? just explain to me what you mean so we can figure this out.”

“figure it out,” you repeat under your breath, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something too harsh. “sam, things were going well! they were!” now you’re feeling desperate to make him understand, “but that night you told me there was nothing else we could do, nothing else to try and that i should just do my best to move on? i couldn’t, sam, i couldn’t do that. there had to be something more we could do, so i gave up on the things you said you did and i went further. i let you think i was fine, that i was doing what you wanted for me because you always sounded so tired. you always sounded like one more thing on your plate would make the sweet little life you built come crashing down, so i made sure you wouldn’t have to worry about me.”

dean’s does his best to make his interruption gentle, though he’s not the best at hiding his frustrations sometimes. he doesn’t want to upset you more, but you can hear the tension in his voice when he asks, “kiddo? what do you mean by you ‘went further?’”

suddenly you shrink in on yourself, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your eyes shining with fresh tears. “dean–,” your voice breaks before you can even say anything else. his hand is on your back, meant to be comforting, but it only makes you feel worse about it all. you know how much dean would hate the lengths you went to to try and get him back. “i can’t–” you shake your head, ignoring your oldest brother, “i can’t right now, but maybe… maybe if you’d told me the truth, sam, if i’d just started by reading through all of bobby’s books like you said you did, things would have worked out differently.”

“well, maybe if you told me you were going to keep trying, i could have helped you!” sam fires back.

you let out a strangled, frustrated noise as you stand, unable to keep sitting down. “would you? really? because i really don’t think you would’ve! you were so focused on moving on from losing dean that you distanced yourself from me, too! you barely picked up, never called, only talked about dean in three word sentences to tell me a lie about how you tried and failed to find anything to help! maybe if you paid any attention to me, gave any indication that you wanted to help or see me or be a major part of life like i wanted of you, i would have opened up to you!” it makes you even more angry when your voice turns teary, “and for once, i wanted to try to be the one to take care of you two. i kept my secrets, i never let on how fucking lonely i was, just so you wouldn’t worry about me!” 

a stunned silence falls over you brothers, sam’s guilt beginning to overrun his natural response of anger, and dean making up for that fading anger with his own. your chest heaves with laboured breath as you stare sam down.

dean’s tone is icy as he breaks the silence, “sam, is that really how you treated them while i was gone?”

sam exhales hard, ignoring dean in favor of looking at you, “i was just doing what i thought was the best for both of us. i didn’t know, okay, i’m sorry. i really am.” he looks sorry, and sad, like this is the opposite of what he wanted. under your anger, you know it’s true that he never wanted this. you know that sam thinks people are better off distant from him. but it hurts that he let you be one of those people.

“are you kidding me?” you exclaim, voice turning shrill as your composure slips further and further. “people got hurt, on my account,” you have to force that part out through gritted teeth, “i got kicked out of school, and i spent three months running from hunters!” both sam and dean want to interrupt at that. but you keep going, your voice quieter now, harsh and trembling, “but you were doing what you thought was best for both of us? try what was best for you. dean was gone, and i needed you, sammy, i needed you and the second you said you needed to get away, alone, i knew i didn’t have you.”

that shuts him up, has him deflating and his guilt taking over, and you can see it and you hate it. you almost wish he’d get angry instead because that means you can keep shouting at him to try and make him understand. but all you get are his clenched jaw, his sad eyes, and his guilty silence that tell you he knows he fucked up but he can’t figure out a way to make it better since sorry sure as hell won’t cut it.

it’s dean who cuts into the heavy silence again. “sam.” his name hangs in the air, weighed down with unspoken words. we’ll talk about this later, you guess is the message. you can feel how angry dean is without even looking at him. you know all he ever asked of sam if he was gone was to take care of you, and now dean knows he didn’t. he tried, the way he thought was right, but he didn’t. then his attention is back on you. he says your name, clear and careful. “i’m gonna need you to tell me what you did.”

you wipe at your face angrily as you whirl to face dean. trying to keep the ever present tears at bay, you tap right back into your anger. but it's more tired this time, less convincing with your voice taut from unshed tears begging to be released.

“all that, and that’s what you take away from this? really, dean? you’re gonna need to know what i did? i don’t need you to tell me to know that– that it was wrong and i don’t need you to make me feel any more shitty than i already do right now, okay?”

it’s his turn to wear a look of guilt on his face, but it only sits there for a flash before he keeps going. “kid, that’s not what i’m tryna’ do here, alright? i just wanna understand so i can keep us safe, yeah?” he puts his hands out in a peaceful motion, but something else unresolved floats back up into your focus.

“no. dean, no! because there’s something else here, something both of you have been avoiding this entire time!” there’s a sudden change in the air, like both of them are holding their breath, silently begging you won’t ask the question. “dean, how long have you been back?”

his hesitancy to answer tells you everything. “kid, listen, that’s not imp–”

“don’t you dare say it’s not important! did you hear anything i just said, dean? anything about how shit my life has been since you’ve been gone, how lonely i’ve been?”

“you’re right,” sam relents, forging on before dean can stop him, “he’s been back for three months now. it’s my fault we didn’t tell you. it’s all my fault, and believe me, i am so sorry.” you collapse into a chair with your head in your hands as he continues, “i know that does nothing to fix things, but i am sorry, and i swear i’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, kiddo. i’m all in now, and i did it all so this wouldn’t have to be your life, but you’re here now and we want more than anything to have you around, okay?” 

you lift your head up to stare at him. “three months.” your voice is dangerously quiet. “you two…” your tired mind can’t think of words strong enough, “drive me insane, you know that? dean, you just– you just went along with that and decided, let me guess, that it was best for me? because i was at school, living a normal life and away from the danger of this one? is that it? it’s best for me not to know my brother’s alive? because, you know, that reminds me of something. hm, maybe the time sam hid from us that he was alive for a year because he didn’t have his fucking soul? oh, yeah, it must be that.” you let out a short bark of laughter, but it and your voice are completely devoid of any humor. dean visibly recoils when you mention that. he’s thought of it, and still decided to keep you in the dark. “come on, dean, you know how that feels and you go and do it to me again? really? you gonna tell me you came back from wherever the hell you were without a soul next? where– where even were you?” you ask shrilly.

you’ve beat him too. “sweetheart,” he sighs, “i’m sorry. we were wrong to do that to you, okay? i– i was in purgatory. i can explain the rest later.”

finally, you think you might be out of things to say, to be hurt about. your voice is quiet and fragile now, and the dam holding back your tears is fractured in a million places, more than ready to break. “i missed you so much. both of you,” you whisper. you meant to make a scathing comment about how “sorry” and “we were wrong” don’t even begin to cover it, but you find that you’re not in complete control of the things coming out of your mouth. you’re just too goddamn tired. dean is crouching in front of you in an instant.

“i missed you, too, sweetheart. so much. i’m sorry.” he takes it as a good sign that you let him place his hand on your knee. you want to flick it away, maybe shove him away too.

“and i was so, so lonely. i was so scared,” you cry out, wishing you didn’t have to cry when you got angry. “and i’m so mad that you two did this to me. three months…”

“i know, kiddo, i know. i’m sorry.” gently, slowly, he tugs you towards him and into his arms and you slide onto the floor and cry into his chest, shaking and unable to say a thing. you want to tell him this doesn’t make it right, but dean hushes you gently when you try. “shhh, it’s okay. i’m here now,” he comforts. it’s true that this doesn’t make it right, but it’s almost all you need in that moment.

“sammy,” you choke out, still so angry with him, but wanting him near anyways, knowing that he’s too scared to come close to you after coming face to face with all of the ways you were hurt. his hand is on your back a moment later, hesitant at first, then strong and soothing moments later when you blindly grab for the fabric of his flannel to keep him close.

“okay. okay, i’m here. i’m sorry. i’ve got you, i promise,” he whispers, silently letting a few of his own guilty tears fall.

utterly exhausted, you stay slumped on the floor in dean's arms when your tears dry up. you can barely keep your eyes open and your breathing is soft and slow. 

“let’s get you to bed,” dean whispers, hoisting you all the way up as he stands. “sam’ll grab you a glass of water.” you sigh an imperceptible sigh because you know that dean is still pissed at sam. rightfully so, you’re more than just pissed at both of them, but you’re too tired to care in this moment, and the last thing you want is for them to be angry at each other. that’s your job for when you wake up hours from now. 

dean leads you to a foreign room and foreign bed, and you sink down onto the edge of it. sam is back moments later with the promised glass of water and tissues for your face. you cave to your exhaustion, climbing all the way into the bed. you curl up and tug at the covers slightly, eager to fall asleep.

“see you in the morning,” you mumble, effectively dismissing them with your voice hoarse from crying. you close your eyes before either of them can say a thing, not wanting to look them or your remaining problems and anger in the face.but your words are also a whisper of the beginning of forgiveness. 

“goodnight, kiddo,” dean says, his voice full of a familiar affection that he only uses for his little siblings as he presses a kiss to your hairline. he lingers at the doorway before

you drowsily register the sound of sam setting the glass of water on the night stand by your head. “i’m right across the hallway if you need anything.” a moment, then, “goodnight,” and a gentle hand on the side of your head before a kiss to your temple.

you fall asleep coming up with a list of petty ways you’ll have them make things up to you. neither sam nor dean will be pleased to hear that you’re calling shotgun in the impala for the next three months, minimum. sam for obvious reasons, and dean because he’ll know that means you’ll be taking your job as youngest sibling to annoy the living hell out of him very seriously.

[lucidreamer-uwu]

~ = Can we Kiss? = ~

Asking them if you could kiss for the first time ~

Lucifer

He'd be confused why you were asking him instead of just doing it. So he starts to wonder if he gave the impression of being unapproachable.

Slides his hand towards the nape of your neck, tilts your head upwards to align your gazes, and pulls you in gently to plant an intimate kiss right at your lips that leaves you breathless even though it only took about five seconds until he pulls away and lets you hide your flustered face in his chest.

He then proceeds to assure you that you could give him a kiss whenever you wanted.

Mammon

Takes him a second or two to process what you just said and actually freezes for a bit.

Stutters and says he'd allow it. It isn't everyday that he lets anyone give him kisses though so you should be grateful!

He'd be too overwhelmed and bashful if you kissed him just like that though. So he uses his hand to cover your eyes and kisses you the way he always wanted to.

Even though your eyes are shut, you could feel how much he loved you through the kiss.

Leviathan

You're asking if you two can kiss? Of course you can kiss! But how can you ask that so boldly??!

And wait, directly kissing too?! He could die a happy demon! But he wasn't at that level yet. He was just a noob and that would take boss level status to do!

So he covers your mouth with a nervous motion and leans in to kiss the back of his hand, just on the opposite side where your lips were.

May or may not smack his forehead on yours. 

Satan

Smirks slightly despite the faded blush that tainted his cheeks.

Without another word, he'd place his hand on your jaw at the side of your face and lean in so close that a single movement would close the gap between you two.

He'd whisper a small "always, love" before he takes in your lips.

You’d probably choke on your first time because of how perfect he seemed to be. 

Asmodeus

He's only been waiting forever to hear those words from you! And since the moment finally came, he wants it to be memorable.

He whisks you away to his room to get you alone. Then he'd cup your face with both hands, delicately handling your features, admiring every inch of you til you felt embarrassed.

It is only then that he lands his intoxicating peck on your lips.

He claims that he could only give you a peck since if he did more then he wouldn't be able to control himself for what came next naturally for him.

Beelzebub

Super happy that you wanted to kiss.

Makes sure he wouldn't accidentally bite you with the intention of ingesting you.

He leans down to your face and places his hand on top of your head, slides it down to the back of it, and pulls you in carefully to kiss you.

Asks you if he did it correctly afterwards.

Belphegor

Says no then goes back to napping.

The next time you sleep together he interrupts your slumber with kisses all over your face until he reaches your lips where he focuses on for about what seemed to be hours.

After that, whenever you'd bring it up, he'd always deny all knowledge of doing such a thing and claim that he was sleeping.

Every time you sleep or nap with him ever since then, you’d wake up with swollen lips and a warm face. 

SHOUTOUT TO: @unicornhorse160 @scriptwritershifter @idream89 @cielamajiki for being my biggest fans as of writing this post!

Hello! Hope you enjoyed this post! I just wanted to thank everyone for all the love and support you've been giving me despite not being able to respond to most of the asks in my inbox wahaha.

JOIN MY DISCORD SERVER OR ELSE >:(( or else nothing but it’d make me very much happy if you did uwu. It’s just a small, chill server for my fellow Obey Me! enthusiasts. So if you’re interested in getting to know me and keeping in touch, slide into my DMs and I’ll send you the invite link! 

Anyways, stay cool everyone! Hope you all have an AMAZING day/night. And I swear I’ll answer everyone’s asks soon! 

♡

[storywriter007]

Hi!! First off, I love your work. You are amazing. Okay so my request is basically I have two, both being Percy Jackson x reader comfort fics. Feel free to do one or both of neither!

1) Percy Jackson x reader where the reader has a lot of mental health struggles and is feeling very anxious and overwhelmed and overworked and dissociates a lot more than normal, but is bottling it all up from everyone and trying so hard to be okay and fine, even to her boyfriend Percy who can definitely tell something is off but doesn't want to push it. Maybe show some times he tries to get her to open up but she brushes him off. Then, she just breaks and has a panic attack and complete breakdown, and she ends up dropping something glass and cutting herself on it, and Percy finds her in the middle of it and helps her and comforts her and then they talk about it after.

2) This one is Percy Jackson x reader who gets seriously injured on the Argo II and tries to act like it's not that bad but then Percy (her boyfriend) forces her to let him look at it and it is really bad and he takes care of her and comforts her (kinda like the Leo fic where he cleans the wound on her back because I love that one so much), and then helps her fall asleep after.

Again feel free to do neither or both or just one, thank you so much I love your work!!

I've Got You - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: thank you for the requests! i will answer them in two seperate posts, this one is the first one you asked for!

author's note 2: i'm so glad you enjoy my work like you have no idea how much it means to me

warnings: cursing, self-doubt, reader is struggling mentally, mentions of blood

genre: fluff

word count: 1.2k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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"are you okay?" a voice called out, replaying itself in the background.

y/n felt someone shake her and she snapped out of her daze.

"y/n." percy said, looking into her eyes. "are you okay? what's going on? you've been staring at the wall for the past ten minutes."

"nothing." she responded, unconvincingly.

percy gave her that look. like the one a mother gives her child when she catches them with their hand down the cookie jar.

"nothing!" she smiled, cheering up. "i'm fine, just a little tired."

"do you want to sleep in my cabin? maybe visit the hypnos cabin?" he proposed.

he was so sweet.

"no, no. i'm fine, just worn out." she lied. "i'm gonna take a nap."

"okay." he said, his voice doubtful.

he kissed the top of her head before leaving her cabin. as soon as she was alone, y/n's head dropped into her hands as she clutched her hair.

what is wrong with me her mind screamed.

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"are you sure you don't want to go to sleep?" percy asked, sitting on y/n's floor.

"for the hundreth time, yes percy, i'm fine." she said, starting to get annoyed.

she knows, he just cares about her, but she just couldn't right now.

"you don't have to do all of this in one day." he reminded. "all of this is due in a week."

a week isn't enough time her mind yelled.

"percy." she said, looking him in the eye. "i'm fine. i swear."

then she shot her that stupid look again.

"i'm fine!" she defended.

"okay, okay." he said. "i'm going to go to bed. stop by my cabin if you need anything."

now she felt bad. he was just looking out for her.

"i'm sorry." she smiled. "and i will. but trust me, i'm fine."

he gave her a smile back. but, it wasn't a good-luck or i-love-you smile. it was a you're-a-fucking-liar-and-i'll-leave-you-alone-but-i-don't-believe-you. percy left and y/n rested her head on her bunk as she looked up at the wood. tears fell from the corners of her eyes.

how was she going to do it? she felt like the world was on her back even more than usual.

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y/n stood in percy's cabin after he insisted that she spend the night with him. she picked up a picture frame that was on his nightstand. it was cute, it was a picture of him and y/n laying down in the new york snow.

she smiled, but a feeling of dread crept up on her as she clutched the glass.

you've got so much to do. you have such little time. i mean, you're a weak excuse of a demi-god. i mean, c'mon, who gets this stressed out? who zones out this much? percy doesn't deserve this. he deserves better. he needs better. he needs someone who isn't a borderline psycho. he's a hero. what are you? a wannabe. a parasite. he's going to leave you sooner or later. it's just a matter of time. oh are you going to cry now? you're such a fucking crybaby.

she dropped the glass. shards hit the floor as tears fell from her eyes. she held her knees to her chest and put her head in her bloody hand as she wept.

"y/n?" percy asked, shutting the door behind him.

"oh-oh my god, percy, i'm so so so sorry." she said, cleaning up the glass that had just shattered everywhere. "i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry."

"hey, it's okay." he smiled, dropping down next to her. "it's just a picture, i have it on my computer."

"no, no, i'm such an idiot. i'm so sorry." she said, hiding her teary eyes from him. "i can't do anything right."

"what? that's not true, don't say that."

"but it is true." she whispered, tears falling from her eyes.

"hey hey hey." he said, turning her face so she was forced to look at his sea green eyes. "i've got you."

she couldn't keep it in anymore. wells of tears fell from her eyes as she violently trembled. percy pulled her into him, placing her head on his chest. she wept into him as the familiar smell of salt-water flooded her nose.

"i've got you, it's alright." he said.

his voice was so soft and calming.

"i'm so so sorry." she breathed out. "i've been so mean to you and i, i broke your picture frame and now i'm bleeding all over you floor, and you probably hate me."

he backed up for a minute and looked down at her hands. they were covered in blood.

"it's okay, it's okay, don't worry about it." he said, kissing her forehead. "i've got you. c'mon, let's wrap this up."

he stood up, and basically picked her up so she would stand too.

"i don't want to go to the infirmary-"

"we don't have to." he assured. "let's wash the blood off, and i have gauze in here."

she felt like a baby as percy rinsed her hands off and wrapped the hurt one in gauze. she sat on his bunk as he carefully cleaned up the glass on the floor. after a few minutes, he sat down next to her. she just couldn't help it, tears started falling from her eyes.

he let her cry into him. he just ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head every now and then. he kept telling her that it was "alright" and that she was "okay" and that "he's got her." there was something about percy that made her feel so safe around him. maybe it was his soothing voice, or the way he smelled, or maybe it was his touch. whatever it was, it made hiding things from him draining. after half-an-hour, y/n's tears ran dry. she pulled back from percy's chest and looked up at him with red eyes.

"hey, i'm here, you're okay." he reassured, wiping her tears with his thumbs. "what's going on?"

he grabbed a water bottle and gave it to her. even he knew she was dehydrated after crying.

"i-i don't know." she sputtered. "i don't know. i've been in my own head. and i just keep feeling like i'm nothing but a screw up and a mess, and i'm so nervous for the next big quest. i-i can't. i feel like i'm just gonna lose you and i don't have enough time to figure it out. i just feel useless, like a failure whose just going to seal everyone's terrible fate."

"y/n." he paused. "you are the most capable, amazing, intelligent, kind, funny, beautiful, person i've ever met. you are more than enough. and you have time and if you can't get to things, so what? it's okay. and when the next big things happens, it happens."

she felt his firm hands around her arms, holding her tightly.

"and i'm not going anywhere." he reassured.

hearing him clear up all of the awful things her mind has been cramming into her head was cathartic.

"i'm sorry." she said, looking up at him. "i've been such a bitch to you when you were just trying to help-"

"don't worry about it. i knew you weren't doing well." he smiled. "it's alright now."

he bent down and kissed her. his arms wrapped around her upper-half as her arms wrapped around his neck. the kiss was slow and gentle. when they finally pulled away, y/n rested her head underneath his chin.

"i love you." she whispered.

"i love you more." he whispered back, kissing the top of her head.

[jedi-hawkins]

Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder. 

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?" 

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14." 

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood." 

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?" 

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?" 

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon." 

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?" 

"Six weeks." 

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then." 

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running. 

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else. 

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?" 

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission." 

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand." 

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades. 

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard. 

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice. 

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him." 

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?" 

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command." 

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard. 

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. “The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be." 

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow." 

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile." 

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-" 

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?" 

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds. 

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?" 

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such." 

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously. 

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?" 

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else." 

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard. 

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby. 

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?" 

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up. 

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?” 

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” 

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind. 

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born. 

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad. 

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him. 

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.” 

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth. 

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.” 

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly. 

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.” 

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies. 

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds. 

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers. 

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.” 

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes. 

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.” 

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say. 

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.” 

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance. 

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks. 

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.” 

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.” 

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.” 

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it. 

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”  

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside. 

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team. 

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes. 

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike. 

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you. 

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck. 

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head. 

“Are you karking crazy?!” 

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.” 

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.” 

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?” 

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink. 

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?” 

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle.. 

He scoffs. 

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.” 

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?” 

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.” 

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly. 

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye. 

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.” 

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed. 

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply. 

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.” 

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face. 

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing. 

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up. 

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.” 

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.” 

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.” 

“Oh yeah, what about?” 

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly. 

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.” 

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range. 

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you. 

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions. 

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters. 

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. 

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.” 

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay. 

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out. 

You take it back from him and move to stand up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground. 

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.” 

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.” 

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position. 

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range. 

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?” 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.” 

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.” 

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit. 

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply. 

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more. 

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body. 

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets. 

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time. 

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.” 

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense. 

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile. 

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps. 

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin. 

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water. 

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter. 

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.” 

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.” 

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind. 

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.” 

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks. 

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item. 

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile. 

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’ 

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up. 

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it. 

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition. 

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it. 

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest. 

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable. 

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek. 

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.” 

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk. 

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.” 

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution. 

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.” 

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree. 

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target. 

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target. 

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said. 

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present. 

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you. 

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic. 

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you. 

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.” 

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.” 

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.” 

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees. 

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing. 

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.” 

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.” 

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in. 

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go. 

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment. 

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp. 

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead. 

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.” 

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard. 

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers. 

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend. 

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps. 

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane. 

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in. 

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much. 

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world. 

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him. 

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself. 

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

 A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Speak now (Marauders' version) Masterlist

Hi! this is the first time I'm posting in the Marauders fandom, and as my formal application I decided to write a series of different one-shots and drabbles based on Speak now :)

Therefore I present to you: Speak now (Marauders' version), in which each song has its own piece of writing for a diffent marauders era character.

Here is the masterlist, I'll be uploading it weekly, (at least once a week). First piece of writing will be up tomorrow.

Some clarifications: reader is fem! unless stated differently. English is not my first lenguage, so some mistakes are bound to happen, if you spot any don't hesitate to politely reach out.

If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or ask!

Mine - Remus x reader

Remus swears he's never been more in love. "Flash forwards and we're takin' on the word together, and there's a drawer of my thing at your place" "You are the best thing, That's ever been mine" Domestic fluff

Sparks fly - Sirius x Pure blood Slytherin!reader + What happened after.

Dating a Black was not the problem, the problem was that is Sirius, a known bloodtraitor. “I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild. Just keep on keeping your eyes on me, it's just wrong enough to make it feel right” Hurt/comfort

Back to december - Remus x reader

Remus feels like he will regret that night the rest of his life, the marauders convince him to do something about it. “So this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you, Saying I'm sorry for that night" It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you. Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine” Hurt comfort, second chance romance

Speak now - James x Malfoy!reader

If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion. “So don't say yes, run away now, I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait, or say a single vow, You need to hear me out” Hurt/comfort, Fluff, arranged marriage

Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences. “Maybe it's you and your sick need To give love then take it away. And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand" "And I'll look back and regret. I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can" Angst

Dear John - Regulus x reader

Mean - Lily x reader

You had some words you'd like to say to Snape after he insulted the kindest girl you've ever met "All you are is mean. And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life" Hurt/comfort

The story of us - Sirius x reader

Sometimes your relationship with Sirius looked like a contest of who could be more prideful, but this time it's gone too far and all you want is to have him back. "This is looking like a contest, of who can act like they care less. But I liked it more when you were on my side, the battle's in your hands now." Angst, fluff

Never grow up - Wolfstar x daughther!reader (No voldy au)

Remus and Sirius watch their daughter grow up and wish she could stay as their little girl forever. “Don't you ever grow up, it could stay this simple. I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart. And no one will desert you, Just try to never grow up, never grow up”  Fluff

Enchanted - Remus x reader (Soulmate au)

As soon as you saw him walking through the door you knew you'd love him forever. His first words only verified it. Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?". Across the room, your silhouette, Starts to make its way to me The playful conversation starts, Counter all your quick remarks Like passing notes in secrecy. And it was enchanting to meet you” Fluff

Better than revenge - James Potter x reader

Maybe fake dating your ex's best friend wasn't the best way of getting revenge "The story starts when it was hot and it was summer, and I had it all, I had him right there where I wanted him She came along, got him alone, and let's hear the applause She took him faster than you can say"Sabotage"" Fake dating

Innocent - Regulus x reader

After he realized what his parents have done Regulus can't help but breakdown, good thing you are there for him. “Did some things you can't speak of, But at night you live it all again. You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now, If only you had seen what you know now then" Hurt/comfort

Haunted - Remus x reader

Remus' worlds shifts entirely when his worst nightmare becomes true and he isn't sure if he is ever going to be able to look at you again when he is sure he has destroyed your life. “Something's gone terribly wrong, You're all I wanted.Come on, come on, don't leave me like this, I thought I had you figured out Can't breathe whenever you're gone, Can't turn back now, I'm haunted” angst hurt/comfort

Last Kiss - Sirius x reader

Breaking up with sirius was the hardest thing you've ever done. You can't help but miss the way his lips felt against yours. "I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets. How you'd kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something, There's not a day I don't miss those rude interruptions”  Angst

Long live - poly!Marauders x reader (Band!Au)

All your hard work as a band has led you and the boys to this moment, nominated as the best new artist and attending one of the most prestigius galas in the music industry. “I passed the pictures around, Of all the years that we stood there, On the sidelines wishing for right now When they gave us our trophies, And we held them up for our town, and The Cynics were outragedScreaming, "This is absurd!"” Fluff

Ours - James x reader (Band!Au)

When people start to comment on James' personality is your job to make sure he knows how much he means to everyone, but specifically how much he means to you. “So don't you worry your pretty, little mind. People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard, The stakes are high, the water's rough. But this love is ours”  Hurt/comfort

Superman - Remus x reader (Spiderman!Au)

Remus worries that his girlfriend will leave him when she learns the truth. You worry he is too oblivious to realize you already know. "I'll be right here on the ground, When you come back down. Tall, dark and beautiful. He's complicated, he's irrational, But I hope someday he'll take me away, And save the day fluff

From the vault tracks

Electric touch - Sirius x reader (College!Au)

Your friends are tired of telling you that he is going to break your heart. You'd let Sirius gamble with your heart as long as the chance of hapiness is there. “All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life. Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life And I want you now, wanna need you forever. In the heat of your electric touch”

When Emma falls in love - James x reader

You navigate what's like to be in love with James 'Cause when Emma falls in love, she's in it for keeps She won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave” fluff Hurt/comfort

I can see you - Remus x reader

As much as you hated him, you couldn't deny his natural charm and the way he seemed to have a magnetic field around him that made you gravitate towards him, once and once again. “Passed me a note sayin’, "Meet me tonight", Then we kiss and you know I won't ever tell. And I could see you being my addiction, You can see me as a secret mission. Hide away and I will start behaving myself" Rivals to lover

Castles crumbling - Regulus x reader (Royal Au)

You loved him more than anything, you were the best thing that ever happened to him. But your love is impossible and forbidden. When he doesn't have anything left he runs to you, wondering if you'll love him now. “And I feel like my castle's crumbling down And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down You don't wanna know me now” Hurt/comfort, forbidden romace, fluff

Foolish one - Peter x reader

Peter is used to being the second chance, but he can't help but feel betrayed when his bestfriend and crush starts to get closer to Sirius. "Foolish one, Stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love That ain't never gonna come You will learn the hard way instead of just walkin' out" Hurt/comfort

Timeless - James x reader (Soulmate!Au)

James and you are fated to find each other in every life you live. "Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this, So even in a different life You still would've been mine. We would've been timeless" Fluff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You gag into your hand, shaking. You gurgle and shake out your fingers, the motion of the car adding to your sickness. The man beside you growls. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" 

"Eeek, it's so gross," you drag your tongue against the roof your mouth, like a llama about to spit, "it tastes so bad!" 

You give another repulsed noise and shudder. The salty, sticky, sweaty flavour stains your mouth. You feel like you can even smell it. 

"You don't think it tastes gross?" 

"Do you think I taste my own cum?" He snorts. 

"Like I said, the internet--" 

"Maybe you should cut that out and grow up. You might not be knee deep in shit if you did." 

"I-- me. Sir, you're the one--" 

He reaches over and flicks your throat, right in your esophagus, and cough in pain as you fold over. 

"You think your funny? We'll see who's laughing soon enough," he grits as he slaps his hand back on the steering wheel. "Come into my town and.... bullshit... laughing..." 

He rants under his breath as he drives on. You feel the daggers he sends in your direction as he drives. You'd rather he focused on the road because he just blew a red. 

"So... if you're not the mayor..." you begin as you sit up. You see your reflection in the side mirror; yikes.  

"Don't fucking start," he warns and points a finger, hitting the wheel, "I swear you want to die. Don't you?" 

"Mayors don't talk like that so... no," you frown. "Look, Fl-- Lloyd," you enunciate slowly, "you keep saying I should know who you are but I don't, okay?" 

"Are you going to keep talking?" He grumbles. 

"Sorry, sorry," you rub your neck, your throat still throbbing, "I'm... trying." 

"Not hard enough," he sneers, "all you need to know is to shut your mouth and listen. Got it, sweet lips?" 

You nod and cross your arms, "got it." 

He sighs and eases off the gas. You sit forward and crane around. Where the heck are you? You've never been to this end of town. 

"Sit back," he shoves your shoulder so you hit the seat, "can't see through you despite the empty space in your skull." 

You curl your shoulders in and lower your head. Your adrenaline slowly recedes. Oof, that hits hard. Not worse than anything you've been told before but having a moment to think about it, about everything that's happened on the last few hours, it doesn't feel good. 

You languish in the silence and watch the blend of brick and pavement through the car window. This is just another I told you so. Your parents will be all too happy to laugh on your face. And those old friends who kept you around to make themselves feel better. 

He huffs as he slows and rolls up to a large gate, "come on, cheeks, don't get all pouty now. The fun part's not even begun." 

You lean forward to see beyond the gate as it opens at the touch of his phone screen. You can't help but feel awe at the sprawling yard and towering modern mansion. These places only exist on screens. 

"Aw, baby face, you're seeing all sorts of big things today, huh," he scoffs. 

You don't react. He sways dangerous between menacing and mocking. He might not have told you outright who or what he is, but you can guess by his flagrant threats and even more exorbitant wealth. No on is that cocky or that rich through innocent means. 

He rolls through and the gate shuts without prompt. Like a motion sensor or something just as fancy as the rest of this place. You wonder how long it takes the army he no doubt employs for the task to trim and style the lawn. You almost understand why he was so finicky about his coffee. Almost. 

Yet that glimmer of defiance needles in the back of your head. If he's so rich and better than you, why wasn't he hitting some high end place where they infuse their coffee with diamonds or whatever? You suppose he might enjoy feeling like a giant as he walks among the anthills. 

Figuring out this man won't do you any good. Even if you could. None of that matters. You've stepped on his toes and he's not going to let yours go unstomped. 

He pulls in along a row of egregiously expensive luxury cars; one for seemingly every day of the week. It wouldn't surprise you. Well, you’re in such a stupefied state, nothing can. 

His seat belt repeals sharply and he swings open the driver's door. You jolt back and look around. Do you get out too? He slams the door and your doubt is quashed as he taps on the window with his knuckles.  

You undo your belt and feel around the door. Where the heck is the handle? These things have to be so sleek and sophisticated that you can never figure anything out. The door opens before you can find the release and you look up sheepishly at Lloyd.  

You get out and step aside as he shut the door with a flick of his wrist. You peer around and twiddle your thumbs. What exactly happens now? 

You stop short as he heads toward the stone steps along the house's facade. You're struck by a startling epiphany. He might be right about you in some ways. How did it take this long to realise?  

You've been abducted. 

He stops at the door and looks back at you, "look, honey bun, I'm getting fucking tired. Stop pussyfooting around and come on." 

"Um, sir, F--Lloyd," you put your hands up, "Mr. Hansen, so, when do I get to go home because this feels kinda... entrapment-y." 

"If I have to drag you," he snaps. 

"Alright, alright," you keep your palms put and scurry forward, "I'm just asking questions. It's been a strange day." 

"Fucking tell me about it," he mutters. "Ah, ah, sweet lips," he puts hisbarm out to block you from the front door, "rule one: beyond these doors, you're naked. That's it. Full access all the time." 

You double take. Full on Three Stooges pantomime. You nearly fall on your ass. 

"Wh-at?" Your voice catches. 

"If I have to keep repeating myself--" he warns. 

"But what if I get cold?" 

"Oh my fucking god," he grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him, "I should fucking break that jaw." 

He claws at your shirt and rips it up your body. You flinch with the force of his rude undressing. You squeak as he untangles your tee then shoves down your sweats, nearly taking your undies with them. He snaps the elastic with his index. 

"Everything, baby girl," he demands and glares at you, crossing his arms. His cheek twitches and his jaw squares. Without the lip fur he might be decent. 

You wiggle free of your pants and step out of them, then your panties. Your bra gives you some trouble as one of the hooks is bent. As you stand naked out in the summer breeze you feel strangle calm. It's kind of freeing. 

You look at him and find him eyeing you up and down; that's a little more oppressive. You make a face. "Shoes off or..." 

"Everything. Fuck, you gotta ruin it with that mouth," he barks and turns to strut through the door, "...drive me fucking insane...for what...pussy?" 

You stare after him and exhale, stepping over the threshold. A lot has happened and you still haven't got your head around it all. Maybe it's better that way.

[ellieslittleburrow]

Coming home late..doesn't keep Dean okay. P1

Summery : You've been acting out, lately. Or at least that's what Sam and Dean called it. For you it was just having fun, living. That is until Dean couldn't take it anymore...

Warnings : a bit of a violent behaviour, stern brother

Pairings : Dean winchester x sister reader

A/n : AHA WHATS THAT TITLE. Also i'm sorry if this brings bad memories to any of you guys ❤️ Comments are much appreciated peeps 🌸

-----

"Lookie here"

A voice you have so carelessly gotten used to, tinted with a hint of disappointment and of passive aggressiveness. "Miss wild life has just come back from her adventures."

You sighed as your boots tiredly thump the metallic steps of the bunker and Dean emerged through the metallic columns.

"What?" You threw your arms out. "Am i not allowed to go out now? Should i ask for your permission for everything?" You spat out. Fucker really had to do this as soon as you came back home?

"No!" Dean rose from the chair and dangerously made his way to you. "You could've answered the phone one of the 10 times i called, though!" He sounded enthusiastic for a second. "Or maybe just gotten home on time." And then that enthusiasm shifted to disappointment. And after a few seconds of silence, he spoke again, his voice fatigued. "What are you doing, kid?"

It was a simple 4 worded question. But the answer to it requiered a few shrinks and lots of writing. You didn't know why you were acting this way, really. To you it was no big deal. Why do they want to force everything on you? Get home at this hour, wear this and not that, eat, don't talk to that person, don't haunt this and that...You were just done with all this attention to the little details that meant nothing to you...You just..wanted them to notice you, what you liked, your qualities, the fact that you knew well enough how to haunt. There was also the fact that...handling things on your own was no longer a possibility..The pain, the nightmares, the memories.

"I'm not doing anything, Dean. I just got home like-" You stop to look at your watch. "A fucking hour late. Boohoo, what a big fucking dea-"

"LILY."

You stop! Faltering for a tiny moment before quickly recovering, adrenaline pumping through your body.

"Don't raise your voic-"

You'd spoke but Dean interrupted you, closing the gap between you, sending you staggering backwards. But you still hold your head up high, chest puffed up and ready to fight...cleching your fists as your hands trembled.

"i don't think you understand, lily." Your brother wrapped his hand around your arm, looming over your -what felt like- tiny body. You held your gaze down. Are you still going to fight? Or are you going to apologize and move on?

"It's not because i let you loose that it's actually acceptable for you to behave this way. I understand that you're angry and that you're taking it out on me-"

"that's fucking stupi-"

Fight it is..

"it's not stupid, you're acting out like you're five."

"i swear to god and i promise you, if you ever do this again, lily, you're done. And not done the way you usually are. I promise you that if you do this ever again, i will make sure you never forget that day. "

You scoff and shrug, the perfect cocktail for Dean's eyes to go lower, darker. Angrier. But all that bitterness washed away... and he nodded, slowly.

"Okay then" He let go of your arm and you internally wished he didn't. It felt now like you'd rather he grounds you and yells, because that smile meant that whatever was coming, was going to be much worse.

"Since you're all grown up and ready to take care of yourelf, let me change it up for you."

Much worse indeed..

He stood up straight and you shrunk again. You didn't want this!!! This is not what you had in m-

"We've already got enough problems on our plate, you acting out, with your temper tantrums and your shit-" He shakes his hands. " i'm not having it."

You'd speak up...apologize..But you're too angry and terrified to even think. Let alone talk.

"You do this shit again, you're out. Capiche?"

You opened your mouth to speak but!- you're stunned. And a lump grew heavy in your throat as regret set in....

"And you watch your language, or else i promise you i'll smack your face so bad your jaw will hurt."

Your eyebrows stood up in surprise..Never has Dean EVER been this violent. And by the looks of it, he meant it. He meant all of it. Every single word. And you...you-

You burst into tears, choking as saliva pooled in your mouth. You've never felt such things and-and you don't get why he'd eve-

"I asked you a question, lily." He thundered but you were in no state that would get you to stop crying, anytime soon. Only an unintentional whimper escaped your lips. "Lily, i asked you a question." He demanded again, groaning higher.

You nod, hoping it would get him off you but...that only infuriorates him more. "ANSWER ME."

his tone turned more violent, piercing your ears and you nodded again. "Yeah. Yes-I I understand." Your lips trembling as your upper body leaned away from him.

Just then does he let go of your arm. "'Out of my face now, kid."

Without hesitation, you stepped aside, heading for your room.

You placed the back of your hand on your mouth, covering it before another wave of tears comes in.

You might've fucked up, badly this time, as Dean has never been this mean to you. And it just felt like....John and Sam all over again.

You had to do something about it. But it could wait. Until Sam came back.

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PART2

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Ola, yall! I love writing angst 😭😭😭 What do we think???? ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀