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pedroscurls · 1 month ago

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in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard.

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back.

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.”

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?”

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed.

Through it all, you stayed.

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living.

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers.

“And if I can’t?”

“You’ll have to.”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.”

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct.

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him.

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him.

In your dreams, he was alive.

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura.

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura.

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on.

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan.

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about.

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about.

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret.

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm.

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it.

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you.

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms.

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself.

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right.

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.”

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally.

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears.

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again.

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate.

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head.

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky.

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl.

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly.

“From my universe,” Logan answers.

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?”

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?”

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself.

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters.

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.”

My Logan.

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him.

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?”

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.”

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles.

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.”

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes.

“I’m not him,” he whispers.

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.”

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starlitscars · 2 months ago

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Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state.

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life.

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him.

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now.

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for.

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva.

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you.

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt.

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubles thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer.

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road.

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap.

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth.

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share.

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..."

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you.

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world.

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time.

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that.

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more.

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly.

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons.

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sende it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings.

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He think that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #the last of us #joel miller smut #tommy miller #ellie miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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maplesyrupsainz · 10 months ago

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙private, not a secret | MV1˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: max verstappen x wife!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, established/secret relationship

warnings: very fluffy :))

summary: in which you and your husband like to keep things on the low so much so that none of his fans know about the family you have together

a/n: i luv this req tbh i lowkey luv writing kids in it's sooo cute im lowkey broody af atm too 😭 helllll

request!!!: Hi!! Could I request an smau with max where he has a secret family or something idk I just think it could be really cute !

fc: various blonde girls from pinterest

my masterlist

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and others

yourusername my beautiful life

view all comments

maxverstappen1 my girls

yourusername 💓

carlossainz55 god i look so cool

yourusername hahahhh yeaaa

carlossainz55 ???

yourusername nothing mate😄

yourbff aww i need to come see you guys

yourusername yes please omg 😧 alice said she misses her fav aunt !

only accounts that follow yourusername may see this post

messages ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 88,928 others

maxverstappen1 beach day

view all 14,283 comments

user7 omg hi y/n

user8 YES A Y/N FEATURE

user9 omg he let her out of the basement

user10 💀

danielricciardo go off

maxverstappen1 yessss!!! whatever that means

user11 lol

charles_leclerc tell y/n we want her at the next race please

maxverstappen1 she will come if the babysitter is free 👍

*comment deleted by maxverstappen1*

maxverstappen1 she said she'll think about it 🧠

user12 WHAT

user13 Urmmmmmmm did you guys see the deleted comment

user14 do max & y/n have children?

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and others

yourusername let's ignore max's deleted comment slip up shall we

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charles_leclerc i am sorry on his behalf y/n 🙏

yourusername hahah dont worry about it charlie

oscarpiastri get him on a time out asap

liked by yourusername

yourbff aww the world deserves to know about little alice

yourusername they will soon we're keeping her childhood safe for now

maxverstappen1 you already know she's gonna come watch her dad race soon 😎

yourbff im sure she'll find that very fun max

yourusername hahah that's what i said

maxverstappen1 😒

only accounts that follow yourusername may see this post

interview ->

transcript (sorry if it's hard to read😭) ->

there is always going to be rumours ahout my relationship considering we keep things to ourselves, neither of us find it necessary to comment on them very often. *laughs* i've never heard anyone say i'm hiding y/n, no. we have always been private but never ever a secret and that's how it will remain for the most part

twitter ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1,124,293 others

maxverstappen1 a small insight into our (family) life

tagged: yourusername

view all 27,283 comments

user21 NOOOO WAYYYYY

user22 this is so so so so precious

user23 omg i feel so honoured that this is being shared with us even tho it's only a small piece of their lives 🫶

user24 max being a girl dad JUST MAKES SENSE

liked by yourusername

yourusername i love you!!

maxverstappen1 i love you more ❤️

user25 this is so special

charles_leclerc love you guys

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername

danielricciardo congratulations again bro you have a such a beautiful family

maxverstappen1 thank you daniel 😄

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and others

yourusername this account will never go public gang dont worry!! especially because im pregnant again 🤫

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oscarpiastri omg congratulations y/n

maxverstappen1 and me?

oscarpiastri oh right yea sorry max forgot, congratulations mate

danielricciardo congratulations guys 🫶

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc so so happy for you guys

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

yourbff 🤰 ur glowing

yourusername i heart you

maxverstappen1 you are so beautiful

yourusername stop it you im blushing

maxverstappen1 i love making you blush

yourusername i love you

maxverstappen1 i love you my girl 💗

only accounts that follow yourusername may see this post

THE END ❤️

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 x reader #smau #f1 imagine #max verstappen #mv33 #mv1 #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic #mv1 fic #maddie's smau

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jirsungs · 5 months ago

Text

DRUM ME, STUPID! ☆ p.js

pairing: drummer!jisung x fem!reader

drum me, stupid! synopsis: a story about a college student enjoying her life in school perfectly fine, until one of her friends drags the group along to watch their school's band perform. little did she know that day would be marked as the day her whole world turned upside down because of a particular, nonchalant, and difficult drummer boy. a drummer boy who spilled his entire drink on her brand new outfit at a party and never came back.

genre: college au, social media au (some chapters will be written though!), music band au, slight enemies to lovers, unrequited love (for a bit), whole bunch of fluff, angst, mutual pining, silly humor

warnings: explicit language, college partying, alcohol consumption, A LOT of banter between characters including sexual/kys/death jokes of the sort, reader's kind of an ass (in the beginning), jisung ends up being a lover boy once the "nonchalant" wears off, yeonjun flirts like 24/7, overwhelming feelings that the characters can't handle

author's note: hi! since i've always enjoyed reading smaus and always get writers block with full on stories, i decided to make my own :] please excuse my bad knowledge on any of these majors or experiences and none of this reflects the real lives of the kpop idols! this was written solely for entertainment and fun! enjoy!!<3

comment if you wish to be tagged for the story's updates!

profiles #1 ☆ profiles #2

chapters will be added once they're posted!

episode 1: i did NOT agree to this gc name!

episode 2: costumers of ningcreates?!

episode 3: the universe is out to get me

episode 4: p.y.t (pretty young thing) (written)

episode 5: jisung's a coward, we all say in unison

episode 6: the latte lounge incident (written)

episode 7: hating each other era

episode 8: future uncles and aunt

episode 9: apologies & new beginnings

episode 10: what a lover boy!

episode 11: love like the movies (written)

episode 12: super obvious, but still not a confession

episode 13: my wonderwall, at least i hope so (written)

episode 14: she's going ghost mode on me

episode 15: ain't no way a girl got you like this

episode 16: i missed you

episode 17: i missed you (too) (written)

episode 18: finally mine!

episode 19: ningcreates (expanded) fan club

episode 20: she fr got him liking musicals

episode 21: drummer's girlfriend duties

episode 22: i fear yeonjun's loyalty to latte lounge finally paid off

episode 23: first mistake: letting y/n out of your sight wtf

episode 24: you maam caller

episode 25: wym drummer boy has a driver's license??

episode 26: only losers make wishes at 11:11

episode 27: pussy boy stand up

episode 28: no girls allowed at rockway rehearsals! (written)

episode 29: crashed ynsung's date lol

episode 30: ning bag that shit

episode 31: drummed her stupid!

END! started: 06.23.24 finished: 09.03.24

BONUS CHAPTERS:

#1: close to you (written) tba. . .

#2: the not-so-silly apple or orange juice debate tba. . .

#3: finally meeting the parents? tba. . .

© JIRSUNGS. ANY TRANSLATIONS/REPOSTS/PUBLISHES OF MY WORKS ON ANY PLATFORM ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED! ALL COMMENTS, REBLOGS, LIKES, & FEEDBACK ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I LOVE YOU, MWA! <3

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Text

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

Text

Enough for You

SUMMARY: Heavily based on/inspired by Enough for You by Olivia Rodrigo. After months of chasing storms and harboring unspoken feelings, the moment of truth finally arrives. When Tyler returns to the team with someone new by his side, it shatters the hope you secretly held onto. In the aftermath of his abandonment, you're left grappling with heartache, wondering why you were never enough for him. As Tyler tries to make amends for leaving, the conversation takes a painful turn when he confronts the feelings he never knew existed. But some apologies can't fix what’s been broken, and all you want is to go back to the way things were—before you let him into your heart.

WARNINGS: Angst. Unrequited love.

WORD COUNT: 6.3k (sorry, not sorry)

Note: This is angsty as hell! I've been going through some heavy stuff in my personal life that has me feeling extra angsty. This fic is filled with angst and heartbreak so just be aware. This is how I'm coping with what I'm dealing with in my own life. Hope you enjoy xx

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

The bathroom mirror reflected a version of yourself you’d rarely put on display. Your hair was curled just the right way, and your makeup, while subtle, was meticulously done. You hadn’t planned on going all out like this initially, but after scrolling through pictures of girls Tyler had been seen with—girls with flawless hair and expertly done makeup—you couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it would take for him to notice you.

Tyler Owens. The name that had taken up too much space in your mind for the past several months. He was more than just the leader of The Wranglers team or your boss; he was the man you’d fallen for. Hard. And you didn’t just want him to see you as a friend anymore.

The rest of the team was downstairs already, probably gearing up for the day’s shoot. Normally, you’d be there early too, grabbing coffee with Boone or discussing ideas with Lily. Today, though, you needed these extra few minutes. Maybe, just maybe, today was the day Tyler would finally notice you.

You gave yourself a final look, smoothing down your shirt, and headed out of the room. By the time you reached the lobby, the team was already gathered, discussing plans for the day.

Boone was the first to see you, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Whoa! Look at you! You clean up nice,” he teased, though his tone was genuinely complimentary.

Lily turned at the sound of Boone’s voice and smiled. “You look amazing! What’s the occasion?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but you shrugged it off. “No occasion. Just felt like switching things up.”

The compliments kept coming. Dexter, who was typically more reserved, gave you an approving nod. But the one person you hoped would notice? He hadn’t said a word.

Tyler stood off to the side, his focus on something entirely unrelated, fiddling with his storm-chasing gear on his truck. He didn’t even glance your way, and your heart sank a little.

Boone, always quick to read a room, smirked and nudged Tyler’s shoulder. “Hey, man, what do you think? She’s looking good today, right?”

Tyler paused for a brief moment, barely looking up from his equipment. His expression didn’t change as he muttered, “I’m not really the compliment type, Boone.”

Your stomach dropped at his response. You had been hoping—no, counting—on some kind of reaction, but his indifference stung more than you’d expected. You tried to brush it off, hiding the hurt with a forced smile, but inside, the disappointment was palpable.

Lily shot you a sympathetic look, sensing the tension.

Boone, never one to let an awkward moment slide, gave Tyler an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Not the compliment type? Man, give her something. She looks great.”

Tyler shrugged as if the whole thing didn’t matter. “She always looks fine,” he said simply and then turned his attention back to his gear.

Fine.

The word echoed in your head, and for the first time that morning, you felt foolish for trying so hard. You had put in all that extra effort to be noticed, to be something more in his eyes, but apparently, "fine" was all you were.

You forced yourself to join in the conversation with the others, but the sting of his words stayed with you. As the group began to move toward the parking lot to load up the vehicles, you fell into step beside Lily. She bumped her shoulder against yours lightly.

“He’s an idiot,” she whispered, offering a small, supportive smile.

You tried to laugh, though it came out hollow. “Yeah, well, I knew that already.”

But knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less.

The Wranglers’ convoy made its way out of town, the early morning sun casting a golden hue over the horizon. The team was running on fumes, both literally and figuratively, so when Boone pulled into a gas station, everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. While the others went about refueling the vehicles and stretching their legs, you spotted a small coffee shop across the street.

A chance to bring back some caffeine, but more importantly, a chance to do something for Tyler.

Without thinking twice, you hurried across the road, the familiar smell of roasted beans hitting you as soon as you stepped inside the shop. The bell above the door chimed, and the barista greeted you with a smile. You rattled off two orders: one for yourself and one for Tyler—black coffee, extra shot of espresso. You didn’t even need to ask what he wanted; you’d known his usual for months, committing it to memory in a way that only someone who cared a little too much would.

Within minutes, you were heading back to the gas station, clutching both cups in your hands. A tiny flicker of hope sparked inside you—maybe this would be the moment Tyler noticed. Maybe the fact that you remembered his drink order without needing to ask would mean something to him.

You spotted him leaning against the truck, his arms crossed as he waited for the tank to fill. His focus was elsewhere, probably already thinking ahead to the day’s chase, completely oblivious to the fact that you were heading his way with a small gesture of care.

“Here,” you said, holding out the cup toward him.

Tyler looked down at the coffee, momentarily confused before taking it from your hand. He raised an eyebrow, almost as if he hadn’t expected it.

“Black coffee. Extra shot of espresso,” you said softly, your heart picking up speed as you recited his order, hoping the words would register with him. Hoping that he’d realize you didn’t need to ask because you already knew.

He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering to yours briefly before he gave a slight nod. “Thanks,” he muttered, bringing the cup to his lips and taking his first sip.

That was it. Just a nod. No smile, no acknowledgment of the fact that you’d remembered his exact order, nothing. The flicker of hope you’d felt moments earlier dimmed into something closer to disappointment.

You stood there, feeling a bit like a fool for expecting anything more. After all, this was Tyler Owens—the same Tyler who never gave out compliments, the same Tyler who always kept his emotions locked up tight. Why had you thought this would be any different?

You shifted on your feet, holding your own cup a little tighter. “I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” you added, trying to keep the conversation going, hoping for... something.

He nodded again, glancing back toward the others as Boone finished filling up the tank. “Appreciate it,” he said flatly, his focus already shifting away from you and back to the task at hand.

You forced a smile, though the sting of his indifference was hard to ignore. You weren’t expecting grand gestures, but maybe just a little more than a nod. With the wind knocked out of your sails, you turned and headed toward the other side of the truck, sipping your own coffee, the bitter taste mirroring the feeling settling in your chest.

Lily caught your eye from where she stood talking to Dexter, and she shot you a questioning look as if to say, How’d it go? You gave her a small shake of your head and shrugged, silently communicating that it hadn’t gone the way you’d hoped.

The team loaded back into the vehicles, ready to hit the road again, but as you climbed into your seat, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all. The weight of always trying, always hoping—only to come up short.

And the worst part? No matter how much it stung, you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop caring, couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, one day, Tyler Owens would notice you the way you’d been noticing him all along.

The Wranglers team hit the open road, the small town shrinking behind them as fields stretched out on either side of the highway. You sat in the front passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, a map spread across your lap, though you both knew you wouldn’t really need it. Tyler had been storm chasing for years, and he could practically navigate these roads in his sleep. Your job as navigator was mostly just for show, a formality, but you took it seriously nonetheless—just like being the DJ.

Tyler drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between you, his gaze focused on the road ahead. The rest of the convoy followed behind, the team moving as one unit, always in sync, always chasing the next storm.

You unlocked your phone and scrolled through your Spotify library, stopping at the playlist you had saved specifically for moments like this. The one titled simply “Tyler.” A collection of his favorite songs, the ones you’d spent months curating, learning the words to, and playing on repeat just to feel a little closer to him.

You had watched him during countless drives, noting which songs made him tap his fingers against the steering wheel, which ones he hummed along to, and—on rare occasions—which ones he’d actually sing under his breath. The playlist was like a map of his soul, each song a clue to who he was beneath the surface.

You pressed play, the first song filtering through the truck’s speakers, a familiar beat that you knew he liked. Your heart raced a little as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’d notice.

The music filled the space between you, the silence replaced by lyrics you knew by heart—not because they were your favorite songs, but because they were his.

Tyler’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t look over, didn’t comment. He just drove, his eyes fixed on the road as if the music were simply background noise.

You shifted in your seat, trying to hide your disappointment. Maybe he hadn’t realized yet. It was still early in the playlist, after all. You tapped your fingers against your knee, silently mouthing the words to the song, hoping that at some point, he’d notice. That he’d realize you weren’t just playing random songs—you were playing his songs. The ones that made him smile or relax, the ones that you knew by heart because of him.

Another song began, this one more upbeat. You couldn’t help but glance at him again, waiting for some kind of reaction—a nod, a hum, anything to show that he recognized the playlist as his own.

But if he noticed, he didn’t let it show. His face remained unreadable, his focus unbroken as the miles ticked by beneath the tires. He was calm, in control, as always.

You felt the familiar pang of disappointment settling in your chest, but you pushed it down, telling yourself not to get your hopes up. Tyler wasn’t the type to express things outwardly. You knew that. You’d known it from the beginning, but still... a part of you had hoped that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

You swallowed the feeling, keeping your gaze out the window, watching the landscape blur past. The music continued, your playlist running through the songs you’d carefully chosen, each one holding a piece of him. You wanted to believe that, at some point, he’d hear it. That he’d realize how much you’d been paying attention all along.

But for now, the road stretched on, and Tyler remained as distant as ever, his silence louder than the music that filled the truck.`

A week later, after a long day of chasing storms, the team had found their way to a small bar on the outskirts of town. The neon lights flickered in the windows, casting a soft glow over the worn-out booths and the dartboard that had seen better days. You followed them inside, but your mind wasn’t on the drinks or the games of pool and darts that the others had already started.

You slipped into a booth in the corner, away from the noise, with your bag slung over your shoulder. From it, you pulled out a book—the book. It was a self-help book you’d noticed Tyler reading last week when he thought no one was watching. You had immediately ordered a copy, telling yourself that it was purely out of interest, but deep down, you knew why. You hoped that if Tyler saw you reading it, he’d think you were smart. Maybe even that you shared the same interests. Maybe he'd even come over and talk to you about it.

The cover felt smooth under your fingers as you opened it, pretending to lose yourself in the words, but really, your eyes kept darting toward the team as they laughed and played darts a few feet away. Tyler stood at the dartboard, one hand gripping a beer, the other lazily aiming for the bullseye. His concentration was unwavering, just as it had been all day on the road, but you couldn’t help but glance his way every few minutes, hoping—wishing—he’d look over and see you.

You settled back against the worn leather of the booth, opening the book to where you’d bookmarked a random page. The words blurred slightly, not because you weren’t capable of understanding them, but because your mind wasn’t truly on the text. Instead, it wandered to the what-ifs, the scenarios where Tyler would walk over, slide into the booth across from you, and ask what you thought of the book. Maybe he’d smile, that rare but breathtaking smile you’d seen a hundred times, and the two of you would actually talk. Not just the usual team banter or logistics about the next chase, but really talk.

But as the minutes passed, the background noise of laughter and clinking glasses felt like a reminder of just how far away that possibility was. Tyler was still over by the dartboard, chatting with Boone as they took turns tossing darts. He hadn’t even glanced in your direction since they’d arrived at the bar.

You tried to focus on the book again, reading the same line twice before finally giving in and glancing at him once more. Nothing. No flicker of recognition that you were there, no acknowledgment of the effort you had put into reading his book, hoping it would make you stand out.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned your elbow on the table, resting your chin in your hand. Maybe you were trying too hard. Maybe all the little things—the playlist, the coffee, the book—were just things he’d never notice. Or maybe, and this thought stung the most, maybe you were invisible to him in that way. A friend. A coworker. But nothing more.

You looked down at the book again, reading a few more lines as if they could somehow distract you from the tight knot forming in your chest.

A few minutes later, Boone called out to you, holding up a pool cue as if inviting you to join their game. You shook your head, waving them off with a small smile, holding up the book as an excuse. Boone shrugged and turned back to Tyler, who was lining up his next throw.

For a split second, Tyler’s eyes flicked toward you. Your heart jumped, but before you could even process it, he threw the dart and turned back to the game as if the moment had never happened.

The diner was warm, the kind of warmth that came from too many bodies crammed into small booths and the lingering scent of coffee and fried food in the air. You sat across from Boone, your hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone cold, staring blankly at the chipped rim. The conversation around you was a low hum, drowned out by the thoughts racing through your head.

Tyler had left without a word this morning. Just gone. No explanation, no heads-up. Just a quick exchange with Dexter about her—Kate. The girl from Storm Par. The girl who’d seemed to have swept Tyler off his feet in the last two days. You hated to admit it, but the jealousy gnawed at you, each thought of them together, of him abandoning the team, felt like another crack in your resolve.

Boone nudged your arm, drawing you back to the present. “You alright?” His voice was low, concerned, but you just nodded, forcing a smile.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

Across from you, Ben, the British journalist tagging along with the team, was flipping through his notebook, occasionally scribbling something down. You could tell he was enjoying the chaos of American storm chasing, but his eyes kept flicking toward the empty seat next to you, the one Tyler should have been occupying. Everyone had noticed his absence, but no one had said much. Not directly, anyway.

Lily leaned over, her elbow brushing against Dani as they huddled together over their phones. “He’ll call,” Lily said with forced optimism, glancing at you. “Tyler sometimes does this—goes off on his own for a bit. He’ll be back.”

Dexter and Dani nodded in agreement, but Boone wasn’t so convinced. You weren’t either. Tyler wasn’t just gone. He was with her, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

Night came, and still no word from Tyler. You’d tried calling him once, your stomach twisted in knots, but there was no answer. No response. You wanted to believe Lily and the others, that he would come back, but every passing hour chipped away at that hope.

The next morning, the skies had shifted. Clouds churned ominously in the distance, the kind of promising sight that normally would have Tyler barking orders and loading up the gear. But today, there was just a quiet, palpable tension as the team stood in the parking lot of the motel, debating whether to head out without him.

“I don’t know,” Boone muttered, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the horizon. “Feels wrong going out without Tyler.”

You felt the same. It felt like a piece of the team was missing, the driving force behind it all, but the skies were waiting. And so was Ben. You glanced at the journalist, who had been watching you closely, eager for the action he’d come all the way from England to document. You couldn’t let his time go to waste.

“We have to go,” you said, your voice steady, even though your insides were anything but. “We’ve got the van and the RV. We can still get some good footage, even without Tyler’s truck.”

The team exchanged glances, unsure. But you stepped forward, taking the lead. “Lily’s drone can get us the close-up shots we need, and we’ve still got the cameras. We can’t afford to wait. We’ve got to keep the channel going, and we need content.”

Dexter raised an eyebrow, impressed by your sudden shift into leadership, but Boone still looked hesitant. “What about Tyler?” he asked, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

You forced a calm you didn’t really feel. “Tyler will catch up with us when he’s ready. Right now, we can’t just sit around. The storm’s not going to wait for us.”

Boone finally nodded, and with that, the decision was made. You piled into the van with Lily and the rest of the crew, leaving behind the uncertainty of where Tyler was, or when he’d come back. Ben hopped in last, his camera at the ready, his excitement barely contained as you pulled out onto the open road.

As you sat in the passenger seat, guiding them toward the brewing storm, a familiar weight settled in your chest. You were used to being the one behind the scenes, managing social media, making sure the team’s content reached the masses. But now, as the makeshift team lead in Tyler’s absence, you couldn’t help but wonder—if he ever did come back, would things ever be the same between you two?

Your fingers hovered over your phone, tempted to try calling him again. But instead, you locked the screen and turned your focus to the skies ahead. You had a team to lead now. Tyler’s absence hurt, but it wasn’t going to stop you.

The morning air hung heavy, thick with the kind of heat that settled into your bones. You were leaning against the side of the van, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to let the frustration bubbling under your skin show. Boone stood beside you, his phone buzzing on the dashboard where he’d tossed it. You both glanced at the screen as Tyler’s name flashed across it.

Boone let it ring, his jaw clenched tight. After a few seconds, it went to voicemail. Neither of you said a word, but the tension between you spoke volumes. Tyler was trying to reach out, but neither of you were ready to hear him out just yet.

Moments later, Lily’s phone chimed. She didn’t hesitate, picking it up and putting it on speaker before Tyler had a chance to duck out. "Hey, Tyler," she greeted, her voice neutral.

"You ready for the next chase?" she asked, her tone deceptively light, but you could hear the undercurrent of curiosity.

But before she could say anything more, Tyler cut her off. “No, we’re gonna need you guys for something.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, and Boone shot you a sideways glance, his brow furrowing in confusion. You mirrored his look. We’ll? What did Tyler mean by that?

Lily pressed, “Do we need to drive all the way to Sapulpa?”

Tyler’s voice was quick to respond. “No, no. We’ll come to you.”

That we echoed in your mind, sinking deeper with each moment of silence that followed. You exchanged another look with Boone, but neither of you said anything. There was an uneasy feeling settling in, but none of you knew exactly what to make of it.

Minutes later, a text from Tyler buzzed through to your phone. You looked down to see the name and address of a trailer company. “What is this?” you muttered, sharing the text with Boone and the others.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Dexter said, climbing into the van with a shrug.

When you arrived at the lot, confusion still lingered in the air as the team climbed out of the van. The parking lot was full of trailers, rows upon rows of them in every size and shape imaginable, glinting under the afternoon sun. The purpose of being here was still unclear.

Then you spotted Tyler’s truck pulling in. The familiar hum of the engine sent your heart rate spiking, but it wasn’t just him that got out.

Kate. She emerged from the passenger side, her face lit up with that same easy smile she’d been wearing ever since the two of them had met.

You felt the knot tighten in your stomach, the same one that had been there since she’d entered the picture two days ago. Dani was the first to break the silence. “You finally made it,” she called, a hint of relief in her voice.

Tyler gave her a smile as he stepped up to the group. “Ben, you stuck around,” he greeted the journalist, shaking his hand as Ben nodded.

“Turns out there’s more to this story than I thought,” Ben said, eyeing Tyler with curiosity.

Tyler grinned. “We got a new ending for you.”

Meanwhile, Dexter raised his hand in a mock salute toward Kate. “Look who it is. City girl.” He shot her a grin that was almost welcoming. Almost.

Lily wasn’t far behind. “What’s up, Kate?” she asked, sounding a little too casual as she strolled over to them.

Kate smiled, sliding easily into conversation with Dexter and Lily like she had been part of the crew all along. You watched as they started chatting about storm footage, Lily showing her clips on her phone from the chase the team had gone on without Tyler and Kate. It wasn’t just that they were talking, though. It was the way Kate’s eyes lit up at the footage, the way she leaned in closer, asking about Lily’s drone.

"Can you rig that drone to collect data?" Kate asked, her interest piqued.

Lily nodded, explaining how Cairo, her drone, worked and all the modifications she’d made. Watching Kate take such an interest in the team felt like watching her slip further into Tyler’s world. A world that, for so long, had felt like yours.

Tyler, meanwhile, was making his way over to Boone, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, buddy," he began, his voice sincere. "I’m sorry."

Boone didn’t look at him, his jaw set. "Man, you abandoned me," Boone muttered, his voice tight with hurt. "I don’t know nothin’ about no makeup-"

Tyler cut him off with a smirk. “How about we launch some new rockets?”

Boone’s expression shifted, the tension breaking as he perked up. "You said rockets?" His tone was a mix of surprise and cautious excitement.

Tyler nodded, a grin forming. “I did.”

For a moment, it felt like the old Tyler and Boone—the way they always found common ground no matter what. But that still left you.

Tyler turned toward you, taking a few steps in your direction, his face softening. "I’m sorry," he began, but before he could get out anything more, Dani and the salesman walked up.

The apology hung in the air, unfinished, as you stood there, watching him. He hadn’t called you, hadn’t reached out directly. And now, standing in front of you with Kate by his side, the apology felt... hollow.

The van's engine hummed steadily as you followed behind Tyler’s truck, the road stretching endlessly ahead. You hadn’t spoken a word since leaving the trailer lot. The silence between you and Lily was thick, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. Outside, the sky was bruised with the remnants of a setting sun, casting long shadows over the landscape. But inside the van, it felt like the world had dimmed.

Your eyes were locked on the truck ahead, on the faint silhouette of Tyler’s head just visible through the back window. You knew Kate was sitting there, right beside him, and the thought twisted in your chest like a knife. You blinked, trying to hold it together, but the tears came anyway, silent and hot as they slid down your cheeks.

Lily glanced over at you, her brows knitting together in concern. She didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly, giving you space. But you could feel her eyes on you, the way she hesitated before speaking.

“Hey…” her voice was soft, cautious. “You okay?”

It was a ridiculous question, really, but it was all she could say. You shook your head slightly, trying to wipe the tears away with the sleeve of your jacket, but they kept coming, harder now.

Lily sighed, her hand reaching across the seat to give your arm a gentle squeeze. She didn’t need to say it—you both knew. She had been the only one who knew. The only one you had confided in about how you felt about Tyler. She had believed, just like you, that maybe he’d wake up and see what was right in front of him.

But now... now it was clear. He had found someone else. Someone more exciting, more interesting. Someone like Kate.

The tears fell faster, and you pressed your fist to your mouth, trying to keep the sobs at bay. But your mind wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t let you escape from the reality of it. Tyler hadn’t just left you behind. He had abandoned you without a second thought, without even realizing how much it hurt. One second he was there, and the next he was gone. Gone like you meant nothing.

And you were left wondering what you’d done wrong. Why you were never enough.

Lily’s voice broke through the whirlwind of thoughts. “You know… none of this is your fault, right?”

You let out a shaky breath, but didn’t respond. How could it not be? You must have done something—been something—wrong for him to walk away like that, like you didn’t even matter.

“He’s a fool, you know,” Lily continued, her voice firmer now. “I really thought he’d pull his head out of his ass eventually. Realize what’s right in front of him.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “He never even saw me.”

Lily didn’t argue, and you were grateful for that. Because it was true. Tyler hadn’t seen you—not the way you wanted him to. You had spent so long hoping, waiting for him to notice, to realize that you loved him more than anyone ever could. But he didn’t. He found someone else instead, someone new and shiny like Kate.

Your thoughts spiraled further, the pain gnawing at you from the inside. You could barely breathe through it. God, Tyler couldn’t have cared less about someone who had loved him more. Loved him with everything you had.

“I’d say he broke my heart,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “but I think he broke a lot more than that.”

Lily’s hand was back on your arm, squeezing tighter this time. “You deserved better. You still do.”

You nodded, though it didn’t feel like that right now. All you’d ever wanted was to be enough for him. Just enough to be seen, to be cared for the way you cared for him. But that had been too much to ask.

The miles passed by, the road stretching endlessly ahead, just like this ache inside you. You watched the truck in front of you, the taillights glowing faintly as Tyler drove on, oblivious. You couldn’t help but wonder if he ever thought of you at all—or if he was too caught up in Kate’s orbit now to even notice the wreckage he’d left behind.

You turned to look at Lily, her eyes full of empathy. “I don’t think I ever stood a chance, did I?” you asked quietly.

Lily’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head softly. “No. I don’t think it was ever about you. He’s just… lost. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

You nodded, feeling that hollow truth settle in your bones. You weren’t sure what hurt more—the fact that he didn’t see you or the realization that you might have been waiting for someone who was never really yours to begin with.

The air was still, thick with the calm before the storm. The team had scattered, gathering near the RV to eat lunch and regroup before they moved on. Laughter echoed from where Dani, Dexter, and Lily sat in lawn chairs, enjoying the brief pause in the chase. Ben, Boone, and Tyler stood near Tyler's truck, their conversation drowned out by the low hum of the wind sweeping across the open field.

But you weren’t with them. You hadn’t been all day.

You sat alone in the van, the door open, your legs pulled up to your chest as you rested your forehead on your knees. Your eyes were closed, trying to block out the ache that had settled deep inside your chest. The tears had dried, but your face still felt tight from the tracks they left behind. You just wanted to disappear, to not feel the way you did.

Tyler’s laughter drifted over from where he stood with the others, and the sound made your heart twist painfully. He had no idea, no clue what was going on inside you.

Until Lily caught his eye.

She saw him glance toward the van, saw him hesitate, his body half-turned as if he wanted to approach but wasn’t sure if he should. She knew it was only a matter of time before he’d find out—before your carefully hidden feelings were laid bare. The thought of you sitting there, hurting like this, was eating her alive.

With a deep breath, Lily made the decision. She walked over to where Tyler stood, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Tyler, can we talk for a second?”

He glanced down at her, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

Lily glanced toward you in the van, then back at Tyler. Her voice dropped to a more serious tone. “It’s about her. I think... I think you need to know something.”

Tyler’s expression changed instantly. His eyes followed hers to where you sat, and he felt the weight of her words before she even said them. “What is it?”

Lily sighed. “She’s not just upset about the team. About you leaving. It’s more than that.” She hesitated, then spoke more quietly. “She’s been hurt by you bringing Kate on board. Especially without saying anything.”

Tyler frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Hurt? Why would—”

“She cares about you, Tyler,” Lily interrupted. “More than you realize.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He stood there, frozen for a moment, processing what Lily had just told him. “Wait… you mean…?”

Lily nodded. “She’s had feelings for you for a long time. And when you left, it broke her. Then when you came back… with Kate...” Lily trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. The silence said enough.

Tyler felt the weight of it all settling on his shoulders. Guilt gnawed at him, the realization sinking in. He looked back toward you, sitting alone in the van, your back to him.

“Damn…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know.”

“I know,” Lily replied softly. “But now you do.”

Tyler gave her a nod, his jaw clenched as he turned and started walking toward the van. His footsteps were slow, hesitant. The closer he got, the clearer it became—he hadn’t just hurt you by abandoning the team. He’d hurt you far worse without even realizing it.

He stopped halfway to the van, watching you. He could see it now—the tension in your shoulders, the way your head was bowed like you were trying to hold everything inside. It gutted him. But he wasn’t sure if approaching was the right thing to do.

After a moment, he made the choice. He walked the rest of the way to the van, coming to a stop just beside the open door. You didn’t look up at first, didn’t acknowledge his presence. But you knew he was there.

He sat down beside you, careful not to sit too close. The silence between you was thick, heavy with everything unspoken.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler started, his voice low. “For leaving. For abandoning you guys. It wasn’t fair to put all that on you.”

You still didn’t look at him, but he saw the way your hands tightened around your knees.

“I saw the footage,” he continued, trying to offer something, anything that might make it better. “You did great. You really stepped up. Led the team better than I could have.”

You said nothing, just kept your gaze down, the ache in your chest only growing with each word. None of this was what you needed to hear.

Tyler let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… I talked to Lily. She told me…”

At that, you finally lifted your head, your heart lurching at the sound of those words. She told him. You felt the sting of betrayal—Lily had said too much.

“Tyler, don’t,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

But he didn’t stop. He needed to say it, needed to acknowledge it. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know you felt that way. And I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

You closed your eyes, your breath shaky as you tried to keep it together. “Please… just don’t.”

But he pressed on, his voice softer now. “I do care about you. I really do. But not in the way you want me to.”

Those words felt like a slap, and you swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to fall again.

“I don’t need your apology,” you finally said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay strong. “I don’t need your pity either.”

Tyler’s brows furrowed. “It’s not pity. I just… I want to make things right.”

You shook your head, letting out a bitter laugh that was more of a sob. “You can’t fix this, Tyler. You can’t just… say you’re sorry and make it all go away.”

He watched you, pain flickering in his eyes. He hated that he had done this to you, hated that his actions had caused you this kind of hurt.

“I never asked for much,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I just wanted to be enough. Enough for you to notice me. To see me.”

Tyler looked away, guilt settling in his gut like a lead weight. “I’m sorry.”

The words fell flat. Meaningless.

You turned away from him, trying to gather the pieces of yourself that felt so shattered. “It was just a stupid crush anyway,” you muttered, forcing a small, hollow laugh. “I’ll get over it.”

But both of you knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t just a crush. It had been so much more than that. And now… now it felt like you had lost something you couldn’t get back.

Tyler sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“There’s nothing you can do,” you interrupted, your voice firmer now. “I just want to go back to before. Before I met you. Before I let myself believe there was a chance.”

He stayed silent, not knowing what else to say. He had broken something inside you, and no amount of apologies would fix it.

You wiped your eyes, standing up from the van. “I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, though it was more for yourself than for him.

And with that, you walked away, leaving Tyler sitting there, watching you go, knowing he had lost something he didn’t even realize he had.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Angst

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wonderlandwalker · 7 months ago

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First Impressions | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox Summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner. (read part 2 here) Content Warnings / Tags: Pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n Word Count: 1.4k A/N: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it.

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile. “Alright, not a fan of handshakes, notes.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition.

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do. “Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold.

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do. “- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face. “You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.”

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence.

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

[part 2 here]

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thewidowsledger · 4 months ago

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Looking Out For Three

Pairing: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis (no smut though yet), pregnant reader, kinda gruesome details of organ taking/trafficking, self-destruction if you squint, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is a scheduled post; I just recently lost my cousin so I may not be able to be active here for some time but I’ll for sure check in once in a while. Happy reading! I hope you're all having a good time.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

⧗

After Natasha had taken care of Strange, her focus immediately returned to you. Seeing your unconscious form, her heart broke as she frantically searched for something to cover your exposed stomach.

She found a blanket and tore it into a small piece and she gently draped it over your stomach, her hands trembling, staring at your wounded stomach. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, whispering words of apology.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, her voice choking with emotion. “I should've listened to you last night, if I knew you wouldn’t…you wouldn't…” Natasha gasped for air but still trying to hold back a sob, she finally looked at your face. She held your hands and pecked a kiss all over it.

“I could've lost you, detka. I can't let that happen…I’ll never forgive myself if I lost you.”

“Everything's going to be okay. You, me, and our baby,” she smiled at the thought, wiping some tears on her face, “We're going to be a happy family.”

Tony landed with a heavy thud, the suit's thrusters kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris. Bucky quickly joined him, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. A doctor's body lying on the floor, unrecognizable as its face has a lot of holes in it.

He started to move towards you and Natasha, but Natasha's steely glare made him stop in his tracks.

Yelena tried to approach her sister and offered her help but Natasha ignored her as well. The expression on her face was cold and distant, her only priority was getting you to safety. She carried you in a bridal style and the rest of the team watched, unsure of what to do, as Natasha carried out of the room and started heading onto the Quinjet.

⧗

Steve and Tony spoke quietly to each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Tony couldn't provide any concrete answers, but he did share one unsettling detail. He projected a hologram display, showing the scans of the doctor's body. The bullet holes were highlighted in red, showing exactly where each of the 21 shots had landed. The lone bullet in the shoulder was also indicated by a separate red mark.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the tiny screen. “21 bullets to the head and one in the shoulder.”

The team winced as they took in the information, their gazes shifting to Natasha, who was still holding your hand in her lips.

Tony shrugged, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, I'm not judging,” he said. “I've done my fair share of blasting people in the head too.”

The team started to look your way, their gazes shifting towards your unconscious body and Natasha, but then they quickly averted them when they saw Natasha glaring at them. They scrambled to look busy, trying to avoid her disapproving glare.

In an attempt to look as if they weren't just staring at your unconscious body and Natasha sitting close to you, Sam awkwardly broke the silence by pointing at the glassed windows of the Quinjet, “Wow, a bird.”

His words hung awkwardly in the air, only to be met with Natasha's continued glare and the team's collective facepalm at his failed attempt to diffuse the tension.

⧗

When the Quinjet landed on the compound, the team immediately got up and was welcomed by Clint as the door of the Quinjet slowly opened. He already knew what happened and he was on leave since Laura just gave birth to their third child.

He walked towards the bed where your unconscious body was laying.

“Hey Nat.”

She didn't answer, but as soon as Clint touched the bed to help her get you out the Quinjet Natasha swiftly pulled a gun and pointed it towards his head.

“Nat…” Clint called, the team became frozen in place at the sight.

“Don't touch her.” She said her voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Yes, I'm not touching her. I am touching the bed,” he offered a logical argument, his tone gentle as he tried to diffuse the situation. He immediately but slowly moved his hands away from the stretcher you were in and put them in the air where Natasha could see.

The room's tension rose even more as the team started calling her out.

“Romanoff.” Tony called in a warning.

“Natasha.” It sounded more authoritative coming from Maria.

“Natasha, calm down.” Steve’s voice joined the fray, calling out gently.

“Back down! No one gets to touch her!” Natasha furiously exclaimed.

Natasha's grip on her gun tightened further, she pushed the tip of the gun on the back of Clint’s head, her eyes beginning to well up with tears.

A ripple of tension ran through the group everytime Natasha spoke. The atmosphere in the room immediately grew heavy, and the team members instinctively also tightened their grip on their own weapons.

“No one’s gonna hurt Y/N, Nat…please.” Clint reassured pleadingly.

“Shut the fuck up!”

And with that a loud thud echoed through the Quinjet with Natasha’s unconscious body laying on the floor. Yelena, her sister sulking at the corner with her hands clenched into fists pointed towards where Natasha was and her widow's bite smoking.

“Izvini, sestra.” (Sorry, sister)

⧗

Dr. Cho launched into her report, clearly concerned about the oversight. Wanda, Steve and Bruce were in the medbay with you.

“So no one noticed the bleeding on her head?” the doctor repeated incredulously. The room fell silent for a moment, and then Steve spoke up.

“Natasha wouldn’t let us near her.”

“Yeah,” Bruce confirmed, “She came before the team, I prepped the stretcher and she immediately snatched it away from me, not even letting me help her.”

Wanda clenched her jaw in frustration, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the two about what happened. She couldn't help but feel annoyed and frustrated with Natasha's behavior, which had led to your current situation. If Natasha had just been a little more cooperative and let the team help her help you, you would've been fine and awake by now. Instead, you were lying unconscious in the medbay, not sure when you're going to wake up.

“And no one knew that she's pregnant?” Dr. Cho added that made the three wince in guilt, how could they not notice? You live in the same place for god's sake, in the same compound.

Wanda was particularly hard on herself, her face filled with guilt. She’s your best friend and you two had spent so much time together, she felt ashamed that she didn’t notice anything different about you, especially since the two of you are inseparable when Natasha was away for 2 months.

You always had a morning walk together, gets to shop together, you two always watched sitcoms together and trained together. Wanda could only remember a moment when she had accidentally hit you in the abdomen during combat training, and you had collapsed on the floor laughing at the witch. You were for sure pregnant at that time and Wanda could only wince at the memory hoping that hit didn't affect her growing niece at your stomach

And the fact that she covered up for you made her want to let the ground eat her, what if she just let JARVIS figure out that it was you who was pregnant? This wouldn't have happened to you…

“Don't worry, Y/N is stable" the doctor said reassuringly, “and she should wake up at any moment. However, we can't say for sure when that will be.”

She looked around the room, meeting the worried gazes of the team members who's nodding at her words.

“I’ll get her an ultrasound later which should give us more accurate information. For now let's give her body a break. And I need Romanoff here as soon as possible.”

⧗

Natasha tossed and turned in her sleep, distress written all over her face. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat at the bed, she took the place in where she was; it was your shared bedroom. She can feel her brain pounding inside her skull but still, she immediately got off the bed as the first thing she thought was you, she found herself frantically walking down a dimly lit hallway, approaching a closed door at its end.

As she neared the closed door, she noticed a soft glow and a bed with a woman laid out on it, bathed in a dim light. The sight invoked a pang of uneasiness in her, but she couldn’t shake the compulsion to get closer.

Natasha continued walking, drawn to the woman on the bed like a magnet. Each step seemed to echo loudly in the silent hallway, but she pushed onward until she was near the bed.

With a heavy heart, Natasha makes her way to the bedside of a woman who lies there lifeless and unseeing. Her eyes, hollow sockets staring into nothingness…

Her eyes scanned the woman's body, taking in every detail of the horror.

The ribcage splayed open like a grotesque butterfly…

The heart and lungs are missing, leaving a gaping hole…

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

The redhead's gaze lingers on the woman's lifeless hand, before her eyes widen in horror. She recognizes that hand, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she starts to panic.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she spots a manila folder beside the bed, within her grasp. With trembling hands, she snatches it up and flips it open, gasping as she scrolls through the contents.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Natasha gasped in horror, she flips open the file, page after page of personal information and photographs spill out of the folder, painting a detailed portrait of your face and body. Each page she turns reveals more information about you, and with each turn, her heart drops further into the pit of her stomach.

This body that is lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and a baby taken out of it…

Is your body and your child. Her child.

“No…”

“No, no, no,” she gasped, “Fuck no!” She threw the folder away and your body was already gone in the bed.

She immediately shot her head around when she heard a faint cry of a baby, but as soon as she turned she saw a shadow of a woman carrying a baby.

She knows it was you only by its figure…

Your voice reached her ears, filled with desperation as you called out to her.

“Natty, love? Can we talk?”

“Help us, Natasha.”

“Natasha, please talk to me.”

“Natasha!”

“Natasha! Wake up!”

“No!”

Natasha jolted awake, the loud call of her name immediately took her away from the depths of her dream. She panicked as she found herself surrounded by the darkness of your shared bedroom. Clint was holding her and she immediately ripped herself away from him, her movements sharp and agitated.

“Hey,” Clint's voice was gentle, a calming presence amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “Natasha, breathe,” he urged, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder but Natasha flinched, “You’re okay, everything is fine.”

“Where's Y/N?” Natasha demanded, her voice husky and rushed as she moved away from the bed ignoring her best friend's concern for her because clearly, nothing is fine.

“Nat,” Clint circled the bed to get to Natasha and she immediately got into defensive form.

“Are we really gonna do this again?” He asked, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And that's when the memories came rushing back, flooding her senses with a torrent of emotions. She remembered the weight of her gun in her hand, the cold metal pressed against the back of her best friend's head and the team trying to calm her down. The last thing she saw was your stretcher above her.

Natasha's breath hitched as the memories overwhelmed her, and she felt her legs buckle under her. She reached out to grab onto the bed, her legs weak and unsteady. She had come dangerously close to losing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Natasha's voice shook as she apologized over and over again, her eyes filling with tears as she felt the weight of her emotions bearing down on her. She felt Clint's arms wrap around her once more, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

He tightened his grip on her, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. “Shh,” he whispered, rubbing small circles on her back with his hand. “It’s okay. You're fine, Nat. You're safe here.”

Natasha nodded, taking a deep shuddering breath as she tried to collect herself. “Where's Y/N?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Clint, where is she? I need to see her.” Her eyes pleaded with him, searching for answers.

Clint could see the desperation in her gaze and knew exactly what she needed, you.

“You'll see her alright?” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But right now I need you to rest.”

Natasha was about to refuse, she needs to see you now, but she knew better than to fight with her best friend. She needed to rest, to get her strength back before she gets to see you again. She nodded weakly, allowing Clint to help her up.

“You shower, get some fresh clothes and I’ll have some food over. After that you can see your girlfriend.”

⧗

Natasha worked diligently, her eyes alight with a soft and caring glow as she arranged everything on the bed. She had brought out all of your favorite blankets, each one softer and more comforting than the last. Her eyes landed on the strawberry plush, and her lips curved into a soft smile. She remembered how you had squealed with delight when she had won it for you at the basketball booth at a carnival.

“Hey Nat, you ready to go? Dr. Cho is waiting for you.”

Natasha startled at the sudden interruption, blinking as she tried to shake off her thoughts. “Oh, uh, yeah,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “Did she ask me to bring something? Does she want anything? Food? How's Y/N?” Natasha continuously asked as she put the blanket and pillow on a bag.

But Clint only muttered, “C’mon,” not wanting to break the news himself to her best friend. He’ll let Dr. Cho do the job on answering that.

Natasha felt her heart beat faster with each step as she and Clint made their way to the Medbay. She could feel her hands trembling, but she clenched them into fists at her sides, trying to keep her composure. As soon as she entered the medbay, she saw Dr. Cho and Wanda by your bedside. Her eyes immediately went to your unconscious form on the bed, her worry deepening. Why aren't you awake yet?

She felt Wanda's intense gaze on her and Natasha immediately put her face away from her direction, gripping the bag she brought. She couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort of the witch’s presence.

Dr. Cho, as if reading the room, asked Wanda and Clint to give them privacy.

When the two left the medbay, Natasha finally allowed herself to breathe. The witch's intense gaze had made her uneasy, adding to her worry about you. She let out a long sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them, leaving her alone with Dr. Cho.

“How are you feeling, Romanoff?” Dr. Cho started.

“I’m fine. How is she?” Natasha immediately asked as she put the bag down at the side table of your bed.

Natasha's eyes lingered on your unconscious form, she carefully held your hands and a sudden flash of her dream returned to her mind.

Your body lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and your baby taken out of it…

She immediately shut her eyes to remove the thought in her head, the urgency she felt in the dream now mirrored in the real world.

“Romanoff.”

Natasha's gaze snapped to Dr. Cho at the sound of her name, quickly trying to mask her panic with a cool, calm expression. She took a deep breath, her voice coming out steady and collected, “Yeah? H-how is she?” she asked once again.

“Y/N suffered a blow to the head, causing significant trauma. There's no way to predict when she'll regain consciousness...”

Natasha's brow pinched at Dr. Cho's words. The idea of you being unconscious, possibly for an extended period of time, weighed heavily on her. She searched for more information, “Are you saying she's in a coma?”

“A light one.” The doctor pointed out, correcting her.

“And the baby?”

Natasha's gaze shifted from your face and to the printed ultrasound image Dr. Cho handed her, she shakily reached out to get it and her other hand never leaving yours. Her features softened as she took in the small, blurred figure on the paper. “So that's our little one?” she murmurs, a touch of awe in her voice.

Dr. Cho nodded, smiling gently at Natasha's reaction. “Yes, that is your baby at 12 weeks. As you can see, the limbs are well-formed and the baby's major organs have started to develop…”

“Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!”

“Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place.”

Natasha winced as Dr. Cho pointed out the tiny head, spine, and other features of the developing fetus to her, explaining that these details were visible at this stage of pregnancy. Natasha tries her best to listen attentively, but the memories are trying to get back in her head.

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“You didn't know until now did you?”

“Oh, that's a shame.”

“You are a bad mother.”

“Romanoff, are you sure you're alright?” Dr. Cho asked, worry written all over her face as she noticed Natasha drifting off once again.

“Yeah,” she answered dismissively, “There's uhm uhh…a cut on her stomach—”

“It's all patched up now.” The doctor said reassuringly, not letting her finish.

“Can I uhm…can I have some time with Y/N alone?”

“Of course, whatever you need. I’ll leave you two now.” Dr. Cho tapped Natasha's shoulder for comfort as she retreated to the medbay.

Natasha swallowed thickly, her throat constricting as she finally, finally felt like she could breathe freely. It was just the two of you now and that's what she needed. The machines beeping in the background seemed to fade into the distance as Natasha's gaze locked onto your unconscious form.

She was acutely aware of the soft rise and fall of your chest as you slept, the gentle curve of your belly where your little bean settled.

“Detka, I need you to wake up now…” she said as she gently removed the blanket you had and replaced it with the ones she brought, which is your favorite one. She now pulled the strawberry plush and laid it beside your pillow.

“I need you to wake up so I can make it up to you.” Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your forehead.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as Natasha brought your hands to her lips, pressing a tender kiss before resting it gently on her cheek. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of your skin against hers before falling into slumber.

⧗

You slowly blinked your eyes open, your senses still groggy from whatever they put or injected in your body. Your left hand was wrapped around by a figure, holding it close as they slept sitting up right next to you on the bed.

Your right hand snatched the nasal cannula out of your nose and the IV lines that are connected to your forearm. Slowly, you pulled your left hand out of the tight hold of the figure sleeping beside your bed. You started to breathe hard, finding some support for you to stand up.

Natasha's eyes snapped open as she felt the bed movements and the warm hand she's holding is now out of her grasp.

“Baby? Hey…”

She felt alarmed hearing the machine beeping continuously and the oxygen out of you. You snatched everything that is connected to your body and now slowly moving away from the bed.

“Detka,” she called again, holding her hands out even though it's your back facing her.

But you didn't hear, there’s this loud thumping in your ears, you can feel as if someone is hammering your head, and the only thing you can see is a blur. Nothing is clear and you’re feeling numb.

You continued to move until your feet felt the cold tiled floor and that's when you lost consciousness for a second. You can only feel a warm body catching you, you locked eyes with the emerald ones before you feel your body taken out from her embrace.

⧗

Natasha paced back and forth outside the medbay, her mind racing as she waited for word about you. She was still reeling from the events that had led to this moment, and she couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled into her bones.

“You deserve it.” Wanda’s words cutting through the air like a knife. “You're the reason why she's there.”

“Whatever is happening to you right now, you deserve it.” She spat, Natasha now sat outside the medbay, her hands over her head as she faced the floor. “I am one blink away from invading your mind, to see what happened but I respect Y/N so much. You deserve everything that you feel right now, every guilt and shame. You deserve what's happening to you but my best friend doesn't deserve to be there!”

She could only bite her cheek, shutting her eyes as if she's not hearing the witch, but she could feel the heat of Wanda's words as they washed over her, stinging like a slap in the face.

Natasha and Wanda both turned their attention to Bruce as he stepped out of the medbay, the tension between them dissipating in an instant. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and Natasha immediately stood, her heart thumping on her chest wanting to hear about your condition.

“How is she?” The two redheads asked in unison, Wanda can only roll her eyes.

“She's awake now.”

Wanda didn't waste a second moving inside the medbay, walking past Natasha and Bruce.

“She's stable for now,” Dr. Cho informed Natasha who was left outside the medbay, “she just disassociated when she woke up earlier.”

Natasha nodded peeking over the doctor’s shoulder to get a sight of you but she can only see Wanda sitting beside your bed.

“Hey…how are you lyubov?” Wanda asked her fingers grazing yours.

“I feel weak,” you mumbled but gave the witch a soft smile, you managed to hold her hand that made Wanda sob. “Hey, I’m fine Wanda.”

She held your hand tightly and brought it to her cheek, “You should be, you really should be.” You hummed as you wiped the tears that streamed down to her face.

Natasha stood just outside the medbay entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you and Wanda interact. Your eyes flick towards her and you can read her lips muttering, “Hey,” to you.

“I want to rest for a bit.” You said, immediately avoiding Natasha and the witch noticed the tension between you and your girlfriend.

“Sure.” Wanda was about to stand to leave when you held your hands up, “Stay, Wanda. Please.”

Natasha could read the situation clearly, you didn't want her around. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut because all she wanted to do is to hold you and pepper you with kisses, take care of you. But she did notice what you want and it's not her, so she respectfully stepped back, retreating out of the medbay. The coldness in her chest had deepened into an ache, but she pushed it down as she always did.

For now, she’ll give you what you need but she will never stop trying and making it up to you.

⧗

Dr. Cho informed Natasha that you are now discharged and can leave the medbay anytime soon.

Right now, she's supposed to be sitting right next to you, apologizing or…begging for forgiveness, peppering you with kisses or cuddling you. But instead here she is walking alone to your shared room. Natasha had held back her tears as she walked towards the room, but the moment she stepped inside, the floodgates opened. She couldn't hold back any longer. She let out a choked sob and collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly, Natasha surged to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. She couldn't contain her anger and frustration to herself any longer. With a roar of rage, she began to pummel the walls of the room, punching it with all her strength.

Eventually, Natasha's frenzy subsided, and she steadied herself against the wall, forehead resting against its cool surface. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in your embrace, feeling your arms wrapped around her, holding her down and keeping her grounded like you always do.

“You cannot be like this,” She whispered to herself. “You have a wife and a baby on the way to look up to. You cannot…you cannot be like this.” She repeated, as if trying to drill the words into her own brain.

Natasha slowly turned back, surveying the room with keen and puffy eyes. Without hesitation, she removed her jacket and top revealing her gray sports bra and started deep cleaning everything. Something that will occupy her for a while besides she doesn't want you to come back here with a messy and dirty room, though you always make sure that your shared bedroom is clean, both of you have tasks on what to do, on who's gonna do this or that, clean this or that. Actually it's you who gave her tasks, Natasha can be careless and a messy person at times but with you, it all changed.

Natasha started to take off the cover of the pillows and replaced them with fresh, clean ones from the closet. She then moved onto the bed sheets, pulling off the used ones.

After that Natasha moved to the bathroom, checking every corner, she pulled out the trash and some stuff scattered at the counter. When she opened the cabinet she was welcomed by a pregnancy test, not just one but three tests with two lines showing in each one.

Natasha picked the three, studying each one carefully before setting it back down again at the counter. She wondered if this was the thing you wanted to talk about before the mission. She clenched her jaw remembering how she treated you that night.

A call on the door pulled Natasha out of her thoughts. She retreated from the bathroom, taking a deep breath before opening it to reveal Clint standing on the other side.

“Hey, here's the flower you asked me to get.”

Natasha smiled as she took in the sight of the beautiful bouquet that Clint had brought for you. “I know you asked me to buy roses, the pink ones which is Y/N’s favorite but I saw these chrysanthemums and carnations. I bought this for Laura when she was pregnant with our Nathaniel. You should avoid-strong smelling flowers. Y/N’s sense of smell might be a little bit sensitive now.” Natasha listened intently as she had seen how Clint handled being a father of three. How he was able to protect her family while being an Avenger so might as well take her best friend’s every advice.

“You might wanna do some research. It's gonna be a lot but I know you two can do it.” She nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Clint.”

“Mood swings, Nat,” Clint chuckled as she warned Natasha, “It's gon’ be a hell of a ride.”

“Oh yeah it is, even though she wasn't pregnant yet it was a rollercoaster already.” She smirked remembering how she handled your mood swings during the course of your relationship.

“Oh Nat, now it's gonna be a whole new level.”

After a few more words of farewell, Natasha went back inside the room, and placed the flowers gently in a vase beside your shared bed. She filled the vase with water from the bathroom sink, letting it flow over each bloom as she arranged them.

Natasha settled on the couch after putting back the vase beside the bed. She put on some headphones as she lost herself to some music. An automatic vacuum hummed quietly in the background, gliding smoothly over the floor and picking up any debris.

Natasha indeed took Clint's advice, she was reading and researching about the changes that were happening to your body and what to expect during the course of the pregnancy. You're now in your 12th week and she read that during week 12 of pregnancy you’re wrapping up your first trimester and the odds of miscarriage are highest in the first trimester.

She took notes and made a mental list of things to expect.

“Your baby is only as big as a passion fruit but is growing and developing.” Natasha read to herself.

“Baby bump’s first appearance depending on the body type, food cravings, weird food cravings,” Natasha murmured, she continued, “Dizziness, mood swings, sore breast, heightened sense of smell,” She hummed, remembering her best friend's advice about sensitivity of your smell.

Natasha did a double-take as she read the last item on the list.

“Spike in sex drive?”

A knock on the door interrupted her researching and reading and she quickly put her headphones down, turning her attention towards the entrance.

She opened the door to see you standing there, a strawberry plush in your hand, and Bruce behind you carrying the bag of blankets she brought in the medbay. Her eyes widened slightly but she quickly composed herself, her expression softening as she took in your face, “Hey.”

You took in the sight of Natasha, your mind being in a haze. She is dressed in a gray sports bra and matching sweatpants, headphones clinging on her neck. Her arms were flexed like always and you could see the details of beads of sweat on her defined abs. Your breath hitched in your throat.

Natasha, noticing your gaze on her, quickly took the bag from Bruce. You walked past her already and went inside the bedroom.

“Dr. Cho will check in on her periodically.” Bruce informed the redhead.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

You sat at the bed slowly, noticing the new sheets of the bed and the flowers, the smell of it invading your nostrils. You caress the softness of the sheet while the strawberry plush sat on your thighs.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” Natasha asked as she closed the door. She put the bag down where you put your dirty laundry.

“Baby?” She called again, “You know you can't avoid me forever.”

“Yeah, like you did me the other night?” you replied with a dry tone.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you and Natasha bit her lower lip in contemplation. Without hesitation, she immediately removed the headphones from her neck and walked in your direction. She gently knelt in front of you, placing the plush beside you as she took both of your hands in hers. Her bright green eyes searched for yours.

“Baby,” she began, her voice gentle and soothing. “I'm sorry.” She paused, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “Please, I was out of my mind that night,” her voice is becoming shaky this time. “It was the stupidest thing I ever did,” she continued, the regret evident in her expression. She swallowed hard, squeezing your hands gently. “Please, forgive me detka? I promise it won't happen again. I’ll take care of you, cook for you, buy you gifts, whatever you want baby, just—just forgive me.”

You actually stopped listening when she said “I’m sorry” all you could focus on was her arms untensing and tensing with each movement of her hands gently gripping your own. And the smell of the flowers were now gone as your girlfriend’s cologne, which was your favorite cologne of hers, started to envelop your senses. You don't know why you're being like this.

Natasha watched as you yawned, “I'm sleepy,” you slur.

“I uhh…alright baby,” She immediately let go of your hands and stood up, hesitating for a moment. She gently guides you as you lay down to your shared bed, putting the comforter all over your body and handing you the strawberry plush.

“Sleep tight detka, I’ll be here,” to her surprise, you hummed in response as you snuggled the strawberry plush close to you, a small sound that filled the air between the two of you and it made Natasha's heart jump. She took that as a good sign and she will for sure do anything to earn your forgiveness.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader

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wonustars · 1 year ago

Text

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺

Soobin vers. | Beomgyu vers.

txt as 5sos songs: you look so perfect.

Summary: yeonjun is a well known, attractive, and respected. you two are total opposites. the last thing that you would expect is for him to take interest in you. first meeting you at a coffee shop, he beomes a regular. constantly coming back to visit, but not just for the iced americanos.

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: nonidol!yj, popular!yj, campuscrush!yj, shy!asocial!reader, total opposites, opposites attract, yeonjun is so sweet and gives lots of reassurance, reader is a little angsty but still a lovely mc!

SMUT! MDNI 18+ only!

Warnings: dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, afab!reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, mating press, creampie, bigdick!yeonjun,this one is more on the vanilla side.

Word count: 5k words

Note: this story contains smut so minors pls DNI! I mean it, if I see you interacting i will be blocking you. hellowwww!! a lot of people really liked the preview so, heres the full thing hehe. i like half assed with the proof read so let me know if i've missed any typos, tags or warnings!! my lovely Taehyun will be after this one :)

happy reading ~

All your life you had been the one in the shadows. There are no major plot points or no “y/n moments” that people would use to describe Wattpad-like events. You weren’t upset about this though, the life you live is content, happy enough.

A normal day-to-day for you consists only of two things, school, and working at the cafe across campus. Your life isn’t appealing to others, but you like how quiet it is. A quiet life with no disturbances, no drama, and no feelings of stress. It's a peculiar feeling to want something that seems so lonely.

The last time you witnessed a major disturbance in your life had to be the event that took place within the confines of your part-time job. Two men were trying to win the heart of a girl. Two attractive men at that. The whole time the three were quarrelling you wondered what it would feel like knowing someone wanted you that bad, that they would fight someone else to have you.

It left an odd taste in your mouth, and a stinging feeling behind your eyes.

“Hey… are you guys still taking orders?” a voice brings you out of your internal tangent. You perk up from the relaxed position you were in. Shamefully, you nod. Not wanting to make eye contact you head towards the register.

“What can I get for you?” you ask, eyes trained on the ordering screen.

“A large iced americano please, that’s all.”

“And the name of the order?” you ask, a stupid question. No one else was in the cafe except you and this random guy. The music feels louder than it usually does, the embarrassment causes your ears to turn red.

“Yeonjun.”

..̇·𓏲 would you wanna run away too?

Yeonjun found himself coming to the cafe across campus more often now. The girl behind the counter piqued his interest, more than anyone he’s ever come across before. The energy you gave off, the fact that you were so shy? He couldn’t get you out of his head. So much so that he caught himself visiting you for his iced americano at least once a day.

Yeonjun was never on the shy side, he had always been popular at school, living a life filled with social interaction. Everyone at school always adored him, not only for his looks but his charming personality. Which only made the fact that not being able to talk to you is a weird, new feeling for him.

As much as he wanted to talk to you, he just didn’t know what to say. Where to start, how the conversation should come about. He was overthinking, and he also felt like it was wrong to only visit the cafe as an excuse to see you, like a stalker, although this is just some innocent crush.

“A large iced americano please,” Yeonjun asks, giving you his sweetest smile. You glance up at him and give a slight nod. He has been coming to the cafe more often lately, you weren’t sure why but you weren’t complaining. A handsome customer becoming a regular was something that caused you to look forward to your shifts.

“Is that all?” you ask, looking up to glance at his features again. Fuck he was so attractive.

“Actually, there’s something else I wanted to ask.” Yeonjun declares, his face covered with a layer of determination. You don’t say anything, the feeling of anticipation bubbling in your stomach. “Can I also get your number?”

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Not in a million years could you have predicted that the handsome regular would ask for your number.

“U-um yeah sure it’s _” you're stuttering, no one ever asked for your number before. Is this the “y/n moment” so many people on the internet talk about?

..̇·𓏲 you look so perfect standing there

As soon as you get home from your shift a notification lights up your screen. It was a foreign feeling to see your phone light up from a notification, let alone a message. Of course, you had friends, but they preferred to hang out in person rather than text.

You already knew who it could be from, your cheeks heating up at the thought, and possibilities of what this notification might contain. Getting ready for bed quickly, you envelope yourself in your comforter. The light from your phone screen lights up your dark room.

unknown number: hey, is this y/n? its yeonjun. from the cafe.

you: Yes this is y/n :)

yeonjun: hi! you got home safely, im glad.

you: Yes I did, and so did you. I’m also glad.

yeonjun: lol ya i hope i didn’t come off too strong earlier. i just want to get to know you more.

you: No you didn’t, Its ok. I didn’t think you would even want my number. It was kind of a surprise.

yeonjun: what ofc i would want your number, i think you’re really pretty. and you make good americanos

you: Thank you, it just wasn’t what i was expecting. Americanos arent rocket science tho, its literally water and espresso lol

yeonjun: yeah ik but they taste so much better when you make them :)

It’s only been a few minutes since you and Yeonjun started talking over text, but your face has already turned into a deep shade of crimson. Throwing your phone across your bed, you shove your face into your pillow letting out a scream. The sound of your feet hitting your bed as you kick them and giggle like a mad woman. As you come back to your senses, you quickly remember that you have yet to reply.

you: You flatter me Yj, you should keep coming back for them if you like them so much.

yeonjun: yj? even my nickname sounds sweeter coming from you, but the Americanos weren’t the only thing i was coming back for.

The smile on your face hurts your cheeks. Never has anyone made you feel like Yeonjun did as he texted you. The blatant flirting and numerous compliments realized how much you were missing out on while living your mundane student life.

It had only been a few hours of texting each other back and forth, but you started to grow fond of the person Yeonjun is. He’s so handsome, not just in the face, but also with the way he carried himself. The impression he gives off is insanely attractive. The way he made you feel wanted, liked, and cherished over the simplest things reeled you in.

..̇·𓏲 your lipstick stain is a work of art

It’s been a few weeks since you and Yeonjun started talking but it has started to become a part of your daily routine. You’ve become accustomed to the many good morning and goodnight texts, the late night Facetime calls, and the blatant flirting from Yeonjun.

He still comes into the cafe daily to grab his iced americano which you look forward to every shift.

“Hey y/n!” a voice coming from the entrance grabs your attention.

You’re working the lunch rush and have been trying to restock the pastries in the glass display. To your dismay they weren’t cooperating with you, leaving you frustrated and tired. A sigh of defeat leaves your lips and you turn your head over to the person calling your name.

It’s him. The one person who makes your whole shift a little better. He looked so good walking through the door. His dark blue hair appeared more vibrant than usual, and the sun was hitting his face in the most heavenly way. Your heart was pumping hard, the flow of blood running to your ears and cheeks.

Yeonjun walks up to you, and you notice someone following close behind him. Your eyes shift between the two of them. Assuming thoughts filling your head quickly.

She is really pretty, you thought.

They walk up to the counter together, laughing about something amongst themselves. It made your heart sink to the floor. The feeling in itself made you want to throw up.

Quickly, you push it aside. You were not wanting your feelings to get in the way of your professionalism, especially at work.

“Oh, hey Yeonjun and friend. What can I get for you guys?” you ask, smiling a little too hard, trying hard to act normal.

“Two americanos pleasee,” he answers, prolonging the ‘please’ with a little pout. If not for your current situation you would’ve found Yeonjun adorable. Your heart can only feel a stinging sensation at the view of the two in front of you.

“Sounds good. They’ll be at the end of the counter for you guys,” you mumbled, not really making eye contact with Yeonjun.

He senses your change in mood but didn’t want to make a fuss with a line slowly forming behind him. It’s the lunch rush after all, so he brushes it off for the time being. Leaving you to work, making a mental note to ask you about it when you’re off.

..̇·𓏲 got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

Your shift felt longer than usual, probably due to the fact that you couldn’t get Yeonjun off your mind. The feeling in your chest still hasn’t subsided. Who are you to feel jealous about him hanging around other girls? Especially knowing that the two of you aren’t even together. With that tidbit of information circling your mind, you felt even more guilt for letting jealousy get the better of you.

Not bothering to even check your phone, you focus on getting home quickly, wanting to take a shower as soon as you got back. Walking down the sidewalk your legs felt like jelly, thankfully you didn’t live that far from work. It was already past sunset and the light summer breeze whistled with every step you took. Five minutes and you’re already standing in front of your building. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you stare up at the brown bricks towering over you, imagining your bed and the comfort it brings you.

As you come closer to your building you see a figure leaning against the wall near the entrance. Your senses are heightened considering there usually aren’t many suspicious people who tend to hang around your building. The distance between you and this stranger has gotten smaller, revealing their identity. All the while your heart drops once again, but in relief.

“Y/n! Hey sorry if I freaked you out. You weren’t answering my texts I thought something bad happened to you.” Yeonjun explained, coming closer to you. His scent fills your senses, calming you down in just a blink of an eye. Thank god it was just him and not some stalker.

“Hi Junnie, sorry I didn’t answer you. I didn’t check my phone after I got off. How do you know where I live?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, pretending to be suspicious of his actions. Your arms are crossed as you face towards him, his eyes are round as a globe.

“U-uh sorry if I seem like a creep y/n-” he chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his head “-I asked one of your friends because you usually shoot me text when you’re off work.”

“Oh ok, and no I don’t think your creepy. We’ve known eachother long enough to know these types of things anyways.” You comfort him, patting his back as you tilt your head towards the entrance. Silently asking if he wanted to come upstairs with you.

As if it didn’t exist in the first place, the feeling of jealousy brewing in your stomach disappeared. The only thing left was the warmth Yeonjun brought you, even though your relationship has been undefined. Unlabelled. He felt like a new world you had yet to explore. New experiences that you’re waiting to try. Although he was popular, especially with the women around campus, he was a total green flag.

Yeonjun nods his head, giving you his signature heart stopper smile as you lead him up to your apartment.

The familiar air of the building envelopes you, both of your footsteps echoing as you slowly ascend up the stairs. It wasn’t too long of a trip since you live on the second floor.

A warm hand intertwines with yours, causing the hair on your arms to stand. The chills running through your body like an electric shock. If you weren’t quick enough, you would’ve tripped on the next step; taking Yeonjun down with you. But you relax, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you allow him to continue to follow you.

What felt like an eternity, was in reality only a minute or two. You and Yeonjun finally made it up to the front door of your home. Your hands staying intertwined even when you fetch your keys from the bottom of your bag. As you unlock the door, your shoulders instantly relax. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you clocked into work.

“Well, this is me.” you turn to him, shyly smiling. It wasn’t much but you were happy here.

He chuckles. “Its cute. It suits your vibe.”

You can’t help but smile as you continue to drag him through the rest of your living space. He follows you obediently, taking in everything little by little. The whole place felt warm, cozy, familiar. Which is exactly how Yeonjun feels about you.

“Im gonna take a shower and change. You can watch something while you wait if you’d like.” You beam up at him with his hand still glued to yours, both sets of eyes twinkling against the ambient lighting. In this specific lighting you found Yeonjun to be so pretty. The dim lighting accentuating his features; the pink tint to his lips, the sharpness of his nose, the admiration in his eyes.

Distracted by your beauty, Yeonjun can only smile and nod.

..̇·𓏲 dont move, honey

As you leave your room, you see Yeonjun sitting on your couch. Looks like he’s made himself at home, you thought. Giggling quietly to yourself, you close the door shut. The sound causing Yeonjun to move his eyes over to you. His eyes are stuck on your figure, he didn’t expect you to walk out in such little clothing. The lump in his throat gets harder to swallow as you make your way to him.

Your definition of comfortable clothing is a oversized shirt and some sleep shorts. Yeonjun doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to be rude and keep staring but he just can’t tear his eyes off you. The way your wet hair is causing your shirt to dampen; giving a sneak peak at your breasts. Or the factt that your shorts barely covered any part of you, it almost looked like you weren’t wearing any at all. God, he felt like a pervert, you looked so good he couldn’t help but feel-

“Whatcha watching?” you inquire, sitting down beside him, dangerously close.

“Hmm just some random youtube video I stumbled upon.” he shrugs, trying to look non-chalant, but in reality, he was screaming at himself for being so turned on right now.

“Oh ok.” You turn your attention towards the TV, your body stiff as you think about the proximity between you and Yeonjun right now. It’s the frist time he’s been over, and it’s also the first time you’ve spent alone time in person. At this moment you can only wonder if he feels the same way you do.

With that thought, the memory of the girl who accompanied him to the cafe ressurfaces. You wonder if she was something more to him, of if they are just friends. Silently you pray its the latter. The feelings you’ve grown for Yeonjun seems to strengthen with everyday and night that you two talk. Although its a sad thought, he has every right to talk to other people; especially since neither of you stated that you would be exclusive. You aren’t really an expert in these types of situations anyways.

Ever since you were young, the only relationships you’ve experienced were through media or reading. Some of your friends would tell you about their dating experiences, but you had no stories of your own to share. You were never as outgoing as they were, and you also didn’t like the idea of going out as often as they did. Funnily enough you still ended up in a job where you had to talk to strangers. All of that had lead you to believe that you were better off living the single life, as sad as it sounds; it was true for a good portion of your life.

Until Yeonjun.

“H-hey can I ask you something?” you turn over to face your body towards Yeonjun, your eyes flashing with clear nervousness. He pauses the video turning towards you with curious eyes.

“Yeah of course, anything.” He smiles at you, his hand patting your bare thigh reassuringly. The action causing your cheeks heat up almost instantly.

“Who was that girl you were with earlier? I know it’s not my place to ask considering we’re just friends but I’ve been thinking about it all day. Obviously if you’re not comfy you do-,” He cuts you off, a giggle leaving his lips.

“Shes just a friend. She’s dating Soobin so you don’t need to worry.” he reassures, his hand coming back to your thigh again, squeezing it lightly, but this time he keeps it there. Your heartbeat is now in your throat as you look down at his hand. The veins running along his arms were prominent; the fact that his whole hand could grip more than half your thigh caused an unfamiliar heat to flow down to your lower body.

“O-oh, ok just pretend I didn’t ask that then,” you mumble, your eyes still focused on the way he was no rubbing your thigh. It felt good to experience this type of skinship with him, even if it wasn’t all that much. It still has you stumbling over your words.

“I thought you knew I liked you already y/n. I thought you knew from the moment I asked for your number.” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours.

Your breath hitched not being able to move your eyes away from his lips.

“U-um I didn’t know. No ones ever shown interest in me.” you confess, your head now turned down towards your hands as you play with them nervously.

“Thats ok baby, I’m interested in you. I like you.” Yeonjun states firmly. His finger carefully placed under your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. This is the first time you’ve seen Yeonjun look so serious. You couldn’t help but gulp.

“I like you too Junnie.” you whisper, your eyes locked on his. Smiling, Yeonjun strokes your cheek with his thumb. The warmth of his hand still burning onto your thigh.

“Fuck y/n It’s so hard for me to hold back when you call me that.” His tone is low. Staring at your lips, he begins to trace their outline.

“What? Junnie?” you provoke, matching his tone. A groan almost leaves his lips but instead his grip on your thigh only tightens.

“May I kiss you y/n?” Yeonjun’s polite words are a stark contracts as to all the thoughts brewing in his head. You seem to have lost your voice, only nodding as you slowly try to close the gap.

With Yeonjun’s lips on yours he grips your waist pulling you onto his lap in a swift motion. You can’t help but yelp at how easily he can move you around. It was like you were his own personal ragdoll. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he deepens the kiss.

This is your first time kissing someone but you’re glad your first is Yeonjun. Not only do you have feelings for him, but he tasted so good. It felt so wrong but right at the exact same time.

The two of you continue to kiss passionately, and you feel yourself naturally move with the flow. Your hips starting to move back and forth slightly as Yeonjun guides you with his large hands. A tiny gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard rub against your core. Although this was all new to you, it was like you already knew what to do. Yeonjun takes the opportunity to allow his tongue to enter your mouth. This surprises you, pulling away you say,

“Junnie I-i’ve never done anything like this before.” you squeaked, burying your face into his neck. He rubs his hands up and down the sides of your thighs, soothing you.

“Thats alright princess, I can show you how. Will you let me?” he asks, his hands moving to take your face away from the space between his shoulder and neck. Brushing the hair out of your face, he tucks the strands behind your ear. The action in itself can only cause your cheeks to burn a deep red. Everything Yeonjun did always had you feeling like the most cherished girl in the world. You can only nod as his actions have left you speechless.

“With your words princess.” he demands, a hand snakes down to your hips giving you an encouraging squeeze.

“Yes Junnie, please show me how,” you murmur. Steadily, you move closer to him wanting to close the gap between you two again. You want to feel the same way you did when your bodies were pressed up against eachother.

“Alright darling, just let me know if it gets too much for you ok? I’ll only go as far as you let me.”

“Yes Junnie.”

“Good girl.” his hands are back on your hips, his lips back on yours. The wet sounds coming from both your mouths have you riled up. Yeonjuns back to moving your hips back and forth, desperately wanting to increase the friction. The sensation of his hard dick rubbing against you was addicting. Your thin shorts not really leaving anything up to imagination.

Yeonjun can only groan, the feeling of your warm cunt against his cock is driving his crazy. He can only wonder how it must feel to be inside you.

“F-feel’s good Jun.” you moan into the kiss, your hips now moving on their own accord.

“You like that princess?” he chuckles, peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his tracks. Slowly his hands creep up under your shirt. It lifts ups as his hands move higher. They almost hit your bare breasts, but before he proceeds he looks up to you for approval. You can only nod, dazed from all your senses going into overdrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste any time and removes your shirt. You’re left bare in front of him, the blush on your cheeks still noticeable in the dim lighting.

“You’re beautiful love,” he assures, going back to his ministrations. Kissing up and down your neck until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in his hand and the other one in his mouth. You can only moan, your head lolling back from the pleasure. Hands gripping onto his hair for some type of balance.

Yeonjun is rock hard under you, the pulse in his dick only getting more noticable the more he pleasures you. He wants to show you how much he wants you, to show you how much you deserved to be cherished.

Tongue swirling around your nipple, your moans become less shy, the feeling of being pleasured taking over you. Yeonjuns mouth moving onto the other nipple as he picks you up. You yelp from the sudden movement but wrap your legs around his waist anyways.

His feet padding towards your bedroom, he opens the door. Gently he places you on your mattress, situating himself between your legs.

“Are you still doing ok over there sweetheart?” he inquires.

“Really ok Junnie, please keep going. Want more.” you whimper, your elbows stablizing you as you get a good view of him. He begins to remove your shorts, your pussy glistening from how wet he’s gotten you. A groan bubbles up in Yeonjuns throat; just looking at you in this light could make him cum.

He makes himself comfortable with his head between your thighs. Taking things slow, he uses one finger to play with your entrance. Rubbing you all over, collecting your wetness before he finally pushes a finger in.

You moan, your elbows collapsing from the pleasure. You grip your sheets as he pumps his finger in and out of you. The lewd sounds of your soaking core bouncing off the walls. After a few more pumps he adds in another finger, the stretch burning so good.

He looks up at you to see you whimpering for him, his name leaving your mouth in what sounded like a sweet melody. The way your brows scrunch with his every moves turns him on even more. Watching you coming undone on his fingers is a sight he wants to see everyday if he could.

“Let me taste you baby.” Yeonjun says with a deep tone to his voice. Every word coming out of his mouth is dripping with lust. With that warning he places a kiss on your clit, your hands moving from your sheets to grip his hair. He continues to kitten lick and suck on your sensitive bud, the pleasure sending you to another universe.

“O-oh Junnie, it feels so good.” you squeak out. He places your legs over his shoulders, delving into you more. He’s properly eating you out now, his fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat while licking you all at the same time. As he goes on, an unfamiliar feeling starts to brew in your stomach; growing stronger as more time passed.

“I can feel your pussy gripping my fingers baby, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go.” Yeonjun purrs, his words of encouragement is your last straw before your orgasm.

“Good girl, so good for me. You’re doing so well my love.” he’s praising you as he moves back up to your face. Hes smirking at you as he hovers over your naked body. His own body still in between your legs, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices.

“Can I fuck you princess?” he asks.

The vulgar words spewing from his mouth, the way he asks so nicely, the way he calls you such sweet names; the polarity of it all gives you whiplash.

“Yes please, wanna feel you inside me.” you mumble and you press kissing all along his face, moving down towards his neck. You found it so attractive how he always asks for your consent.

He quickly undresses, both your clothes randomly thrown around the room. Situating himself between your legs once again, he sits himself on his heels. Pumping his length a few times he then rubs the tip up and down your slit, collecting your juices. The squelching sound of your lips rubbing against his him is like music to his ears.

Yeonjun finally enters you, causing your back to arch with every inch he slowly puts in. You’ve only heard about sex through friends, but being able to experience it yourself is on another level. The stretch of his cock pushing inside you stings more than when he was fucking you with his fingers.

“Mmm Junnie I think you’re too big,” you whimper while hes pressing kisses all over your face to soothe you.

“It’s ok love, it’ll feel better as it goes on ok?” Yeonjun groans, as he keeps pushing into you. He continues till hes dick is buried deep inside you. Stilling for a moment, he lets you get used to the feeling. The scrunched up look on your face begins to relax, giving him a signal to start thrusting into you.

“Fuck baby you feel so good around me.” he whispers.

At first hes slow, but the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his dick starts to fog his thoughts. Your moans increase in volume, his name falling off your lips repeatedly.

“Junnie, hmmm it feels so good. Faster please.” you beg as your wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down for another kiss. Who is he to deny you?

He fucks into you faster, this time you can hear the slapping sounds as his length goes in and out of you. One of his hands moving between the two of you to rub your clit and his thrusts to turn sloppy.

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head the more Yeonjun pumps his dick into you. You could feel his length kiss your cervix with every thrust. This is all so new to you, and the only thing you could do is keep moaning and telling him how good it felt.

“This pussy was made for me. Isn’t it baby?” he states rather than asks.

“Y-yes Jun.” you’re a stuttering mess, you could barely answer him as it is.

“Taking me so well princess. I wanna fuck you like this all the time now.” he praises again, taking your thighs and pressing them towards your stomach. The new angle causes you to whimper, you can feel him so much deeper. Your gummy walls are practically suctioning him.

You moan in response. He’s fucked you dumb at this point, cock drunk with every move he makes inside your wet cunt.

“Can I cum inside you baby?” he asks in between kisses.

“Please Junnie, wanna feel you cum in me.” you moan, the feeling of your clit being stimualted as he fucks you is causing you to see stars. You cum around him, gripping his dick as you ride out your second orgasm. As if on queue Yeonjun relases his cum inside you, halting his thrusts. He continues to kiss you making sure you feel loved and wanted, his member still buried inside you.

“You were amazing for your first time princess.” he praises you once again, you kiss him in response.

“Lets do it again please.” you giggle.

Yeonjun kisses up your neck, his cock still rock hard.

“Whatever you want love.” he responds, thrusting into you again.

#yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #txt smut #txt fic #yeonjun hard hours #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {series: txt as 5sos songs}#wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works}

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wholoveseggs · 5 months ago

Text

Rules {Part Five}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Five

It was never a good idea, falling in love with the enemy. But how were you supposed to know how it would all end up?

♡♡ THANK YOU so much for all the love for this series!!! I had so much fun reading all your comments and inbox messages. Enjoy! and please don't hate me for the ending...♡♡

10.7k words {sorry not sorry} - Warnings: salvatore!sibling reader, smuttttt, Elijah being the sexiest middle-part menace he can be, secret affair, forbidden romance, KLAUS, a little Katherine cameo, ritual sacrifice, death, murder, pain, pain and more pain...

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three} {Part Four}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top!

If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming @criminallminds @rosemarypotion @spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse @sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury @sekaishell @ziayamikaelson @amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28 @loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123

Information, of all things of value in this world, is most precious. Katherine had learned that the hardest of ways.

She had been trying to keep tabs on everyone, especially the Salvatore brothers, who were the cause of her most recent headaches. Dwelling on the irony of that made her skin itch, considering the amount of time she had spent causing them grief.

She was sipping on a glass of bourbon, trying not to think about how her plans were crumbling. She hoped to charm Elijah, get him to protect her like he did last time.

But when he found her, he wasn't the same. He didn't have the same softness about him, the gentleness in his eyes. He was harder, angrier, more ruthless. She supposed that was her fault, she wondered how her life would have turned out had she trusted him...

She didn't regret her choice, she knew it was worth it, she always chose her freedom first, nothing else mattered.

And she had almost gotten away, if only she had a little more information.

But now, here she was, back under the thumb of the man who had taken everything from her.

Klaus.

"Please, just...kill me. I've told you everything that I know," she pleaded, not sure why she was bothering.

He never showed her mercy, but she couldn't help but hope he would spare her, if not for old times sake.

"You see, I believe that you believe that, but what would you not know? What could they be keeping from you? Hmm? Anything? Tell me." He said, his voice was calm as he compelled her to speak the truth.

"When I was at the Salvatore house, I saw their sister, drugged and unconscious. They were keeping her that way,"she said, her voice trembling, she couldn't control the words that came out.

Klaus smiled, the wheels turning in his mind, "Any theories on why they would do that to her?"

Katherine had an idea, but she had no proof. She had no idea what Damon was up to, but he always had a plan.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, she didn't like where this was going.

"C'mon, you have always been a clever little minx," Klaus purred, his hand coming up to caress her cheek, it made her feel sick.

"The only reason I can think of is to stop her from doing something," Katherine said, her mind racing, thinking back to everything she had seen, and the things she had missed.

Klaus grinned, his hand moving down to her throat, he began squeezing the air out of her.

"You can detect weaknesses like a bloodhound can sniff out a fox, so tell me, sweetheart. Is this your best guess or are you holding something back?" He asked, his fingers tightening.

She struggled, clawing at his arm, desperately trying to loosen his grip. "She's... Loyal to a fault, to those she loves, she tried to kill me in the 1800s for messing with her brothers,"

He raised an eyebrow, his face a mask of amusement, "So you think she's shifted loyalties? To whom?" He let go of her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, coughing and wheezing.

"I don't know... The only other players in town are the wolves... There's no reason for her to side with them..." She paused, her mind racing.

"There's only one other option," she said, her face contorting into a grin.

"Who?" Klaus growled, his patience was growing thin.

"Elijah.”

You woke in a strange daze, unsure of how much time had passed. You didn't feel rested, in fact, you felt sluggish.

You sighed softly, trying to gather your strength. Your mind was slightly hazy and you felt hungover. Your limbs were not responding to your commands, causing you even more panic.

Your eyes finally opened, adjusting to the light. You were in your own bedroom, laying on your bed, the soft hum of your ceiling fan was the only thing you could hear.

You had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you slowly looked around. There was a pile of empty blood bags on your nightstand, a cup full of vervain, and a half-empty bottle of bourbon. It was clear that someone had been here taking care of you and keeping you sedated, judging by the empty bottle it was most likely Damon.

You rolled out of bed, stumbling across the room. Your legs were weak, and you were still groggy. You managed to make it to the door and pull it open.

It was eerily quiet, the ticking clock in the hallway was pounding in your ears. You walked towards the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall, hoping to make it all the way down without falling.

As soon as you made it to the bottom, you were overcome with a wave of nausea and dizziness. You grabbed the banister, closing your eyes, waiting for the spell to pass.

Fuzzy, half formed memories came flooding back to you. Elijah was gone, your brothers had stabbed him, and then they had drugged you, so you couldn't wake him.

You remembered Damon coming into your room, holding a blood bag up to your lips, forcing you to drink.

You remembered Stefan, sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair off your forehead, telling you to sleep.

You remembered Elena, cleaning your face, her voice low and gentle, she had been crying, apologizing.

Someone had carried you outside, then Elena invited you back in. The house was under her name now, a new defense measure added. You wondered who they were trying to keep out, had Klaus finally come to town? Fear suddenly gripped you... Where was everyone?

You slowly made your way to the basement door, taking the steps one at a time, trying to ignore the overwhelming need to puke.

Once you were down in the basement, you looked at Elijah's body, lying in the same position you left him. His clothes were now charred and tattered, the pillow and blanket were gone, probably burned to ash.

You moved closer, collapsing on the floor next to his body. He looked the same, gray, his eyes closed, his hair in disarray. You brushed his hair back, leaning down and kissing his forehead.

"lijah," you whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. "I know we agreed, if anything happens, we would say goodbye and walk away, but I can't, not this time. You're a part of me, I don't think you even realize how much you have come to mean to me."

You looked at the dagger in his chest, weighing the consequences of pulling it out. You didn't know what would happen if he woke up, he could rip you to shreds, or he could pull you into his arms, and hold you until you stopped crying.

There was a fifty-fifty chance he would do the latter, and that was good enough for you. Your fingers curled around the blade and you pulled it out. Then you dropped it onto the floor, letting it land with a metallic thud.

Nothing happened.

Elijah was still.

You leaned down and pressed your ear to his chest, listening.

Nothing.

"Please," you said softly, kissing his cold cheek. "Please wake up."

You returned to laying your head on his chest, your fingers curling in the fabric of his suit.

You closed your eyes, tears running down your face, holding in a breath. Waiting, waiting, waiting…

Suddenly, his heart sprung to life, beating rapidly. You sat up quickly, looking down at him, his eyes were open.

You could hardly believe it, he was looking up at the ceiling, his chest heaving, his mouth open. Then he sat up, gasping for air, looking around the basement wildly.

He was in clear agony, struggling to breathe, he looked at you with anguished eyes, the color returning to his face.

"I can't...I can't be in this house." He rushed to his feet, falling over himself, stumbling his way to the exit.

You limped out of the basement and upstairs, racing after him. The moment he got outside, he collapsed on his knees, taking in deep breaths.

You knelt in front of him, safe behind the threshold of the doorway.

"I'm so sorry," You said, your voice shaking. "I had no idea. They drugged me and I couldn't..."

"Y/n," He interrupted, his eyes finding yours, they were full of pain. "I...need a moment,"

You nodded, holding back tears that were threatening to spill. He looked awful, his clothes were ruined, and his skin was gray and dull. He was clearly starving.

You took the dagger and rolled it past the threshold, it hit his knee and he grabbed it, holding it in his hand. He glared at the blade, then looked up at you.

"Thank you," he said, his expression softening. "So much for rule three,"

"You would have done the same for me," you replied, a hint of a smile on your lips.

He slowly got to his feet, his skin still a bit gray, his face tired and worn. He held his hand out, inviting you to step over the threshold, which you did, allowing him to pull you into his arms.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the embrace, your arms wrapped around his neck, you buried your face into his shoulder.

"This is a bad idea," he said, his voice rumbling in his chest.

"I know," you said, squeezing him tightly.

He didn't respond, simply holding you against him, his breathing steadying.

"Do you want to get out of here?" You asked, looking up at him, a sad expression on his face.

"That is an excellent idea,"

Your phone would not stop ringing.

You had been ignoring it for the last few hours. Elijah had taken you to a luxury hotel the next town over, far enough from Mystic Falls so you didn't have to worry about anyone showing up unexpectedly.

You were sitting on the bed, eating some room service, watching him try on some suits he had compelled the concierge to bring to the room.

"Who keeps calling?" Elijah asked, looking at you over his shoulder, buttoning a shirt.

"Damon and Stefan," You replied, sighing, "they are probably worried."

"Why haven't you answered?" He asked, frowning.

"Because... I'm mad at them," You admitted, picking at the food on your plate. "After what they did to me,"

"They were protecting themselves, and you," he said softly, putting his suit jacket on, and smoothing it.

You were surprised by him defending them, considering they had literally killed him.

"It doesn't matter, I can't face them right now," you said, shaking your head, "I'll just ignore their calls, it's the best I can do."

A text from Damon popped up on your screen, in full capital letters, it read:

‘WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! ANSWER YOUR PHONE.’

You grumbled and picked your phone up, ready to block him when you got another text. This one was from Stefan:

‘Klaus is in town, in Alaric's body. Please just let us know you are okay,’

Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, staring at the message.

Elijah had been looking at you and saw your reaction, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, maybe nothing," you said, showing him your phone, his face darkening when he saw the texts.

He looked at you for a long moment, like he was contemplating his next words very carefully.

"What?" You asked, wondering what was going through his mind.

"We can't do this," he said, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous."

"What?" You said again, standing up and walking over to him.

You placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up to his shoulders. He was avoiding your gaze, but his arms moved around your waist, pulling you against him.

"What's wrong?" You asked, searching his face, but he still wouldn't look at you.

"Rule two, darling," he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours, his hands caressing your back.

"Don't do that," you said, your voice breaking, your chest ached, you were holding back tears. "I don't care about the rules, I just want you,"

"You don't know what you're asking for," he said, his breath hitching, his voice low. "If Klaus finds out about you and I, he will kill you,"

"Why? Why do you want to kill him? Who is he to you?" You asked, wanting answers, your hands curled into fists on his chest.

"I've known him since I was a child, he's my brother," he said, pulling back, so he could look you in the eyes.

You blinked, not believing what he was saying.

"But..." you stammered, not sure what to say.

He swallowed hard and began telling you all about his life. His family, what life was like in the viking age, being turned vampire, learning his mother had been unfaithful, that his beloved brother was a bastard.

"I never saw him any different, none of our siblings did," he said, his voice wavering.

You could tell this was a difficult subject, you squeezed his hand, reminding him that you were there.

"We learned of our mother's infidelity in the worst way possible..." He trailed off, his voice shaking.

"You don't have to," you said, scooting closer, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head against yours, his fingers stroking your arm. "I've done many terrible things, but what plagues me the most is what I did to Niklaus,"

"What did you do?" You asked, lifting your head to look at him, his brown eyes were watery.

He shook his head, unable to vocalize it, and you didn't push him. You held him, waiting, knowing it would take time.

He eventually continued, his voice low, filled with shame. "My mother was a powerful witch, she cursed him. She bound his werewolf side, made him weaker, unable to turn. She used the full moon to make it possible to break the curse."

You frowned, thinking over what he was telling you. It didn't make any sense, Klaus was a vampire, not a werewolf.

"I thought..." you said, hesitating. "I thought he was a vampire,"

"He is," Elijah said, nodding, "he's also a werewolf, but that side of him bound,"

He continued his story, explaining how Klaus was different, that he was a hybrid. The first and only of his kind, half vampire, half werewolf.

He told you how Klaus was angry and resentful, and that he had good reason to be. That he and Klaus had spent many centuries trying to break his curse, to free him from his chains.

"So the ritual isn't about werewolves or vampires being freed from their curses," You said, the realization hitting you.

"No, it's not," He admitted, frowning. "It's about my brother,"

You were quiet for a long time, processing all of the information. So Klaus had no intention of freeing the werewolves or the vampires, he just wanted to be free.

"So why do you want to kill him?" You asked, looking at Elijah.

He sighed, rubbing his face, clearly struggling.

"I have other siblings, and he took them from me," He said, his tone was strained, the words catching in his throat. "I've searched for decades, and I can't find them,"

You squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.

"I've lost all hope of ever finding them," he said, his jaw clenching, he looked at you with his dark tear filled eyes. "All I have now is my revenge,"

You nodded, understanding where he was coming from. If you lost your brothers, you would burn the world down to avenge them.

"What is the ritual supposed to do?" You asked, curious, wanting to learn more.

"He has to kill a werewolf, a vampire, and a doppelganger. Their blood is necessary for the ritual," he explained, his fingers gently running along your arm. "When it's complete he will be weakened, then I will kill him."

"Elena is innocent... Elijah I'm sorry but you can't let him hurt her," you said, frowning.

He looked away from you, his brow furrowing, "She has to die, but not permanently,"

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused.

"A few centuries ago, there was another doppelganger, I grew some affections for her... I found a way to keep her alive," he said, his tone was flat.

"Katherine," you said, the name leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

He nodded, "I will give Elena the elixir I acquired for Katerina. It will save her,"

You let out a sigh of relief, at least Elena would be safe.

"To kill your brother, it's not an easy thing to do," You said, leaning your head against his. "Are you really prepared for what it means?"

"The full moon is in three days," He said, changing the subject, his expression was grim. "The ritual will happen then,"

"Yes," he said, without a moment of hesitation.

You sat in silence, neither of you knew what to say.

"Sometimes there's honor in revenge," he said, his hand resting on your leg. "And sometimes you just need to put down a rabid dog, no matter how much you once loved him."

"Eli-," You started, but he cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours.

You melted against him, forgetting what you were about to say. He had this way of silencing you, and it drove you crazy.

"No more talk of the ritual," he said, his fingers gently brushing over your cheek, his eyes gazing into yours. "I want to enjoy the time we have left,"

You didn't know what to say, so you nodded, and he kissed you again.

Elijah watched you sleep, the sheet barely covering your naked body. His fingers traced patterns along your skin, his touch light as a feather.

He was trying to ignore the dread, the sinking feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach.He needed to plan, to prepare for what he had to do, but the only thing on his mind was you.

He should have known better, he was foolish to have ever gotten involved with you. When he came to Mystic Falls he told himself no weaknesses, no distractions, and yet here you were.

"Stop watching me, it's creepy," you mumbled, rolling over, the sheet falling off of you, revealing your naked form.

"Apologies," he said, unable to help the smirk that tugged at his lips.

"I forgive you, I know I'm irresistible," you said, yawning, stretching, your body arching.

He chuckled, leaning over, kissing you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours, "If I asked you to do something, would you do it?"

You gave him a curious look, your fingers tangling in his hair, "That depends,"

"Would you stay here, and not interfere with the ritual?" He asked, his brow furrowing, his tone was strained.

"Elijah-," You said, sitting up, the sheets pooling around your waist.

"Please," he begged, his eyes softening.

"But Elena-," You tried to protest, but he cut you off with a kiss, his hands cupping your face.

"Your brothers will keep her safe, but if you were involved... I would lose my mind with worry," he admitted, his eyes filled with turmoil.

"I thought this was just physical?" You teased, hoping to ease the tension.

He smiled and shook his head, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I love you," he said it so softly you barely heard it, his voice cracking.

You looked at him, searching his face for any signs of a lie, but there was none. He wasn't lying, he was telling the truth, the sincerity in his words and his eyes was evident.

Your words caught in your throat, a lump forming. You couldn't bring yourself to say it, you wanted to, but it was like there was a block.

You pressed your lips to his, your tongue sliding past his lips, kissing him deeply, trying to pour all of your emotions into it.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing your jaw, "Say it,"

"I can't," You whispered, your voice wavering.

He tilted your chin up, his dark eyes meeting yours. "I love you miss Salvatore, and it frightens me more than anything ever has,"

"Elijah," you said, cupping his face, your heart aching. "I... I love you too,"

He pulled you into a kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso.

You were panting, the kiss was heated, needy, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You felt his erection against your inner thigh, hard and ready, and you ground against it.

"I love you," you repeated, his hands grabbing your ass, pulling you closer.

"I love you," he replied, his lips attacking your neck, sucking, biting, marking you as his.

You reached down, wrapping your fingers around his length, sliding your hand along his shaft, positioning him at your entrance.

You lowered yourself down, desperately needing to feel connected to him, his fingers dug into your hips as you sat fully in his lap, taking him deep inside of you.

He moaned, his eyes closing, his head tilting back, you leaned forward and kissed his neck, your fangs scraping along his skin.

You rolled your hips, slowly, taking him in and out of you, his breath hitching with each movement. You grinned against his skin, loving how you were making him react.

"That's it, take what you need," he said, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, keeping you close to him.

"I love you," you breathed, your voice a soft whimper, as you sunk your fangs into his neck.

His blood flooded your mouth, warm and sweet, and you sucked, feeling his pulse beating against your lips. He tasted like pure power, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

He moaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, gripping it tight. You were riding him, moving your hips in a fluid motion, grinding down onto him, feeling his cock hit that perfect spot deep inside.

You pulled back, his blood dripping from your lips, his hands were on your ass, guiding your hips. He kissed you, biting down on your bottom lip and tasting you. Your blood mixing together, it was the most erotic thing you had ever done.

"That's my girl," he whispered, his voice ragged, his eyes dark with lust. "So beautiful, and mine,"

"Yes, all yours," you moaned, grinding down harder onto him.

You felt his hand moving between your ass cheeks, his finger finding your puckered hole, slowly pressing into you.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed, it felt so good, him inside of you like this.

"I want you to cum for me, my sweet little love," he said, his voice soft and gentle, his finger moving deeper.

You moaned, clutching at his chest, your nails raking along his skin, drawing blood. The combination of him filling you, his finger, and the taste of his blood in your mouth sent you over the edge.

You let out a long, low moan, against his lips, your walls clenching around him, milking him for everything he had.

He grunted, his eyes fluttering closed, he bit his lip, trying to muffle his moans, and he came deep inside of you.

Your body was trembling, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, his skin slick with sweat, the smell of sex and blood hung heavy in the air.

You pulled back and kissed him, his hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"After this is all over, will you come with me?" He asked, his hand stroking your cheek.

"Where would we go?" You asked, smiling.

"Anywhere, preferably somewhere with a beach and sunshine," he replied, his fingers running through your hair.

"It's a date," you said, nuzzling his neck, breathing in his scent.

"A date?" He chuckled, his fingers tickling your sides, you giggled and squirmed away from him. "That's new for us,"

You grinned, looking down at him. "I like the sound of it,"

"As do I," he agreed, his hand stroking your cheek.

"When I first met you, I never would've thought we'd end up here," you mused, running your fingers along his jaw.

"Neither did I," he admitted, his lips turning up into a small smile.

"So, tell me about this beach trip, what would we do?" You asked, wanting to keep him talking, not wanting to leave his side.

"Hmmm," he said, thinking for a moment. "I would find us a quiet little bungalow, right on the water, with a private stretch of sand for us,"

You closed your eyes, listening to the smooth timber of his voice, imagining the soft waves and fresh ocean air.

"And we'd have our meals brought in by servants, we'd lounge on the beach, swim, and make love whenever the mood struck us," he said, his fingers dancing across your back.

"I could live with that," you said, sighing contently, enjoying his warmth.

"I'm glad," he said, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, a soft, gentle kiss.

You broke the kiss and stared into his dark eyes, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

"If anything happens to me I want you to know, I don't regret a single second of it," he said, his voice soft.

"What?" You asked, giving him a worried look.

"You need to know, in case I fail, and my brother ends me before I can end him," he said, his face serious, his eyes clouded with fear.

"Elijah-," you started to protest, but he cut you off.

"Promise me," he said, his voice pleading. "If this ends badly, you will remember rule three,"

"I thought we had given up on the rules," you said, trying not to let him see how afraid you were.

"Not this one," he said, his voice cracking.

"Why? You can't seriously expect me to-"

"Please," he said, his dark eyes locked on yours. "For me,"

You sighed and nodded, leaning into him, his arms wrapping around you.

"Thank you," he whispered, his fingers stroking your back, his lips brushing against your hair.

"Just come back to me," you said, trying not to cry.

"Always,”

The problem, Damon: you talk a good game but you don't actually know anything. She'll never forgive you. And never for a vampire...It's a very long time.

Elijah's words had been echoing around in Damon's head since that morning, the smugness in the older vampire's voice made him want to put his fist through the wall.

He had made a mess of things, but he couldn't admit that to anyone. The feeling he had when he learned that today was the day of the sacrifice, the day that he would lose Elena... He simply couldn't handle it. His desire for action was overwhelming.

He didn't like everything being out of his control, so he did what he had to do. And now his brother and Elena hated him. Elijah being right was the cherry on top of his shit sundae.

In times like this, when he hit rock bottom then fell a little further, he turned to his oldest friend, his closest confidant, his beloved sister.

But you weren't picking up the phone, despite Elijah's assurances you were alive and somewhere safe, it didn't soothe his worries.

So he tried one last time, and this time you actually picked up, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard your voice.

"If you are calling to lecture me on love, I will remind you that you are no better," your voice made his throat constrict.

"I know, I'm not," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

"Are you okay?" You asked, a little softer.

"No," he answered, his voice shaking.

"What happened?" You asked, concern creeping into your tone.

"Everything's gone to hell," he replied, his voice strained. "I gave Elena my blood... Well actually I made her drink my blood,"

"Oh Damon..."

"I had no other choice,"

"She's going to hate you,"

"I know, Elijah told me,"

"Damon... He's right,"

"I know that too,"

There was a silence on the other end of the phone, he could hear you moving around, like you were packing a bag.

"I'm on my way," you said, finally. "Partly to kick your ass, partly to give you a hug,"

"Always the multitasker," he joked, his voice cracking. "But do not come home tonight, I just need to know you are safe,"

"I'll do what I want," you said, and he could almost see the pout on your lips.

He smiled, he had missed your stubbornness, and it was the closest thing to normal he had felt all day. But he couldn't risk you being involved, everyone was already in the crossfire, and the thought of you being added to that mix was too much for him to bear.

"Sister," he said, his voice firm. "Please, please, listen to me, just this once, and stay away,"

You let out a long, irritated sigh, "I'm so bored, and I'm getting hungry,"

"Well then go find someone nice to eat and watch a movie," he suggested, chuckling.

"I can't concentrate, not when everyone I love is in danger," you grumbled.

"Does that love extend to Elijah?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Yes," you said simply, and his heart ached.

He had known, of course, but hearing you say it aloud made it real.

"Why him? Like seriously..." Damon asked, he was genuinely curious, and he needed something to distract him from the shit show he had gotten himself into. "How did you even meet him?"

"I was hunting," you answered, sounding amused. "He found my methods to be entertaining, and I found him to be a challenge,"

"Did you know who he was? What he planned for Elena?" Damon asked, trying not to sound judgemental.

"Yes, I knew who he was. But we had rules, to keep things from getting complicated," you explained.

"That didn't really work out did it?" He teased, smiling.

"No," you admitted, laughing.

There was a long pause, and he could feel his emotions starting to get the best of him.

"Damon, promise me you won't die for her?" You asked, your voice wavering.

"You know I can't do that," he said, his voice low.

"I know," you whispered. "Just please, try to survive this,"

"I'll do my best," he promised, knowing he couldn't really promise anything.

"I love you big brother," you said, and his eyes started to water. "Tell Stefan I love him too,"

"I will, I love you too," he choked out, and he heard the line go dead.

Damon stared at his phone, the picture of you, him and Stefan was staring back at him, his heart aching.

"I hope I see you tomorrow, little sis,"

The town you were hiding out in was quiet and a little boring, but you didn't mind. It was the first time in a long time you had had a few days to yourself, no drama, no life or death situations. Just perfect mundanity.

You were lounging in a café, enjoying a cup of coffee, and watching the locals, wondering what their lives were like. You envied them, their simplicity, their happiness. You imagined you and Elijah in a little house, in a place like this, with a garden and a view of the ocean.

You were lost in your own world, dreaming about the impossible, when someone cleared their throat. You looked up, a smile playing at your lips. Dinner had just arrived.

He was handsome, with curly hair and blue eyes, he had a sharp wicked glint in his eyes that sent a thrill through you. You always enjoyed a good meal with a bit of bite.

"Mind if I sit?" He asked, grinning.

"Not at all," you purred, gesturing to the chair.

He sat, and ordered a coffee, and he turned his attention back to you.

"I don't mean to be so forward, but you are downright striking," he said, his gaze running over your body.

"Thank you," you said, giving him a flirty smile. "It's a bit of a family trait,"

"Is that so? Mine as well, if you can't tell," he said, smiling.

You laughed, enjoying his company.

"You aren't from around here," he observed, sipping his coffee.

"Neither are you," you said, tilting your head.

"I'm just visiting, on vacation," he replied, grinning.

"Same,"

He was charming, and handsome, and you could feel the hunger starting to rise within you.

"I'm staying at the Inn down the street," he said, giving you a hopeful look.

"I'm staying there as well,"

"Well then, may I escort you home?"

"You may,"

The walk back to the Inn was short, you enjoyed his company, he was easy to talk to, and funny.

"Would you like a nightcap?" He asked, flashing you a crooked smile.

"That would be lovely," you said, grinning.

His hand came to rest on the small of your back, guiding you into the room. You usually enjoyed playing with your food a little before you ate, but you were committed to Elijah now, and you didn't want to stray.

As soon as you entered his room, he pinned you to the wall, moving in to kiss you. You politely dodged by pressing your lips to his neck, breathing him in.

"You are a vision," he said, his hand sliding up your arm, and into your hair.

"Thank you," you murmured, your fangs grazing his skin, his pulse racing beneath your lips.

He moaned, and gripped your waist, pressing his hips against yours. You could feel him, hard against your thigh, and you went to bite down.

Suddenly, he pulled your head back by your hair, hard. With strength you hadn't expected, he forced you back, pushing you hard into the wall, the plaster cracking behind you.

"I see why my brother is so taken," he growled, his eyes darkening.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, "Klaus,"

"The one and only, love," he said, smirking.

You tried to pull away, but his grip on you was too strong.

"Don't worry, love," he purred, his hand stroking your cheek. "I won't hurt you,"

"Fuck you," you said, glaring at him.

He smirked, and kissed you, hard, his teeth cutting into your lips.

"You're a feisty little thing," he said, licking his lips. "Even wilder than your brothers,"

You hissed and tried to struggle, his hands tightening around your arms, digging into your skin. "If you hurt them..."

"Now, now," he said, tutting. "Let's not make threats, especially when you can't back them up,"

You bared your fangs at him, but he only grinned.

"I've been wanting to meet you," he said, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "Elijah's little distraction,"

"I'm more than a distraction," you growled, struggling against his hold.

"Hmmm," he hummed, leaning in and nuzzling your neck. "I know,"

You were too frightened to speak, your whole body trembling.

"It's what I'm counting on dear,"

Klaus had been dragging you through the woods for what felt like hours.

Your fear had turned into anger and you began to try and fight him. It seemed to amuse him for a while, he'd let you run only to catch you with ease.

"Why are you doing this?" You growled, his hand holding your arm tightly, leading you through the trees.

"To be reborn, as I truly am," he said, his expression thoughtful.

You rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, he was a narcissist, the kind of man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" He asked, looking down at you. "One thousand years,"

"I know," you sighed.

"Of course you do," he said, smirking. "Elijah loves to spill his heart out after a good bedding doesn't he?"

You didn't answer him, he was trying to get under your skin, and it was working.

"My brother has always been the strong, self righteous type, with an unbreakable moral code," Klaus chuckled, picking up his pace, dragging you along. "That is... Until he gets his face between a pretty pair of legs,"

"Fuck you," you spat, anger boiling up inside of you.

"You have a smart mouth," he said, his fingers squeezing your arm. "I think I'll like to see how you use it later,"

You freed yourself from his grip and slapped him hard across the face. No man was allowed to speak to you in that way, and you certainly weren't going to tolerate it from this monster.

His expression changed from amusement to anger in the blink of an eye. He slammed you against a nearby tree, the twigs and branches impaling you.

You cried out, blood pouring from the puncture wounds, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"That was very, very stupid,"

His words sent a chill down your spine, and a fresh wave of fear washed over you.

"What's the matter?" He asked, his tone taunting. "No more choice words and acts of violence for me?"

"Don't kill me," you said, tears starting to run down your cheeks.

"I won't," he assured you, his lips brushing against yours. "But I will kill everyone in Mystic Falls if you don't do what I say. If you don't believe me... Just ask sweet little Katerina about it,"

Your blood ran cold, you knew what he was capable of, and you had no choice but to obey him.

Through the trees you could see a circle of fire, and you felt dread sink into the pit of your stomach.

"No," you pleaded, trying to pull away.

"Stop being so dramatic, love," he said, rolling his eyes.

He pulled you into the clearing, throwing you down on the ground next to the three women sitting in their own rings of fire.

You could see Elena, a terrified look on her face, along with her aunt Jenna and a woman you didn't recognize.

"Hello my lovelies," Klaus said, grinning. "Are we all ready?"

He gave you a swift kick, then grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. "I brought an assistant with me,"

He pushed you forward, leaving you to stand there as he walked to the altar, handing the moonstone to a witch standing nearby.

You looked at Elena and Jenna, they were beyond scared, their eyes full of tears, and you felt your stomach twist, you didn't know how to help them.

The witch had begun to chant, a mixture of Latin and something else, the moonstone began to spark, then it exploded into nothing.

"Bring me the wolf," Klaus demanded, looking at you with a wild, manic look in his eyes.

You shook your head, your whole body trembling, you refused to let him hurt someone else.

"It's either them or the entire town, love. That includes your brothers," he growled, his jaw clenched.

The thought of losing Stefan and Damon made your stomach clench, and tears started to run down your face.

"Bring her. Now," he growled, his tone brokering no argument.

You walked towards the first ring of fire, to the terrified woman who was writhing in pain, her cries echoing through the trees.

The ring disappeared as you approached, and you lifted the girl into your arms. She was whimpering and shaking, the transition having begun.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, carrying her to the altar.

"Good girl," Klaus hummed, taking the wolf from your arms, and laying her on the stone.

Klaus kneeled over her, looking down at her with an evil grin, his eyes were filled with a mix of desire and madness, and he plunged his hand into her chest, ripping her heart out.

Jenna and Elena screamed, watching Klaus hold up the wolf's heart, his expression triumphant.

"I'll make it quick, I promise," Klaus said, grinning. "They will barely feel a thing,"

You looked over at Elena and Jenna, their screams piercing the air, the witches chanting growing louder.

Elijah was looking up at the night sky, watching the moon slowly make its way across, his thoughts on you. He couldn't stop thinking about your smile, and the way your eyes lit up whenever you saw him.

If tonight went smoothly, he had so many plans with you, the first was taking you to Paris, a city that was sure to dazzle you. After that he would whisk you away to Rome, where you could visit the many art museums and eat all the food you wanted.

He wanted to spoil you, shower you with everything you could ever want, and then some. It had been nearly sixty years of searching for his brother, trying to uncover the rest of his family. He felt like tonight was the first chance he had to truly mourn, then he could finally move on and spend the rest of his time with you.

He had spoken with Stefan earlier, before he left with Bonnie to go stop Klaus. He liked Stefan, he was an honorable man who respected the choices of the ones he loved, even if he didn't agree with them.

Elijah hoped he and Stefan could be friends one day, once everything settled down, he knew that would make you happy. To see peace between him and your brothers. Damon would be a more difficult task, he reminded him of Klaus, cocky and impulsive, and that was a difficult combination.

The waiting was beginning to make him antsy. He had to wait for the right moment to strike, but there were so many factors outside of his control, he didn't like the feeling. He needed to distract himself, keep his mind from wandering too far.

He thought about his siblings, of sweet Rebekah, wild Kol, and serious Finn. What would they think of him killing Klaus? He wished he could have saved them, he wanted so badly to see them again.

He let out a long sigh, steeling himself for what he had to do. Klaus was no longer his brother, he had been twisted into a monster, and he had to be put down.

It was time, he could see the moon hanging high above him, it was time to end this.

You watched Klaus squeeze the wolf's heart over the altar, the blood dripping into the fire, igniting it.

"Next, the vampire," he said, grinning.

You stood, frozen, watching him, as a wave of guilt crashed over you.

"Bring me Jenna, go on,"

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes.

"No," you said in the smallest voice.

You could hear Jenna and Elena, talking to each other, they were saying their goodbyes and it broke your heart.

Klaus turned, and walked over to you, his eyes were dark and cold, and his jaw was clenched.

"Are you offering yourself in her place then?" He growled, his hand coming up to grab your chin.

You didn't answer him, you were staring over his shoulder at Jenna and Elena.

"I'll take that as a yes,"

You let him drag you to the altar, and push you down onto the cold stone, he forced you to kneel. You didn't fight him, you had lived for many decades longer than sweet Jenna and Elena, the old should always give their lives for the young.

Klaus let out a hearty chuckle and kicked you over, his hand gripping your hair.

"I don't recall you being on the guest list," Klaus yelled, looking into the dark forest.

You heard the sound of footsteps as someone approached, it was Stefan. His expression was calm, but his eyes were furious.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Salvatore?" Klaus asked, amused.

Stefan looked at you, a concerned look on his face.

"Well, I figured you could start by letting my sister go," Stefan said, his voice firm.

"Hmm," Klaus said, looking down at you. "I don't think I will, she's quite the little spitfire, and I rather enjoy her company,"

"Let her go, I'll take her place," Stefan offered, taking a step forward.

"That's quite noble of you," Klaus said, smiling. "But, I think I'd prefer my original plan. I rather appreciate the symmetry of three women...Three goddesses sacrificed at nature's altar."

He grabbed both you and Stefan and dragged you towards the rings of fire. Throwing you both down next to Elena and Jenna.

"Quite the predicament. You know, it's funny, all this talk about preserving family, and here's Stefan, granting your wish," Klaus said to Elena, smiling.

Stefan and Elena were looking at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Oh, don't look so glum," Klaus said, looking between the two. "There's actually no choice,"

Klaus took a stake and plunged it into Stefan's spine, causing him to yell in pain, unable to move.

You and Elena both screamed, you got to your feet to strike Klaus, but he grabbed you by the throat, squeezing hard.

"Let them go," Elena pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. "I understand that I have to die, but they don't,"

Klaus ignored her and looked into your eyes, his hand tightening around your neck.

"Bring Jenna to the altar, or I'll kill Stefan," he growled, his fingers digging into your skin.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes, you couldn't lose Stefan.

"Please," you whispered, your hands clawing at his.

He let you go, then walked back to the altar.

"Bring her, now," he ordered, pointing at the ring of fire surrounding Jenna.

You stood, walking slowly over to the fire, the ring disappeared and Jenna looked up at you with tear filled eyes. She looked so afraid, so helpless.

"I'm so sorry," you said, your voice breaking, as you helped her to her feet.

You walked her over to the altar, Klaus waiting patiently.

"Jenna, I'm so sorry," you whispered, your hand brushing the hair from her face.

She was sobbing, her body shaking, and you held her close, stroking her hair.

"Please Klaus, just use me instead, she's innocent," you begged, tears running down your face.

"You Salvatore's are so predictable," Klaus sighed, rolling his eyes.

Klaus walked over, and pulled Jenna from your arms, he threw her down onto the altar. Everything seemed to blur, you could hear Elena screaming, the chants of the witch, the cracking of the fire. You saw Stefan reaching out to Elena through the flames, and then, it was quiet.

Klaus plunged a stake into her heart, Elena's wails were all you could hear. Jenna's lifeless body was lying on the altar, her face frozen in fear. You had brought her to her slaughter. You had killed her.

"Such a wonderful assistant," Klaus cooed, he grabbed your chin, his bloody fingers digging into your skin. "Be a good girl and bring me the doppelganger,"

You looked into his cold eyes, his mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Now," he growled.

You nodded, then walked over to Elena, tears were running down her cheeks, but she put on a brave face as the last ring of fire disappeared.

"Elena," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes, your whole body was shaking. "I'm so, so sorry,"

"Don't," she said, her voice shaky. "It's not your fault. It's nice to have a friend here at the end,"

She held your hand as you helped her walk over to Klaus. You looked at Stefan, he was struggling to free himself, his eyes filled with worry.

"Elena," Stefan called, his voice breaking.

"It's okay, Stefan," she said, her grip on your hand tightening. "I'm ready,"

You helped her up onto the altar, and Klaus looked down at her with hungry eyes.

"Thank you Elena," he said softly, pulling her against him and moving her hair away from her neck.

"Go to hell," she said, her voice strong.

He chuckled and sank his fangs into her neck.

Elena didn't fight, she let death take her, her grip loosening on your hand, as her last breath left her.

You were shaking, the sound of Klaus drinking from her filling the silence. You had lost two friends today, and the world was suddenly a lot emptier.

When the last bit of blood left her body, Klaus dropped her to the ground and the fire in the altar went out.

You knelt next to her, brushing her hair away from her face, then you looked back at Stefan who was writhing in pain, crying at the loss of Elena.

Klaus staggered a bit, the full moon peeking out from the trees. He groaned, and started to change, his bones cracking as he stumbled forward, his expression a mask of pure bliss.

"It's happening," he moaned, his eyes turned gold, and he was overcome with pleasure. "I can feel it,"

You couldn't stand this any long, all this pain and death. You needed it to end.

You moved down the steps towards him, grabbing a branch off a nearby tree, snapping it in half.

"Come on, sweetheart," he taunted, turning to look at you, his eyes shining. "I'm indestructible,"

"I don't care," you snarled, lunging for him. "You still feel pain,"

You charged at him, striking him across the face, your rage blinding you, making you miss his fist, as it collided with your stomach.

The blow threw you across the clearing, and you landed on your back, the air leaving your lungs, the branch now lodged in your side.

You saw Damon come running out of the woods, he first looked to Elena, then to Stefan, but when he laid eyes on you, he ran to your side.

"No, no, no, no," he said, his eyes filled with panic, he pulled the wood from your side. "You're not supposed to be here,"

You could hear the concern in his voice, and you smiled up at him, cupping his face. He helped you to your feet, your wounds healing, then he pushed you behind him.

"Damon," you said softly, trying to stop him.

"Bonnie is here, it's okay, let me handle this," he said, his tone stern.

Klaus was standing there, laughing maniacally, a mad grin on his face, then his body began to shake and he fell to the ground.

Suddenly his laughter turned to screams, as Bonnie came striding out of the trees, chanting a spell, she raised her hand, causing Klaus to scream in agony. The fire returned to the altar and spread into the trees, her magic all around them as she channeled every ounce of power she possessed, bringing the hybrid to his knees.

Then she choked on her words, gasping for air, looking around for the source.

"Get the witch!" Stefan yelled, pointing to Klaus' witch, still standing at the altar, her hand outstretched.

Bonnie raised her hands, trying to focus her power, but she was struggling, and you could see the strain on her face.

The witch threw Bonnie into the air, knocking her out, her body hitting the ground.

Damon ran for the witch, and tackled her, his teeth sinking into her neck. He killed her instantly, her body going limp in his arms.

The fire disappeared, the flames extinguishing, the magic disappearing. A deadly quiet settling over everything.

Suddenly, you felt a hand in your hair, dragging you backwards, the pain making you scream.

"Elijah!" Klaus roared into the woods, "I know you are out there, show yourself!"

You saw Elijah walk out of the trees, and into the clearing, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were locked on yours.

Klaus's fingers dug into your scalp, and he pulled harder, forcing you to your knees between them.

"What a sight," Klaus mocked, grinning at Elijah.

"Hello, brother," Elijah said, his eyes still locked on yours.

"You've come to kill me?" Klaus said, chuckling. "How is that working out for you?"

He pulled you back to your feet, your whole body trembling.

"Actually, I've come to make you an offer," Elijah said, taking a step closer, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh," Klaus said, amused. "An offer, I wonder what that might be,"

"Spare them, and I will pledge my loyalty to you," Elijah said, his voice soft, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're lying," Klaus growled, his hand wrapping around your throat, his fangs grazing your skin. "You're only offering yourself, so I won't kill her. That's not true loyalty,"

You saw Damon lift Elena's body into his arms, carrying her to Stefan. Then he pulled the stake out of Stefan's back, allowing him to move again.

"Elijah," Stefan called, his voice shaky. "You need to finish this,"

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "Klaus will kill her,"

Damon rushed to Bonnie's side, trying to wake her up, and Klaus laughed, his lips pressed against your ear.

"Run to your love, if you make it I'll let you live," he whispered, shoving you forward.

You stumbled, your legs barely able to support you, then you started running towards Elijah, tears streaming down your face.

You made it to him, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, he was murmuring soft words into your ear, his breath tickling your skin. And you finally felt safe again.

"Are you okay?" He asked, pulling away to look at you, his fingers brushing the hair from your face.

"Yes," you said softly, your hand gripping his jacket.

You were staring up at him, his brown eyes were warm and full of worry, and you had forgotten how much you missed him.

"Good," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours.

Your lips met his at the same time you felt something strange in your back. An odd pressure that made you gasp into his mouth.

You pulled away from Elijah, there was a strange look on his face, his mouth falling open, and he looked down at you, a look of pure terror in his eyes.

For the first time in centuries, you felt cold, the world was spinning around you. You knew what was happening,

Your hand pressed against his chest, you could feel his heart beating against your palm. You looked up into his brown eyes one last time.

"Rule three, my love," you whispered, before your life faded away, and your body fell against him.

Elijah looked down at you, your skin rapidly turning gray, your eyes vacant. Then he looked up at Klaus, who held your heart in his hands.

"This is for betraying me," Klaus said, dropping the organ at his feet, the blood running down the stone steps.

Elijah stood there, his arms wrapped around your lifeless body, his whole world was crumbling.

He could hear Stefan and Damon screaming, but it sounded far away, the own beating of his heart drowning out the rest.

Klaus grabbed Elijah by the neck, forcing him to drop your body, and shoved him to the ground.

"Look at her, the way she's staring up at the stars, it's quite beautiful, isn't it?" Klaus mocked, as Elijah watched you, lifeless on the cold stone. "And it's all because of you,"

Elijah looked away, a tear falling down his cheek, his brother's words cutting into him.

"You're pathetic," Klaus hissed, his hands gripping Elijah's jacket, your blood staining the fabric. "To think you could beat me,"

Elijah closed his eyes, trying to block out his brother's words, but it was no use, his mind was replaying every moment with you. Knowing he would never taste your lips again, or hear your laugh. You would never fall asleep in his arms.

He looked over at Damon, who had rushed to your body. He was holding you, rocking you back and forth in his arms, with Stefan by his side, his face stained with tears, a look of anguish on his face.

Elijah's world was fading away, as he was overcome with rage and anguish, a darkness consuming him, and Klaus just kept talking, his voice becoming more and more distant.

Then something within him snapped, a creature that was lurking underneath his skin came bursting through, a monster taking the place of the gentleman.

He turned his attention back to his brother, and Klaus froze, the fear clear in his eyes.

Damon watched as Elijah pushed Klaus backwards, causing him to fly across the clearing, skidding along the dirt, landing a few feet away.

Elijah walked in a slow, deliberate pace towards Klaus , his expression devoid of any emotion.

"You're right, Klaus," Elijah said, a cold smile spreading across his face. "We are not the same,"

Klaus tried to stand, but Elijah shoved him back down, he grabbed Klaus leg and twisted it until it snapped. Klaus howled in agony, and Elijah smiled, twisting the other leg, and his brother's screams were echoing through the night.

"You want to be a beast?" Elijah growled, pulling Klaus into the air by his neck, his hands wrapped around his throat. "Let me help you,"

Damon felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Bonnie was standing there, her eyes full of sorrow.

"Damon," she whispered, tears running down her face.

"Go, help Elijah," he said, his voice hollow. "I'll stay here with her,"

Bonnie nodded, she stood up, her body trembling. Stefan jumped to his feet to help her stay upright, and she began to chant once more.

The altar burst into flames for a third time, illuminating Klaus and Elijah in a ring of fire as they struggled against each other.

"What is this?" Klaus yelled, pushing Elijah away, trying to fight the pain. "What have you done?"

"Something that should have been done centuries ago," Elijah growled, rushing towards his brother, knocking him down, pinning him to the dirt, his hand raised.

"In the name of our family, Niklaus...," Elijah said, plunging his hand into his brother's chest, curing his fingers around Klaus's heart. "In the name of her..."

"I didn't bury them at sea!" Klaus yelled, his hand trying to pry Elijah's away. "They are safe, I swear,"

Elijah looked at him, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"I can take you to them," Klaus pleaded, his hands gripping Elijah's wrist. “Their bodies are safe. If you kill me, you'll never find them,”

"Elijah, don't listen to him," Stefan yelled, walking towards them.

"Brother, please," Klaus begged. "She wouldn't want this, please,"

Your beautiful face flashed through Elijah's mind, and he looked back at Damon, who was kneeling there, tears in his eyes, clutching your body.

"You're wrong, Klaus," Elijah growled, his hand squeezing the organ in his grip. "She would want this,"

Then he tore Klaus's heart from his chest, and watched the life fade from his brother's eyes.

Klaus's body dropped to the ground, his heart still beating in Elijah's hand, and the flames died down, leaving the clearing in silence.

Bonnie walked up to him, looking down at the flames.

"Good," She said, her voice hoarse.

Elijah looked back at Stefan and Damon, they were kneeling next to your body, Stefan's hand caressing your cheek.

Elijah rushed over to you, looking down at your peaceful face, you almost looked like you were sleeping.

Elijah brushed the hair from your face, his hands were shaking. He couldn't understand how something so beautiful could be snuffed out so easily.

"Don't touch her," Damon said, pulling you away from Elijah.

"You did this," Damon snapped, glaring at Elijah. "It's your fault she's dead,"

Elijah nodded and stepped away, Damon was right, it was his fault.

"Damon," Stefan said, reaching for his brother.

"No, he has to answer for this," Damon said, getting to his feet, your body in his arms.

"It's over Damon," Bonnie said softly, looking up at him. "It's over,"

Damon looked down at you, and tears started to stream down his cheeks. He was shaking, and Stefan reached for him, the two of them clinging to each other, your body between them.

"I think it's best you leave," Bonnie said, her eyes filled with sadness. "Please, go,"

Elijah nodded, his heart breaking as he looked down at your lifeless form, knowing this was his fault.

"Where will you go?" Stefan asked, as he wiped his eyes.

"I need to find my siblings," he said softly, looking away from the sight. "With Klaus dead, everyone he compelled will be free, I'll follow the clues they left behind,"

He looked back at you, and his heart shattered.

"Will you be okay?" Stefan asked, his hand on Elijah's shoulder.

"One day," he replied, turning to look at him, a small smile on his face.

"Thank you," Stefan said softly.

Elijah gave them a small nod, then disappeared into the trees, heading far away from Mystic Falls. His heart forever bound to yours.

~Epilogue

Time changes all things, this was something Damon had the basics of understanding, but nothing could prepare him for how it would affect him when he became human again.

He was an old man, something he never expected to experience, and yet there he was.

"Are you ready?" Elena asked, her hand on his arm.

"Always," he answered, his voice weak, but his smile was genuine.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, her eyes still as bright and beautiful as the day he met her.

The walk to the Salvatore family crypt was slow, and the pain in his joints was unbearable. He hated getting old.

They entered the stone building, and Damon let go of Elena's arm, making his way over to your stone. He placed his hand on it, the smoothness soothing his calloused hand.

"Hi sis," he said, smiling down at the stone. "It's been a while, i've been so busy,"

He took a seat in the chair next to your grave, he had brought it decades ago. He was a man who liked his comfort, and he spent hours talking to you, catching you up on everything that had happened since the last time he was there.

"I have grandkids now! Can you believe it? They are the cutest, I even named a boy after you, well, the closest we could come, but, yeah," he said, a wide grin on his face.

Damon looked over at Elena, who was laying flowers at Stefan's grave. She was the only one left, and he was so grateful for her.

"I miss you and Stefan so much," Damon said softly. "But it won't be long now until I see you again,"

There was an awkward cough and Damon looked up to see a delivery boy standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.

"I have a delivery for Miss Y/n Salvatore," he said, walking up to him, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"She's not exactly up for company," Damon said with a chuckle, gesturing to your stone.

"I know, this actually isn't my first time doing this," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Actually, the guy who use to deliver along this route said that he's been delivering here once a week for his entire fourty year career,"

Damon stood up slowly, his bones protesting the movement. He held his hand out and the boy handed him the flowers.

"Thanks, kid," Damon said, sitting back down, there was a note tucked in with the flowers.

The boy gave him a little wave before disappearing.

Elena came to sit next to him, her hand on his knee, she gave him a sad smile. "What does it say?"

Damon pulled out his glasses, and read it out loud, a tear rolling down his cheek.

For a thousand years, I had never known love, until you, and for a thousand more, I will wait for you.

-Elijah

Rule one: When we are together, it will just be us, no one will know.

Rule two: No talk of business or family, don't get personal.

Rule three: When it's over, it's over.

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three} {Part Four}

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡~LOVE YOU GUYS

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jetii · 5 months ago

Text

Home is a Place on Coruscant

Pairing: Captain Rex x fem!Reader

Words: 10,705

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, discussion of grief/death, some description of blood/injuries, mutual pining, friends to lovers, smut, dirty talk, a little brat taming, oral sex (m and f receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism but not really

Summary: You've always been there for Rex, and when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night after a devastating mission, you do what you do best: take care of him.

A/N: The start of this fic has been sitting in my notes app since the TCW season finale many moons ago, and it wasn't until I read this drabble by @djarrex that I felt compelled to actually finish it. Rex is my fav and he deserves to be taken care of.

It's been about a decade since I've published a fic and about a decade since I've been active on tumblr, so I decided to start from scratch with this blog. Feedback is very much appreciated! I have a few more drafts in the works for Echo, Howzer, Kix, Tech, and Hunter that I'm planning to publish depending on the reception to this one.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Rain on Coruscant was rare. But when it came, it came in torrents, and it came all at once.

In the early hours of morning, while the planet was still sleeping, the sky opened up and let loose a downpour that threatened to flood the lower levels. It was so heavy, it even drowned out the traffic noise coming from the speeders that were still flying over the city at the early hour. The noise was soothing, almost like a lullaby, and the sound of it woke you.

You were used to this sound. You were used to it, because you were used to not being able to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. It was one of the many things about living in the Jewel of the Core Worlds that was taking you longer than you would have liked to adjust to.

The traffic noise, the bustle, the crowds—it all made your homeworld of Rion seem very far away. You could never hear anything over the speeder traffic here, and you likely would've gone mad long ago if not for the trickling of the fountain you kept in the main room. It had been your mother's. You were glad it had come with you when you moved.

The rain was heavy enough that you could hear it inside the apartment, a pleasant hum against the transparisteel. You sat in the window seat, arms folded around your knees, watching the rain fall. The view from your window was not the best in the Galactic City, but it was still quite good, and at night it was beautiful, all the lights of the skyscrapers blurring together in the rain.

The rain would be good for the plants.

You had a garden, a modest one. Some of the plants were native to your world. A few were native to Coruscant. Most were from other worlds. They were your pride and joy. Caring for them had given you something to do when you were adjusting to your new life here. You watered and pruned and tended to them all, and in the spring you were rewarded for your efforts.

Rex had been baffled, at first, by the sight of you out in the courtyard behind the complex, on your knees in the dirt, digging and weeding. It was a little piece of nature on a planet that didn't have much, and Rex was amazed that someone could take so much joy in something so… natural. It was nothing like what he'd been raised to appreciate, which was a good vantage point, a well-maintained blaster, and a plan.

When he'd told you as much, you had invited him to kneel down beside you, and, hesitantly, he'd done so. You handed him a spade and pointed to a patch of soil.

"See that little green leaf poking up?" you asked, and Rex followed your gaze. "See it?"

"I see it."

"Plant the spade right under it. When you pull it up, the root will come with it."

"Like this?" Rex had pulled the spade up, and a plant had come with it. He examined it, then tossed it aside, into the compost.

"That's perfect. That's just how you're supposed to do it. See, you're a natural."

Rex smiled, pleased with the praise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now, let's get the rest of these weeds."

You'd worked in the garden until the sun was setting. Your hands had been dirty, and you had been smiling, and Rex had thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He would probably never tell you as much. He'd been trying to think of ways to tell you, and nothing seemed good enough. There was nothing good enough for you. So instead he told you about the missions he went on. And you listened. You always listened.

You wondered if Rex had heard the rain start. You wondered if it was keeping him awake, too. You wanted him to sleep. He was always so tired, and the last thing you wanted was for him to be exhausted when he came home from his mission.

If he came home.

It was an irrational thought. The missions were dangerous, yes, but the 501st had some of the best soldiers in the galaxy. And Rex was a good captain. A good leader.

But there was always the possibility. The risk.

You were intimately acquainted with the feeling of waiting for someone, and the way it tore you apart. It was a risk, being this close to Rex and the other clones of the 501st. It was a risk, feeling the way you did.

It was a risk, but you did anyway.

You look out at the rain, and the speeders that still flew through it. You wonder how they could fly through the storm, and not be afraid.

You're just about to turn away from the window when a noise behind you makes you jump. There, underneath the sound of the rain battering against the transparisteel, the sound of a knock at your door. You almost don’t think it is real, that it's simply a part of the soundscape of the rainy morning, but it comes again, three short raps.

You slide out of bed, fumbling to grab the clothes you tossed on the floor the night before. You don't bother to put on pants, but pull a long shirt over your head and tiptoe to the door, peering through the peephole.

The rain is heavier now, and the clouds are dark, almost black. The white shape in the hall is familiar, though, and it makes your heart race. You open the door, filling the small entryway with the scent of fresh rainwater and humidity.

"Rex," you say. "What are you doing here?”

He’s stoic, still and silent under your gaze, but you can see the tremble in his hands at his sides. The downpour seems to have washed the majority of dirt and debris from his armor, but bits of red still run through the cracks. An hour ago, he was likely covered with whatever the substance was — Umbaran dust or something more sinister — but the rain did well enough to wash it off.

He must’ve walked here, you realize, eyes widening. Your bottom lip pulls to worry between your teeth as you notice the new dents and marks on him. Carbon scoring on his shoulder plate, a tear in his kama, and what seems to be a blaster hole in his chest plate.

"I… I don’t know," he says after a moment. His voice is quiet, rough through the modulation of his helmet. It's as if the words are being dragged up from his lungs.

"I shouldn’t have. I… I should have called. I just… I had to see you.”

The words hang between you, suspended like the raindrops in the air. You feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. You can't believe he's here. He's here, and he's alive. You'd known he would be, but to see him with your own eyes, to have him in front of you, fills you with an immense sense of relief.

But something is clearly wrong. He's not saying what's bothering him, and you're almost too afraid to ask.

“Rex, what happened?”

You reach for him, only to have your hand meet nothing but humid air as he pulls back.

“It’s late, sorry for disturbing you—“

He turns to go, and this time you’re faster. Your hand encloses around his wrist and pulls him to a stop before he can take another step.

“Wait, Rex— please, just… stay. Just for a moment. Come in, you're getting soaked."

He lets out a slow breath and then, after a moment, he jerks a stiff nod. He allows you to drag him inside your apartment and, as the door slides shut behind him, he lifts his hands to the seal of his helmet. You watch him closely as he pulls it free and reveals the face beneath.

There are smudges of grime on his golden skin, and a deep furrow has formed between his eyebrows. He looks haunted, as if the shadows from the battlefield have followed him home. You want to smooth that line out with your thumb, but you aren’t sure he will let you.

You don't ask if you can touch him, but he notices the way your fingers twitch, and he knows you well enough to know that you're thinking about it.

"It's fine," he murmurs. He's never said no to you. "Go ahead."

He doesn't say please, and that hurts a little, but you're not surprised. Rex has been holding you at arm's length ever since he kissed you a few months back, and you know why. You just wish you knew how to help him.

So, you touch him. You brush your fingers across his cheek, wiping away the grime. You know that he doesn't need to be cleaned, but the motions are soothing. Your gentle touch is a balm, and you can feel his tension ease ever so slightly as you brush your fingers over his face.

"What happened?" you ask again, voice barely above a whisper.

"A lot." He lets out a slow breath and leans a little into your touch. He's exhausted, and he's relieved to see you, and the two warring emotions are pulling him in different directions. Rex opens his mouth to say more, but the words die on his tongue. He shakes his head, unable to continue, and closes his eyes.

"Come sit down."

You take him by the hand and lead him over to the couch. You sit first, and he follows suit, sitting a respectable distance from you. The distance doesn't seem right. When you'd met him, Rex had been so full of confidence, even when he'd been a little bit awkward, a little bit unsure. But the war had changed him. He was still the same man, still confident and brave and intelligent, but the weight of responsibility had settled on his shoulders, and the burden was crushing him.

You want to tell him it's going to be okay. You want to say it, but the words sound hollow in your mind.

You shift, moving closer, and Rex moves, too. The distance between you shrinks, and the tension eases. You don’t much care that he’s wearing armor, or that the rainwater is leaving damp spots on the upholstery.

Rex reaches for you, and his hands tremble. His gloves are damp, and his armor is cold, and the chill sends a shiver up your spine when he touches your knee. His eyes are distant, and he doesn't quite meet yours, and his expression is so, so sad.

“Hardcase is gone,” he closes his eyes to avoid seeing the look on your face. You can’t help but gasp at the admission, and a soft sob slips past your lips.

You had met Hardcase once, very briefly. He had been charming and charismatic and kind, if a little wild, and you had liked him immediately. He had flirted with you, and Rex had rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile behind his cup. Hardcase had been fun, and loud, and a little bit reckless.

You had not known him as well as some of the others on his squad, but the pain in Rex's eyes, the grief in his voice, was enough to make it hurt.

"Oh, Rex, I'm so sorry," you murmur.

Rex nods, and his jaw tightens. You can tell that he's trying not to cry, and you can't imagine how hard it must be, to carry such a heavy weight all by himself.

When he speaks again, your blood runs cold.

“We were betrayed. One of our own— one of the Jedi, he—" his breath hitches. “Oz, Ringo — Dozens of them, my brothers. They’re all gone.

"Betrayed?"

You feel like the bottom has dropped out from beneath you.

You knew the war was dangerous, and that Rex's job was dangerous, but the idea that it could go wrong in such a fundamental way?

The Jedi had always seemed so wise, and so strong, and so just. It had always seemed like there was nothing they couldn't do. To know that one of them could betray their men — could betray the Republic, and the innocent people of the galaxy — was too terrible to contemplate.

Your hand finds his cheek again, and this time, his eyes find yours.

They're shining, but his tears don't fall. He's a soldier, and he knows better than to show weakness, even here. You wish he would let himself break. You wish he would let you hold him, and let his tears fall, and let you help him put the pieces back together.

"Rex," you murmur, "I'm so, so sorry."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes, and your thumb wipes away some of the wetness that has gathered there.

He pulls back for a moment, and you think he’s pulling away completely before he leans closer. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight to him as he buries his head in your shoulder. You immediately return the embrace, one arm over his shoulders while your other hand lifts to hold the back of his head.

You’re not sure how long they stay like that or how many tears are shed between you. After some time, he begins to speak, and you listen while running a soothing hand over his head, trying desperately to keep from sobbing outright as he tells you about the traitorous Jedi Pong Krell.

It’s by far the greatest atrocity you’ve ever heard, and to know that Rex has to put his helmet back on and get back to work in a matter of days makes you sick to your stomach.

He doesn’t deserve this, you think as you pull him into another embrace. None of them do.

Something about the motion causes him to wince, and you immediately release him to grab hold of both his shoulders.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

His hesitation is answer enough, and you can feel a wave of anger rise in your chest. How could they let him come back, in the state that he's in? How could they ask this of him, after all he's already done?

“I’m fine, cyare. Armor took most of it.”

If it weren’t for the way he avoided your gaze, you’d believe him, but instead you just feel yourself grow more upset. “What did Kix say?”

“Uh, he didn’t—“

“Rex, you were shot, and you didn’t think to get medical attention?”

His expression darkens, and you can see him withdrawing again. His shoulders pull back, and he pulls his chin up, and the distance between you grows again.

“I didn’t think much of anything, to be honest.” He mutters. It breaks your heart, but it also throws more coals on the anger burning inside of you. Not anger at him, you know, even though you can’t help but let out a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll be alright.”

“Like hell you will be,” you bite out before taking a step back to help him stand. “C’mon. Let’s get you patched up.”

You're angry. You're so, so angry. How could he let himself get hurt? How could he come here and not tell you about it? How could they send him home, to you, after all he's been through, knowing that he was injured?

But there's nothing you can do about any of that now, and being angry at him isn't going to help.

“You don’t have to—“ He protests through words only, allowing you to drag him through the living room and into the refresher.

“Yes, I do.” You shut him down quickly as you flick the light on and turn to rummage underneath your sink.

He’s still standing in the center of the room when you stand back up to full height, looking uncomfortable at your fussing. It’s not the first time you’ve had to patch him up, but so far it’s just been cuts and bruises. It’s unknown territory for you both, and he holds himself like he’s waiting for you to give up and shoo him out.

Your hands find his shoulders, and you gently push him down to sit at the edge of your bathtub. He’s pliant in your hold, but he meets your eyes with the worried pinch between his brows he gets whenever he thinks he’s upset you.

“Rex, let me take care of you,” you plead softly, and the furrow deepens.

He can hear the way your voice breaks. He can see the worry in your eyes. You're scared, and he hates that he's done that to you.

He should have known better. He should have taken a moment, to collect himself, before coming to see you. He shouldn't have let his emotions overwhelm him. He should have kept it together.

You were always there for him, and you listened, and he could tell you anything. He should have told you that he was okay. That would have been the responsible thing to do.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

And now, he can't seem to do the one thing you ask him.

But, after a moment, Rex relaxes. He’s never been able to say no to you before, and it is no different now. His shoulders slump a little, and the furrow smoothes, and you can't help but think that his face looks much nicer like this. You wish he wouldn't be so hard on himself.

"Okay," he murmurs.

It's all the encouragement you need. You lift his hand, cradling it gently, and begin to remove his gloves and armor piece by piece. You set the pieces aside, careful to keep them in order, and you know he appreciates that. It's a little thing, but it helps. You make a note to clean it for him before he leaves, the sight of the red smeared across its surface churning your stomach.

It's quiet between the two of you. The only sounds in the room are the rain and the gentle clink of plastoid against the floor as the last piece is removed.

You're grateful for the silence, though. You're not sure what you would say, and you know that he needs this, needs the moment to breathe.

"Where does it hurt?" You ask.

He hesitates. There's a lot of pain, all over his body. But you can't do anything about the pain that aches in his bones, or the ache in his chest. He doesn't know how to tell you about that.

"Chest," he finally admits. "Took a hit in the vest. Knocked the wind outta me."

That was an understatement, but you didn't need to know that. He could barely breathe, when it had happened, but the rest of his brothers needed him, and he didn't have the time to worry about his own injuries.

"Can you get it off?" You ask.

He gives a slight nod and reaches his arm up to grab the neck of his blacks, slowly pulling it overhead to reveal the skin underneath. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, and you feel a flush rising up your neck and onto your cheeks.

The only light in the room is the faint glow from the bulb above the mirror. It casts shadows across the planes of his muscles, and you can't help but drink in the sight of him. His chest is strong and broad, and a line of hair disappears beneath the waistband of his blacks.

There's a blaster mark on his sternum, just above his right pec, not far off from the scar in the center of his chest he’d earned on Salucemi. It’s weeping blood slowly, trickling down the curve of his muscle, and you can see the red, puffy skin surrounding the injury.

It isn't terrible. A few inches to the left, and it could have been fatal. A few inches to the right, and the armor could have deflected the bolt entirely.

Still, you know that he's in pain, and the knowledge is enough to make the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes again. You force yourself to swallow them back and, instead, you reach for a damp cloth to wipe the wound clean.

He hisses at the contact, and you can see him grit his teeth against the pain. His hand moves to grasp the edge of the tub, and you can't help but feel guilty. You want to tell him to relax, to try and ease his suffering, but you know he wouldn't listen. He never listens, not when it comes to his own wellbeing.

"Sorry," you murmur, but the cloth keeps moving. You have to clean the wound, so you can treat it properly.

“Where’d you learn this, anyways?"

"What, first aid?" You're surprised by the question.

"Mhm."

“My dad was a swoop racer, believe it or not,” you say softly. You don't talk about him very often. It still hurts. But this feels like the right moment.

Rex tilts his head curiously, watching your face. You can see his expression soften, and you know he can tell how difficult it is for you to speak about this.

"Really?"

You nod, your eyes focused on your work. “My mom was always patching him up, and I’d sit on the counter and help out where I could. When she passed, I took over.”

“Isn’t swoop racing illegal?”

“Hm, not on Rion, it’s not.” You finish cleaning the wound and move to grab the bacta bandages. “Maybe if it was, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed."

You're not sure what possessed you to be so blunt, but the words are out, and there's no taking them back. Rex blinks, shocked by your honesty. You feel embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

"Sorry," you murmur, keeping your eyes low. "That was… I shouldn't have said that."

Rex says nothing. He knows better than to try and coddle you, and besides, you've always been the one doing the comforting, not the other way around. But it doesn’t sit well with him to see you like this, and before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches out to you.

His hand lifts, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can't help but lean into his touch. He's so warm, and his hand is calloused and gentle. He cups the back of your head, guiding you forward, and his lips press against your forehead.

You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as the cloth slips from your fingers, and you cling to him. You feel terrible, for complaining about the loss of your father when Rex has lost so much.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, and you're not sure if he means for asking or for Hardcase or for the war or for everything, and you can't bring yourself to ask.

“It’s alright,” you whisper back. He lets you pull away from him to busy yourself with sorting bacta patches, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"Is that why you came to Coruscant?” He asks softly, his tone careful and gentle.

Part of you wants to lie. You're tired, and you're hurting, and you're not sure you have the strength to have this conversation right now.

But the truth is already out, and if this will help him, you'll tell him anything.

You nod.

“He was actually really good at it,” you chuckle, and Rex can hear the bitterness in your voice. “But eventually he pissed off some powerful people who were placing the wrong bets. One day he left for a big race, and the next morning I found a box with his helmet at our doorstep. Or what was left of it.”

Rex sucks in a breath, and you can see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He knew about the helmet, he’s seen it on the shelf in your living room. But he hadn't known the full story.

You look back up at him. There are tears in your eyes, but they don't fall. You're smiling, and your eyes are sad, and his heart breaks.

“I tried to get the police involved, the racing league, anyone I could get to listen to me, but no one would investigate. I was so angry. Then I started getting threats. I couldn’t…” You shake your head, trying to rid the memories. "I couldn’t stay. So I moved here. And then the war started, and then I met you.”

It seems like a lifetime ago. The days before Rex felt like someone else's life, and you wonder how you ever managed without him. You'd been so lost, and so alone, and you'd felt like the universe was crashing down on you, and he'd pulled you out from underneath the rubble just by being there.

"I'm so sorry, cyar'ika," Rex murmurs.

You reach forward and gently lay a hand on his chest, pressing the bacta patch into place. His skin is soft beneath your touch, and you can't help but think, not for the first time, about how beautiful he is.

"I'm glad that you're here," you tell him softly. "That you made it back, I mean. I'm glad you came home."

Home. Rex swallows thickly.

He's never had a home before, not really. Home had been a word for people with families and futures. Home had been a word for normal, everyday people, not clones.

Home had always seemed like such a far away concept, something he'd never get to experience.

But, suddenly, the idea isn't quite so foreign. Home. With you.

"I'm glad I came back too," he finally murmurs, and his hand lifts to hold yours.

You're quiet, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, and his gaze finds yours.

There's something different between the two of you, something charged and heavy. You know you need to pull away. He needs to rest. You're both exhausted.

But you can't. You can't stop looking at him. He's beautiful, and he's kind, and he's the bravest person you've ever known. You've never loved anyone the way that you love him.

"Cyare," he whispers, and the word makes your heart stutter, even if you don’t know what it means.

He's not sure what comes over him. Maybe it's the way you're looking at him. Maybe it's the fact that, after the past couple of weeks, he thought he'd never see you again. Maybe it's that, for once, you're letting him take care of you. Maybe it's because you're so beautiful and you're so close and he loves you, he's so in love with you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can stand to go without saying something.

Whatever it is, he knows he needs to say something, and he knows he needs to do it now.

"I'm so glad I met you," he whispers, and it's the best he can do, but he hopes it's enough.

He reaches forward, and his hand finds the curve of your cheek, and the touch is enough to send a spark through your skin. You can feel the heat building inside of you, the desire pooling in your core, and the air in the room is electric.

"Me too," you manage.

His lips find yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and your arms wrap around his shoulders, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. You're pulling each other closer, as close as you can possibly get, and it's not close enough.

Rex moans softly against your lips, and you can't help the way your hips twitch, or the way you whimper into his mouth. You're both desperate, and eager, and it's the sweetest relief.

He stands and turns, lifting you up and sitting you on the edge of the counter, and his body presses against yours. Your legs part, welcoming him, and his hips slot perfectly between them. His hands are on your thighs, gripping and pulling and massaging the flesh.

"Rex," you gasp, breaking away from his lips.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips against your throat, his tongue and teeth working the delicate skin. He sucks at your pulse point, and you whine. You know that there will be marks in the morning, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Rex," you whine again, and you're not sure why, not exactly, because all you want is for him to keep doing what he's doing, to let him claim you and mark you and make you his. But you're overwhelmed, and you need to catch your breath, and his name is the only word your brain can think.

His fingers tighten, and his lips lift from your skin. He’s watching you with dark eyes and swollen lips, chest heaving.

"I need…" he trails off, and he doesn't finish the sentence, but you understand.

He's holding himself back. He doesn't want to push you, doesn't want to assume, but you can feel the need rolling off of him.

He's desperate.

You are too.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper.

Rex sucks in a breath. There are a lot of things that he could say, but the only thing he can manage is your name, soft and needy, and you can hear the way his voice breaks.

The sound makes you ache.

Your hand finds his jaw, and your thumb runs along his bottom lip. He's looking at you with the most adoring eyes, and your heart feels like it's about to burst.

"Please," he breathes.

It's all the encouragement you need. Your lips find his, and his hands find your hips. He lifts you off of the counter and into his arms, and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. His fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, grabbing and holding and massaging the flesh. You're not sure how the two of you make it into the bedroom. All you can think about is Rex's lips, his teeth and tongue and hands, and the way he's carrying you like you weigh nothing, his hardness digging into your hip.

It's a miracle he doesn’t trip over the pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

His knees hit the mattress, and he leans down to lay you gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. There's a tenderness to his actions, a sweetness in the way he handles you, that makes you shiver. His thumbs trace the lines of your hipbones underneath your shirt, and he smiles at the sound of your breath catching in your throat.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, and the words are enough to make you ache.

His hands are so gentle, his face so earnest. He's always been so careful with you, and it makes you feel like the most important thing in the world.

"Yeah," you whisper, your hand coming up to rest against the side of his face.

Rex's smile is so beautiful, and it's so full of joy, and you can't help but return it. He turns his head and presses a kiss into the center of your palm.

His lips move, tracing the lines on your palm. His teeth nip gently at the tips of your fingers, and he watches as your breath catches.

He wants to take his time, to learn every inch of you, to map out the places that make you moan and the ones that make you scream, and the ones that make you laugh. He wants to kiss the scars and worship the stretchmarks and the freckles, and the dimples in your skin, and the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, and the birthmark on your shoulder, and he wants to show you how beautiful you are, how perfect, how special, how loved.

He'll do it, eventually. But not tonight.

Tonight, he just needs you.

His fingers dip underneath the hem of your shirt, drawing it up slowly, and he can't help the groan that falls from his lips at the sight of you. You're suddenly, painfully aware of the fact that you'd never put on pants when you answered the door, let alone a bra, and you're almost embarrassed.

But the way Rex is looking at you after your shirt is tossed aside makes your stomach flutter, and the words die on your tongue.

"Mesh'la," he breathes, his eyes wide.

He can't seem to decide where to look, where to touch first, so you grab his hands and guide them. They slide across the planes of your stomach and over your ribs, and his fingers ghost the underside of your breasts, and your head falls back onto the pillows.

"Rex," you beg. "Please."

The sound of your plea is enough to spur him into action. His lips find the side of your neck, and his hand cups your breast, thumb finding your nipple and swiping over it.

You gasp, your back arching and hips bucking into his, and Rex moans softly. His teeth graze the line of your pulse, and he moves lower, and he pulls a nipple into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whimper, your nails scratching at the back of his neck.

You can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He likes having this effect on you.

The hand on your other breast is kneading the flesh, and his lips are sucking at your nipple, his tongue tracing patterns on the delicate skin. His fingers pinch and pull, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.

"So sensitive," he hums, and the vibrations from his words send a tingle down your spine.

"Only for you," you breathe.

The words make his hips stutter, and the hardness of his cock presses into the wetness of your core. You can feel the outline of him against you, the heat and the thickness, and your breath catches.

You roll your hips into his, and Rex releases a groan, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of your breast.

"Kriff," he hisses, and the sound sends a shock of pleasure through you. Suddenly, you remember your promise.

"Lay back," you whisper, and his head lifts.

"What?"

You push at his shoulders, mindful of his bandages as you urge him backwards, and Rex follows your command. You move quickly, kneeling between his legs and grabbing the waistband of his blacks. You can see the outline of his hardness straining against the fabric, and you can't help but lick your lips.

"Can I?"

Rex's chest is heaving, his eyes blown black, and you can tell he's trying to process your question.

"Cyar'ika," he breathes, and the endearment makes your heart flutter. "You don't have to."

"I know," you tell him, your hand moving slowly up and down his thigh. Your head tilts thoughtfully. "Can I be honest?"

"Always," he replies.

"I've wanted to for a while."

You can feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck, and your eyes dart away from his. You don't know why, it's not like you've been hiding your attraction, but something about telling him is making you nervous.

"You have?"

His voice is soft, and his hand finds the back of your head. His touch is so gentle, and the surprise and happiness in his tone makes you bold.

"Yeah," you murmur, looking back up at him.

He looks stunned, but there's a light in his eyes, a warmth that you can feel spreading inside you too. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug. "I didn't want to push."

It's his turn to blush. It's cute, the way his cheeks flush, and his eyes dart away. He almost looks embarrassed.

"Since we're being honest…" He starts.

"What?"

"Me too."

Your heart stutters, and a wide grin stretches across your face. The happiness building inside your chest is competing with the desire that courses through you at the knowledge that he's thought about this, about you, and the idea is almost too much. You're sure you must look like a fool smiling this much, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"You've thought about it?" You tease.

"Yeah," he breathes. "All the time."

"Tell me."

He groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, and you can see the way his cock twitches at your words. "I… Kriff, I've imagined it so many times. How good you'd look on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, or bent over, with my hands on your hips, or straddling me, riding me."

"What else?"

You've moved closer to him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, and you can feel the wetness between your thighs. You've never felt so desperate, so needy, and all you want is him, any part of him.

"I think about it all the time. What it would be like to have you in the barracks, in the 'fresher, in the hangar. You on your knees in my office. Fuck, everywhere. It's all I can think about sometimes."

You can feel the wetness growing between your thighs, and you can't stop the whine that falls from your lips. It's almost too much, hearing the things he's imagined, the ways he's wanted you, the times and places, and the need and desperation behind his words.

"Then will you let me?" You ask, and you hope the answer is yes, because you can't imagine stopping.

"Please," he breathes.

"What was that?"

Rex's grip on your hair tightens, his gaze locked on yours as he speaks again, his voice is low.

"Please, cyare."

That's all the encouragement you need. Your eyes don't leave his as your hands pull at the fabric, slowly revealing his length. He's bigger than you dared to imagine, and thicker, and the sight of him is enough to make your mouth water.

His eyes are wide, his pupils blown, and his mouth is hanging open slightly. The blush on his cheeks is spreading down his chest, and the muscles in his arms are tensed.

"So perfect," you hum, and you're not sure if you're talking to him or his cock.

You wrap your hand around him, and Rex's hips stutter. Your thumb swipes over the head, spreading the bead of precum, and his eyes fall shut.

"So sensitive," you tease.

"Cyare," he warns. There's an edge to his voice, and it makes you grin.

Your head dips down, and you press a kiss to the underside of his cock, and his hips jerk. You keep pressing kisses along his length, your fingers wrapping around the base. Rex is struggling to breathe. He's not even inside of you yet, and it already feels better than anything he's ever experienced before.

He opens his eyes to look down at you, and the sight of you on your knees in front of him is almost too much. He's dreamed about this moment, and fantasized, and he never, not in his wildest dreams, imagined that it would feel like this.

Your lips wrap around him, and Rex can't stop the way his hips thrust up. His cock brushes the back of your throat, and you gag, pulling back slightly with tears in your eyes.

"Sorry," he gasps, his cheeks flushing.

You shake your head as much as you can with his length in your mouth, and your eyes flash up to his.

You like this, he realizes with a start. You like being used, you like the feeling of him fucking into you, and the realization sends a shock of pleasure through him.

You bob your head slowly, and Rex watches, transfixed, as his cock disappears between your lips. Your tongue runs along the underside, and his eyes fall shut again.

"Maker," he moans.

Your hand is stroking what doesn't fit into your mouth, and your other is tracing the lines of his thighs, and his abs, and his V-lines. You can feel the muscles tensing and relaxing under your fingertips, and you can see the way his hips are straining, the effort he's making to keep still.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you hum softly in response. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling gently, and his other hand comes to rest on the back of your head.

"Fuck, mesh'la," he moans, and the praise makes you preen.

You pull back, until only the head is between your lips, and swirl your tongue around him. He tastes sweet and salty and just the right amount of bitter, and you can't get enough.

"So good," he gasps. "So perfect, so beautiful."

He's babbling now, the words falling from his lips without him thinking about them, and you can't stop the grin. You'd always wondered if he was a talker.

"So perfect, cyar'ika, taking me so well." His voice is wrecked, and his breath is coming in ragged pants. "Feel so good. I could fuck your mouth all night."

His words make you shiver. He could. He could do anything he wanted with you, and you'd let him.

You move your head down, taking him as far as you can, and Rex's eyes open to watch you. You hold his gaze as his cock slides along the back of your tongue and hits the back of your throat, and you suppress the urge to gag.

"So pretty," he hums, his voice strained. "Such a good girl."

Your pussy throbs at the words, and the moan you release vibrates his length.

"That's it," he gasps.

You can feel the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, but you keep moving, keep taking him, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"So good, mesh'la, so, so good."

He's repeating the words, and you're not sure if he knows he's saying them. Your jaw is starting to ache, your lips are sore, and there's drool dripping down your chin, but you can't stop the soft whimpers and moans.

The sounds are enough to drive him mad.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, and his thumb runs along your bottom lip, stretched around him. The gesture is so tender and loving, it's almost too much.

"Look at you," he breathes. "Kriff, I've wanted this for so long. So beautiful. So perfect. My perfect girl. You take me so well."

You hum again, and his head falls back, the movement pushing his cock deeper. You gag around him, and his hips stutter, a litany of Mando'a spilling from his lips. You're not sure what he's saying, but the words are making your cunt clench, the pleasure building inside of you overwhelming.

"I'm close, mesh'la," he gasps. "If you want to stop, you'd better— ah, kriff!"

You've pulled back, and the suction of your lips is incredible. Rex's hips are stuttering, his hands are tugging on your hair, and the sounds falling from his lips are enough to make your core throb.

"Mesh'la, please, I can't—"

His words die in his throat as you reach between his legs and roll his balls in your hand. The action sends him hurtling over the edge, and his hips thrust up one last time, pushing his cock down your throat as he comes.

Your throat works to swallow every drop. It's so much, more than you were expecting, and you struggle not to choke. His grip on your hair is borderline painful, but you don't mind. You can feel his whole body trembling, his breathing labored and his chest heaving.

You release him with a wet pop, and he shudders. You press one last kiss to the underside of his softening length, and he twitches, his body still sensitive.

"You're gonna kill me" he breathes.

"Hopefully not." You wipe your mouth, thumb catching a stray drop of cum and sucking it into your mouth, and you watch as his eyes darken.

He pulls you to him, and you climb back into his lap, his lips on yours. The kiss is slow and lazy, his hands running up and down your back, his body still shuddering from the force of his orgasm.

"Mesh'la," he sighs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "So beautiful."

His fingers trail down the side of your neck and between your breasts. They ghost the skin of your stomach and dip underneath the hem of your panties, and you can't help the whimper that escapes.

"Still want me?" You ask.

"Always."

His lips are on your neck, and his fingers find the wetness between your thighs, and you gasp. The noise that falls from his lips is filthy.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he groans. "You're soaked."

"That's your fault," you manage.

His teeth graze your pulse, and his fingers brush against your clit, making your hips buck.

"Can't help it," you gasp.

You can't stop the cry of pleasure as his thumb presses down. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant, and you're not sure why. You've made it perfectly clear that you want this.

"Rex," you whimper. "Please."

He presses another kiss to your lips, and the hand not between your thighs wraps around your back, holding you steady. He teases your entrance, and your breath catches, and then his fingers are slipping inside.

"Ah, fuck," you hiss.

You're so wet, so slick, and his fingers slide in easily. Just two fingers already feel so thick, and you can feel your walls stretching around him. There's a dull ache, but it feels so good.

"Cyar'ika," he groans. "Fuck, so tight."

His fingers pump in and out slowly, and your head falls onto his shoulder.

"Faster," you gasp. "Please, Rex."

"Shh," he coos. "Patience, mesh'la."

"Please."

"Be a good girl and be patient for me."

You whine, the sound muffled by his shoulder. He's being cruel, teasing you like this. You've already had him once, and now he's drawing it out. "Rex, I need you."

He hums softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. His fingers are still pumping in and out, slowly, agonizingly, and you know he's doing it on purpose.

"I need you," you whimper.

"I'm here," he whispers.

"No, I— ah! I need you inside me."

You can feel his breath catch, and his fingers stutter, and then his lips are at your ear.

"How do you want me, mesh'la?"

"Like this," you breathe. "I want to ride you."

His breath hisses through his teeth, and his fingers speed up. The change in pace is enough to make your head spin, and the noises coming from your mouth are embarrassing. You sound desperate, and you are.

"Fuck, Rex."

"So good," he hums. "Such a good girl."

A third finger slides in beside the other two, and the stretch makes your back arch. You're not sure when he had the chance to slick his fingers with your wetness, but he must have. He's not hurting you, and the feeling is incredible.

"Rex, I'm gonna—"

"Not yet," he cuts you off.

"Please, I need to—"

"You'll wait," he growls, and the command is enough to make your toes curl.

"Please," you beg. "I'll be good, I promise, just—oh!"

Your plea is cut off by a sharp cry of pleasure, and your walls flutter around his fingers, your hips rocking back and forth.

"I said not yet."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, and the words come out strangled. "I couldn't help it, you feel so good."

He hums, his thumb finding your clit, and the stimulation is almost too much. His lips find yours, and his free hand holds you steady as his fingers move inside of you.

You writhe on top of him, your legs shaking, and you can feel the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, and it's all too much.

"Please," you beg, and you're not even sure what you're asking for.

"What do you need?"

"Please," you gasp.

"Use your words, cyar'ika. What do you need?"

"I need— ah! I need you. I need more. Please."

He's torturing you, you realize. He's doing it on purpose, making you beg, punishing you for how you teased him earlier, and the thought of it makes your cunt throb.

"You've been so good for me, mesh'la. You think you've earned it?"

"Yes," you hiss. "I'll be good. Please, Rex, I'll be a good girl."

He can't say no, not when you're looking at him like that. Not when your lips are parted and your cheeks are flushed, and the look in your eyes is so desperate.

"Okay," he concedes.

You let out a sound of relief, and his fingers are slipping out of you. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth, and the action is enough to make you groan. You rise off of him, legs trembling, and hurriedly push your panties down and toss them aside.

He looks up at you, and there's awe in his eyes, a reverence, as his hands settle on your hips to guide you back to him. Your hand wraps around his cock, lining him up, and the two of you gasp as his head breaches your entrance.

"Take your time," he whispers. “You don’t have to—fuck!”

You sink down, taking him fully in one smooth motion, and Rex can't stop the low, guttural moan that escapes.

"You said to take my time," you say, and there's a cheeky lilt to your voice. He opens his mouth to argue, but the words die in his throat. "So I took my time."

You can't stop the grin. The look on his face is almost too much. His cheeks are flushed, and his chest is heaving. His lips are swollen from the kisses, his eyes wide and his pupils blown. He looks good like this, you think, and you've never seen him so undone.

"Cyar'ika," he finally manages.

You hum, circling your hips, and his grip on you tightens. Your pace is slow, savoring this feeling unlike anything you've ever experienced. He's bigger than anything you've ever had inside of you before, filling you in ways you didn't even know were possible. You're still adjusting to him, and your movements are slow, but they're steady, and you can't help the soft whimpers and gasps.

Rex is struggling to breathe. Your heat is so warm and so wet, your walls are clenching around him, and the sight of you is almost too much. The way your head is tipped back, your eyes closed and your mouth open, the sounds you’re making, and the way his cock is disappearing inside of you over and over again, it's all so much. He can't believe this is happening.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse. You gasp before pushing on his shoulders, and his back hits the mattress. You lean over him, your hands reaching to grasp the headboard, and the new angle makes the both of you exhale. It also makes your breasts hang tantalizingly in his face.

Rex is not one to waste an opportunity.

He leans up and closes his lips around one of your nipples, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck. Your pace speeds up, and his hands grip your hips tightly, helping to guide you.

"Oh, kriff," you gasp.

He releases your nipple with a pop and moves his attention to the other, and the sound you make is almost enough to make him come right then. He can’t help but shift his hips, moving them up and down in time with your thrusts, and you pull away from him to give him a look of warning.

"Stay still," you order.

"Or what?"

You raise an eyebrow, and Rex shivers. You're not sure what makes him react like that, but it sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

"I'll stop."

His jaw drops, and his eyes widen. "You wouldn't," he says.

"That’s an order, Captain," you say, and his cock twitches inside of you. You can't help the wicked smile. You’re learning a lot about him today.

"You're the worst."

"You love it," you retort.

His hands move to your waist, and he pulls you closer.

"I love you," he breathes.

You can feel yourself clench around him at his words, and he hisses through his teeth.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Your lips meet his, and his tongue slides into your mouth as his hands roam your body. You can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, his lips are warm, and his breath is hot, and his body is so close to yours, the feeling is overwhelming.

He's everything.

"I love you," he says again, his voice hoarse.

"I love you, Rex."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"It's true," you gasp.

His hips stutter, and you pull away, giving him a look of warning, and his jaw clenches.

"Sorry, cyar'ika. I couldn't help it."

"I know."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Wh— ah!"

You cry out as his fingers find your clit, and your walls flutter. The movement sends pleasure shooting through you, and your legs shake, the pace of your hips unsteady.

"That's it," he coos. "Come for me."

"Not yet," you gasp. "Need you to— oh, fuck, Rex."

His hips snap up, meeting your thrusts, and the new pace is relentless. He's chasing his own release, and you're right there with him. You can't take it anymore.

"Please, please, I can't—"

"Go ahead," he urges.

You can't stop the cry that tumbles from your lips. You can feel the orgasm building, and your hips are bucking wildly.

"I can't—I can't," you sob.

"Come for me, cyar'ika. Come on my cock."

The words are enough to send you over the edge, and he swallows your cries of pleasure. You're trembling above him, your nails are digging into his skin, and the pressure of his fingers against your clit is enough to make your hips jerk.

"Kriff, I can feel you," he breathes. "Your little pussy is squeezing me so tightly."

"Please," you beg. You're not even sure what you're begging him for.

All you know is that he feels so good, and you're so sensitive, and the sensations are too much and not enough.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Good girl."

"I can't, I can't, I can't-"

"Shh, shh, it's okay."

He's so gentle even as he sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the end of your channel, and his fingers are rubbing frantic circles around your clit.

The pressure is almost painful, but it feels so good.

"Oh, fuck, Rex," you cry out.

"Come again," he demands.

"I can't," you protest. "It's too much."

"You can," he counters. "Do it for me."

The words send a thrill through you, and you can feel the pleasure building. Your walls are fluttering around him, your hips are bucking, and you can't control the noises coming from your lips.

"That's it," he growls.

Your orgasm washes over you, and this time it's stronger, tears spilling over as his name falls from your lips over and over again. You can feel your release gushing out of you, coating his cock and the sheets below.

The sight is so filthy, but it only seems to spur him on. Rex grips your hips tight enough that you know you’ll bruise, and the thought sends another thrill through you. You want him to leave his mark. He fucks up into you with a force that has the headboard slamming against the wall, and his thrusts are losing their rhythm.

"I'm so close," he breathes.

You're barely coherent, but you can't help but latch on, his words sending another rush of heat through you. "You gonna come for me, Captain?"

He shudders, and his eyes flutter shut, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. He can't find the words.

"You've been so good for me," you purr breathlessly. "Let go."

You can see the tension leaving his shoulders, his jaw slack. His breath is coming in shallow gasps, and his thrusts are unsteady. He's teetering on the edge, and all it takes is a few more words from you.

"Fill me up."

"Cyar'ika," he warns.

"Do it," you order.

"Fuck, cyar'ika," he breathes. "Oh, fuck, I'm coming, I'm—"

He curses, his head falling back against the pillow, and his cock pulses as he spills inside of you, his hands tight on your hips to hold you down. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, and the sensation is enough to make the corners of your vision darken.

"I can feel it," you murmur. "I can feel you, kriff, Rex."

He groans, his arms pulling you down, and you collapse against his chest. You're not sure how long you stay like that, just holding each other. You can't feel anything except him, his hands running up and down your spine, and his lips pressed to the top of your head.

“So,” you say after a while, and he can hear the smugness in your voice.

You tilt your head, and the look he gives you is withering.

"Don't start," he warns.

"Captain, huh? I didn't know that was your thing"

"That's not—"

"What? You don't want to talk about the fact that your cock gets hard when I call you Captain?"

On cue, the appendage in question twitches, and Rex closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not— ugh, kriff," he mutters.

You can't stop the laughter that bubbles up.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," you coo.

"Don't patronize me," he says, but the words have no heat behind them.

"I'd never dream of it, sir."

You can see the blush rising in his cheeks, and his eyes darken.

"That's an order," he grumbles.

You lean up, brushing your lips against his, and the touch is soft and gentle. He melts into it, his hands resting on your waist.

"Yes, Captain," you say.

"I can't—kriff. You can't say things like that, mesh'la." His expression is pained, and the sound that escapes him is almost a whine.

"You're right," you agree. "I can do better."

He raises an eyebrow, and his jaw drops as your fingers wrap around his wrist. His eyes follow the motion as you pull his hand between your thighs. You let out a satisfied moan as his fingers dip between your folds, and he can't tear his gaze away from the sight of his seed dripping from your cunt when his softening cock slides out of you.

"You're a mess," he says reverently.

"I'm a mess because of you."

He hums, his fingers gathering some of his spend and sliding it back into you.

"Is this what you were imagining, Captain?"

He shudders at the title, and his hips cant, his cock stirring to life.

You can't help the grin. "It is, isn't it?"

"You're terrible," he growls.

"Oh, I'm not terrible. I'm the best you've ever had."

He lets out a breathless laugh. "You're the only one I've ever had," he admits.

You pull back, staring at him in surprise, and the look on his face is unreadable.

"Are you— are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious," he says, brow raised.

"But--"

"Cyare, I've only ever wanted you." His words are simple, and they're said with a conviction that steals the breath from your lungs.

"Oh."

You're speechless. You're not sure what you'd imagined the past few months. You're not even sure if you'd ever given much thought to it, but the idea that you're the only person who has ever made him feel like this is dizzying.

"I've loved you for a very long time," he confesses, and the words make your heart ache. "I never thought—kriff, I never thought you'd feel the same."

"I love you," you say firmly. "So much."

He grins, and the smile is so wide that his cheeks are dimpling. You can't resist. You lean down to kiss him again, and the way he holds you, like you're the most precious thing in the world, makes the feeling in your chest bloom.

"I'll say it every day for the rest of our lives, if that's what you need," you say.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he murmurs.

"I wouldn't," you promise.

He stares at you for a moment, his gaze intense, and his grip tightens. You can see him steeling himself, and the words he speaks make you shiver.

"Good, because I intend to marry you someday."

"Someday," you echo. You're not sure if you believe him, if that's even possible for you, but you believe that he believes it.

"When the war is over," he confirms. "When the fighting is done, and we've finally got a chance at peace, I'll give you the galaxy, cyare. And a family, if you want one."

"Rex, I—" You swallow thickly, and he can see the emotions flickering across your face. His fingers are drawing shapes on your hip, and his eyes are locked with yours.

"I'm not asking for an answer now," he says gently. "I just— I want you to know how serious I am."

You nod, and the silence that stretches between you is heavy.

"You really mean it," you finally say.

"Of course I do."

"What happens if—"

"There is no 'if.'" His tone leaves no room for argument, and he shifts, sitting up. The new position brings you into his lap, and your knees are straddling his waist. He rests his forehead against yours, and his breath fans across your face.

"Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

"Together," you murmur.

"I'm with you. Always."

You close the distance, kissing him softly. It's nice, holding him like this. The feeling of his arms around you is enough to drive the fears from your mind, pushing them to the furthest corners. You can feel yourself relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders, and his hands roam your body, exploring every inch.

"You know," you begin, your voice quiet, and your lips brush against his with every word. "I'm still waiting for a tour of the barracks, Captain. Oh, the hangar too."

His breath hitches, and you can feel him starting to harden again under you.

"Cyare," he breathes.

"I'd love to see your office," you continue, and his eyes darken. "You can give me a private tour, just the two of us. I'll wear a skirt, and you can bend me over your desk."

His cock is fully erect now, and he can't stop the groan.

"And the showers," you purr, gently rotating your hips. "I bet they're big. Just big enough for the two of us. We could get the water nice and hot, and I could drop to my knees..."

"Kriff," he swears.

"Or…"

He's breathing heavily, his fingers digging into your skin.

"We could do that now," you offer.

"Cyare." His tone is pleading, and the sound sends a thrill through you. You can feel the ache building between your legs, and your thighs are sticky.

"I'm already dripping wet," you whisper.

"That's it."

He moves so fast that it makes you yelp, and the next thing you know, he's on his feet, carrying you, and your legs are wrapped around his waist. He walks swiftly towards the 'fresher, and the feeling of him sliding against your core makes you shudder.

"You're going to be the death of me, cyare," he murmurs.

"Maybe," you concede. "But I think we can agree that it'll be a great way to go."

The door slides shut behind him, and the sound of his laughter is enough to make you melt.

"A great way to go," he echoes.

You know the path ahead of you is treacherous. You know there will be more battles, and more losses, and more nights where you're unable to sleep. You know there will be pain, and fear, and sorrow.

But there will be hope too, and joy, and happiness. A home, and a family, and a future.

It will be worth it.

#captain rex x reader #rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #captain rex #captain rex x you #rex x you #clone x reader #clone smut #x reader #clone captain rex #i literally had a dream about rex last night so it's time to pull the plug and post this #roy writes

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awearywritersworld · 10 months ago

Text

the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

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